“You did, babe.”
“No, I did not! I said you could use one of our showers!” I chuffed. I was trying to cover my embarrassment at being scared half-out of my skull at the thought of someone breaking into my house when it had only been Stan. “I never said you could use my bathroom!”
“It’s the only one that has a showerhead high enough for me,” he explained as he brought his face back to mine and reached for the liquid soap. Filling his palm, he began applying it, rubbing it into his shoulders. All the while keeping his eyes on me.
But I was looking elsewhere.
Avidly.
My eyes followed his hands as he lathered his chest, as the residual bubbles trailed down his body.
I swallowed as I realized my palms were itching to help him, to rub themselves over the expanse of his chest, his rolling abs.
“I’m getting you’re enjoying the view, mama,” he growled and I saw his manhood twitch, beginning to lengthen as I just stood there, the bat still propped on my shoulder. “Sure you don’t wanna join me?”
I shook my head in the negative but, honest to god, I was considering it.
J.R. was out of the house until at least noon.
So it was just me.
And Stan.
All that gorgeous wet skin and all those bubbles.
Stan’s hands went lower, stroking his lower belly and the line of dark hair that led downward.
I swallowed again as my eyes followed the movements of his hands.
He was fully erect by then. Fully, deliciously and proudly hard.
Shifting my stance, I felt wetness between my thighs beneath my sleep-pants. My nipples were firm, sharp points under my cami-tank top.
I wanted him.
Needed him to do all the wonderful things I more than knew he could do to assuage, to calm the heat that was beginning to roll through me.
My eyes were glued to his hand as he touched himself.
He stroked upward and I heard myself gasp at the sight.
“C’mon, Dore,” he urged on a soft, sexy growl as he slid his fist down and then back up slowly. So freaking slow. Looking down to what he was doing, Stan flexed his hips, using them to pump into his palm. “It’d be good, babe. You know I can make it feel so good.”
The bat dropped to the throw-rug with a dull thud as I shrugged out of my robe and immediately grabbed the hem of my top.
“That’s it, mama. Strip for me.”
Ripping the tank over my head, I shoved my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my sleep pants and slid them down, finally stomping out of them before stepping into the tub, yanking the curtain closed.
“Fucking A,” Stan crooned as he reached for me. “Still fucking hot watching you get naked.”
But I had no words, didn’t want to use my mouth to make sounds so I dropped to my knees, my palms on his thighs as my lips sought to connect with his mushroomed shaped tip.
“Ah,” I heard him groan when I found my goal. “Christ, Dory! Your mouth! That goddamn mouth!”
I used one hand to guide him inside where I could use my tongue as my other hand reached behind him to grip an ass cheek. A movement that had him hissing on a long indrawn breath before I felt him place his hand on the top of my head.
“That’s it, babe. Suck me. Fuck that’s good.”
His words only ratcheted up the desire that was coursing through me. A flame so hot and so deep that I slid one of my hands to my core. And as my fingers began to circle and rub, I found myself taking more and more of him into my mouth, using my hand to stroke what I couldn’t swallow.
He bent his knees and I felt his ass begin to flex as he worked himself deeper, faster into my mouth, groaning with every caress of my tongue. “Oh yeah. Right like that. Christ!”
And it was only after another couple of deep thrusts that he lifted me up by snagging me underneath my arms before he pulled me into his chest. Arching down, Stan’s mouth hit mine and our tongues were dueling, tangling before he pushed me into the far wall, my back to the tile as he guided one of my feet onto the ledge of the tub.
Copying my earlier movement, he dropped to his knees but kept his eyes on mine the entire way down. “Gonna eat you, babe.” His eyes went to the groomed curls between my legs. “Gonna eat that sweet fucking pussy until you scream.”
His head lowered as I felt one of his hands move up my thigh.
I held my breath, waiting. And I didn’t have to wait long before I felt Stan’s tongue delve into my cleft, circling and laving as he groaned. A sound that resounded into the deepest parts of me. Twirling his tongue upwards, he swirled through my curls as his tongue followed my slit to the topmost part. And I cried out in disappointment as he began downward trek without ever touching my clit.
“Please,” I moaned. “God, Stan! Please!”
Glancing down I saw his eyes were on me, smiling eyes that promised I’d have fun even as he lapped at my folds, sucking first one and then the other of my nether lips.
“What, babe? What do you need?”
“Suck on it,” I begged, unabashedly demanding his tongue on my nub of pleasure.
“You got it,” he murmured as he used both thumbs to open the leaves of my desire, exposing my unhooded button to his mouth. Using just the tip of his tongue, he did a light figure-eight move. “Like that?”
“Harder, honey!”
He grinned up at me and I felt him sink two fingers inside, causing me to go up onto tiptoes. “I’m thinking you like that.” Pulling them out slowly, he sunk them in again only harder. I gasped, my back arching off the wall even as the back of my head hit it. “Oh, yeah. My girl likes when I do that!”
I did.
God yes, I so totally did.
And liked it even more when he took my swollen clit into his mouth and, with fingers moving inside me, tongue swirling as he licked me, sucking at odd moments in between. Both my hands were shoved into his hair, holding him as I worked myself against his face.
“I’m gonna…” It was a warning, but as warnings went it was more along the lines of an announcement offered on almost a sob. “So close…”
“Come on my mouth, babe.” He encouraged and the feel of his words, the sound of his voice became a deep rumble that shook me, shattered me as I flew into my orgasm. Flew high as I felt myself break apart from the inside. “Fucking Christ! Beautiful. Motherfucking beauty in watching you come, Dory.”
I could barely hear him from the blood pounding inside me, throughout my body as I rode the waves of bliss, the ecstasy he’d given me.
And as reality began to intrude, as I came back to myself, I realized he hadn’t yet come.
Something that needed to happen as soon as possible because I needed him out of my house and out of both my heart and head!
Without thinking, I pushed him away and stepped out onto the rug, snagging one of the large towels on the rack positioned next to the tub. But my mind was screaming at me, yelling that I was playing it all wrong. Wrapping the towel around me, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that what my brain had worked out was totally and completely true.
Stan stood, dejected beneath the fall of the water as he eyed me. A look of devastation was in his eyes, one that I remembered from when I’d kissed him after telling him I was leaving way, way back when.
It was a look I couldn’t take.
But one I knew I had the power to change.
So I held out a hand towards him just as my other hand grabbed the other towel. “Why don’t we finish this in bed?”
The smile that hit his lips held a wattage that could’ve lit up all of Missoula with how bright it beamed.
“Just lead the way, Dory,” he murmured, taking the towel I offered and wrapping it around his hips, his hair sticking to his shoulders, arms and chest.
Suffice it to say, I did.
And got another orgasm as a reward.
The third one? Yeah, that was just a bonus.
But I shuffled him out the door after the las
t time. After he’d decided that it was time to talk.
I didn’t want any of the soft, after-sex kind of conversation.
Truthfully, I just wanted him gone. The sooner, the better.
And so it began. Of him making plays to get back in between my sheets, my thighs.
I’d get a text or he’d linger around a little longer after J.R. went to bed. Even when trying to keep our couplings to the minimum, I had to admit there were times I needed him.
Used him.
But somehow, I told myself it was okay because I wasn’t the one who’d initiated contact. That because he sent me a text at o’dark Cinderella, asking if he could come over, I wasn’t a whore or a slut in saying yes. In allowing what would, within only a couple of minutes after his arrival, happen.
And, like I’d admitted to myself before, it had only gone down five, maybe six times.
Chapter Twenty Six
Bishop was loving life.
He felt good with working the new diet, although it had been a bitch to adjust to, and was slowly getting his strength back, able to work the weight bench, building back some of the muscle he’d lost when he’d thought he was dying.
J.R. was close by and seemed to enjoy spending time with him, either in Bishop’s digs or while at his mother’s. It was magical to Bishop, the way he and his kid could talk about anything and everything. Share video games, discuss bikes. Girls, even.
And the fact that his son looked up to him, made him larger than life didn’t hurt in the least. J.R. saw him as some sort of bad-ass, a biker that had both been there and done that even though Bishop knew it was, at best, stretching the truth. Sure, he’d had a lot of experiences, done a shitload of doings, some things which were better left unsaid.
But the kid didn’t need to know all that.
If he wanted to think his ol’ man was a man among men, who was Bishop to quibble?
And the fact that Dory was so close at hand?
Christ!
Bliss.
Even if he had to continually work to make his play, waiting until she was ready to let him slide into her. Granted, it was only every so often, but still. Anytime he got to rock it with her was awesome. So much so, he’d turned to taking his hand to himself instead of working the Honeys when the need arose.
He could wait.
Wait until she wanted him as much as he needed her.
Because when they finally came together it was heaven, completing him on every level.
That was until she told him to go. Ordered him out of her bed, out of the fucking house that he’d had fixed up based on their long ago whispered dreams.
But each and every time she did so, it cut him deeply. So goddamn profoundly he almost felt as if his soul bled.
Bishop had tried to talk to her, attempted to find out why she’d left him in the first place, at what her beef was with the club. To get to the goddamn roots of their problems so they could move forward. But he’d finally figured out that it was his questions which found him ejected at the earliest possible moment, so he’d stopped.
Although he knew she was happy, more than knew that she was settling into Missoula with her new shop, the new locale. She smiled more than she had in the beginning, than when she’d first arrived. Seemed less nervous too. So her lack of interest in creating a connection was a puzzle. And one Bishop was determined to resolve. As well as getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had led her to quit him and their marriage.
To his way of thinking, the best way to do that was by getting Dallas and her crew involved. He needed Dallas to help him get a foot in the door. For Dory to see how much the club had changed so that she could view him in a different way. One which was more than just the ex-husband that she fucked every now and again, or the man who helped father her child.
Maybe he could try doing it one question at a time. One carefully crafted query, offered in either an innocent or bored voice, as if he didn’t give a good goddamn about her answer, might be just the way to get her to fucking open up.
Bishop glanced at the clock on the cable box and saw it was eleven-thirty. Perfect. J.R. would be in bed and asleep. Dory would be just getting ready to turn out her light after spending time with her e-reader.
Since it had been almost two weeks since his last house call, it was more than time for another.
After round one of taking her from behind, her chest to the mattress as she offered her succulent ass up to receive his hard, driving thrusts until they’d both hit it, Bishop began his campaign. She was still beside him as he slid off and out of her warm depths, but he didn’t stray far. With his chest pressed into her side, a head in a casually canted hand, he started. “Heard you’re getting involved in the Honey’s Christmas Charity Drive.”
She was still on her belly, although stretched out flat on the mattress as he laid beside her, trailing his fingers over the skin of her back, her butt. “Yeah. The shop is offering a 20% discount on each service if the client donates a toy.” Dory paused and Bishop didn’t race to fill the silence but just kept caressing her lightly with only the tips of his fingers. “As soon as Ryley suggested it, I thought it would be a good way to market the shop while getting involved with the community.”
He waited, not speaking.
“I was kind of surprised to hear about Honey Haven and how they help out teens in the area.” The muscles in her back tightened as she twisted her head towards him. “I don’t remember any of that when I was a Honey.”
“You’re talking about the charity shit?”
“Yeah. I mean, I remember the club taking care of the senior bikers and the families of the Hellions that were in prison but doing nothing for civilians.” Bishop did a quick glance at her face and saw she was deep in thought. “I can’t tell you the amount of times I caught hell just for being nice to someone who wasn’t with the club. I don’t remember if it was Dee or one of the others but they made it clear that civilians were the enemy, that I needed to ‘get with the program’ and ‘pull my head out of my ass’.” She sighed and turned her body towards him as she re-adjusted the sheet over her breasts. Her lips held a rueful grin. “Truth of the matter was, in everyone’s eyes, up to and including my own, I didn’t make a very good biker’s old lady.”
Bishop chuckled and rolled over onto his back. Now they were getting to it!
“I wouldn’t have been with you if you had, mama. Christ, those old bitches were fucking harsh and scary as shit!” He twisted his head so he could look at her. “I once told Grams that I’d never fucking pledge if that was the kind of woman I’d end up with.”
“That’s what I didn’t understand,” Dory mumbled, shifting closer, close enough so she could rest her head on his bicep. Without thinking about it, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her, feeling her head move to the side of his chest. “Your grandma was so sweet, so caring but she’d been a Honey. Not a bitch in the least. I guess I thought I could join the Honeys and just be…well, me.” He heard her sigh and there was something about it that made him listen carefully to her next words. “But I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to just be myself, not without a fight.” Her voice wound down until it was just a murmur. “It got to where I couldn’t fight anymore.”
What Dory admitted was fucking huge, but Bishop somehow suspected she’d confessed it before, only he’d been too young, too fucking caught up in his own troubles to pay attention to it at the time. Too unwilling and without any real power in order to take on the old fuckers who’d then ruled every goddamn area of his life. And he realized, with more than a healthy dose of guilt, his motherfucking lack of action had left his wife swinging in the wind, vulnerable to the Honeys who’d had it out for her.
With a shock, he got an immediate inkling of what she must’ve felt. Of how alone she’d been without even her young husband to take her side or even goddamn listen to her when she needed to vent.
Christ!
And that it his way of handling their problems for fucking years?
Fuck!
“Are you okay, honey?” She asked, tilting her chin up to catch his eyes.
He swallowed, knowing his next words were gonna be a lie. “Yeah, why?”
“Your heart is racing like you’ve just run a mile.”
He pulled at her until her body was fully on top of him. “Just trying to plan round two, babe. How about you drive this time?”
*.*.*.*.*
As soon as he was back in his own place, having the presence of mind to leave before he was asked to, Bishop finally gave vent to his anger, to the goddamn fury that he’d shoved aside in order to enjoy the few infrequent moments of connection he had with his girl in their current time.
A woman he’d let down in too many ways to count.
Who he’d basically shoved away long, long before she climbed into her little Toyota and had driven out of his life.
He was furious at himself, absolutely raging at his complicity in leaving Dory to her own devices, expecting her to conform to Hellion ways just as he had been expected to. Because, although he’d grown up in the club, his gramps had been the barrier. Had been his protector against all the rude, crude and fucked up shit that the Hellions had tried to put into play as they messed with a young boy’s head.
The door had taken the first of it as he’d kicked it shut, but his boots only left a small dent in the thick wood. Not enough to even signify. So the new, metal kitchen trash can had been next, much more satisfying as it had clanged into the new tile, a deep depression in its side that was the length of his heavy boot. But it still wasn’t enough, not nearly fucking enough to fill the hole his guilt had drilled into the depths of him as he’d recognized his role in what his wife had gone through so long ago.
Nor was his punch to the hallway wall, the one he’d slammed his fist into so hard it made a hole in the drywall and had split his knuckle. Providing a pain he welcomed, a sting that he received willingly. Although the blood that was dripping off his fist and onto the carpet went further in calming him than any of his previous actions had.
Checkmate With Bishop: A Hellions MC Novel Page 26
