34. Camilla
Kovu may have fucked me ruthlessly this morning, but my pussy apparently hasn’t gotten the memo that we should be sore, because the second Bishop demanded I drop my underwear, I was aching for him to take me.
You wouldn’t think up until a week ago I was a virgin, and a month before that, I’d barely been kissed by a guy. So much has changed in such a short space of time, and sometimes it feels like I’m not even living the same life I was before I turned eighteen.
Bishop’s hands massage my ass, and a gentle moan slips free. I never thought I’d be into public sex, but the mere idea of being bent over the hood of his car, ready to take him, is only making the ache in my core intensify.
He shoves the hem of my dress up until my bare ass is on show for the world, and a shiver of anticipation moves through my body. Fuck. How do they play my body like this? Like they’ve been doing it for years, when in reality, it’s only been a matter of weeks?
His hard body presses over mine, his warmth sending a shiver of need through me as he rests his hands on the hood on either side of mine. His hot breath whispers across my cheek. “We’re going to have to have a much longer chat about your rules now that you’re ours, but for now, I’m going to punish you for stealing my car, giving me a heart attack, and for looking so fucking hot bent over my favorite car.” The growl in his voice is enough to distract me from the fact he just told me I’m going to have rules and that he’s planning on punishing me, and it’s not until he pushes himself back that I think to ask what the hell he meant by any of what he just said.
But I don’t get the chance to speak before searing pain radiates across my ass, causing me to jolt forward, a scream tearing from my throat. “What the fuck?” I hiss. I move to try to stand but quickly find a large palm in the center of my spine holding me down. “Bishop!” I snap.
“You need to know there are consequences for your actions, love.” His voice is clipped, and it’s not until I drop back down onto the hood that he steps back again.
I peer over my shoulder, trying to work out what the hell he’s doing because there’s no way that kind of agony came from his hand alone, nor did it feel like his hand when it hit me. My breath catches in my throat when I see him standing there, his tie pulled loose, his eyes wild as they stare down at me, and his belt clenched in his hand.
Holy fuck.
Why is that so hot?
He lifts his arm, and my breath stutters in my chest as he brings his hand and the belt down on my ass, sending another streak of agonizing fire through my body, accompanied by just a little need.
I’ve officially lost my fucking mind if I’m actually enjoying this.
Over and over again, his belt connects with my ass, and despite the searing pain that engulfs my ass and thighs, my legs are shaking with need, and the ache in my core is almost to the point of being unbearable. I flinch when his huge palm touches my sore flesh, but then he rubs soothing circles on the battered skin, and I allow my body to relax into his touch.
“You took your punishment so well, love,” he murmurs. “But you’re not done just yet. There’s still some penance to pay.”
I throw a glare over my shoulder that only makes him chuckle.
“You’re cute when you pout, love, but it’s not going to save you this time.”
I’m about to ask what the hell he means when the leather of his belt touches my throat. He moves so quickly I can barely register what’s happening until it’s too late. The belt tightens around my neck until my airway is constricted and my breathing is shallow. And yet, for some reason, the move has my pussy aching even more than the punishment I just received. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Bishop notches the belt in the position he deems appropriate, and when I try to look over my shoulder at him, he tugs at the belt, cutting off my airway altogether. “You’re going to stay put while I use your pretty little cunt, and you’re not to come. If you fall over that edge without permission, believe me when I say you will not appreciate the consequences half as much as I do.”
My mouth drops open, but my lack of oxygen makes it impossible to argue with him, so I do the only thing I can do: I lean into the overbearing dominant man and his demands.
Fingers meet my wet pussy, and his low chuckle only makes it harder not to press my thighs together. “Does my little whore like being punished and choked by my belt?”
I open my mouth to deny it, but snap it shut again because it’s very fucking obvious any denial would be a lie, and I’m hardly in a position to pull the wool over his eyes.
His fingers dip to my entrance, and he shoves two in without hesitation, tearing a strangled scream from my throat. Between the way the skin of my ass flames, my breaths coming in short and rough from the belt secured around my throat, and the assault on my pussy, stars dance in my vision as I struggle to hold myself up.
He withdraws for long enough to notch himself at my entrance, and when he pushes forward, the stretch is so fucking delicious I can barely keep myself from falling over the edge he forbid me from tumbling over.
“I can feel you pulsing around me, Camilla. Don’t you dare fucking come,” he growls, but he clearly doesn’t realize that only brings me closer to release.
He tugs on the belt, dragging my body back against his, and the new angle drags a strangled cry from my throat and somehow brings me closer to the cusp he doesn’t want me to fall from. He wraps his other arm around my waist and ruts into me with wild abandon, taking everything he needs from me, and I’m just along for the ride.
“This fucking pussy is mine, Camilla. I took it first, and I’m going to fuck you every fucking day for the rest of my goddamn life.”
His grunted words fill my heart with something that has no right being there. Hope. Does he mean it when he says he sees me in his life for years to come? Or is it just the throes of passion that have the words falling from his mouth?
Doubt is quickly replaced with pain when Bishop’s hand comes down on my already stinging ass.
“I can feel your mind drifting away, love. I want all your focus here with me, on what I’m doing to you, on the way I’m using your perfect little cunt.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as tears gather in the corners. It’s too much. It’s all too fucking much. My release is a breath away, so close I can taste it, but I don’t know how to hold it at bay. I don’t know how to stop myself from tumbling into the abyss. And yet all I want to do is please him.
Every fiber of my being is desperate to obey him, and I don’t know how to swallow that as the strong, independent mafia queen my father taught me to be.
“Don’t come, love,” he growls in my ear.
“I can’t.” I force out the words despite the pressure around my throat.
“Camilla,” he warns.
I feel the moment my body reaches the point of no return, and I’m powerless to pull myself back from the ledge. And yet as I begin to free fall, Bishop pulls out, his cock slipping from my soaking wet heat and leaving me impossibly empty.
“What the?—”
But before I can get the words out, I hear the unmistakable sound of him stroking his cock in rough pumps, and a second later, the warmth of his release lands across my ass in hot sticky ropes, and a guttural roar fills the empty lot.
Did he really just come all over me?
For long seconds, the only sound around us is our rough breathing, mine labored from the leather still constricting my airway, but Bishop doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to release the belt.
Instead of feeling satisfied the way I did the first time he took me, and even when Kovu fucked me in the shower this morning, I’m left feeling cold and dejected.
Gentle fingers unclasp the belt, and as soon as he releases it, I step away from him, desperate to put some distance between us.
Hot tears fill my eyes, and I swipe at them, determined to not allow him to see me break in front of him. There are so many feelings running rampant through my body that I have no idea whether to laugh or cry or punch him in the face for how he just treated me. I can’t tell if I liked it or hated it, whether I should be turned on or furious. The conflicting emotions only make the tears fall harder until there’s no point in even trying to stop them from falling.
“Camilla?” Bishop’s rough voice comes from right behind me, and I pause, my breath stuttering in my chest.
“I want to go home.” I force the words out, but not even I miss the way they shake as they leave my mouth.
“Okay, we’ll head back to the compound now.”
“No.” I turn on him, my resolve settled and my stomach in knots. His brilliant green eyes catch mine, but some of the feral rage from before has fallen away. “I want to go back to the De Marco mansion. That’s my home.”
He closes the distance between us in two long strides, and before I can think to move away from him, his arms lock around my waist, tugging me against his hard body. At some point he tucked himself back into his pants, but I’ve been too conflicted to even think to cover myself or wipe the evidence of his release from my ass.
“Your home is with us, Camilla,” he growls, his tone leaving no room for argument despite how badly I want to do exactly that. He wraps his fingers around my chin and forces my face up to meet his gaze. “Never try to run from us, love. Because the punishment will be much worse than the one you just received.”