Page 179 of Bishop

He reaches inside to flick on a light, the cheap energy-saver glow exposing an empty living room save for the ratty closed curtains and the scratched up dining table with three chairs skirting the rim. On the far side there’s an entryway that I assume leads to a kitchen.

“This used to be your dad’s place?” I step inside a whole new low for me.

Selling myself while drinking Cristal champagne in lavish hotel rooms under sparkling chandeliers doesn’t chip away at my pride like the current scent of mold and mildew coming from threadbare carpet.

I saunter toward the table, not allowing my soul the bathroom break it craves. Not one opportunity to crumple or wade in regret. Just straightforward momentum. I grab the back of the closest chair and drag it into the middle of the room. “Take a seat.”

“A seat?” He closes the front door. “What for?”

“You want me on my knees, don’t you?”

If I can incentivize enough information from him before he has the chance to get between my thighs then I’m only a stun-gun trigger away from stealing his keys and getting out of here.

I drop my clutch to the floor before the chair. Within reach for when I need it. Then take my time gently guiding my hair over one shoulder as he strolls forward.

He takes his place before me, the old chair whining under his weight.

“I’m a lover of foreplay, Aaron.” I discard my blazer, letting it fall to the dirty carpet. Then I reach behind my back, lowering the zipper of my top an inch. The material dips across my chest, gaping lower over my cleavage, the upward curve of his mouth my cruel prize. “How about you?”

“I just want to fuck, baby girl.” He grabs for my hips.

“Nuh-uh-uh.” I slip out of reach, waggling my finger at him. “Be patient. I’m worth it.”

I reach for my zipper again, giving another inch. My top slips lower, the plumped curve of my breasts on display through my white La Perla lace bra. “I want this to last.”

He huffs, sulking as he grabs the armrests.

“You’re an attractive guy.” I slink closer, skimming my touch over his shoulders as I walk around him. “But you know that, right?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve been told once or twice.”

“I bet.” I saunter around to the front of him, biting my lip as my gaze creeps down his chest to the bulge in his pants. “Have you ever imagined me going down on you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He grabs his crotch and squeezes. “You’d probably laugh if you knew how many times I’ve come thinking about my cock at the back of your throat.”

Gag would be more appropriate, but let’s not get nitpicky.

“I wouldn’t laugh.” I reach under the bottom of my top and undo the front clasp of my strapless bra, letting it fall to the floor beside my blazer. “I might get a little wet, though.”

He huffs a snicker and rubs his palms back and forth along his thighs, his gaze on the large expanse of cleavage provided by my gaping top.

He’s eager.

Impatient.

Perfect.

“Where did you leave my mother?” I lower to my knees before him, leisurely undo the laces on his black sneakers, then remove his shoes. Once I’m done, and still don’t have an answer, I meet his gaze, my hands gliding up his thighs. “You said it was in the vicinity of my daughter. Does that mean they’re together?”

“Not yet.” His smirk is subtle. “She’s waiting to hear what you do with your instructions. Imagine if she could see you now.”

What a delightful thought.

It’s a fight not to glare. To keep the sultry expression on my face. To stay in the zone.

Concentrate, Abri.

I try, but it’s so much harder tonight. The disgust is thicker. My contempt impossible to ignore. And it’s not just because Geppet lacks the wealth and success of my normal marks. It’s because this feels like a betrayal to Bishop. Like I’m cheating on a man I don’t want to admit I painfully care about.

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