Page 98 of Bishop

Under any other circumstance I’d laugh, but that grip around my dick has me shook. I’m a chump already poised to come after a few greedy strokes, pre-cum seeping from my slit.

“Abri,” I grate.

“You won’t ruin my clothes.” She uses her free hand to grab the hem of her shirt and yanks it over her head, exposing lush tits in a pretty pink bra. “I want to feel you on me.”

My nostrils flare as I turn my head away, my balls tight as fuck.

She’s destroying me. Slowly. Painfully.

I’ve never been so easily bested. So agonizingly fucking hard. And by what? A fine rack and a fuckable mouth?

She moves to lean her ass on the vanity, dragging me along with her by my goddamn dick.

When she starts stroking me again, I have no control to stop a groan from escaping. To quit fucking her fist. It takes all my energy to fight against groping her. But that’s exactly what I do. Fight against the need to squeeze her breasts in my hands. To embed my fingers in that fine ass.

She reaches her free hand behind her back, I assume to unclasp her bra.

“Don’t,” I bark. “Keep it on.”

This shit is bad enough without having to look Langston in the eye with his sister’s perfect tits burned into my retinas.

She bristles but complies, dropping her hand to my waist, digging her nails into my side. I hiss in a breath, the bite of pain a potent aphrodisiac as she gently drags a palm along my shaft.

“I’ll take it from here.” I clamp my jaw. Tense all my muscles against the pleasure. Clench her wrist.

“Please,” she begs.

That’s all it takes. One word. One beseeching syllable from an otherwise calculating viper and my dick loses its mind.

I glare at her as pleasure blinds me, my balls heavy, my knees threatening to buckle.

I come with the next glide of her palm, hating how much I can’t deny her as I shoot my load on her belly, each warm jet of seed painting her like a fucking canvas.

She pants, those gorgeous lips parted as if my release is her own. As if I’m mind-fucking her as hard as she’s fucking me. And the whole time she stares at me, meeting my vehemence head-on with mesmerizing eyes that blink with blazing heat.

“That’s enough,” I growl, my chest heaving as I struggle to regain level breathing.

She releases me, her other hand sliding from my waist. She looks down at herself, at the taint I’ve marred on her skin, and trails a finger through the cum on her belly. “Do you feel any better?”

Fuck no.

The release only compounds this messed up situation. And the fact my cock is having a hard time softening is a glaring red flag.

“We’re done here.”

She nods. “Right after we get cleaned up.”

She grabs my hand, slides out between me and the vanity, and leads my pleasure-drunk ass the few steps to the open-ended shower.

Don’t do it, asshole. Don’t fucking get in there with her.

She leans forward to turn on the water, her fingers gently gripping mine when she pivots back to me. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll leave my underwear on.” She unclasps the button on her jeans. Lowers the zipper. Shucks the pants.

My eyes remain on hers—I’m determined not to fall victim all over again. Intent on keeping some fucking distance between us as she pads into the shower to make that remarkable body of hers all the more tempting as it glistens under the water spray.

My resolve lasts a whole five seconds before I’m powerless to stop my gaze trekking over her. I’m a slave to all her dips and curves. I drag my attention across her tits plastered in the pretty pink bra, along her stomach where my seed dribbles toward that cute belly button, to the matching lace panties, my intent narrowing on the dark circular marks on the inside of her right thigh.

My anger spikes. “Are those bruises?”

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