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I don’t have a voice, let alone an answer for him. Bishop slowly slides in and out of me while grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I arch my back, shoving myself down on his finger, silently begging for more. Bishop gladly obliges. He shoves two fingers inside me, curling them up and stroking some incredibly sensitive spot over and over.
“Oh God,” I whimper. “Bishop…”
“That’s it, Harlow. I feel you. I feel you coming apart for me. Let go.”
All I can do is whimper. My soft, urgent cries grow louder and louder as the pressure deep in my core expands and pushes all the air out of my lungs. Bishop leans over me and winds his fingers in my hair while still owning my pleasure and pussy with his other hand.
He tugs gently but firmly on my long locks, forcing my gaze to meet his. Hungry, almost feral blue eyes stare back at me. Our heavy breaths mingle, his lips barely touching mine.
“Come for me, baby girl. Come on my fingers. Fill my hand up with your release.”
His dirty words make me shiver and spread my legs wider, wanting that. Wanting to obey him. Wanting to give him everything he demands of me.
“I-I-I’m…”
“Fuck yes,” he groans right before swallowing down my cries of pleasure.
There’s a deep tugging in my lower belly, followed by an incredible, painful, blissful rush of liquid heat. All at once, my orgasm erupts from my core, wave after wave of molten lava flooding my body, singeing my nerves as I spasm and jerk and gasp for air.
Bishop groans, his fist tightening in my hair while his other hand never lets up its assault on my pussy. He doesn't slow down or let me catch my breath before a second orgasm splinters into the first one. My arms and legs shake and then go numb. All I can feel are his fingers scissoring inside me, stretching, stroking, and owning me completely.
I’m drained of every damn thing when he pulls his hand away, nearly collapsing on top of the desk. Bishop grins, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes.
“Th-that was incredible,” I stutter out with a sigh, my body still liquid bliss.
Bishop pulls me up and kisses me, slowly, this time, like he’s savoring me. I’m still out of breath and trembling when we break apart.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my forehead.
I don’t want to ruin the moment, but the question that’s been burning in my mind all night rushes out before I can stop it.
“Is this real?”
CHAPTERSEVEN
BISHOP
Golden eyes filled with vulnerability blink up at me, and the sight shatters the last of my reserves. Leaning my forehead against hers, I close my eyes before opening up to my precious girl.
“I don’t know what your life was like before we met, but I promise you, Harlow, this is real. I think it’s the only real thing I’ve experienced.”
She runs her hands up the front of my shirt, her fingertips tracing my muscles along the way. “Bishop,” she murmurs, leaning back slightly. “Take me to your place.”
“Fuck yes,” I groan, lifting my woman off the desk. She tries wiggling out of my arms, but I hold her tighter.
“Bishop,” she says with a soft laugh, pushing on my shoulders. “You can’t carry me across the ballroom.”
Pausing, I frown when I realize she’s right. It would draw far too much attention to us, which is problematic for several reasons. First, I’m hard as a goddamn rock, and that alone would be scandalous. But more importantly, Harlow looks freshly fucked, and I don’t want anyone seeing her like that. It’s all for me now.
“I’ll have Henry pull the car to the back entrance again,” I say with a nod.
“You’re ridiculous.” Harlow rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide her grin.
“You like it.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, her smile turning soft.
I reluctantly set her down, but only so I can text Henry. I also let him know the partition separating the front and back seats should be up. As soon as I hit send, I shove my phone in my pocket and grin at Harlow, feeling lighter than I ever have.
