Strange Cravings #3
Her hot gaze came forward, locking on him as she rolled her fat nipples in her fingers, pleasure straining her face as she focused on burning him alive with those tiny thrusts.
“Rub your clit,” he growled, eyes locked on the head moving in and out of her. “Make it so fucking hot.” He held her hips, digging hungrily into her flesh. “Fuck, I love my angel.”
She sank all the way down, gasping, “Bishop!” while rubbing her fucking clit. “Oh Bishop!”
“Yeah, that did it for you, baby?” It fucking did it for him. He helped her pounce the head, his mouth opening with the urge to fucking bite as she shuddered through the intense orgasm.
The second she came up for air, she blasted, “Fuck me!”
The command obliterated the blockade he’d put around her persuasion. Pure lust overrode every power he possessed and like fuck was he about to challenge it.
He swapped their positions and held her hips off the bed, locking his gaze on her tits. He gave himself to the obsession and fucked her with a cruel precision.
The tug of war between them began. Slow and fast or soft and hard.
He voted slow and soft and his Petite’s greedy hunger voted the opposite.
He held a thread-sized lead but only because she was still being a submissive fucking angel.
When she was done playing nice, she’d yank him into the fire with a single word.
But until that happened, he’d use every ounce of his quantum architecting to forge a literal fucking leash she couldn’t chew out of.
Ten strokes of that burning madness and Bishop joined her, leaving only Saint Sahvrin at the helm of responsibility.
He growled as every critical reason began to collapse—her well-being, his child’s health, his soul.
He was at the sake of the fucking world when he fell.
Cock and fangs slamming, shrieks piercing his soul, pleasure, pain, and terror exploding his cells.
The power devoured them and Bishop bowed to its diabolical will.
And Saint Sahvrin swore to never forgive him for it.
****
Beth didn’t bother trying to stop it. There was no holding back the estrogen barreling through her body.
The first sob hit and Bishop flew off her. “What!”
She shook her head, hiding her eyes with one hand and holding her other out to him, fighting to at least control them.
“Are you hurt, did I fucking hurt you?”
She fought to speak and the bed shook with the sound of his feet hitting the floor. She sat up, seeing him pacing. Her beautiful, immaculate husband that saw himself as an animal. “It’s okay,” she choked out around sobs.
“It’s not fucking okay!”
His furious yell hit her so hard it knocked the sobs right out of her, leaving her staring with wide eyes, fear knotting her stomach.
“I just bit you so hard my fucking jaw still burns from it! That scream was pain, I felt it, I fucking know it, don’t try and tell me it wasn’t!”
His head shook at her. “Every fucking time, Beth. It’s every fucking time.
From the day I met you, I’ve been crazy about you, crazy for you, crazy because of you,” he swore, pacing again then stopping and looking at her.
“You said my name wrong and it was so fucking right I was sure my own mother mispronounced it.”
Beth couldn’t stop her smile at such a beautiful thing.
“And then Saint Sahvrin…”
Her tears sprang forth when he covered his face with his hands, heaving.
They slowly fell. “He’ll do anything to protect you.
But that… fucking…” he seethed, “selfish Bishop bastard.” He looked right at her, his intense stare and hard jaw stealing her breath.
“He takes all of it for himself and dares anybody—any fucking thing—to stop him from having what’s his. ”
He paced again and Beth closed her eyes, fighting the roiling need for him climbing higher.
“Angel.”
She gasped, finding him right at the bed now. Six feet of primal sex appeal raping her senseless appetite. “I need your help.”
“Yes,” she gasped, nodding while trying to identify what had her holding down a mountain of nausea.
“I tried, but it didn’t work,” he said, the sharp glint in his gaze making her swallow hard.
She froze, realizing. “You’re… scared.”
His brows drew together till the lines on his forehead spelled it out. “I’m terrified, Beth,” he said, disappointment in his eyes. “Of myself,” he said, quieter. “I’m terrified of what I’ve become. What I do to you.”
His stare turned hotter. Shameful. “What if it’s not you anymore causing this?
What if it’s me? What if I’m... architecting all of it?
” he whispered, head slowly shaking like she had no clue.
“Do you understand how jealous I am for you? How illogically fucking obsessed? I am still working out a way to kill the man that dared to touch my wife’s heart and her body and her mind.
And I am... so fucking pissed at God,” he seethed, tears filling his gaze, “for not letting me.”
Beth gasped, pulling his head to her chest, holding him tightly.
“Oh God, I love you,” she breathed around the nausea, realizing it was from his fear and fury and pain.
Her tears fell as he wrapped his arms around her while she stroked his head.
“I am your Belle Eveque,” she swore hotly, kissing the top of his head, her heart overflowing with his confession.
“I’ll help you, I promise, we’ll find a way together.
I am your heart and soul and you are mine,” she wept with all her heart.