Chapter Nineteen
“You into gambling?” Bishop asked as he let them into their room.
“Not really. I mean I’ll play poker or blackjack with the guys sometimes but I’m not into slot machines or even cards with strangers.
But don’t let that hold you back if you want to play.
I’ll find something to do.” She set her bag on the luggage rack in the corner, opened it, and pulled out her toiletries bag.
Turning to put it away, she found Bishop watching her, a frown creasing his brow.
“What?” she asked as she stepped past him to the bathroom.
“Do you really think I’m going to sit at a poker table and leave you to roam Laughlin alone when you’ve got someone stalking you?
We might be a few hours out of town but that doesn’t mean he can’t find you here.
Especially if Hammer didn’t manage to fix it so he can’t track you.
” He motioned to the watch she’d put on when Hammer had given it back to her this morning, along with her phone.
The club tech sergeant had told her he’d found where she was being tracked and he’d fixed it.
Said he had something planned and not to worry.
The Sons would take care of the asshole and she wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder any longer. She only hoped he was right.
Winter shrugged. “Hammer said it was taken care of. It’s not like we’re just across town from him. It took us hours to get here.”
“It did. And he can get here just as quickly.” He sat on the edge of the bed, caught her hand, and tugged her closer.
“What if he’s still tracking you, saw you heading out of town and he’s only an hour behind us?
How will he react? Will he get violent? I can’t risk any of it.
We’ll find something to do together. We can find somewhere to eat, maybe take in a show, or rent Jet Skis and play on the river.
Let’s find something to eat and look at what’s going on in town tonight, then we’ll decide.
” She nodded and went back to pull a couple of things from her bag and hung them up.
She glanced over at him, then around the room, wondering what he’d done with his bag.
She found it sitting on top of the table where the TV sat.
She shook her head, wondering how anyone could pack for an overnight trip in what was basically a shaving kit.
She finished putting things away, then checked her hair to make sure it wasn’t sticking up in directions it shouldn’t be after wearing her helmet, then they headed downstairs to find something to eat.
“See anything that looks good?” Bishop nodded toward the device in her hand from where he sat beside her in the booth. She’d been looking at what was going on tonight in town while she waited for their food.
“There’s a concert. It’s country.” She wrinkled her nose.
She wasn’t much for country music. Give her some decent rock, contemporary or classic, she didn’t care which, and she would be a happy camper, but the twang and whine of country didn’t do much for her.
They might not have known each other long, but they’d talked music and pop culture a bit while getting to know each other.
“Who is it?”
“Give me a sec, I don’t remember and it wasn’t a name I recognized.” She flipped screens back to where she’d found the ad for the concert. “Someone named Brantley Gilbert? What kind of name is Brantley?”
“I don’t know, Spitfire, but what kind of name is Winter or Bishop?
” He watched her for a second. “I know country’s not your thing.
But I think you’d like him. How about we show up and check it out?
If you don’t like it, we can leave. I’ll take you back to the room and show you how much I want you. ”
“How about we just skip the concert and you show me anyway?” She wiggled her brows in a suggestive gesture.
Bishop chuckled.
“As much as I’d love to, babe, we don’t get up this way all that often.
You should enjoy the town at least a little.
It’s a little late in the year to play in the water and you’re not much of a gambler, so that leaves the shows.
Come on, give it a chance.” He leaned close so he could speak in her ear.
“If you’re good, I might give you what you want during the concert. ”
The waitress appeared with their food. Winter waited until she was gone to speak again.
“What time is the show again? I think I need to change before we go, if there’s time.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Now she was oddly excited for the show. Even if she wasn’t sure she’d care for the music, playing with Bishop promised to be enough fun to make up for it, even if the music sucked.
****
An hour later, in a tight skirt that only went halfway down her thighs and a halter top, along with her patchling cut, Winter stood beside Bishop as he paid for their tickets.
He guided her into the arena, and to the bar where he got them each a drink before he took her to their seats.
They chatted and sipped their drinks while they waited for the opening act.
They didn’t have long to wait as they’d been close to the starting time for the show when they’d made it through the line at the bar.
The opening act came on. It was a band she didn’t recognize, and she didn’t hold out much hope of the music being to her taste, but she could enjoy being here with Bishop. He sat with one arm across her shoulders, keeping her close enough that the evening chill barely registered.
The band started and she was pleasantly surprised.
At least the opening act didn’t suck as much as she feared.
The music was more like classic rock than she’d expected and the vocalist didn’t have what she used to tease her father by calling the “Nashville Whine.” Before long she found herself dancing in her seat, enjoying the music, even if she could only hear about half the lyrics this far back.
They finished their drinks and Bishop went to get them another.
When he came back, she was standing, along with most of the rest of the crowd, dancing in place.
Bishop slipped in behind her, moving against her as she moved.
The hard ridge of his erection pressing against her ass sending bolts of heat through her, and liquid heat leaking from her core.
He reached around and held her fresh drink in front of her while he bent and spoke in her ear.
“Having fun?”
Winter nodded, not wanting to yell her response.
Besides, she thought it was obvious how much she was enjoying the music.
When the tempo died down a bit and she was ready to sit, Bishop pulled her onto his lap, instead of letting her sit in her own seat.
She twisted around to make sure she wasn’t blocking anyone’s view then settled in.
His lap was far more comfortable than the chair anyway.
Plus, this way they could have some of that fun he’d hinted at.
The opening act left the stage and they announced the headliner. Once more she shook her head and wondered what her father would say if he could see her now, enjoying a country concert, and not just because of the company.
The smoke and light show on the stage started, a man came out on stage wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped out revealing full sleeve tattoos and wearing a baseball cap.
She couldn’t see but the image on the big screen behind him gave her more detail.
He wore what looked to be about a two-week growth of beard.
She figured this was just another stagehand or announcer getting things ready for the main man, but he walked up to the stand, took the mic, and started bouncing around the stage.
The crowd was going wild, screaming and shouting.
Music started in a thumping beat she had a hard time not moving to, then the man she assumed was a stagehand started singing.
She blinked in surprise.
“See. He’s more country rock than pure country.
He’s got a few I think you’ll enjoy, and not just the beat, but the message too.
” Bishop wrapped an arm around her middle and slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt.
He let it rest there against her belly for a bit, then eased it upward until his hand covered her boob.
He teased her, kneading the mound and tweaking the nipple until she couldn’t help but squirm on his lap, needing more but not sure how to get it without everyone around them knowing what they were up to.
A few songs later, she was enjoying the music, as well as Bishop’s hands on her body.
She wasn’t sure which had gone to her head faster—the beer or what he was doing to her.
When he tapped her hip, she started to stand, only to have the hand under her shirt pulled back down.
It wasn’t until she hit his leg again that she realized what he’d done.
Bishop had slipped a hand under her, and once she sat, he worked the hem of her skirt up until there was nothing between them but the denim of his jeans and the thin cotton of her panties.
And where his hand sat pressed against her cunt there were no jeans.
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold it without spilling much longer, she downed what was left of her beer, then bent and set the empty cup under her seat.
Bishop took that opportunity to slide her underwear to the side and out of the way, though he kept his touch light and teasing as he worked his fingers back and forth over the lips of her pussy.
His finger brushed the tip of her clit where it was swollen and protruding, making her twitch and roll her hips, as if silently begging for more.
“Sit still or I’ll stop,” Bishop’s voice had gone low and husky and she knew he was as turned on as she was, as if the thick ridge of his erection under her butt hadn’t already given it away.
But she wanted more. She wanted it all. She bit her lower lip, braced her hands on his thighs on either side of her own, and forced herself to still as his fingers eased back and forth, using the slick moisture leaking from her core to slip between her lips and torment her.
Winter fought the ache to move, to beg for more, as he brushed past her clit without giving her what she needed.
She let her head fall back as one finger penetrated her cunt.
She was still lost in the flood of sensations bombarding her body when she felt a second finger slip inside.
Need welled in her. Whimpers escaped, but the music and crowd were so loud no one noticed as Bishop thrust his fingers deep then withdrew them over and over.
Her entire body trembled as she fought to keep from moving. She was so close. So close. Winter moved one hand, needing just a little stimulation on her clit to come, and she needed to come so bad she wasn’t sure she could form the words to beg.
“Do it and I’ll make you wait until after the show to come.” Bishop’s voice was little more than his breath across her ear. “I’ll keep you on edge like this until every last person has left the arena, then I’ll make you hit every casino in town before I let you come.”
Heat flashed through her and she put her hands back where they’d been. There was no way she’d risk that. At least not here. Maybe at home, around people they trust, a little exhibitionism mixed with edge play would be fun.
He tormented her, finger-fucking and only giving her enough to stay on the edge until she sat on his lap breathing in gasps as she fought to do as he’d told her.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably under fifteen minutes, he smashed his palm against her clit.
She wanted to ride his hand, to grind her clit against his hand but he said to be still.
Her legs trembled despite her not standing.
Bishop shifted his hand, driving his fingers deep into her once more as he ground his palm against the bundle of nerves, the hand in her shirt pinched her nipple hard, driving her over the edge.
Winter’s body clenched as pleasure so sharp it was almost painful flooded her.
Her vision went white for a moment and she fell back until she lay against his chest, her head on his shoulder.
She didn’t know how long she sat nearly limp against him before he eased his hand from under her, then brought it to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean.
Bishop met her gaze as he finished cleaning his hand, then licked his lips as if he didn’t want to miss even the smallest bit.
Her body clenched and a smaller version of the orgasm he’s just driven her to washed over her.
Bishop smiled, a satisfied glint lighting his eye as he leaned down and kissed her. Winter tasted herself in his kiss, it made her want more, but he’d taken the edge off and she could wait until after the show now.