Page 36 of Shadowed Whispers

The moan that leaves my body is carnal, dark, and feminine.

He inches in a little more, driving me insane.

“Look at you, bent over my desk, your ass bared.” Slap. “I love watching how bright your skin gets for me.” His voice becomes guttural.

I don’t care if anyone walks in. At this point, the only thing I care about is how quickly he can make me come. “Stop fucking around, Bishop.”

“There she is, my little slut.” Somehow, he turns the degrading word into praise at the same time he shoves his cock deep inside me, giving me exactly what I want.

I’ve missed this need that swells inside me for him.

He slowly lowers himself as he shifts his hips in and out.

“You’re right, firefly,” he growls in my ear, his voice raw with lust. “No one else can fuck you like me. No one else will ever touch this sweet pussy the way you deserve.” His words are punctuated by his thrusts, each one driving into me deeper, harder, stealing the air from my lungs. My nails dig into the smooth flesh of his hand as my back arches, pressing against him.

As his pace increases, so do the moans that spill from my lips. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this, since he’s been inside me. Greedily, I take every inch of him, my body memorizing every hard ridge and soft groove along his length.

Bishop grunts, his grip on my hips tightening as he slams into me even harder. “I missed you,” he growls, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “God, Frankie, I missed you so fucking much.”

The admission catches me off guard. Bishop Mercer was never one for mushy confessions, but in this moment, it only fuels my desire. I clamp down on him, milking him. I savor this moment because I damn well know that once it’s all over, he’ll never say the words again, and he’ll go right back to pretending I don’t exist.

“Faster, Bishop.” My grip tightens on his hand. “I want... I need...”

He growls in response, picking up his pace to match the beat of my racing heart. Sweat glistens on our brows as the room heats up tenfold. The ache between my legs intensifies, my core clenching around him, begging for release. I can’t believe how quickly he reduces me to this puddle of lust, but I don’t care—not when the world is reduced to just us, the feeling of his body moving against mine, and our breaths mingling in the cramped space.

“So demanding, my little cum slut.” He laughs at me, his dirty words causing my core to clench. “What do you want, firefly?” He groans as he fucks me hard and deep, reducing me to nothing more than a puddle of need.

“Dammit, Bishop.” I try to move, but he locks me down then slaps my ass harder than necessary.

“You want to be punished.” He groans as though it excites him, which it probably does, the pervert.

I’m teetering on the edge of an orgasm, one that’s bound to make me black out. “Just fuck me,” I snap at him, trying to distance myself from his emotions.

“Say my name, and maybe I’ll let you come.” He stops, holding himself above me. He lets go of my hands, and I grip the desk under me.

I try to push back, try to make him fuck me, but he doesn’t move. Whimpers spill free of my mouth.

“Look at you twitching under me, trying to get yourself off on my cock.” He leans down and bites my neck. “Go ahead, firefly, I want to see you try.”

“Fuck you, Bishop Mercer.”

“Oh, my full name.” He pushes his cock impossibly deeper. “Beg for it.”

Anyone could come in right now, but that thought only makes me wetter. Hell, I am no better than him. Screw it.

“Bishop,” I moan, slamming my eyes shut in shame. I squeeze my thighs tighter around him, pulling him in, needing more of him. “Make me come.”

“We’ll work on that.”

We won’t.

He doesn’t disappoint. His hips flex, and he begins fucking me in earnest, each thrust sending me higher and higher. Reaching around me, he grabs my panties, tugging on them so they brush against my clit.

My moans echo around us. I couldn’t hold them in even if I wanted to, so I don’t. Let someone hear us. Let him get in trouble for fucking a student over a desk.

With a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt inside me, grunting with each plunge. “Frankie,” he whispers against my neck, his voice ragged with desire. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Come for me, let me remember what your pussy feels like milking me dry.”

His words send me over the edge, my orgasm tearing through me like wildfire. I arch my back as I cry out his name. Bishop’s grip tightens on my hips as he groans his release, hot and sticky inside me.

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