Page 98 of Deceit

Our sweaty foreheads touch as do our hot breathes mingling together. Bishop pulls away from my face, locking his blue eyes with mine, sending me a silent message I can’t decipher right now. My brain can only latch on and focus on this.

Especially when his pelvis is grazing my clit as he drives unforgivingly inside me. This is desperate and a long time coming.

This is pure need.

These are the words we’re both too stubborn to let be said.

His weight on top of me is comfort and pure alpha male that makes me feel safe and not a mistake.

Not when it’s like this, it can’t be.

This feels too good.

Too right.

Too fucked up that we’d never be any more than this.

Bishop falls back to my mouth, craving more, the silence being his reassuring friend and the fervor that creates between us.

“Bishop,” I whimper through deep kisses and nips of his mouth.

“You start, baby—” He lapses his tongue against mine again, driving me absolutely fucking insane. “—I’ll finish.”

I do, crumbling underneath him and uttering his name like it’s a prayer that was finally answered, full of relief and contentment when he falls down the same hole I did.

His voice, my name,him,in general, makes me want to go again right off the bat.

“Emmy Lou Rhodes,” he pants, landing on his side and pulling me to face him.

“Mhm?” He reaches up and brushes a piece of my hair from my eyes, and shakes his head.

All the words he was about to say lost.

We look like those badass groups out of a movie—minus the slow walking—and into a perfectly decorated and elaborate party.

I feel all eyes on us as we walk inside, my second fam flanking me on all sides, with no one none the wiser.

We’re here to crash this event.

With Blue inconveniently at my right side in the beautiful off-white dress that I picked out for her, so she didn’t waltz in looking like a stripper, and the boys striding behind us, we enter William Wamkin’s North Hampton party.

AKA Willy Wonka.

William runs the Pittsburgh circuit of drug deals and dabbles in prostitution. Bubba was under his payroll and pretty high up the chain. Bishop wants to keep his family safe.

So, safe they shall be.

I pivot around to examine my guys in their part to blend in tonight. Marty is dressed in a light gray suit vest with a white dress shirt underneath and dark jeans—he hates it.

Mills is always fun and open. He’s done up in a burgundy suit and tie with his own personal touch of white sneakers. Kyson is wearing a hunter-green ensemble. He’s already taken the coat off and casually has it over his shoulder. I was scared that he’d resemble a Christmas ornament with his red hair, but he looks fantastic.

And then Bishop.

Attired in all black everything, he materialized like Hades coming for the hearts and souls of anyone and everyone.

“You all look great,” I tell them before I turn my eyes into slits. “Now behave.”

“This plan is stupid,” Marty mutters, already tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Let’s take the little prick and go.”

---