Page 161 of Bad Bishop
He fawned over me like I was about to shatter into minuscule pieces at any minute.
“More iced tea?” He stomped into our bedroom with a pitcher and some cookies. Imma was sent to my parents’ house. He became so unbearably paranoid he didn’t want anyone around me. He even closed down the pub.
“No, thank you.” I stared at the pitcher, horrified. “The baby is pressing against my bladder. I want to pee just looking at it.”
“What about the cookies?”
“Heartburn.”
“Italian soup? There’s leftovers from Imma’s—”
“For the love of God, sit down.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m pregnant, not dying. And I don’t want to eat or drink. I just want to spend some time with you.”
I patted the space next to me on the mattress to make a point. He still looked unconvinced. Rolling my eyes, I fell forward on my palms and crawled across the bed until my face was flush with his groin. I touched his stomach through his black dress shirt. His sinewy abs immediately contracted beneath my fingertips.
He said something. I didn’t bother reading his lips.
Suddenly, all I wanted was his cock in my mouth. It was unfathomable to me that it hadn’t happened before. I loved his body. Every inch of it.
I felt his groan as I tugged on the zipper of his slacks. I looked up, and his face seemed almost…pained. His lips slightly parted. I knew it was on the tip of his tongue to tell me I didn’t have to do it.
I also knew he wasn’t chivalrous enough to speak those words.
Even in love, my husband wasn’t a hero in anyone’s story. He was a villain. And I wouldn’t want him any other way.
Freeing him from his pants and boxers, his shaft sprang free, slapping his stomach, leaving a tear of precum on his prominent abs.
My breath skated across the crown of his cock. A ragged sigh escaped him, his breath quickening. I wrapped my hand around the base, surprised with how hot and velvety it felt. I dipped my head, giving the tip an experimental lick, screwing the tip of mytongue to the place where another pearl of liquid awaited. It was salty, earthy, and delicious.
Palming the underside of his cock, I let its weight sit on my tongue. As soon as I fastened my mouth around it, the last shreds of his self-control evaporated, along with all that fake gentleness that grated on my nerves. He fisted the back of my hair—tight enough to hurt, but not to make me flinch—and pushed my face farther down his length, making me take two more inches. A muscle in the back of my throat jumped, triggering my gag reflex. He guided my face up, not letting me pull away from his penis as our gaze struck.
His lips moved very slowly. “I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth now, darlin’, hard and fast. If it gets too much, tap the side of my thigh, yeah?”
I nodded, and he let go completely. His hips snapped and he thrust all the way into me. Nausea bubbled up my mouth, but I managed to swallow it down. His tip touched the back of my throat, and I loved the rush of excitement it gave me, having my mouth so full of him.
I was on all fours, sucking him off while he controlled the pace and rhythm by holding the back of my head, sliding in and out of my mouth. Each time he pressed home, I took a deep, greedy suck, trying to keep him there, flicking my tongue over the bottom of his cock, breathing through my nose. He reached to cup one of my veiny breasts, tugging at the nipple roughly.
Wetness pooled between my thighs, and I knew I was drenched. Desperate for his cock to fill me. I ground against the bed, using one hand to work his cock and the other to massage his thigh as he plowed deeper and jerkier into me.
I wondered if he was going to come inside my mouth when he pulled out of me all of a sudden, guiding me down the bed gently, so as not to touch my collarbone. I gasped, catching his hungry gaze as his thick cock bounced between us, pushing myknees apart and stroking the wet part of my panties, driving me even wilder.
Moaning, I arched my back in offering. He tugged my panties down my legs impatiently, stuffing it in the pocket of the slacks bunched at his knees.
Ripples of pleasure crashed inside me, cluing me in on an orgasm before he even touched me.
“Time to fuck you nice and good,wifey.”
My round belly stood between us, so all I could see was his face and shoulders. Recently, it had gotten harder to have sex unless I was on top of him.
He pushed two fingers into me, sinking into my wetness, and pulled them out, sucking them clean. “Ready.”
He hitched me up by the waist and turned me over so I was on all fours facing the headboard. His knees sank to the mattress behind me. Tiernan slammed into me all at once, and I cried out, throwing my head back with a moan.
He’d never taken me like this before, always watching out for my delicate soul and trauma. I wished he hadn’t. There was something so exhilarating about this position. About the fact I couldn’t see his face, read his lips, sign to him. I was completely at his mercy as he drove into me, riding me from behind.
Picking up the pace, he leaned over, his six-pack colliding with my back, and tilted my head sideways, awarding me with a filthy, bruising kiss. With each slam of his hips, I groaned into his mouth, our juices dripping down my inner thighs.
A mouthwatering rush of heat found itself in my core. Every muscle in my body burned and tensed. I was a marionette on tight strings. When I arched my back and felt my climax taking over me, the invisible strings cut off. I collapsed on the bed limply. My husband caught my waist from behind, both to protect my pregnant belly and to steady me. He pumped intome a few more times before I felt the heat of his cum spreading inside me, then pulled out.
