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“Oh really! Which are?”
“I know for one that she’s bias with you and not always in the ways I agree with. She picks great fights at all the wrong times.”
“Well, I guess there’s only one way to convince you and that’s for you to see that you’re wrong. I’ll wait patiently until that moment comes.”
He helped her in the small boat then pulled her down in his lap. “You can be sure that I will be the first to bow at your angelic feet if it turns out I’m altogether wrong. But I’m very good at spotting swamp scandal with Mah-Mah’s name all over it. She has always been behind such antics over the years and with you, the recipe has been doubled.”
“The only recipe I’m creating is one for our future and who do you think is at the front of that?Youare, silly!”
“We are a family, Ma Petite. We. Not me. And our family is on the brink of a war.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said, keeping her voice even. “As I’ve said, you will see soon enough if anything is out of the ordinary in this disastrous recipe you’re so sure I’m cooking up.”
“I will.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good to see our marriage is so full of trust.”
“I trust you to be you.”
“Which is a traitorous, double-dealing bimbo, apparently.” His sexy laugh bypassed her anger and went straight between her legs, making her roll her eyes.
“A traitorous angel who sets out to help with the wrong things in mind. Or wrong people.”
“More like astupidangel who can’t see the world outside of her lusty Bishop lens. You think I’m not thinking of our family or know that our family consists of more than just you. Not insulting in the least Mr. Doubty Pants.” More sexy laughter.
“I’m cut to pieces.”
“A mocker too.” She nodded. “Laughing at your stupid angel who is actually a lot more perceptive than you clearly know—” His fist bit in her hair and stole her breath the moment before his mouth crashed down with a growl until moans was the only language she remembered.
“Now you’re speaking proper Bishop English,” he said lowly, his kiss slowing.
“Bishop,” she whispered as his hand navigated under her long flowing skirt to her proper cotton panties.
She opened her knees, and he slid his fingers over her center, letting go a low groan. “So offended with me, Ma Petite,” he murmured on her mouth as he pulled her panties aside and sank his finger in her.
“Oh God, yes.” She opened wider and pumped into his searching slow jabs.
“Yes? You want it?”
“I want it,” she panted, already halfway there. How could she be so desperate for something he’d given her not an hour before? She was a bottomless pit of Bishop need. Guilty of everything he accused her of. “Please.”
He moved his wet fingers to her clit and drew slow circles right on it, making her dizzy and hot in the early morning air.
The motor suddenly shut off and he silently directed her to the seat just before him then lifted her skirts to her waist. “Hold your wet panties aside, Ma Lubrique Epouse.”
She hurried to obey, opening her knees wide while undulating her hips in shameless need. She watched his harsh face now focused between her legs as he got closer, holding her knees open with his. She grabbed the edge of the boat with a sharp cry at the plunge of his two fingers. His fist returned to her hair, pulling her mouth to his as he shoved into her, bringing more rounds of cries. They turned non-stop when he began to hammer deep and then spoke harsh French on her mouth, blowing her apart till she was shaking. She latched on to his wrist with both hands and his arm swooped around her back, allowing her to collapse and ride the ecstasy the rest of the way down. Or up, whichever way oblivion was.
****
Bishop watched Mah-Mah in her mundane hospitalities. Her investment to every boring detail was beyond suspicious. And with nothing to discern in her expressions other than a fierce poker face, well, that made it official. She wassurelyhiding something. The less signs she revealed, the more it meant she hid. He wouldn’t try to guess with the meeting opening in five minutes but if he had to, it had everything to do with positioning. She was always putting herself someplace she felt necessary, regardless if they agreed it was. Normally, he wouldn’t give three swamp fucks but with the women piling up in the war scenarios, the fucks were adding up mighty quick.
Bishop gave his wife one final look as Mah-Mah called the meeting to order. It was useless trying to discern clues in her face when his mind only saw that orgasm she’d had an hour before. Another reason to have the women out of the way at this time. None of the men that had a woman could think straight with them too near or too far. And if he had to use that in his arsenal, he would, pride be damned. He had no issues admitting to his weaknesses with her. It didn’t make him less of a man, but more of one as far as he was concerned. And he was more than sure his men would agree.
“I spoke to The Grand Oratrice in regards to the particulars surrounding the Gauntlet Trials and the women who are to become part of The Twelve. The Grand Oratrice has ruled that the Fate Dice would be used to answer all the particulars that can’t be agreed upon regarding the Gauntlet Trials due to swamp Regle 33.”
Bishops insides slowly went numb as all his calculations crashed into a wall of unexpected shock. He stared at his Mah-Mah for endless seconds, not surprised that she avoided his gaze. He lowered his head, his mind in a panic, racing through alternate escape options while dumbfounded at the bad fucking omen before him. He could negotiate a lot of things with his high-scheming mother, but there was not a damn thing he could do when the Fate Dice spoke. It was the final bang of the gavel. And once it was invoked, there was no turning back.
He brought his gaze up to his wife’s, meeting guilt and worry. She fucking knew. And yet she had norealclue of his life-long adversity with those Dice and the rules that governed it. At least she’d better hope she didn’t know. They had decided many things that changed his path in life and not aoneof them he’d wanted.
