21. Lennox
lennox
. . .
“Holy shit,” I gasped, closing my eyes as Bishop slowly circled my clit. It was blissfully agonizing, the sweetest torture, as he watched me rock against his hand, searching for the right amount of pressure. I was embarrassingly close to coming from a few light touches, but it wasn’t enough.
I wanted more, but I could feel his hesitation.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
“What?”
He paused for a moment, touch hovering over the spot I wanted it most. “Tell me to stop, Lennox. Tell me it’s a bad idea. Tell me this is reckless. Tell me we shouldn’t be doing this for any number of fucking reasons that I can’t even think of right now.”
“But I?—”
“Because if you don’t,” he said, interrupting me. “God help me, I don’t think I can. Not unless you tell me to.”
I turned and peeked at him from over my shoulder. His gaze was locked on my ass, on the spot where I was exposed. “Do you want to stop?”
I was afraid of the answer, but I had to know. Was Bishop doing this for me? Or did he want this just as badly as I did? All signs pointed to yes, but his hesitance caught me off guard, and I didn’t want to be just another regret.
If he genuinely didn’t want this, I’d get dressed, and we could go our separate ways without too much hurt clouding our relationship. It’d be awkward, sure, but we would get over it because it was a decision we made together.
Not something he decided at eight in the morning after he sat in a corner and watched me sleep all night.
“No,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “But I worry you don’t.”
I blew out a breath. “Bishop Bryant, when have I ever done something I didn’t want to do?”
He cracked a smile, slowly looking my way. “Never.”
I pushed to my feet, and he leaned back on my sofa, giving me space. His eyes shamelessly raked over my body, taking in my peaked nipples and soaked panties. Slowly, I hooked my fingers in the waistband and pushed them down my legs.
I loved my body and had never really been ashamed of it except for a few awkward years in junior high.
For some reason, standing naked in front of Bishop made me nervous.
He looked like some kind of cowboy king with his arm casually resting on the armrest and his legs spread wide, showing off the impressive—and slightly terrifying—bulge beneath his jeans.
His green eyes lit up as they slowly traced every dip and curve until they settled on my own.
“Come here,” he said roughly.
I stepped closer, feeling my arousal coat my thighs. Maybe I would’ve been embarrassed by it if Bishop hadn’t reached out and placed his hands on my hips. They traveled up my waist and stomach, stopping just beneath my breasts.
Neither one of us was breathing, not as he leaned forward slowly and placed a kiss along my belly. I couldn’t look away, and neither could he. I was sure he felt me trembling in his touch, thrilled that it was happening and altogether terrified of what we would be when we were done.
“You’re so beautiful, Lennox,” Bishop said. His tone was reverential, awed. There was something about it that nearly had tears pooling beneath my lashes. “You know that, don’t you?”
I nodded because suddenly, my voice was gone. I didn’t know what to do with this moment of raw honesty. There were no walls between us, no boundaries to cross. We laid ourselves bare before one another, and I recognized him as the same man who’d comforted me at the hospital.
And if I wasn’t already feeling some type of way about him, this softer side would’ve sealed the deal.
Not that I’m ready to handle those emotions yet. That’ll come later when I’m alone and can properly process them.
He kissed slowly up one side of my ribs before switching to the next. His hands slid up, cupping my breasts and rolling my nipples between his fingers. I closed my eyes, gasping as I felt his mouth against my skin, flicking his tongue over the hardened peaks.
“Fuck.” I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what it’d be like to feel his touch elsewhere, for him to devour me. “I want this, Bishop,” I said, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling it away. “I want you . I don’t want you to stop.”
A crease formed between his brows. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I said, rolling my eyes.
He chuckled, reaching behind to swat my ass. “Oh, I’ll make you repeat yourself plenty of times tonight.”
Bishop lifted me up, laying me on the sofa as we switched places. He settled between my thighs, forcing them apart and giving him unrestricted access to see every part of me.
“Look at that pretty pussy,” he groaned, running his finger along my entrance, teasing me slowly. “Gotta take my time even though you’re being a wanton little slut, grinding against my hand and wanting more. I don’t wanna hurt you?— ”
He pressed on my lower stomach as he finally slid inside, and my eyes rolled back in pure bliss. “What if that’s what I want? What if I told you to make it hurt?”
Bishop paused. “I’d tell you you’re in luck because I’ve never been very conventional with the things I like, but this isn’t the kind of pain I’m into. I wanna make sure you’re comfortable, even when you’re out here naked, begging me to touch you.”
“You want to touch me, too,” I countered. It was getting difficult to focus on what I was saying while his fingers lazily dipped inside me, curving and stroking and driving me mad. “I’ve seen how you watched me, how badly you’ve wanted to feel me. I know the kind of power I hold.”
The smile he gave me was nearly blinding. It nearly knocked my breath away and made me forget what was happening. I’d never seen him smile like that, so full of pride and happiness and something else I couldn’t understand now.
“Make no mistake… I’m in control right now,” he said lowly. “And I’m gonna take my time, killer, because you’re right; I’ve been watching and waiting and wanting, and I’m not gonna fuck this up because I don’t know if I’ll ever get this again.”
I didn’t have time to analyze his words before he added another finger, stretching and filling me.
He didn’t hesitate for a single moment, and the moment he realized I was okay with the intrusion, he wasn’t gentle.
This was the side I’d expected from Bishop—unyielding and entirely in charge.
We were surrounded by the obscene sound of my arousal and the pornographic moans coming from my mouth.
“That’s right. Squeeze my fingers with that perfect cunt.
Show me how much you like them inside of you.
Fuckin’ beg me to come.” His eyes volleyed between my legs and my face like he didn’t want to miss anything.
The way that man worked my body had my toes curling against the velvet cushions within minutes.
How was he so good? Was it the taboo thing? The fact I’d had a crush on him nearly my entire life, and now something was going down? I didn’t know what was happening, but I didn’t want it to stop.
He was enjoying every minute of this, enjoying torturing me and making me feel good.
“That’s right, killer. You’re going to come on my hand like a good little slut, aren’t you?” He gripped my chin when I didn’t respond, forcing me to look his way. “Answer me.”
“God, yes,” I moaned, writhing in his hold. “Please, make me come.”
Dear God, his voice was nearly as dangerous as whatever the hell he was doing with his fingers. He held me down and whispered the dirtiest praises as an orgasm ripped through my body, leaving me a quivering mess.
Before I’d caught my breath, he pulled his fingers free and brought them between us. I could see my arousal coating them, shining beneath the warm, yellow lights.
And then he put them in his fucking mouth, closing his eyes and humming like he’d just gotten a taste of warm peach cobbler.
It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but something ignited inside of me, begging for more of the earth-shattering orgasm he’d just given me.
I pushed him back, enjoying the sound of his quiet laughter as I reached for the button on his jeans. He held his hands up, watching me desperately struggle for it to come undone. “Easy there, killer,” he said, making quick work of the stupid thing and lifting his hips to shuffle out of them.
Then he worked on his shirt, going too slow for my liking. “Come on,” I said, tapping my foot against the floorboard.
“Someone’s impatient,” he muttered. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you good things come to those who wait?”
“Pfft. That’s just what people tell kids to make them behave, and we both know I never behaved. ”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but?—”
“Bishop,” I said, cutting him off. “I’m sure whatever wisdom you’re about to spew is insightful, but a little more stripping and a little less talking would be ideal.
My nipples are so hard, they could literally cut glass, and I really want you to fuck me so…
” I tapped my wrist like I was checking the time. “Could you hurry it up?”
“You little shit,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head and exposing his stupidly hot body.
Seriously, this man was ripped from years of working on the ranch.
A large tattoo started at the top of his shoulder, dipped onto his chest, and went down his left arm.
I’d seen glimpses of it before, but never the full work of art.
I reached out, tracing the black and grey lines of a beautiful landscape. A river ran through a set of trees, and what looked like a small cabin nestled on the banks. And, because I knew Bishop better than most, I made a little noise when I noticed the horse tied outside to a hitching post.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, pulling my hand back.
He dipped his head. “Thank you. It took fucking ages, but my artist is amazing. Couldn’t have done it without her. She’s truly brilliant.”
I opened my mouth to say something else, but he placed his pointer finger over my lips and hushed me. “I thought you said you wanted less talking?”
“I do, but even I can appreciate a masterpiece.”