Page 96 of Deceit

Bishop’s callous palm glides down my left side and between my opened thighs. He’s not gentle when he begins yanking my panties down, needing me as much as he always does.

Finally separating our lips, he lowers himself, peppering kisses at my chin, collarbone, between my clothed breasts, and down to my stomach. My breathing becomes more haggard in anticipation and practically stops at his next words.

Almost.

“I’m a lucky bastard, and you’re so beautiful, Emmy.” His lips press to the inside of one of my legs. “Forty orgasms tonight?”

Fucking asshole.

“You’re giving away extras?” Bishop straightens his spine to remove the rest of the lace between my legs before peering down at me in all his shitheaded glory.

He’s stunningly gorgeous and divinely broken.

Always has been.

I believe I was in love with him way before his mentioned crush on me. Prior to us getting married and when sometimes I think I caught him watching me.

He’s not everything I’ve hoped for; he’s more.

He’s fearless in every aspect except love. He’s kind to those who deserve it. I’ve now seen the way he was with his niece and how he adapted to something that wasn’t B723. Bishop, in all his faults, tries. He makes an attempt, but for some reason, I hold him back.

And Camilla’s doings burns hot in my brain ever since I had the misfortune of meeting her. However, I understand it and him better.

“Your mind is running a mile a minute,” Bishop claims, getting me to focus on him. “It’s just me and you, Emmy.”

Me and you.

I wish it were. With all my heart, I hope Bishop and I could do it all.

“You need something to do?” He lifts a brow and runs his palms down from my knees to my calves. “I was going to make my queen come on my face.”

My fucking God, I wish he’d stopped talking to me like this.

He makes it more difficult. He creates hope in my soul. He causes my beating heart to have faith in our relationship to where it’ll blossom one day or another.

730 plus days later...still nothing.

“I’m okay,” I mutter through the thought and the fact that he saidmy.

I catch on to those little words. In fact, I grasp tightly and lock them away so they can never flee.

Bishop crawls back over me, our faces aligned together as he asks me, “What’s the matter? You’re freaking me out.”

I run my hands down the side of his face, wishing my love and admiration from him would seep into his veins, so I didn’t have to vocalize them. He’d just know. “Savoring the moment.”

“Silently?”

“You always said I talk too—“

“If there is a time I’d want you to let go with everything, this would be it. Unless—“ He leans in to nestle his face to the column of my neck again. “—you need me to do the talking.”

“What would you say?”

He flicks his tongue to run up my soft skin. “That every time I see you, I want to fuck you.” Another kiss to my carotid artery. “That you’re a never-ending fantasy that plays out in my head. And your ass in these dresses doesnothingto help that.”

My fingers trail softly back and forth over his shoulder blades, hinting for him to go on. His talking so much is beginning to freakmeout, but I encourage it more than anything.

“That I still always dream of getting you to shut up by shoving my cock in your mouth.” A scoff-chuckle sounds off my lips before I feel Bishop’s cock brush up against my hot core.

---