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“Bishop.”
“Tell me, Cherise. Did you buy these for your wedding night with him?” He drags his hands downward, fingering the soft triangle of white lace.
I gasp.
He growls. “I shouldn’t be like this, but my jealousy consumes me. Answer.”
With trembling breath, I reply, “I was thinking of you when I chose them. And you paid for all of it.” And it’s true. I had put it out of my mind, but when I saw the matching set at the lingerie store, I had pictured Bishop’s gaze and no one else’s. I’m not proud, but I admit it.
“I tried not to think about you, but….”
“I got you, sweetheart,” he says, caressing up to my tummy then down again, his large hand cupping my pussy. I jerk, instinctively biting down on my bottom lip.
“That’s mine to nibble on, sweetheart. Let go.” Bishop’s hand finds its way down between the waistband of my ruined panties and my bare skin, his fingers nestling into my slit. At the same time, his other hand caresses the marks left behind by the underwire. Even while building my need for him in such an intimate moment, he takes care of me.
Finally, I stop biting my lip, and he captures it with his mouth. Teasing, sucking, nibbling. I feel Bishop everywhere. Around me, above me, between my legs. And then, inside me, as he swipes the taut center between my lower lips. The contact triggers another release, my body arcing again as I moan into his mouth.
I’m almost embarrassed at the way my body orgasms so quickly for him, but I can feel his erection grow bigger when I cry out. His caressing hands over my ribs, over my breasts, and everywhere prolong the pulsating orgasm. The kissing intensifies, and I revel in the feel of his agile tongue in my mouth as my charged body goes slack in his arms.
Without another word, Bishop has me flat on my back, tugging my ruined panties to the side.
“Look at you. Fucking look at my girl,” he growls, kneeling in front of me, licking his fingers. That’s when I realize: he’s tasting me. “Sticky, sweet, and all mine.”
His words roll over me, somehow dragging out more arousal, more desire.
I need more.
Bishop crawls up the bed to hover over me, caging me in with his arms. My legs slide over his thighs, dragging over the soft denim.
“The only place I’ll ever tell you what to do is in here in our bed. Out there, in the real world, you’re a superstar. In here, you’re mine to do with as I please.”
It all makes sense now. This is what a real man does when he’s in love with me. Lets me be me and exerts his control where it matters.
My hands ache to touch his bare skin, explore all his broad muscles and angles. “Take off your shirt, Bishop. Please?”
A smirk crosses his lips. “I will, but first, you have to do something for me.”
“Anything,” I whimper.
“I want to watch you make yourself come. Let me see it.”
With a brief whine of protest and shaky breath, I reach my hand down inside the white lace between my parted legs, while that intense stare of his hazel eyes sparks my imagination.
I can only wonder what he sees when he looks at me like this.
Chapter Thirteen
Bishop
Cherise is a fucking goddess spread out on my bed, her legs lazing over my thighs as I sit and watch this erotic display.
I can’t believe how lucky I am. I feel as though I got away with the crime of the century, luring this woman into my bed. But even better, she came here willingly, after recognizing her worth. Not just to me, but to herself. There’s nothing sexier in the world than a woman who knows herself.
I reach my hand back and tug off my tee-shirt while
she teases her pussy. I can see her knuckles moving about under the damp, warm fabric, and I know she’s glistening wet for me. The taste of her is still in my mouth, and I begin to salivate as she strokes herself. Slowly at first. Then faster.
I feel her gaze all over me as I rub my chest.
