Wallstreet God (The House Of Creed Book 1)

by D. M. Burns

  “I swear I’m not going crazy, Brogan. I’ve dreamt of all this.” Her eyes are frantically bouncing between mine. I wrap her in my arms. Whatever she dreamt has damn near petrified her.

  “Malic…. Brogan Malic Creed. Is that your middle name, Malic?” She mumbles in my ear. I nod while pulling her tighter into me. “Jesus Christ.” Her voice sounds pained. She digs her forehead into the side of my neck.

  The fact that she knows this information shouldn’t shock me. Normally it wouldn’t, but it’s the tone in her voice. Hell, my middle name is public record but it’s also something she wouldn’t know unless she had fished for the information. Brealyn would just simply ask. By the mood shift in her voice, I’d say that she learned this information in her sandman dreams. I sure as hell never shared it with her.

  “Southern Comfort… It was just a dream. It can’t be that bad. You’re worrying me.” I say.

  “If I had a choice between my dreams of lately and visiting Freddy Krueger on Elm Street a quarter past twelve, I’d pick the latter.” She tries to laugh it off.

  “Shit…” I rasp out. I’m not sure what to do with this information. “How long have you been having these dreams?”

  “Uhm, since your brother showed up. I thought nothing of them until tonight. This place was in my dream though and it was your place. And now I see it’s all factual… This is crazy. Can we please go? Uhm, back to my place please?” Her voice is a plea. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly but it was so real for me.” She whispers while swiping at her eyes. I look down at her and put on a fake smile. “I mean not everything is exactly the same. Uhm, at least in the here and now, I’m alive. Positives, huh?” She tries to giggle but it falls flat. Jesus.

  “Hey, shhh. It’s okay.” No, the fuck it’s not but I’m not going to say that out loud. I’ll figure this shit out later. “I’ve read of several people that dream of things before they come to pass.” Those folks also happen to be locked up in a nice padded white room, but Brea doesn’t need to hear that shit.

  “I’d like to say that’s reassuring but I died in the dream.” She whispers. Fuck!

  “That’s not going to happen. I promise.” I growl.

  I find myself wanting to reassure her that maybe she saw pictures of my penthouse before in prior interviews or articles but that would be a lie. I’ve never allowed anyone to take this private part of my life away from me. Hell, I’ve held mental wars in my head with simply allowing the coats in for a temporary fuck let alone catering to the idea of anything else.

  Except for this, with this one right here in front of me, things are different. I want Brealyn here. I want to share my secrets with her, slowly over time. I swallow the dread that has formed in the back of my throat then lead us back through the hallway.

  “We can go,” I say as I wrap my arm around her tucking her into my side.

  “No, really it’s okay. I’m okay, everything is fine. Simply fine.” She’s chanting that out like a soothing balm trying to coat herself with reassurance. I can still feel her body shaking under my touch. “It’s fine.” I vow she has nothing to worry with. I’ll see to that.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” I ask.

  “Please. That sounds perfect as long as it’s something very strong.” She says. I chuckle at her willingness to tough it out. I’ll accredit that to her stubborn southern ways.

  “Anything in particular? Do you have a preference?” I ask.

  “Vodka.” She deadpans.

  “Vodka it is then.”

  I lead her into the kitchen area, and I steer our way over to the stainless steel frig. It’s a huge spacious area. The clinical clean smell is the first thing that greets you then the large island that easily seats twenty people with numerous black leather stool seating comes into view.

  The redwood cabinets are eye-catching and stand out around the state-of-the-art steel appliances. The marble grey and black spiderweb countertop is void of any clutter. The only thing that sits on top is a huge black squared off butcherblock centered in the middle with a bowl of various fruits overflowing with bright colors.

  Placing my hands on her hips, I lift her up with ease and slide her onto the cold counter which produces the sound I’ve been waiting to hear again, she giggles. The air around us goes light again and I feel a tremendous amount of weight falling from my shoulders. Shit got too intense and serious quick.

  “This is the type of kitchen floor that makes me want to take off running and slide to the other side in a pair of fluffy socks.” This country chick has an active and vivid imagination. “Tell me about your family?”

  Her sapphire blue gems implore me to occupy her mind. I turn to the frig and let my eyes roam over the contents until I find the clear sedative, I’m in search of. The Billionaire vodka that I’ve been holding onto is about to come in handy. Yes, that’s the actual name, Billionaire. Google it and you’ll be surprised to find that it’s officially the world’s most expensive vodka, topping the countdown out at a cool 3.75 million.

  I decide to hold onto that bit of serving information. For those unaccustomed to having money, grasping a bottle of liquor that cost in excess of 3 million can take some getting used to. Of course, I’d never buy this shit, no. It was given to me. Hell, here lately I prefer to shop for the Southern Comfort side of tasting pleasures.

  “I’ll take a straight shot of that, please.” I quirk my eyebrow at her and she nods her head yes with conviction behind her eyebrow arch. “Don’t judge me, Creed. Just hand it over.”

  She holds out her hand and with a smirk on my face, I give her what she wants. In the cutest fucking way possible, she pops the top and turns it up. To my shock, she gulps it back. When she pulls the bottle away from her lips licking the aftermath my dick perks up. What can I say? She’s fucking sexy and that billion-dollar bastard downstairs decided long before I did that, he’d have her too. At this stage in the game, I’m just here to follow his lead that hopefully ends with her Billionaire covered lips on mine.

  “This is the best vodka I’ve ever tasted. Billionaire, huh? I’ve never heard of it. How much is this stuff?” She babbles while reading the label.

  “Tell you what, you can have it.” I say. She smiles wide at that. That sight is so worth 3 mill, hands down. “Would you like me to mix you a drink? Maybe with some cranberry juice or pineapple?”

  “This is good for now. Normally, I would never drink like this, but I need it. Plus, this is wickedly insane tasting, and this is like off the charts crazy.” She waves her hand out indicating the penthouse visions came true around her. “Comfort in the form of vodka.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Brea smiles while playing with a premade hole in her blue jeans which incidentally makes her ass look fantastic. She mindlessly starts to fiddle with a string hanging loose while turning the vodka up for another go. I decide to grab myself a glass and fix me three fingers of my scotch that I keep stowed away in the cabinet.

  “Your parents…” She lets those words hang out there, so I fill in the blanks. Normally, I’d never entertain these types of Q&A’s but with her, I don’t mind. As a matter of fact, I want her to know all, eventually.

  “Well, my mother passed from complications giving birth to me and my father joined her about ten years ago. The only other blood DNA family I have is the phantom brother that recently materialized in the middle of my boardroom. Hell, I never knew about him until that very day.” I shrug. “My dad never mentioned Channing. I don’t even know if my father knew he existed, but my dad was a solid man. A damn good man. If he had known that he had another kid, he would’ve been a part of that child’s life. Anyway, Channing knew about me though. I guess my big brother just choose not to close the gap until the day he got wind that I was buying CC Capitals out from under him. It’s the company that I attribute my father’s death too.”

  “Wow, oh… I uhm, that’s…. Sad.” She stares down at the vodka bottle in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Brogan. I had no clue
but that explains the hostility between you two.” She mumbles.

  “I’m not worried about it and neither should you.” I tilt my head at her hoping she’ll offer the information up about last night. Even though I’m well aware that nothing happened, I want her to feel at ease to be open with me.

  “The thing is… Uhm, well I sorta ran into Channing last night on my way home. I mean, it was purely coincidence or at least I think it was. Anyway, he said you two had somethings to work through. I think you two kinda need each other.” She looks at me with hopeful eyes.

  It’s in her nature to want to bring us together but that’s not going to happen. She wants to believe everyone has good in them. Hell, it’s one of the things I admire the most about her, but it pisses me off that she’s wasting the goodness in her heart on that asshole. Then again, I’m not much better than him. My selfish son-of-a-bitch ways are on a superior playing field.

  “I can assure you that running into him was no coincidence. It was intentional on his part and those are simple facts. He’s made his desires for you very vocal. I’d rather you stay clear of him.” Her eyes go wide at that bit of information and she mouths a silent O. “Thank you for being forthcoming. It says a lot for your character.”

  I’ve had enough of the mood killers for one night. Between the paparazzi, bad dreams, and demented family history, I’m done. Setting my drink aside, I step up between her legs, and lean in until I’m an inch away from her million-dollar vodka covered lips.

  “Hey, I love your Christmas trees. I’ve never seen a home with a differently decorate themed tree in almost every room before. Well, technically I saw it in Southern Living magazine one time but yeah, never in person. It’s really beautiful.” I should’ve known that this one would appreciate the festive décor with as much as she loves Christmas. Honestly, I never noticed it.

  “The staff takes care of that stuff,” I say. She scrunches up her cute button nose and I smile. “Brealyn, I have what I need right here. I’ve had the best time with you tonight. Bad dreams excluded of course.” Her eyes look down at the vodka bottle like she’s contemplating killing the substance off so I continue, “There’s no one I’d rather have spent my time with in front of that tree and I hope you feel the same.” I tell her the honest truth. “I like your companionship more than I want to admit and I’m completely addicted to your sweet southern smile.”

  That’s all it takes for her to present me with that miracle. Her lips curve up and god damn, that full-on smile lights up everything around us. Much brighter than that Rockefeller Norway spruce with over five miles of lights. She sets the alcohol aside and cups my face inside her hands. I grip her hips edging her closer to me until she can feel my intentions in the central location between her legs, firmly.

  “This goes down in history as the single best holiday I’ve had since I moved here. You’re a uniquely beautiful man with an equally remarkable heart. I know this.” She whispers.

  Her words are infused with facts as far as she’s concerned. This woman genuinely believes these things of me. For the first time, I want to be that guy she thinks I am, with her, only her. The tips of her fingernail’s scrapes through my blonde white streak and I turn my head at the last-minute brushing my lips across her palm.

  “Truthfully, I’m scared of how much I want you, this.” She breaths out on a quivering admission. Her eyes won’t allow her to lie, no. Those ocean waves are hitting me with the brutal truth, but I see her fear in them. I’m beginning to pick up on her mannerisms without hearing her thoughts.

  “The fear doesn’t exist in obtaining this, Brea. It’s already alive all around us, here.” I motion between our bodies then continue, “The anxiety exists only in preserving and protecting what you want the most once you have it within your grasp. The real threat though thrives in the possibility of losing it.”

  She nods her head while I do what I do best; take and claim. Because one thing is for sure, Miss. Brealyn Winters is mine. Wrapping my arm around her lower back, I press her body into mine and takeover residency in her mouth. Her legs instinctively curl around my waist and I cup the back of her neck taking her weight into me as I pull her body free from the counter.

  We’re molded together as one, but it still doesn’t feel like we're close enough because were not, but I’m going to fix that. My heart is pounding out between our bodies with a distinct desire that’s only present in her company. It’s burning through me at maximum velocity. She whimpers as I lick the outline of her lips then cut a trail down the side of her neck. With sturdy footfalls, I move for my bedroom.

  “Oh, God.” She whispers hotly against my ear sending goosebumps over my skin, fucking goosebumps. That’s never happened before, ever. My body does a full shiver.

  When I feel her tongue lick along the lining of my ear right before she lightly bites down, I lose my restraint. I growl out a deep animalistic sound and detour into the sidewall pinning her there. My eyes are frantically taking her in as her back hits the sheetrock. For a second, she looks anxious and uncertain as though she believes she might’ve done something wrong. Oh, quite the contrary. She woke that brooding boardroom beast within.

  “Fuck… I want to sink inside of you so fucking deep. To the point that you can’t remember a time ever existed that I didn’t own you here.” I reach between our bodies and cup her pussy in my hand. “You won’t be able to recall a time when I didn’t belong between these beautiful fucking legs.” She gasps out in surprise but rubs herself against my hand covered contact. Yeah, she knows, just like I do. This is going to be my pussy.

  “Yes… Oh, God… Please, Brogan.” Her voice sounds pained but in a sexually aroused way. I love how the sound of my name is whispered out from between her pink lips. It’s a seductive calling card meant for only me to hear.

  “Because we both know after this, I’ll fucking own your body and thoughts completely. All of you will be mine, Brealyn.” I rasp out as I grip both sides of her neck and she nods.

  I sink myself back into her while taking her moans and tearing her away from the wall. Fucking her mouth frantically until I cross my threshold to do the same with her body. I feel her kicking her shoes off in the process then hear them hit the hardwood floor and I do the same without breaking stride. Climbing us both onto my massive Victorian bed, I growl at the momentary loss of contact with her. Harness that sweet Southern Comfort control.

  Tilting back, she fumbles with my shirt buttons until I rip it open preventing any further aggravation then I discard it out into the room. Fuck the barriers between us. I want her like I’ve never wanted another woman in my life and there have been plenty.

  Peering down at her, I see her lips are swollen and a shade redder than normal from our brutal mauling of each other’s mouths. Her chest is rising and falling in labored pants from anticipated excitement. Those deep royal blue almond-shaped eyes are watching my every move and crawling over my bare chest.

  “What are you thinking right now, Brea?” I ask because I want her to tell me. I need this information in her vocabulary terms, not my interpretation or from stealing her secrets.

  “How long I’ve waited for you.” She admits. “You’re beautiful.” She spies the motion of her hands as they reach out touching down on my bare skin, roaming up slowly over my hard abs getting acquainted with the landscape. I flinch at the contact and grit my teeth. Damn this girl makes me feel everything. I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose trying to compose myself. “Brogan, I’m not breakable.”

  “I not in a hurry with you, no.” I shake my head. “I just want to savor this, you-everything.” She doesn’t understand that I’ve never experienced anything like this. I rub my thumb over her bottom lip and her pink tongue lightly swipes out at it. Holy shit. Is she kidding me right now? “Taking my time with you, enjoying every last feel, and touch. Those are my objectives. Nothing else fucking matters right now.” She nods and I smirk at her.

  Standing up on my knees, I unbutton my jeans and p
ull them off then toss then out of my way too. That billionaire bastard downstairs in my black briefs is aching to dive inside her warm walls. Engraving my DNA and trademarking her as mine. No one else can touch this, her. After tonight, she’ll officially be owned by the Boardroom Boss that is me. By far she’ll be my best bedroom victory.

  The way I feel about possessing this woman should be the first warning sign of how fucked I truly am. I’m cultivated by this sweet southern country girl. Strangely enough, I welcome her in, every-fucking-thing her. I want the ownership title to her heart, body, and soul. Never thought I’d ever see the day that a woman would command my attention but here she is. And I want to keep her too.

  When she starts to take her shirt off, I place my hands over hers stopping the act. Those beautiful eyes snap to mine and I shake my head slowly no. Lowering myself back down into her body while winding my arms around her frame, I can feel her erratic breathing pattern against my chest. The rushed rise and fall. The flutter of her fast-paced heart against mine. I cover the center of her chest with my palm and bend my forehead to hers. Taking it in, setting it to memory.

  “Brogan… Uhm, are you… Is everything okay?” Her voice is uncertain again. I don’t know how to explain this to her, so I simply nod my head and tell her the truth.

  “It reminds me of a fluttering butterfly. A lovely flying little entity set free to roam wherever but it chose to come to me instead. Will it ever know that it gave me a renewed sense of life from its presence, a rebirth filled with happiness?” I tilt back and stare down at her as she gulps back what I’m sure is tears. I only want her to know exactly how I feel.

  “I wonder if he knows that in reality, he’s the caterpillar transforming into beauty, not the other way around.” Her shaky hand reaches out slowly tracing her fingertips over my jawline. Damn this woman is remarkable.