Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Aspen
He’s fucking gorgeous. Unfairly so. But right now?
Like this? He’s a weakness that’s going to make me go back on every promise I made to myself about holding him at arm’s length.
Especially when he’s this agreeable to my whims. I can hardly believe he agreed to play along with this half-formed plan.
But now I’m torturing us both by letting it carry on.
And he knows. I can see it in his eyes, the way they glimmer and dance even in this low light.
A quiver of his lip that turns into the slow upward tug of a self-satisfied grin forces me to ask the obvious question.
“What has you so smug?”
“My wife can’t take her eyes off my cock.” A softly groaned curse interrupts him before he continues, “And she’s getting wetter and wetter wishing she could ride me.”
“You think so?” I do my best to bluff my way out of the truth, taking the last of the whiskey with me.
“I know so.” He nods down to the desk, where the wood is damp with how wet I am. “So pay up.”
I can’t fight him on this. Not when it’s so obvious. Even if I wanted to, and I don’t, it’d be a losing battle. I set the empty glass down and slide to the edge of the desk. I take my time untying my robe, watching the hungry way his eyes eat up every inch of me.
But I pause when I see the faint outlines of stretch marks etched into my skin and the soft roll of my stomach when I’m sitting.
I never worried about this with Ethan. He’d seen them for years.
But Bishop hasn’t. The body he remembers no longer exists.
It hasn’t for almost as long as he’s been gone.
I snatch the sides of the robe back together and then do my best to redirect by slowly slipping my hand into my panties.
His eyes track the movement, but then they bounce back up to meet mine.
“Take the robe off.” The victory he’s had over me has emboldened him.
“Don’t order me.” I try to put us back to rights.
“I’m asking then. Nicely.” A pleading look crosses his face, softer than the one he wore before.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s my prerogative.”
“Give me this. Please, honey.” His eyes are wide as he implores me. “I want to see my wife on our wedding night.”
“I’m not twenty anymore, Bishop.” I hate myself for saying the words because I’d felt so confident all night. So sexy. I try to put myself back in that headspace. “So you don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling. I’m asking. And thank fuck you’re not twenty anymore.
I loved her, don’t get me wrong, but this version of you?
She’s the best one yet. I wouldn’t have survived her then, but now…
” There’s a playful smirk on his lips, but I still feel the urge to warn him.
I don’t think I could handle seeing disappointment in his eyes.
“I have stretch marks from the pregnancy. They’re faded, but I—” I pause when he leans forward and kisses the tops of my thighs. It unnerves me to feel his mouth on my skin again, the heat of his breath dancing over it and lighting me on fire as he makes his way down to my knee.
I’ve forgotten what I was saying, distracted by the feel of him. I’m desperate to have his mouth in other places, but I can’t.
“Bishop,” I warn.
“Let me?” He reaches for the sides of my robe but waits to pull them back until I give him the go-ahead with a subtle nod.
I lift my eyes to the ceiling to avoid his reaction as he stands and slips the robe off my shoulders.
I let it fall to the desk below, pulling each of my arms out and shifting myself to rest on my palms again.
I feel the ghost of his hands over my body until he reaches my stomach.
He drags the backs of his knuckles over my skin.
“These aren’t something to be worried about, Jones.
They’re just another thing about you to be obsessed with.
Secret little memories. Reminding me that you carried my whole fucking heart in this body.
I might not have gotten the chance to see it for myself in person, but this is the next best thing.
Only turns me on more.” His words echo through me and fill me with renewed confidence.
This version of him is dangerous. The twenty-something Bishop was soft-spoken and hesitant to confess his thoughts to me.
An improvement on the teenager whose silence was only broken by the occasional murmured sound of approval when he touched me.
The man standing in front of me now only vaguely resembles him, filled out in all the right places, confident, and eager to please with the most charming smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
One that widens as I let him continue touching me for a few more moments.
The slow, maddening descent of his hand against the soft curve of my body stops just as his fingertips reach the lace band of my panties. I wrap my hand around his wrist, then, stilling the motion.
“Sit down before I make you.” I bark out the order, and he complies easily. He wasn’t lying about being turned on. He’s still hard for me and so thick that I can already imagine it’s gonna take me time to warm back up to be able to take him. “Give me your palm again.”
He holds it out, and I lean over and spit in it. His eyes flash brightly before his lips quiver with amusement.
“Now fuck yourself with it. I wanna watch you.” I slip my fingers back under the lace of my panties, taking my time and teasing myself with the slightest touches. “You have to get me nice and wet if you want a good taste.”
“You’re fucking wicked.” He grins before he bites down on his lower lip, another pass of his hand takes him closer to the edge of his pleasure. He groans, and my clit practically pulses along with the sound. I need him inside me so badly it hurts.
I drag two fingers through my wetness, lifting my hips as I spread my thighs to get them nice and coated for him. I’m going to give this man everything he asks for. Taunt us both with all the possibilities he’s been craving.
“You like it this way though,” I whisper as I pull my hand free, pressing my fingers to his lips and pushing inside. His tongue swirls around them, and his eyes slowly close as he lets out a moan. “Suck them clean.”
He does exactly as instructed, stroking himself with a grip that has me watching his head grow from a deep pink to a flush of red as he builds to his climax. I pull my fingers free, watching as he licks the traces of me off his lips.
“Christ, you taste so fucking sweet, honey. Please. Give me more. Let me fucking eat that sweet little cunt. I’ll make you come so fucking hard if you let me.”
Dear god. I’m not going to survive him a single night.
I want him so badly. But I need time and space to process what we’re doing and what it means. I don’t want to rush into this only to hurt us both all over again.
“You haven’t earned it yet,” I say softly. His eyes lift to meet mine, a flash of disappointment in them before he sees the reassuring look on my face. “But you keep listening so well like this, showing me how good you can be. You will.”
“Anything you want.” His gaze drifts down my body, heavy-lidded as he works himself over. He slows his pace, drawing it out and trying to hold off the inevitable.
“I want to watch you come. I want to see you make a mess of yourself and those pants for me. Like you can’t help yourself.”
“I’ve never been able to when it comes to you.”
“It’s one of my favorite things about you.” I smirk as I lean forward to get a better look, and his gaze darkens as he lifts his lashes to meet my eyes. It’s hot as hell. “Fuck yourself for me, and I’ll give you another taste.”
He starts to stroke in earnest, heavy-handed passes of his palm that quicken in their pace as he watches me slick my fingers again.
I run my thumb over my index finger when I pull them free, wetting it before I run the pad over his lower lip.
He sucks it into his mouth, licking and nipping the tip of my thumb as he strokes faster.
“Let me have one more try, honey. Please,” he pleads.
The look on his face has my heart and stomach tumbling one over the other. Every nerve ending in my body on a short fuse. I’m nearly as desperate as he is to give him some measure of what he wants.
I slide to the edge and spread my thighs wider for his benefit, pulling the strip of cotton fabric to the side. His gaze falls hard and heavy before it snaps back to mine for permission. I nod.
“One more taste,” I offer myself up to him. “But don’t stop. Finish yourself off.”
“Whatever you want,” he agrees eagerly.
He’s delivered exactly as he promised. I’m wet as hell.
Glistening for him before he even touches me with his tongue.
I can see the satisfaction reflected in his eyes as he takes in the sight.
He wets his lips in anticipation before he leans forward to dip his tongue in for one last attempt to satiate himself.
He groans loudly the moment his tongue meets my pussy, dragging it over my skin and tightening his grip around his cock.
I gasp at the sensation of his warm mouth on me, his breath dancing over me as he inhales.
I bite down on my lower lip but it doesn’t stop the soft moan that escapes.
A sound he draws courage from when he takes second, longer draw from the well.
“One more. Not two or three.” The reprimand would be more effective if it wasn’t punctuated by a murmured curse of pleasure.
Fuck. I’m letting us both tumble down this precarious cliff.
I slip my fingers into his hair, tightening my grip and gently tugging to bring his eyes up to meet mine. I arch my brow as I glance down to where his hand has slowed to a languid pace.
“I said finish yourself off.”
“Hard to focus I have a face full of the most perfect fucking pussy in the world.” His grin is positively devilish as his lashes lower, and he runs his tongue over a spare drop that’s ready to fall.
“Try harder.” I pull back from the edge of the desk and the edge of our rules, reining us both in.
His eyes study my movement. I gently brush my fingers through his hair one last time before I let go, trying to make sure he knows I’m only wanting us to take things slow.
Navigate this uncharted territory with the care we both deserve.
He must understand because there’s a softer smile that forms on his lips before he complies.
“Yes, honey.” He sits back in his chair, giving me a full view of how hard he still is. He runs his hand over his dick in one slow stroke for my benefit before he spits into his palm. “I just needed a little bit of you to do this justice.”
He resumes the show he started earlier, working himself over, and drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he drags himself to the brink of his orgasm.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” I breathe, as fascinated by the sight of him now as I was years ago. “Let me see you come.”
He takes the command seriously, focusing his determination.
His eyes shutter, and he moans louder and louder until his body shakes as he fucks himself straight over the edge and plummets.
Thick streams splatter over his pants and stomach.
His hand is covered, glimmering in the low light of the room.
“Fucking hell,” he curses as he sees the state of himself when he finally opens his eyes.
They’re so heavy, sated with the effects of his orgasm.
He licks his lips, and they flush with the effort.
Matching his ruddy cheeks, bright with the exertion of his work.
I slide off the desk to my tiptoes and push his chair back, the wheels giving way easily.
When I drop to my knees, he murmurs my name and starts to stand.
“Stay,” I order as I put a hand on one of his thighs. The thick muscle twitches underneath my delicate touch, and I grin at the control I have over him. I’m dizzy with the power of it.
“What are you doing?”
I take his hand and turn it over in mine before I take a tentative taste of him. It’s never been my favorite thing, but Bishop’s always been the exception to all my rules. And I grin when my theory’s proven right again.
“Cleaning up the mess I made.”