Page 86 of The Brotherhood

Beth barely swallowed, her pulse like a bird in her chest. “I’ll rest when you do.”

Bishop huffed a quiet laugh, nibbling gently at her jaw. “Still stubborn.” His touch returned to her belly, fingers flexinggently, feeling every inch. “Mow fees pah-fay,” he muttered softly, raising his gaze to hers.

She smiled slowly. “And what does that mean?”

He meshed his lips to hers. “My perfect son. Just like his Mah-Mah.”

She grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers, pressing their lips tightly before pulling back. “I love you so much.”

****

The heavy oak door clicked shut. Bishop pressed his palm against it for half a second, exhaling slowly.

Finally alone.

The room was quiet and dimly lit by a single oil lamp that made the wood and leather of the Creole King’s office glow. But his eyes were on her.

Standing a few feet away, eyes still damp, lips still swollen from his kisses. His new body had many perks he approved of with her. His perceptions were dimensional in ways that fed him down to his soul.

Every bit of him ached to touch her again. Remap every inch of her.

He turned the lock with a slow, deliberate twist then made his way slowly to her, watching her pulse and breaths quicken, her pupils widen.

She stood against the desk as he began removing her clothes, a slow unwrapping of his treasure. She allowed him to do as he pleased, and he kissed gently along her mouth to show his appreciation.

With every piece of clothing removed, his blood and breath thickened.

He realized another change. His old self would have connected with everything about her already. Now, it waslayered information. A slow dissection. A savoring. Her heartbeat, her blood composition, the heat variance in her skin. It was an erotic rush. Before, it was a bombardment of knowing too much too fast. This was... incredibly delicious. Itmadehim learn every bit of her the way he wanted to. Slowly. Entirely.

And judging by her arousal, it doubled as an outrageous form of pleasure-edging.

His fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, pressing into warm skin, feeling every dip and curve before he lifted it over her head and removed it.

“Bishop,” Beth panted as he locked his eyes on her fucking tits overflowing black lace. It felt like an assault. Made him want to retaliate. Punish.

His chest rose slow and deep as he traced under the swell of her breasts. He raised his gaze to hers and leaned in. Lips inches from hers, he moved his thumbs over her nipples, catching her gasps.

He angled his head, fire moving through his veins and cock till his breaths shuddered with a hunger deeper than anything he’d ever felt. A hunger that matched his new abilities and their appetites.

He lowered his head, dragging his mouth over the slope of her neck, parting his lips and tasting. Salt and heat. He flicked his tongue over her pulse next. The slow savoring drove her to claw at his skin, demanding with those decadent mewls.

Her desperate fight moved to his jeans, clawing to get them open. He pulled back, locking his gaze on her while sliding out of his coat. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and paused.

“What?” she gasped, her hooded eyes raising to his.

“I’m different here.”

Her brows drew together as he let her lift his shirt. Midway up, she froze and her gasp felt like a snap in his spine.

“I did what I had to,” he muttered.

She lowered the shirt, her arousal replaced with agony and confusion. “What… kind of accident was this?”

He took her face in his hands and gently pulled her mouth to his. “A minor explosion.”

She shoved him back, looking at his face. “Minor? Tell me everything! Now!” she gasped, chest heaving.

He had to smile. Her righteous fury for him seemed to be some kind of rocket booster and her persuasive gifts were utterly ineffective. Other than he could feel them, little fists, futilely banging against an iron door.

---