Page 137 of Bishop

“That’s not it.” She splays a palm across my chest. “Nobody has cared enough to ask my forgiveness before. You’re such a contradiction, Bishop. You confuse the hell out of me.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Her gaze returns to mine, the silence lengthening, my restraint fracturing.

“Distract me,” she begs.

I shouldn’t.

This isn’t what I’d expected when I followed her into this room. I thought she’d want to relieve her panic in other ways. Maybe she’d hit me. Plant me on my ass again. Spray me with that flamboyant rainbow of technicolor aggression she does so well.

Not once did I anticipate her wanting me back in her pants.

But that’s where I need to be.

I grab the front of her jeans. Unclasp the button. The grate of her zipper is loud through the silence as I yank it down.

She snatches at my pants, starting to reciprocate.

“Not this time.” I’ve abstained for many reasons over the years. But now I do it for penance. To make up for stabbing her in the back. I slide my hand beneath the waistband of her panties. “You wet for me, belladonna?”

“From that timid kiss?” She raises a brow.

“I guess I’m rusty.” I delve deeper, wishing I had the experience with affection to give her what she needs, questioning my worth, until my hand reaches that sweet pussy and my fingertips glide through her drenching slickness.

Her lips kick at one side, her eyes slightly abashed as she whispers, “The kiss was perfect.”

Fuck.

Praise has never been so fucking rewarding.

I smash my mouth on hers, stealing her gasp as my fingers glide inside her.

She grabs my shoulders. Clings tight. Kisses me back with enough heat to burn.

“Bishop,” she begs.

“Shh.” I clamp my free hand over her mouth. “I don’t want to die today.”

She whimpers, her pussy clenching around me as I begin to pump, her nails digging into my skin. I press my thumb to her clit, work my knee between her thighs for added pressure.

In seconds she’s panting and gasping again, but this time it’s without the panic. She blinks back at me in pleasure, her cheeks heating beneath my palm, her teeth nipping at my fingers.

I should be thankful the house is filled with fuckholes willing to kill me for my current actions. Without the looming threat, I’d have her on the floor, legs spread, throat hoarse from screaming my name. I’d throw away a decade of commitment for a temporary fix just to know what it feels like to come inside her. To have her pussy milking my cock like it’s currently strangling my fingers.

I clench my teeth. Shove the temptation to the back of my mind. Lean closer. “You better come in silence.” I add more pressure to her clit, rubbing back and forth. “Not one peep out of you or blood will be shed.”

Her hectic exhales heat my palm, her chest thrusting forward, her head tilting back against the door.

I drop my mouth to her neck. Kissing. Biting. Sucking.

I’m so fucking hard. So fucking close to breaking.

“The things I want to do to you,” I groan against her skin. “You drive me insane.”

She bucks her hips closer, riding my thigh.

I kiss her scar. Trace it with my tongue. Scrape it between my teeth.

---