Broken Songbird (Vicious Games #2)

23. Chapter 23

I sneak out to my balcony with my fresh cup of coffee. It’s the ass-crack of dawn; an unusual time for me to be conscious.

I have a perfectly warm bed with a hot man waiting for me, but today has an energy about it that kept me from falling back to sleep, so I decided on coffee and fresh air instead.

I sit on the balcony chair, tucking my knees to my chest, and covering them with Creed’s hooded sweatshirt I’m wearing as I blow on the hot liquid in my mug.

It’s quiet out here, only the songs of birds and the faint whooshing sound of cars in the distance to occupy me. The softest pitter-patter hooks my attention, and a familiar sleek, black creature appears on my balcony ledge.

“Mr. Freckles,” I whisper with a smile.

Instead of laying out on the table as he usually does, he bounds over and hops onto my covered knees, making himself a little hammock between my chest and thighs. He purrs hard and heavy as he rubs his face on my cheek.

I give him chin scratches and kisses as the door slides open behind me.

“There you are,” Creed breathes out. He leans down and kisses me on my head, then sits on the other chair with a sleepy grin. He’s not wearing anything except for grey sweatpants. My mouth waters. Maybe I should drag him back to bed?

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” he says, looking at Mr. Freckles.

“I don’t,” I say, resuming chin scratches. “This is Mr. Freckles. He lives at the apartment down the end of the hall.”

He frowns, confused. “How the hell did he get here?”

I smirk. “He jumps the balconies.”

Creed shakes his head incredulously. “Cat fearlessness baffles me.”

“Are you not a cat person?” I ask.

“They’re fine. But I am more of a dog person.”

I regard him curiously for a moment. “You seem like a dog person.”

He arches a brow. “What does that mean?”

“You look scary, and you’re definitely protective, but you value loyalty, and you like to snuggle every once in a while,” I say with a grin.

His smile deepens, his dimples coming out to play. “That’s pretty accurate.”

Mr. Freckles decides it’s time to go, so he hops out of his spot and prances along the table toward Creed. He lets Creed give him a quick chin scratch before he jumps up on the balcony ledge and heads towards home.

“What about you?” Creed asks as he leans across the table and takes my coffee. “Are you a cat or dog person?”

“Personality, I probably relate to a cat.” I uncurl from my seat, and cross to Creed. “Always down for a nap, like to look pretty, too curious for my own good.”

“Mm,” Creed hums as I straddle his lap. His arm slides around me, and he grabs a handful of my ass.

“But,” I whisper, leaning down to brush my nose against his. “I’ve always wanted to own a dog.”

Creed squeezes my ass harder, pressing me into his already hard erection. “Well, you own me now.”

Our lips crash together. Teeth graze and tongues play as I cling to Creed, trying to imbed him into my skin. Filling my lungs with his leather and sweet smoke scent and tasting him on my tongue—it’s never enough. I need more. Always more.

There isn’t a limit when it comes to Creed.

I pull back, panting. My hands immediately go between us for the waistband of his sweats, but he grabs my wrists.

“I can’t believe I’m about to stop you,” Creed pants.

“You don’t want to bend me over the railing and fuck me until I scream?”

Creed groans and closes his eyes, burying his face in my chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, princess.”

“Please,” I beg. “ Please , Creed.”

He groans as he lifts his head and looks at me. “I came out here to tell you we have a meeting down at St. John’s that we need to attend this morning.” He nips at my chin. “And if we fuck now, we won’t be leaving this apartment.”

I pout. “Do you have to go?”

“ We ,” Creed corrects. “And yes.”

“Why do I have to go?”

He releases my wrists and curls his arms around me, and I wrap mine around his neck. “There’s no way I’m leaving you alone with Adrian still around. Plus, Enzo requested you attend.”

I blink, trying to comprehend what he just said. “Come again?”

Creed smirks. “You heard me right. The men we’re meeting are old-school mafia. This is some play on Herrington’s part to keep them on edge. Del’s going too.”

I nod along, and then suddenly realise the meeting place. “Wait, church ? Really?”

Creed laughs. “Yeah.”

“Isn’t that a little public to do business?”

“It’s safer to meet in public,” Creed says. “Reduces the risk of Adrian’s men ambushing us. Plus, the church is a neutral zone. Meeting elsewhere would likely start a turf war.”

“What time do we need to be there?” I ask. Probably a good thing I’m up now.

Creed moves forward, kissing my neck as one arm around me moves to get his phone that’s on the table, and then he sits back again and taps on the screen.

“It’s seven now. We have to be there at nine-thirty.”

I gasp and scramble off Creed’s lap. “That’s not enough time.”

Creed’s warm chuckle trails after me as I race back into the apartment.

I manage to shower, do my hair and make-up, and change for today’s meeting in time. Just .

After a brief deliberation at my wardrobe, I decided on a white, long-sleeve top that covered me from wrist to neck, a tweed black-and-white pinafore dress that goes to my knees, thick black stockings, and knee-high leather boots with the smallest heels I have in my closet.

It’s cute but respectful for the church, and warm for the ride and the cooler early April day. I could dress down, but we’re meeting powerful, dangerous strangers, and being dressed up is like my armour, protecting the real me from them.

I apply the final sweep of mascara on my lashes and double check the residual bruises on my forehead are covered properly, my red lipstick is in place, and then give up looking for a damn hair tie and pack away my things.

A soft knock on my bedroom door spurs me on to shove everything into my closet, grab my phone from the bedside table and pocket it, along with my lipstick.

“I’m ready,” I say as I open the door.

Creed straightens from leaning on the doorframe, his eyes taking in my outfit. He’s in his usual dark T-shirt, navy blue this time, fitted black jeans and biker boots combination, along with his club cut.

I feel his gaze like a languid touch over every inch of my body as he drags his eyes up, finally landing on my face. “You make it impossible to leave.”

He snatches me up by the waist. “It was the balcony you wanted to be bent over, right?”

I giggle. “Yes, but you said this was important.”

“I don’t care. I need to be—”

His words are cut off by rapping on my door.

“Fuck off,” Creed barks out, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You can fuck me anywhere you want when we get back,” I whisper against his lips.

He kisses me hard on a grumble, then slides me down his body and takes my hand. My transfer-proof lipstick was an excellent choice.

Creed scoops up my keys and his leather jacket from the kitchen bench, then rips open the door. Hawk and Bull stand in the hall with grins on their faces as Creed closes and locks my door.

“Did we interrupt something?” Hawk asks knowingly.

“Let’s get this bullshit over with,” Creed huffs, leading us to the elevators.

Two-Shot is in the parking lot waiting by all the bikes when we exit the building. Creed leads me to his black Harley and then holds open the leather jacket.

He doesn’t seem like he’d take no for an answer today, so I slip my arms into the warm leather. Creed gets on his bike as I transfer my phone and lipstick into one of the jacket pockets and then I take the helmet from him.

I use Creed’s shoulder as a support, step onto the foot stand and swing my leg over the bike and sit. I chose thick stockings because I knew the dress would ride up most of my thighs as I fit myself tightly against Creed’s back. His jacket covers most of me anyway, so I’m not going to flash anyone if it moves any more.

Creed’s bike roars to life under me, spiking my adrenaline. I tighten my hold around him as he peels away fast, leaving his brothers in the dust. I can’t help but laugh as exhilaration courses through my veins as we race through the city.

When we eventually stop at a red light, Creed’s hand releases the throttle and caresses my calf. His calloused hands on the tights material sends tingles over my skin everywhere he touches as he travels higher, over my knee, and then slides between me and his back.

I dig my nails into his abdomen when he cups my core, his fingers rubbing and pressing the seam against me in the most wicked way. I rock my hips into his hand as my hand moves from his abdomen to his crotch, and I squeeze his cock.

I can’t hear it, but I feel him groan at my touch. He reciprocates, pressing his fingers harder. My knees squeeze tight around him as the new pressure is right over my clit. Between his fingers and the vibration of the bike, I might actually come right here, in the middle of a busy street.

Then his touch disappears, and we’re moving again.

I move my hand to wrap my arm around his torso again, my knees trembling at his sides. My body is wound up, the vibration of the bike not doing anything to calm me down as we weave through traffic toward the church.

We drive past the front of it and down a side street, following the shrub-lined fences until we come to a private driveway at the back of the property with an open gate.

Creed turns into a small, private parking lot—it’s enclosed like a courtyard, with a building or a shrub fence concealing who’s parked here. Creed pulls up beside Enzo’s SUV, tucking between the car and a brick building.

He switches off the engine and I loosen my arms around him, using his shoulder to swing my leg around and dismount.

I unbuckle my helmet and shrug off his jacket, then barely take half a step back when I’m pulled by the waist into a warm body.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” Creed growls into my ear.

“Inside?” I say, more like a question than a statement.

He chuckles, the tone lethal. My body pulses.

“We have unfinished business,” he says, and then lifts me.

The helmet and jacket clatter to the ground as I swing my legs over the handlebars on instinct as Creed drags me over the bike and wedges me half in his lap and half on the fuel tank. He splays his hand in the middle of my shoulder blades and pushes me forward.

My hands fly out in front of me, gaining purchase on the front fender as I’m laid out over the still-warm fuel tank and hang over the handlebars.

Various parts of the bike dig into my chest and ribs, but my attention zeroes in on Creed’s hand sliding up my thighs roughly, pushing my dress as he goes, exposing my ass.

My breath catches as he shreds through my stockings, tearing them open, then slaps my ass hard .

Pain and pleasure pulse through me as he kneads my sensitive flesh roughly, then he slaps the other cheek and gives it the same treatment.

I barely have time to think when cool metal slides across my heated skin, followed by a soft tearing sound.

Did he just cut off my panties?

My unspoken question is answered when Creed pulls the fabric away, exposing me to the crisp air, and then I hear his belt buckle.

He lifts off slightly and leans over me, sliding his cock over my dripping heat, as his free hand curls around the front of my throat.

He slams into me unexpectedly, squeezing my neck simultaneously, and I almost choke on a cry.

“Quiet,” he grits out behind clenched teeth.

He grips my hip and keeps his firm hold on my throat as he sinks back on the bike, pulling me along so I’m now pressed against his body.

“Hands on the fuel tank,” he demands, and I oblige immediately.

He releases my throat, moving his tight hold to hook my leg over his knee and then grips my hip, then does the same on the other side. I’m filled and stretched and at Creed’s complete mercy.

“Ride me, princess,” he whispers gruffly into my ear and then bites my earlobe.

I roll my hips tentatively, and I almost blackout. Fuck , this angle. I do it again, and my eyes roll back.

I work Creed in and out of me at a frenzied pace, Creed’s firm grip never leaving my hips as I push myself closer to a mind-bending orgasm.

Then Creed meets my next thrust, the sensations deep and intense, and I let out an ungodly sound.

One of Creed’s hand moves from my hip to clap over my mouth. “I said quiet .”

I whimper into his hand, and then he takes control of our pace, fucking me hard and fast, angling down slightly so his cock strokes me in the right spot to make me incoherent.

“Fuck, you feel good, Scar,” Creed huffs into my ear. “Can’t get enough. I’m fucking insatiable for you.”

His words make my knees tighten, my body race to completion. I’m almost there.

Then I hear the roars of motorbikes approaching.

“Oh fuck ,” Creed groans into my ear, completely lost to desire. “Come with me, Scar.”

The adrenaline of getting caught tips me over the edge, the orgasm blasting through my whole body, whiting out my vision. I vaguely hear Creed groan as he comes shortly after me as I float in bliss, my thoughts settling, my body relaxed.

I’m pulled from that soft space as the motorbike engines’ roar gets concerningly closer.

I find a pocket of strength to angle forward, and unhook my legs from Creed, shivering as he pulls out and dismounts the bike. I scramble off and Creed is already on his haunches to unzip my boots as I shimmy out of my ruined stockings.

I use his shoulders for balance as he pulls the stockings off my feet and re-zips my boots, then pockets the fabric as I smooth out my dress over my very bare ass and gather up my hair.

“Shit,” I whisper, remembering I don’t have a hair tie to deal with this wind-swept and recent-fucked hair situation.

Creed pulls the tie from his hair and offers it to me.

“Thank you,” I breathe, accepting it and twisting my hair into a low bun, hoping I look put together as Hawk, Bull, and Two-Shot enter the parking lot, and back their bikes into empty spaces.

Creed scoops up both our helmets from the ground and puts them on the seat of his bike, and then slides an arm over my shoulders, pulling me across the parking lot.

“What happened to your stockings, Scar?” Hawk asks with a raised brow.

Creed stalls in front of Hawk. “Your eyes shouldn’t be on her legs.”

“Caught on the bike,” I say in a rush, pulling Creed through the church grounds before he starts a fight with the smirking Hawk.

He pulls me closer to his side, his mouth brushing my ear. “Our business isn’t done.”

I tremble in anticipation as we approach the front of the church.

“Aren’t your cuts a little obvious?” I ask, changing subjects, as we climb the steps of St. John’s Church.

“Bikies need salvation too,” Bull points out from behind me as we enter an antechamber. I give him a pointed look and he laughs as he disappears into the church.

“We crossed the threshold and didn’t start burning,” Hawk comments. “So we should be fine.”

I roll my eyes at Hawk’s shit-eating grin before he also enters the church.

I step to follow him but stop abruptly as wetness rolls down my leg. “Oh, Jesus.”

“I don’t think you can say that name in this place,” Creed whispers, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, making me shiver.

“And you shouldn’t have cut off my panties,” I bite out, my cheeks burning.

Creed steps around me, honey-brown eyes shining with our unfinished business .

“Am I dripping out of you, princess?” he purrs, stalking forward, forcing me to step back, until my back hits a cool marble wall.

“Yes,” I barely get out past my thundering heart.

A feral, satisfied smile spreads over Creed’s face. “Turn around.”

“Creed—”

“Turn.”

That tone has me flipping immediately, pressing my aching breasts to the marble, my legs trembling.

Creed pulls my dress up to the curve of my ass cheeks and groans. “ Fuck , what a blessed sight.”

The heat in my cheeks now is from the praise not embarrassment, as I push my hips toward him, giving him a better view. Creed’s breathing hard as I see his hand reaching for a marble dish with water in it next to me.

I find it hard to breathe when he dips two fingers in the water, then reaches down, collecting the spill with his wet fingers, following the path up my thigh slowly, and pushes his fingers into me.

“Don’t want to waste a drop,” Creed growls into my ear as he fucks me with his fingers.

I melt into the wall, my knees buckling as his thumb finds my clit and presses firm circles over it.

“I’m going to come again,” I whisper, my body already at the edge.

His thumb and fingers move faster, curling forward, hitting the spot that makes me see stars. “Come for me, princess.”

Creed’s other hand claps over my mouth as my body spasms in orgasm, my knees locking around his hand as I let out a muffled cry.

His fingers stay in me until I settle, my breathing slowing. He pulls out and I adjust my dress, turning toward him on weak legs.

He has his fingers in his mouth, humming approvingly. “We taste good together. Here.”

Creed bends down and shoves his tongue in my mouth.

He’s not wrong.

He pulls back quickly, adjusting the front of his pants, and checks the door as I pull out my compact mirror to check my make-up. I’m very happy with this lipstick’s longevity.

“You know,” Creed says softly, drawing my attention as I pocket the compact. He’s looking at the water dish as he drapes an arm over my shoulders. “I think your pussy’s Catholic now.”

I elbow him in the side as he laughs softly, then pulls us through the door into the church.