Wallstreet God (The House Of Creed Book 1)

by D. M. Burns

  “Hey, you. Nice B.O.D.” I tilt my head to the side while backing out of the doorway offering him in with a southern smile. He chuckles at my reference to what he said in my interview while his eyes take in my cutoff sweatshirt and sweatpants covered body. I instantly feel underdressed and pull at my sweatshirt.

  “This…” He points at my clothing then continues, “Is a sexy B.O.D view.” His eyes roam over my body stopping to linger at the peek-a-boo stomach area that my cutoff sweatshirt offers a preview of. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

  Brogan advances into my personal space stealing the good common sense right out of my brain. I feel like a goofy smiling schoolgirl whose boyfriend just showed up at her parents’ house unexpectedly and the parents are away. This man is so much larger than life.

  “Oh, uhm… I was out on my fire escape and couldn’t get to my phone quick enough. I didn’t recognize the number.” I shut the door and turn to him. “I’ve got to say that as much as I love the fashionable suited up Brogan Creed this one.” I nod my head at him with a smirk pulling at my lips, “Is a country girl's blue jean dream.” His dimple comes to life and he winks at me.

  “That number is my personal cell. Please program it for future reference. Fire escape, huh? It’s freezing out.” He states this as if I didn’t know.

  “Yeah, but I was bundled up Mr. Creed. I was snow watching while eating my Cajun nuts.” I shrug my shoulders. He chuckles while shaking his head.

  “Sorry, I didn’t call you as I had promised yesterday. I got caught up at work.” It’s not lost on me that he hasn’t taken his coat off.

  “I completely understand,” I say.

  I wave his words off dismissively like it’s not a big deal, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I hadn’t wondered why he never called or what he was doing. Even though I try not to get all tied up into thoughts of him, it happens more than I’d like to admit.

  “You want something to drink?” I ask while moving toward the frig. Instead of coming back here and passing out after I left the coffee shop, my caffeine kicked in, and it took me to the grocery store to stock up. “I bought some cheap wine.” I giggle while pulling out the bottle and waving it around. He shakes his head slowly no. I tuck it back in for later and pull out two waters.

  “Did you enjoy your evening out with friends?” He asks and I nod.

  “Yeah, Tamera and Max are always fun. I cut out early though. I was tired.” I shrug and hand him one of the waters.

  I don’t think I want to bring up last night’s brotherly stroll right now. It’s not that I did anything wrong at all, no. I’d just rather keep him in good spirits as long as possible. A happy Brogan Creed equals a happy me. Why is he still wearing his coat?

  “Anything exciting happen?” His lonesome eyebrow arches at me. It feels more like an act of conviction.

  “No, not really.” I lie. Oh my God. I just lied. Is it really a lie though? When Channing showed up out of the blue it was a shock. It wasn’t what I’d consider to be an exciting highlight though. More of a what the heck and why is he here kinda thing.

  “Brealyn…” His voice pulls me out of my lie induced thoughts making my head snap to attention. “I’d like to take you somewhere. You feel up to going out with me?”

  I’d gladly go anywhere with him except back to one of those stuffy restaurants where everyone was silently judging us. That was worse than a visit to the dentist's office after years of a candy binge.

  “Uhm, sure. Where to?” I look up at him.

  Brogan smirks while setting his water down on the counter. Those large hands reach out around my waist without warning. His fingertips lightly skimming over the naked skin of my stomach drawing out hot searing lines under his touch. He tucks me nicely up against his solid chest.

  God, he smells like sin and sophistication mixed with a hefty dose of manly pheromones. It feels like my ovaries are crying out for him. Jesus. He inches one of his hands up along my ribs feeling his way over my shoulder continuing until it stops at the side of my neck then tilts into me and brushes his peppermint lips lightly over mine. He’s silently requesting entrance and I do not hesitate.

  As a matter of, I slip my arms around his neck hugging him into me then I let my body take over. I’m a mild manor country girl with inexperience dripping from my pores but this man seems to bring out a bold side of me that I never knew existed, only for him. My mouth seeks him out and we join up in a slow tangle. His grip around my neck tightens and he pulls me impossibly closer grooving into me with practiced actions.

  When I drag my teeth across his bottom lip, the growl that forces its way out of his chest is a primal intimidating sound. He pulls back the slightest and I can feel our hearts pounding out between us.

  “Fuck…” He whispers while rolling his forehead across mine. That one-word skates over my face, but I feel it the same as him, relatable. “I take that as your way of saying you missed me.” He says. I pull on the collar of his trench coat, rising up on my tiptoes, and brush my lips over his one last time then nod.

  “Yes. Very much.” I whisper. He nods his head in agreement while licking a circle over his full thick lips. Dear sweet baby Jesus.

  “Where I want to take you is a surprise. Casual attire, like my blue jean dream covered ass, yeah?” He chuckles. Heck, after that kiss I’d willingly endear another stiff dining experience as long as it leads up to another kiss like that.

  “Mkay. Give me five minutes please.” He lets me go and takes a step back. I grab some clothes and make a beeline for my bathroom while he grips the back of his neck smirking at me. “It won’t take me but just a few.”

  “It’s the most beautiful tree in the world.” I squeeze his hand in mine as I whaooo and ahhhh like a complete idiot in the middle of Rockefeller Center. Yeah, I’m still that country girl, who after years of seeing this sight, can’t get enough. “I mean, just look at it.” I gush out.

  I turn my head to him and pull at his arm in sheer excitement, smile beaming, and eyes wide. Then I notice that the only thing his eyes are taking in is me. Suddenly, I feel shy and want to crawl inside myself and hide.

  “Uhm, I know I’m acting like an idiot, but how can anyone not get into the Christmas spirit standing in front of this?” I whip my arm out at the tree almost clipping an innocent onlooker. “Oh, shucks… Jesus, I’m sooo sorry.” I say to the little elderly man that I almost took out by accident with my flailing arm. He smiles and shoots me a wink that makes me giggle.

  “This is the first time I’ve seen it in person.” My head automatically snaps back to Brogan and he shrugs. “Gotta tell you though, I like your reaction more than the tree itself.” He says.

  “What do you mean you’ve never seen it in person before. But… What?... You live here though. Grew up here, right?” He nods. “How is that even possible? That’s bull-crap.” His lonesome eyebrow cocks up at one side. My voice is laced with shock. Brogan smiles wide giving me something else to appreciate, that dimple.

  “Seeing how you’re on the verge of cursing, I take it you’re a little passionate about the tree, huh?” He tries to cough through his laughter. “Seriously Brea, I never took the time away from work.” He shrugs again. “Never had a reason to.” I shake my head at him and release a huff blowing a flyaway lock of blonde fur out of my face. Brogan reaches out tucking the stray away behind my ear.

  “Anyway, it’s a Norway spruce standing just at about 100 feet tall with over five miles of lights wrapped around it. Don’t get me wrong, it is in fact beautiful but it’s still not as stunning as you.” He says that like he means every last word. I’m at a loss right now on how to respond to that. “Brealyn, there’s something you should know about me upfront, not that’s it’s a secret or anything, but I never give out false compliments, ever.” His words whispered out turn into magical clouds of floating fog right before my eyes.

  Brogan’s glove covered hands grips both sides of my face sealing the deal with a kiss that weakens my knees. Oh,
I have no doubt in my mind that he doesn’t give out compliments. Brogan doesn’t do pleasantries, he’s rough around the edges. Those that get to close normally bleed out boardroom boss slaughterhouse style.

  I’m guessing that I’m the only one that gets to see this side of him. In many ways, I feel special for that fact alone. But I do wonder how the heck he knows what I’m thinking almost all the time. It’s like he picks up on my silent questions then fills in the blanks when needed, clearing up any country girl confusion.

  When he leans back, he gently brushing his leather covered thumbs across my cheek and says, “What else would you like to do?”

  “I wanna wiener.”

  I smile from ear to ear when both of his brows hit his hairline. It’s a magical sight to catch the Wallstreet God off guard. It’s even more whimsical when his head falls back, and he barks out laughter into the night sky. It’s simply music to my ears. It’s a rarity. My goofy mind minions begin to whirl each other around dancing in celebration over this smiling victory.

  When he composes himself, he pulls me closer in then leans into me bringing those full lips to the shell of my ear and says. “Miss. Winters, did I hear you correctly? Did you just say you wanted my wiener?”

  His low laughter funnels down the side of my neck causing me to have a full-body shiver leaving goosebumps covering my skin. Dear Jesus. Before I have a chance to answer him, we both hear several clicks and see flashing lights. When we turn toward the direction of the camera’s, several people are calling his name. Tossing out questions like rapid fire.

  “Mr. Creed, who's the blonde beauty?” One man asks then snaps more pictures.

  “Is this the Wallstreet God’s New Year’s girl?” Another voice speaks up while executing another round of snapshots.

  Brogan stands straight and tucks me protectively into his side. His face is instantly void of the lighthearted man I just had the pleasure of seeing. His jaw is ticking out a warning signal through the granite disposition he’s famous for, warlord. It’s a sad reminder that with money comes many wonderful things, but the price you pay is the simple privacies that many of us take for granted on a daily basis.

  “Christopher, can I have word with you.” Brogan’s voice is laced with venom and the guy lowers his camera then nods in response. I shouldn’t be shocked that Brogan knows the man on a first name basis but I am. “In the meantime, can you tell your guys to hold off with the pictures.”

  Brogan turns and glares at the other photographers who immediately stop snapping shots. I don’t blame them. If the look on Brogan’s facial expression isn’t enough to scare the crap out of them his ice like demeanor demands them to freeze in place. He turns back to me and gives me a wink. It’s his way of saying, I got this.

  “Wait right here, yeah?” I nod as he turns toward Christopher and they walk off.

  “Hey, guys…” I wave at the other paparazzi invaders and smile like the country bumpkin I am. The boys smile back. “Are ya’ll ready for Christmas?” They nod yes and I take that as my cue to ask questions. “Do any of you have kiddos at home?”

  “Oh, yes. I have a three-year-old baby boy. His name is Douglas. I call him Dougie.” Says the blonde-haired guy.

  “My little girl's name is Samantha. My wife was going through a Sex In The City phase while she was pregnant. We call our baby girl Sammie.” Says the other cameraman.

  “Wow… Do you have a picture of them?” I ask, my eyes bouncing between the two fathers. They all approach with phones in hand brandishing their family photos. “Oh my gosh. How cute.” I gush.

  By the time Brogan comes back, I’m fully engulfed in a circle of cameramen laughing and cutting up while thumbing through iPhone pictures and sharing life stories. He clears his throat and we all snap our heads up to find a confused looking Brogan Creed and Christopher, whatever his last name is, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “You guys mind if I have my date back now?” Brogan’s voice is ice, but I detect an undercut of humor in there. The guys all breakaway but not before I wish them a Merry Christmas for which they do the same in return.

  “Give Sammie and Dougie my best,” I call out as they take off. I turn to Brogan and his high beams are blinking out a what the heck just happened look and I shrug on a smile.

  “You mean to tell me that I just agreed to a sit-down interview when all I had to do was allow the enchanting country girl to talk it up with the boys?” Brogan asks.

  “Being nice to someone never hurts, Mr. Creed,” I say. He wraps his arms around me, and I ask, “Why would you agree to that anyway? The infamous Wallstreet God rarely ever does interviews.”

  It’s facts. Brogan has only entertained two in-person interviews ever and even then, he walked off set both times leaving the journalist slacked jawed. Brogan’s mic was still on in one of those and he mumbled something about the journalist keeping his loud thoughts to himself.

  “Because I wanted one peaceful night with you uninterrupted and without hassle. Just one regular night where we can have fun and enjoy each other. No photographers, no questions, no speculations, no pictures. Just us. The press and prying eyes can be a little barbaric at times. Agreeing to speak with Chris, one on one, was the only way he’d leave us be or so I thought.” He smiles.

  Shyly my eyes veer off to the side and I scan the faces around us. Surprisingly, I see a man that looks a lot like Channing leering. Bodies crossing in front of my line of sight cuts off my view. Before I can focus in for confirmation, I lose him in the people shuffle moving about. Shaking those thoughts off, I look back to Brogan.

  “Now, tell me Brealyn…” Brogan pauses for my reply.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Are you still in the mood for my wiener?” This time my head falls back, and I laugh out loud. A very unattractive snort-laugh comes out with it too. With both of us laughing, he takes my hand, and we make our way through the crowd. Oh, Mr. Creed, you have no idea what I want to do with your wiener.

  chapter 22

  brogan

  By the time we step onto BC Towers property, it’s safe to say we’re both stuffed with sidewalk hotdogs and enough junk food to last us both for the upcoming year. I can’t even remember the last time, if ever, I had a hotdog much less from a street vendor. Damn things were good too.

  Even as we ride up in my personal elevator to the penthouse, I have Brealyn off the ground piggyback style. Her feet were killing her, and I simply wanted to have the woman in my arms. Shit, we’re both having fun so fuck it. This entire night is the single best time I’ve spent to date with anyone throughout my shitty existence.

  “I promise that I can walk now, Brogan.” She whispers in my ear. Her lazy relaxed too tired to fight me voice is sexy as fuck. Plus, her vanilla scent for the day is welcoming. I’ve noticed that she never really has a signature scent. The woman likes to mix it up with multiple lotions and body sprays. It keeps me guessing and I like it. “I can’t remember the last time I got a piggyback ride. Maybe it was with my grandpops when I was just a little girl.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I got you now, Southern Comfort,” I say while rubbing my hands over her pretzel-like legs wrapped around the front of my waist.

  The urge to fold her over my shoulder then pin her against the mirrored glass elevator is real but I tame that urge. This is about introductions. Launching her into my world, slowly. Inviting her into my space. Gaging her feelings by facial expression alone instead of stealing her thoughts or invading her brainwaves. It’s a new mind game that I play with myself. I’ve gotten pretty flawless at it too.

  “So, this skyscraper is yours?” She rests her cheek on my shoulder blade and whispers her question on a yawn. “BC Towers… Brogan Creed, I get it…” She says. Her affirmation tickles my neck as the doors slide open to my home. Her head snaps up, suddenly wide awake. She seeks information for the type of man I am outside of the business suit and that makes me smile.

  “OH.MY.GOD.” She unwraps her legs and wiggles about
as a sign that she wants down so I guide her to stand. She removes her coat along with her beanie while spying the interior. I do the same tossing the unnecessary clothing out across the entryway chairs then turn back to her. “This is absolutely beautiful. Uhm, wow…”

  Brea does a full circle, her face seemingly hesitant mixed with some confusion. She curves her way in and out around the large columns in a zigzag pattern. Her shoes are ticking away on the tile in her pursuit until she’s at the far end of the house. I lean into one of the large columns crossing my arms over my chest. I study her as she stands in my preferred palace staring out at the view. Her beautiful body a silhouette in front of the glass structure.

  “Oh, wow. This is so…” She continues forward until she comes to a dead stop, unmoving. For a second, I’m wondering if she’s in a catatonic state.

  “That’s where I find myself most of the time. Admiring the view. It’s mesmerizing.” I say. She still hasn’t moved, figurine still. “Brea… Are you okay?” I move up behind her and go to lace my arms around her waist but all of a sudden, she scurries around my body latching her finger blades into my back. She fits herself into me as if she’s trying to use me as a shield. This is not the reaction I was hoping for.

  “I’ve seen this before. All of it. Jesus.” Her whispered panicky voice quivers in my ear. It’s like if she doesn’t speak at a normal tone then that will somehow make her declaration less valid.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. At first, I want to laugh but her voice is filled with pure terror. This seems particularly crucial to her, so I swallow the humor.

  “I’ve dreamed of this place on repeat. I couldn’t make it out at first, but I swear to the holy man up above, I’ve seen this place in my dreams over and over again.” Her body is trembling. I’m completely confused at this point. What the actual fuck?

  “Brealyn, it was just a dream, yeah? Baby, come here.” I turn around and her eyes snap up to me.

  Those blue pools are filled with unshed tears. Then she squeezes her eyes tightly and shakes her head almost like she’s trying to rid her mind of the horror that exists there. Those tears begin to crawl down her cheeks in silent streams. Holy shit. Automatically, I try to wipe the salty tears away but when she blinks more follow the same path.