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Kiara
Start before you’re ready. Don’t prepare, just begin.
That isthe mantra I have lived my life by since I was a teenager. If I didn’t, I wouldn't be where I am today or who I am. That motto is the reason I am married to the man I have been in love with my whole life. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. Bish is my better half in every sense of the word. He’s over the top protective but at the same time attentive and caring, making me feel loved and cherished daily. He was my sole focus and center of my world until the day I gave birth to our son. Staring down at the framed photo in my hands, the image of my son and his father has tears of thankfulness clouding my vision.
Royal is a picture perfect image of his father except for the eyes, he has my pale blue color. They don’t see the likeness they share but I do—from the back, you can’t tell them apart. I have tried to discourage Royal from covering his body in ink but I know I am fighting a losing battle. He has always loved the beautiful art that covers his father’s entire body and I can’t blame him, seeing Bishop shirtless with all his ink on display still takes my breath away and has me becoming a wanton mess for my man.
My phone begins to ring, pulling me from my inner thoughts. Sighing, I place the photo back where it belongs before pulling my phone from my pocket. I smile at the sight of my husband's name flashing across the screen, and I answer without hesitation.
“Hey, handsome.”
The sigh that escapes him tells me he’s stressed. Lately, he has been under a shitload of pressure and I hate that I can’t help him. With the passing of my father, Bishop has had no choice but to step up and take over Miami as well as run New York so no other family can try to encroach on our territory.
“Where are you?” The demand in his voice has me bristling but I bite my tongue, I've learned to pick and choose my battles over the years. He knows better than anyone that I don’t take well to someone demanding things from me or trying to tell me what to do.
“In our bedroom, why?”
“I need you in my office, now!” Before I can reply, the bastard ends the call, and my anger peaks. I storm out of our bedroom and stomp my feet the whole way to his office. You know what I said about picking my battles? Well, this is one of those times when I know I’m about to go to war. Bishop Murdoch may be the Don of New York and now Miami but that title doesn’t mean shit in our marriage. In this family no one is above the other. We are equal, a team, partners if you will.
I don’t stop as I reach his office. I shove the door open, ready to go a round with my husband and show him what ordering me around gets him, but at the sight in front of me, I freeze. Dozens of vases filled with black roses are set up all over the room—the room is covered! I slowly look toward my man, who leans against his desk with his ankles crossed and his arms gripping his desk on either side of him. My greedy eyes drink him in, his black slacks hugging his thick thighs perfectly. The white button-down shirt he wears has the top few buttons undone exposing a sliver of skin, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows exposing the ink that covers his hands and forearms. His black hair is now tinged with specks of gray but it enhances his beauty and gives him more of a bad boy edge.
The raw sex appeal rolling off him has me fighting not to clench my thighs and telling him to fuck me right here, right now just so he can rid me of the ache the sight of him has caused.
“You still mad?” The playful tone of his voice has me remembering why I stormed down, I school my features and try to hold onto my earlier anger as I glare at my husband.
“Yes.”
He rolls his full lips over his teeth to keep from smiling. “Do you know what you’re mad about?”
Narrowing my eyes I nod. “Yes.”
He pushes off his desk and eats up the space between us in five long strides. He doesn’t stop until he is flush against me, forcing me to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. It’s times like this that I hate the height difference between us. I may be small but you best believe I can hold my own against these Murdoch men and their big dick energy. A gasp escapes me the moment he snakes his arm out and grips the back of my neck forcing me up onto my tiptoes. He stares down at me with an unreadable expression on his face, then bends until his lips ghost over mine.
“Tell me why you’re mad?”
A shiver rolls through me. I’ll admit, it takes a shit load of effort to keep myself from moaning. I fucking love it when he gets like this and goes alpha male and shit on me, demanding dirty things and showing me without words that we are fucking cosmic.
“Y-you.” I stop and clear my throat hating the way his eyes shine with laughter knowing he has me right he where he wants me—wanton and needy to the point I’ll cave and let him win this argument just so he’ll lay me down on his desk and fuck me until I come so hard I nearly pass out. “You were being a bossy prick.”
A dark chuckle escapes him. “Hmmmm.” A small moan does escape me when his free hand grabs my ass. I hate that with a simple touch, he is able to make me forget that I was so mad at him. I swear he has magical powers or something because fuck me, this man can piss me off like no other but he is also the only one who can rid me of my anger with a single touch or look. “You love it when I’m bossy though,” he whispers against my lips, then places a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth and runs his nose down the column of my neck. I tilt my head back trying to give him better access but he tightens the grip on my neck and growls.
“Bishop…” I whine. He pulls me up just enough to place open mouthed kisses on the side of my neck then moves so the tips of our noses touch, his brown eyes boring into mine. The lustful look in his gaze has my breath hitching and my thighs clenching.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
I humph out my displeasure and try to look pissed off but the light laugh that escapes him tells me I am failing miserably. “You know what’s wrong.” I can hear how breathy I sound and know without a doubt I have just lost this battle and I can’t find it within myself to care. I just need him to rid me of this ache between my legs and have me seeing stars as I come all over his glorious cock.
“But, you’re pissed off at me, remember?”
I decide to take the reins and try to control this situation so I can get what I want. I wrap my arms around his neck and lift my leg, locking it as best as I can around his waist. The way his eyes narrow tells me I am getting the upper hand and I fucking love it, there is no feeling more powerful than bringing a man like Bishop Murdoch to his knees.
“You rang and barked orders at me–” my retort is cut off when he shifts his hold, grips the backs of my thighs and lifts me. My legs lock around him and my arms tighten around his neck. A smile spreads across my face as I stare down at the man I could only dream of loving me when I was growing up. The way he looks at me now is how I always wished he would and fuck me, it is an intoxicating feeling knowing I literally got the man I have loved my whole damn life.
“I knew your angry ass would come storming down here ready to fight.”
Frowning down at him I ask, “Why not just ask me to come down here like a normal person?”
“Because nothing about us is normal, baby.” I swoon.
