Page 180 of Bishop

But there he is, haunting the back of my mind.

“Where are they?” I ask, wondering if picturing Bishop in his place will help see me through. I imagine dark blue eyes peering down at me instead of light grey. Dirty blond hair sweeping a beard-covered jawline rather than the chestnut brown mullet.

I skim my touch higher, playfully grazing his hard cock beneath his jeans on my way to his belt.

It still feels wrong.

“Closer than you ever would’ve thought,” Geppet groans. “At least that’s what your mom said.”

I pull the leather belt from his pants, slow, measured. “You need to tell me where.”

“Not yet.”

“Please, Geppet.” I bite my bottom lip, sinful as I beg.

“No.” His patience vanishes in the blink of an eye, my unease tightly leashed as he grabs a fistful of my hair and reefs my head back. “You need to suck my fucking dick first.”

I blink up at him as animalistic rage drip, drip, drips into my bloodstream, dancing with the adrenaline entering my veins.

I could break his hold and have him on his back with one of the chair legs crushing his windpipe in less effort than it would take to make him climax. And I’d do it, too. Enjoy it. If I didn’t need him.

“Play nice,” I purr, my head awkwardly cocked, my neck straining.

“That’s the problem, baby girl.” He leans forward. “You think I’m playing and I’m not. Suck my fucking cock or that evil bitch mother of yours is going to hightail it overseas and disappear with your kid.”

Fear places its powerful hands around my throat, squeezing tight. My sensuous mask slips.

Geppet’s eyes narrow as if sensing the blow he’s made, his lips kicking up at one side.

Focus.

Be calm.

“You like it rough?” I whisper, leaning into his hold on my hair, blinking back into my persona with a smile. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He tugs harder and I smile broader, watching intently to see if his enjoyment comes from my fear or his show of dominance.

“I like a lot of things most women don’t appreciate.” He strokes the fingers of his free hand down my left cheek. “But your mom tells me you’ll do anything if correctly incentivized. Is that true?”

“I enjoy sex, Geppet. Most women do if the men they’re with know what they’re doing.”

“I told you not to call me Geppet.” He grabs my chin, his fingers digging into skin as he continues to hold my head cocked at a painful angle.

“Sorry, Aaron,” I croon, shuffling closer on my knees. I need to get within reach of my clutch, but can’t when he has my hair held hostage.

“You deserve to be punished.” He releases my chin with a grin, his arm retreating before it quickly snaps back.

I have a split second to tense before the backhanded blow lands across my cheek. Heat lashes the left side of my face, the burn consuming my eyes. I blink away tears, not of weakness or pity but of pure fucking rage.

“That’s enough.” I attempt to yank my head away, but he holds tight to my hair.

“Then suck my fucking cock.” He drags my face close to his crotch, lowering his zipper with his free hand. “I’ve humored you long enough. It’s time to see what Daddy taught you.”

“Without my consent?” I ask.

I want to know exactly where his head is at before I lose my temper and turn the tables on this asshole. My clutch is now in reach. My claws are ready and waiting to latch onto his dick with force.

Hell, I could unleash the years of Krav Maga and MMA to re-right this approaching train wreck. But I won’t do it over a pitiful slap.

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