Bayou Bishops Box Set: Books 1-12

CHAPTER 1

Revelator made his way to the main house after the meeting, ready to conduct his own Gauntlet Trial with Cherie. His anger boiled with an unholy fury at what she’d done and how she was behaving with him. He still couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to attempt what she did with her ex-psycho imposter husband. The unholy had entered his fury when she’d begged Bacon and Patches for a ride back to the swamp because she was too pissed to ride with him. “I may be the unofficial Seer for The Twelve,” he’d told Bacon and Patches, “but your deaths would be utterly official if you even think of obliging her.”

Feeling her pressed against him the entire ride back added illogical jealousy to his fury at imagining Patches or Bacon feeling that. He’d teach her all about begging. She broke the contract they’d struck when he spared that demon that tried hurting her. She’d pay for that and everything else she’d done since.

He stood on the porch of the big house and texted her. Meet me on the front porch, Ma Cherie.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, pacing as every forbidden emotion he’d never possessed stole his ability to think.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. I’m busy.

Fury shook his hands as he typed, You want me to come in and get you?

Again he paced, this time holding the phone and eyeing the screen.

The door opened behind him, and everything stilled in him at seeing her. She wore a black dress, blending in with the darkness and for some reason it made him hungrier to stare at her. She stayed near the door and crossed her arms.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice too quiet.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“About what?”

“Everything. You, me, our son and your blatant betrayal of our contract.”

She let out a huge breath, her eyes flashing. “I don’t even know where to begin with that.”

“I won’t fight with you here,” he said.

“Oh really?” He caught the cock of her head. “Where will you fight with me because we’re definitely fighting.”

The promise in her words hit him sexually for some reason. “You can fight me all night at our house.”

“You want me to go with you to your house? We’re not officially married yet, remember? I’m not officially anything and neither are you, other than a real piece of work. You have me and my whole family drugged and imprisoned. You have some nerve coming here making demands of me after that.”

“Your uncles called me,” he reminded. “And where are they? They’re gone because they know this isn’t their fight. It’s mine. And now the Twelve’s.”

He held her gaze and the glitter of her tears punched him in the chest. “I just want…my son, Samuel.”

He shook his head at her, dumbfounded. “What the fuck do you think I want, Ma Cherie? What the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re causing trouble!” she accused, her voice breaking as she wiped her face, pacing. “Now you wanna talk about us? After you sabotaged me getting my son?”

“You fucking know he was setting you up. He wasn’t giving you anything!” Fuck, how could she ever dream otherwise? He lowered his head, breathing through his anger. “Come home with me, Cherie.” He shook his head at the desperate sound in his voice. “I just…want to fucking love you.”

****

Cherie’s breath flew from her lungs at the terrible need in his voice. She fought with her stupid anger, wanting to hold him and send all the demons tormenting his beautiful soul back to hell.

She headed down the steps.

“Where are you going?” he half demanded behind her.

She stopped and turned at the bottom step. “I thought we were leaving?”

He stared at her and even in the low light his brilliant blue eyes raked fire over her soul. She couldn’t escape his stare even as he descended the steps. She was still stuck when he stood before her, fierce and burning her alive. He moved past her while his eyes remained locked on hers, capturing her hand in his as he went. She spent the next minutes following after him and fighting to recover everything he’d just stripped from her with that look.

He didn’t speak as he led her to the pier at the end of the yard. Not a word when he climbed in the boat and wrapped his strong hands around her waist and hoisted her in it like a doll.

She sat directly across from him and watched his face as he drove the little boat through the darkness. Her heart knew what was coming. Every beat took such a mean swing at her chest like it wanted to break free of her and jump right into the arms of that beautiful man.

At his pier, he secured the boat and again hoisted her out and led her without a word to his little house. Every step was life and death. One to her grave, the next to her resurrection. Both were coming. And once she went in that house, it was done. She was over. A part of her said run for it and another said, yes. Finally. Bring it.

She stepped inside and he led her through a darkness filled with the smell of leather, mint, and everything heaven. He directed her to sit in the chair next to the fireplace. Still no words, only the soft thonk of his boots as he moved from one lamp to the next, chasing away the shadows in and around her with their soft yellow glow.

She rubbed her arms as she watched him light the small fireplace next, moving like a man with a plan. Knowing was usually half the battle but not this time, not with him. There was something different in him. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he carried a rod of reproof with her name all over it. And he was gonna use it on her. It would break her and remake her.

Her heart sped up at realizing he was finally done, and the clonk of his boots headed slowly her way. He stopped before the fire, giving her his backside.

She stared up at his form, hidden by the black leather duster reaching the floor. The matching hat, wicked scar, and icy blue eyes made him a terrifying vision from her most erotic dreams. Dreams where she ran from everything she feared and yet secretly craved.

He slowly removed his hat and lowered it along with his head. The sound of his breath leaving his lungs yanked painfully in her chest. He took three slow steps and hung the hat on the wall. Her mouth went dry as she eyed the scar peeking through the dark hair hanging along his face. He slowly removed his coat next, and her pulse sped up at the ripple of muscle beneath the black t-shirt as he hung it next to his hat.

She parted her lips, needing more air when he took hold of the hem of his shirt and slowly removed it. He held the clothing in his hands before him for several seconds then let it fall to the floor at his feet. The sight of his tight, milky torso moving with his labored breaths sent her heart from her chest to her womb. It beat there with no mercy, and she surely wanted none when it came to him and this.

“I’m going to take a shower, Ma Cherie,” he said quietly, his gaze making it halfway between them. “And when I come out…” he went on in decadent warning. “I’m going to marry you. All fucking night.”

****

The second the bathroom door closed, she shot off the chair only to stand immobile, other than the hyperventilating. To think and fear or do anything productive burned up with everything else. There was no putting out the fire raging in her. And he hadn’t even touched her. Or married her. Married her all night. All fucking night.

It was that… fucking addendum. That”s what had her fighting to breathe around the whale in her throat. That one word saturated every part of her in gas. Just a look, a flick of his finger or God, his perfect, righteous tongue and boom, she was done to a crisp.

She needed to prepare.

She paced about in square circles.

Help me God.

Help me Lord.

She came to a quick stop.

Was she clean enough? She’d just showered at the main house but was she clean enough?

Back to pacing, thumbnail jammed between her teeth as his shower filled her mind and ears, along with glorious wet visions of him.

She was hyperventilating again.

And oh, how obvious it was. The way he put everything else on the back burner. The coming wrath was sure to follow. Very sure. He’d very calmly and purposely set that whipping stick to the side, making sure she saw he had. Kept it in plain sight. In reaching distance.

Her body and brain roiled on with the exuberance you might have when inheriting a billion dollars, or some royal throne.

She stopped in her tracks with a gasp.

Should she undress?

She looked down at the beautiful simple gown Mah-Mah had found for her. Black as her sins. But soft as his…perfect...silky...

The oh shit of two things struck her almost ill. She was wearing black to her wedding. And the shower had cut off.

No more time. No place to turn, no place to look but at that bathroom door.

The light shut off at the exact moment it opened. Like a dream swathed in mist, he stepped out. The moment she made out his form, the smells hit her. Dear God, what was that? Her pheromones named it come let me fuck you this instant.

Mercy, he was coming for her. Straight for her. Ohhhh shit and glory, he was naked.

He stopped at a get-an-eye-full distance, his beautiful blue gaze as hard and lustful as the rest of him. Was like he wanted her to take a good look at what he was giving and what she was getting.

She did look. And she surely did know. Once her eyes started that journey, there was no stopping them. With her gaze still locked on his nearly levitating cock, her legs decided she needed a grand tour, moving her slowly around him.

His eyes briefly followed her as she went to his backside where she stopped to devour and drool over that wing tattoo. She had not gotten a long enough look before. And now she was jealous of the feather tips that seemed to caress his perfect butt. Christ almighty, she was on the verge of sweating when she made it back to the front view.

“Ma Cherie,” he barely said. The torment in his voice drew her gaze up to the most lethal thing about him. His eyes. “You’re crucifying me.”

Her mouth opened to protest or explain, giving only hot air. “I’m…I don’t…” She gave a gasp. “Tell me what to do.”

She watched him walk to the fireplace and sit in the chair. He held his hand toward her, and her legs immediately obeyed the call and took her to him.

His head tilted at her midsection before he brought his hot stare to hers. “Get naked, Ma Cherie.”

Her body and brain suddenly went in opposite directions as she considered the request. “I…should…maybe…”

He was slowly shaking his head.

“Bathe,” she finished on a single breath.

“Do you need help out of your dress?”

The question hit her poor brain as it collected Samuel-cock-facts. Was it the lighting, or was it a lot bigger than she remembered? And such a large, delicious vein. She remembered how hard and hot and silky it was the last time she”d pleasured him. And how utterly beautiful he looked in orgasm.

She jerked her gaze down to see what the hell she even wore. The black gown with the fifty buttons down the back. “Yes,” she whispered, regarding him again as he stood. “I need help with...”

He was circling her now and she fought to breathe when he stopped behind her. “These?” he whispered, dragging his finger down the row of buttons.

She gave a nod with her, “Yes,” then sucked in a breath when those hot fingers slid over her exposed neck and shoulders.

“Tell me you”re ready for this, Ma Cherie.”

She closed her eyes with the warm words on her ear. “I am,” she hurried, not wanting him to doubt that. Even while there was all that other stuff to fight about, she wouldn”t fight him with this. She wanted him forever and the sooner that fact was official, the better.

He undid each button then slid the gown off one shoulder then the other, allowing the silk to whisper down to her feet. “Ma Cherie,” he whispered, or accused, making her need to pant. Both hands slowly touched down on her ass, fingers spread as he stroked her so very carefully, feeling every inch. “This. Fucking. Ass.”

The utter torment in those words as he touched her with that hungry reverence brought her first dizzying moan.

“I”m going to sit in that chair, Ma Cherie. And you”re going to climb on my lap.” His fingers squeezed now, measuring other things. “You”re going to ride my cock first... while I hold on to this right here.”

“Oh God,” she whimpered as he squeezed so very hard, demonstrating.

“And then it”ll be my fucking turn to marry you.”

****

Samuel was back to using mind tricks to keep his body from going too fast. How many times he’d fantasized about this night, this marriage. Particularly how many ways and positions he’d marry her on the first night.

He sat in the chair, a prisoner of his decadent chocolate angel. The sight of her full tits pushing out the top of her black satin bra set off a firebomb in his cock. His gaze moved lower as he grabbed the base of his cock, locking on the matching satin panties showcasing heaven. His fucking heaven. He raised his burning eyes up to her face, his heaven part two. Those fucking eyes all over him. In that second they were on his cock, sucking it with a boiling stare. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” he whispered, never more unstable in his life as he moved his gaze back down. “Give me what’s mine.” He moved his hand up his length, opening his legs with unsteady breaths.

She stepped closer. Then closer again. Close enough to touch.

He hooked a finger under the satin on her hip and worked it down, his eyes locked on what he was uncovering. At seeing smooth skin, he sat forward and jerked the material to her knees. His cock throbbed painfully. “Baby…” He brought his other hand to help stroke the smooth caramel petals. “Open for me.” The idea of slow seemed stupid next to the idea of making her. All her hitched breaths and whimpers were fucking dizzying as he slid two fingers between her legs, feeling the silky, full lips. He encountered her slick essence on the second pass when he dipped just inside.

“Oh!” she gasped, drawing his gaze up as he continued to stroke and wet her.

“You’re so wet for me Ma Cherie,” he whispered, dipping a little deeper.

“Samuel,” she barely whispered.

He sat back on the chair, forcing his eyes up only to get lost at her breasts. “Your tits fucking make me crazy,” he breathed, back to holding his cock tall for her. “Wrap your pussy around my cock before I die, Ma belle Cherie.”

He helped her onto his lap, leaning to taste the silky skin along her ribs while her moans and gasps fueled the flames. The moment her pussy encased the crown, the real war was on.

He dropped his head back, fighting back a massive orgasm. He needed to tell her to go slow but he could barely think much less speak. Maybe she read his mind as she took her sweet time descending on him, her cries and moans turning up the agony. His hands found her perfect ass and gripped it. The fire in his brain said use it for leverage and take what he craved. What she craved.

He clenched his eyes shut when she reached bottom finally. Feral groans blasted out as he held her down on him.

“Samuel!”

His fingers dug harder at her desperate cry, begging him to help her. She was burning with him. Her nails pierced through the skin on his shoulders but there was no pain that would touch what was happening in him. He wanted more of that. He wanted every mark their marriage would give him. One rock of her hips loosed him from his own mind and there was no stopping him as he jerked her hips, forcing her against the head of his cock as fast as he could. The sounds that filled that room should’ve worried him but instead he worked with a vicious hunger to bring more of the same all while knowing this appetite she created would never be sated. He would always crave it, always need it and he’d surely always have it. Surely as he would take his next breath.

Then came his first mind-blowing marriage. Holy, holy, holy fuck.

Her kiss told him he wasn’t accidentally killing her even as her sweet cries blasted right into his mouth. And then he was embracing her tightly in the aftermath, their breaths filled with the sheer miracle of that joining. Just as he’d expected, it was unfathomable and indescribable with words and thoughts.

“Ma Cherie,” he finally managed between her breathless kisses.

“My Samuel,” she gasped back. “It’s my turn to marry you.”