He lifted his hands in surrender but, I noted, his dimples didn’t go away.

Fuck me.

It was time to save face.

As Creed pushed to his feet, I looked around and asked sarcastically, “Is everyone enjoying the show? Or is anyone thinking maybe now’s a good time to rescue the two dozen women locked in a wooden freight crate? Or is that just me?”

“The DPD and Feds are seein’ to the girls,” Hawk informed me.

“Well, that’s good,” I returned.

“And seriously, Sylvie, you got great aim, babe, but you make a mess,” he continued, indicating the dead men scattered around.

I didn’t look at them, refused to look at them. They had ceased to exist until I got back to my therapist.

But I did shrug.

Hawk grinned.

Then he finished, “And, just FYI, personally, I’m enjoying the show.”

I glared at him.

“Me too,” Mo, who was also standing around and watching, added.

Someone kill me.

Creed threw an arm around my shoulders.

I stepped sharply away from it and jerked my head back to look up at him. “I’m not talking to you and you’re not touching me until I’m not pissed at you anymore.”

His brows shot together. “Beautiful, why the f**k are you pissed at me? I didn’t shoot me.”

“Grab the wrist, yank it out, head butt to the chin, spike heel into his foot, Creed,” I snapped. “I know how to get away from being held at gunpoint. You didn’t need to open fire.”

“I had on a vest and I got f**kin’ good aim,” Creed shot back.

“You also had another shooter on the approach,” I returned.

“You think I didn’t see him?” Creed asked, sounding insulted.

“I think I didn’t see him since my back was to him and I had other things occupying my attention like, say, the gun being held to my head,” I retorted.

“And I think I got a partner who knows what the f**k she’s doin’ so even though he nailed me, Sylvie, clue in, two dead guys are lyin’ on the floor ten feet away, one with his face blown off. I knew, I covered you, you’d cover me and I was right. I covered you, you covered me.”

Wow, that was nice.

I didn’t say that.

I said, “You might want to use your words like, say, calling, ‘Shooter!’ You think? Maybe?”

“I reckoned, when he shot me, you’d get there was a shooter.”

Oh my God!

Really?

“When did Grandpa turn into Take His and My Life in His Hands Maverick Hot Guy?” I asked.

“When I took my first job, and Sylvie, warning, another Grandpa crack and your bare ass feels my hand.”

Shit, that got a tingle.

I ignored the tingle and snapped, “Get shot again and you won’t see me na**d for a week.”

“Baby, it was under control,” he replied.

I pointed at the blood dripping into his suit coat and shirt. “Yeah? Really?” I asked mockingly then went on to inform him, “This I know, I’m not taking that to the dry cleaners and I do not sew buttons back onto shirts.”

“Seriously?” he asked back. “Are we having this conversation?”

“Yes, we seriously are,” I clipped my answer.

“Yo, Bogey and Bacall, it may be a flesh wound but it’s still bleeding so will you two wind up this bullshit bickering and maybe we can get our man some medical attention?” Hawk asked fake politely and I turned my scowl to him.

Hawk withstood my scowl with no apparent effort so I gave up, crouched down, unbuckled one shoe, stood up, slipped it off and threw it overhand into the warehouse. I repeated this maneuver with the other shoe but grabbed Creed’s gun on the way up.

Then I cut a frown through all the men and started to stomp away.

As I stomped away, I heard Creed say, “Favor, Delgado, send a man after those shoes. I’m gonna need them later.”

To which I heard Hawk reply, “I hear you, man. Consider it done.”

Which meant, as I stomped away, I did it rolling my eyes.

But I also did it thinking Creed would probably get creative, me in those shoes and, on my back or knees, they probably wouldn’t hurt too much. Or, alternately, me lying over his thighs getting my first spanking.

Then again, if any of those scenarios occurred, I’d be feeling other things so my mind wouldn’t be on those f**king shoes.

This meant, my thoughts having turned pleasantly, when I exited the warehouse at the same time I felt Creed’s big, warm hand catch mine and hold tight, I wasn’t pissed anymore.

I was smiling.

Epilogue

Dreamweaver

Present day, two days later…

I felt the crack of Creed’s hand on my ass, my body jumped and fire shot between my legs.

“Spread,” he growled and, instantly, I did as he said.

I was draped belly down over his thighs, na**d except my bronze sandals and Creed was spanking me. This was after he spent some time doing other delicious stuff to me.

No sooner had I opened my legs than Creed’s hand dove in. His fingers scored through the wet, rasping across my cl*t and since I was beyond ready, my head flew back and I came.

Hard.

Still coming, suddenly I was flying through the air. Creed lay back on the bed, his legs still over the side, feet on the floor and suddenly I was on top of him, my pu**y to his face, his hard, thick c**k right in front of me.

“Suck me off,” he ordered, voice thick and I moved, lips latching around the tip, immediately I sucked deep.

He lifted his head, buried his face in my pu**y and groaned against me.

Then, his hands at my h*ps yanking me down, he commenced eating me. My head bobbed, sucking, stroking, I engaged my hand and gave him everything I had as he devoured me.

I came in his mouth.

Creed returned the favor.

After, coming down, he lapped. I licked.

He let this go on awhile before I was up again, Creed repositioned so we were righted in the bed, my head no longer at his crotch but at his throat and he settled us down, him on his back, me partly on him, partly pressed to his side with his arm around me.

“You take it up the ass. You like to be spanked. And you swallow. Seriously, Sylvie, you were born for me,” he muttered.

I lifted my head and looked at him. “That was hardly hearts and flowers.”

Creed grinned at me. “A man finds a woman who swallows, that alone, for a guy, is totally f**kin’ hearts and flowers.”

I rolled my eyes.

Creed kept talking.

“Add gettin’ off on bein’ spanked, we’re talking rainbows and pots of gold.”