Beneath These Shadows

by Meghan March

  “Know what?”

  “How bad you want me.”

  He shifted his hand to cup my center. The heat already blooming between my legs rushed a dozen degrees hotter as he used one finger to stroke up and down the slick heat. My hips surged forward, grinding against his palm. I needed more pressure, more everything. My moaning sigh filled the kitchen, and I didn’t care how I sounded.

  “So fucking sweet. You want to come on my hand? Fuck my fingers until you scream?”

  His coarse words pushed me harder because I wanted that and more.

  When one thick finger slid inside me, I moaned even louder.

  “Fuck, you’re tight. You’re gonna strangle my cock when I finally get inside you.”

  If I still had any grip on my rational self, I might have found the energy to be embarrassed, but he increased the pressure on my clit as a second finger slid inside.

  Oh my God.

  That’s when he finally started to move, thrusting his fingers in and out as I bucked against them. Both my hands wrapped around his shoulders again, my nails digging in to keep me upright.

  “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you, cupcake?”

  Words weren’t possible. My response was a moan and a clench of my inner muscles as the climax drew closer. I could almost reach it. He pressed harder on my clit, and it sent me over the edge.

  I buried my face in his shoulder so the scream wouldn’t wake the neighbors. Over and over, my muscles clenched as he kept up the pressure and the thrust of his fingers.

  When I finally came down, he withdrew his hand and lifted his fingers to his mouth, and sucked them clean.

  My eyes bugged wide.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, cupcake. You’re even sweeter than I thought you would be.”

  The words should have burned my cheeks with embarrassment, but instead they made me bold.

  “And how sweet are you?” They were the words of someone who knew what she was doing, not the words of a girl who’d never had a penis in her mouth.

  His gaze heated, and I knew my inexperience didn’t matter. I was going to make him explode the way I had.

  Letting the T-shirt fall to cover me, I lowered myself to my knees and reached for his belt.

  His big hands gripped my shoulders as he pulled me to my feet before I could get any further. “Not here. If you’re gonna wrap that sweet mouth around my cock, I want us both to be comfortable.”

  Bishop lifted me into his arms and carried me toward the bedroom.

  When he lowered me to the bed, he came down on top of me. “But first, I want you to kiss me. Hard. Like I’ve been wanting your lips on mine since the day I met you.”

  He flipped us over and my T-shirt flew up in the back again, but that didn’t stop Bishop from wrapping a hand around my ass and sliding me up his body. He kept one palm covering my bare ass as he pulled my face down to his, and the other hand he tangled in my hair.

  My attention was divided. The aftermath of orgasm. His clever tongue and amazing kiss.

  Against my lips, he murmured, “You’re fucking perfect, Eden. Fucking perfect.”

  I thought he was just as perfect, and the proof was slicking across his belly and the waistband of his jeans where I sat.

  Screw it.

  My boldness grew, and I pulled back and inched my way down his legs.

  “It’s my turn.”

  Bishop caught the ends of my hair in his palm and gripped tightly, stopping my movement. “Have you ever had a cock between those lips, cupcake?”

  “Does it matter?” I refused to let my inexperience get in the way of what I wanted.

  “Not at all, but I can’t lie and say that teaching you to suck my dick the way I like it hasn’t been on my mind.”

  “Teach me?”

  He released my hair and skimmed a hand along my jaw as he nodded. “Teach you to swallow me down and let it go deep? How to suck hard as you pull away? How to totally fucking wreck me for life?”

  None of these sounded like bad things.

  “Yes.”

  Bishop’s lids grew heavy even as excitement lit his eyes. “Unbutton my jeans. See how fucking hard I am for you.”

  I followed his directions and wrapped my hand around his solid shaft. I’d already seen how big he was, had felt his length against me, but pulsing against the palm of my hand, his cock seemed even bigger.

  Instinct ruled, and I gripped him harder and stroked.

  “You don’t need me to teach you anything, do you?”

  I lowered my head to circle the crown with my tongue. “Just tell me if I do something wrong,” I whispered.

  Where this inner temptress was coming from, I had no idea, but I was rolling with it.

  Bishop groaned as I sucked the head into my mouth and teased.

  “Your mouth might kill me, but I’ll die a happy man.”

  He shoved his jeans further down his hips, lifting his ass so he could free himself.

  I wasted no time taking him deeper, varying my suction and speed, trying to see what would wring another moan from him. Each noise acted like an incentive, and I wanted to make him come apart the same way I had.

  “Grip the base and take me deeper.”

  I followed his directions and was rewarded with another groan. His orders fell away as I did what came naturally. Bishop’s hands buried in my hair and lightly guided each movement when I would falter.

  “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna come.”

  I wasn’t sure if that meant he was going to pull out or if he was staying put. Either way, I kept going, sucking deeper, smiling inside as I felt his cock jerk, and hot, salty cream spilled into my mouth.

  Was I not supposed to feel victorious? Because I felt like I’d just won a damn medal here.

  When I finally lifted my head, Bishop hauled me up the bed and curled me into his side. I didn’t know what exactly I was supposed to say after a blow job.

  “You didn’t need any instructions, did you, baby? Fucking destroyed me like it was nothing.”

  A smile tugged at my lips, but a shaft of uncertainty still sneaked inside. “Umm . . . did you want me to go?”

  He turned his head to stare into my eyes. “No way in hell. You try to leave this bed, and I’ll carry you right back. Besides, I want dessert before we have dinner.”

  “Dessert?”

  His green eyes flashed with heat. “One little taste wasn’t nearly enough. I’m gonna eat you until you scream.”

  My thighs squeezed together instinctively.

  “Now, put that sweet little pussy on my face.”

  “What?”

  “You’re gonna ride my beard until I tell you to stop.”

  Holy. Hell.

  When I didn’t move quickly enough, Bishop wrapped a hand around each of my hips and lifted me up.

  “Spread your legs, cupcake. I’ve been thinking about doing this since the first time I saw you.”

  “You have?” Even I could hear the shock in my voice.

  “Fuck yes.”

  I moved up to straddle his face, and the first touch of his lips to my clit erased any self-consciousness at my position.

  “Grab the headboard.”

  I followed orders, and his tongue lashed me from top to bottom as the pressure from his hands on my ass ground me down against his face.

  Within moments, I was rocking against him of my own accord as his moans sent vibrations through every nerve ending.

  It might have been the fastest orgasm in the history of orgasms. Maybe that was the magic of the beard?

  I’d certainly never look at it the same again.

  “Bishop!” I screamed his name, my fingers going numb as I squeezed the top of the headboard.

  He didn’t stop until I’d come a second time. My head fell forward, hanging between my limp arms.

  Bishop shifted me off his face. “We’re definitely adding that to the regular menu. The way you rode my face, so fucking sexy.”

  I flopped to the side and heave
d in a breath and released it, hoping more oxygen would slow my rapid heartbeat.

  “You okay?”

  I tilted my head sideways just far enough to see his face. “I’ll let you know in a few minutes.”

  His chuckle filled the room.

  After several long minutes, my heart rate and breathing approached normal, and Bishop rolled out of bed and stood.

  “I’m going to clean up, and then it’s time to feed you.”

  “I could be on board with that,” I replied just as my stomach growled.

  When he returned from the bathroom, he came around the bed and lifted me into his arms. Once in the kitchen, he deposited me on a stool.

  “You sit. I’ll cook.”

  “I was that terrible of a kitchen assistant, huh?”

  “You weren’t terrible at all. But I’ve got it from here.” Bishop turned to the stove and fired up the burner before pouring oil into the pan.

  “How did you learn to cook?” I asked, mostly because it stopped me from asking the question I really wanted to voice. How did you get so good at whatever the hell you just did to me?

  Bishop shrugged as he let the oil coat the surface. “Probably like anyone. I need to eat, so I cook.”

  I couldn’t imagine that there weren’t a lot of women who’d happily cook for him. “I bet you could’ve gotten all the girls throwing themselves at you in the tattoo shop to do it for you. Like a casserole schedule when someone’s sick? Everyone could have had their allotted day and they’d show up with food.”

  Bishop turned and held up a spatula. “Oh, so now you’re a comedian? I’ll turn that tight little ass of yours red with this if you even think about suggesting that again.”

  The heat that raged through my body at his response shocked me. Maybe I wouldn’t mind that kind of thing? One of Bishop’s eyebrows went up, and I knew he didn’t miss my reaction. Curiosity and a hint of daring invaded his grin.

  When he moved back to the pan and tossed the veggies in, I couldn’t help but continue. Maybe it was my insecurity that I’d never be enough for a guy like Bishop? I’d seen the girls who threw themselves at him, and I didn’t exactly have a whole lot in common with them. Basically, my boobs were real, my ass wasn’t perky, and I covered a lot more skin when I went out in public.

  “They’d probably put all sorts of voodoo in those dishes, anyway. Love potions so you’d succumb to them.”

  Bishop grunted as he stirred the vegetables in the pan. “More likely aphrodisiacs over love potions. They don’t want love. They just want a ride.”

  I begged to differ, although he had to be right about wanting a ride. Just the thought of him giving some other woman a ride made my stomach twist into knots. But before I skipped off down the green jealousy brick road, I considered his words. They said a lot more than he probably intended. How could this man—this kind, sweet, and thoughtful man—think that’s all he was good for? He was wrong.

  “I’m sure they’d rather keep you.”

  Bishop fit the lid onto the pan before turning around to face me. “You want anything to drink? Water? Beer? Liquor? I don’t have any wine or shit like that.”

  “Water would be great. I’m thinking I’ll give it a few more days before I go back to drinking. My tolerance isn’t exactly the greatest, anyway. I rarely drank at home. Maybe a glass of wine when I took a bath, but nothing extreme.”

  He snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the counter in front of me.

  See? Thoughtful.

  “There’s nothing wrong with laying off the alcohol, especially if you’re alone.”

  “You getting sick of rescuing me, Bishop?” I tried for flirty, but his face lost all traces of humor.

  “Never.”

  The word hung between us as I met his green gaze.

  I wished it could be true, but there was definitely a time limit on whatever was happening here.

  I had to keep reminding myself of that while I watched Bishop cook and tried to figure him out. He didn’t fit into any of the boxes I stuck him in. He was the epitome of tatted-up badass, and yet he was making us food and it sounded like he thought the women who were after him only wanted him for sex.

  Was he insane? The man—whose hair was still tied up in a knot on the back of his head while I was dying to get my hands in it—didn’t understand his appeal went far beyond the physical. Given his ripped body, drool-worthy hair and beard, and epic cool factor, I would have expected him to be cocky and convinced that he was God’s gift to women. But that wasn’t it at all. Bottom line, he was a good man who didn’t seem to be aware of his worth.

  I opened my mouth to ask him a question about his background, but he beat me to it.

  “Have you made a list of all the things you want to do in New Orleans? You seem like a list kind of girl.”

  If he only knew how many lists of things I’d left hanging on my bulletin board in New York, he’d laugh. But I couldn’t tell him about that.

  Instead, I thought about what was typed on the paper folded up in my purse.

  Eat crawfish

  Learn to say something in Cajun

  Drink a hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s

  Catch beads on Bourbon Street (without showing my boobs)

  Play a hand of blackjack at Harrah’s

  Watch a Mardi Gras parade

  See Lafayette Cemetery

  Eat beignets at Café du Monde

  At least I’d crossed off a couple things on the list. Every time I’d been on Bourbon Street, I’d been more worried about getting where I was going, or following Bishop, so I’d forgotten to try to get beads.

  I wondered what he’d say if I told him that . . .

  He stirred the veggies in the pan and came toward me to lean on the counter. “You do have a list.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Come on, cupcake, you gotta share.”

  “Okay, fine.” I rattled off the whole thing, minus the items I’d already ticked off.

  Bishop’s eyebrows were nearly to his hairline when I was done. “You’ve put a little thought into this, haven’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve wanted to come here for a long time.”

  “So now that you’re here, you’ve gotta check off the rest of the list, don’t you?”

  “I may never get another chance.”

  His eyebrows lowered into a furrow. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t have a plan for how long you’re staying here, do you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s . . . fluid at the moment. I’m going to stay as long as I can, though. I don’t want to leave.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “This is your life, Eden. You get to choose.”

  If only he knew how very wrong he was about that. I could only imagine what would happen if I didn’t obey the summons to come running back to New York. If Dom had to send someone to drag me back, they’d probably do it by my hair.

  “What I get to do is make the most of it. So, you want to help me?”

  I immediately wanted to snatch my question back, but it was too late. What if he didn’t want to help me? What if he didn’t ever want to see me again after tonight? He was a one-night kind of guy, so what made me think it would be any different with me?

  Bishop turned back to the pan on the stove and lifted the lid. Steam escaped, and he spooned the vegetables into a bowl before dumping the colander of shrimp in. He seasoned them, but didn’t answer my question.

  I felt like an idiot. “Never mind. I know you’re way too busy with work and everything to have time to—”

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “Eden, shut up. If you think you’re going to knock that list out without me, you’re in for a hell of a surprise. Now, let me work my magic on this stir-fry and then we’ll eat and figure out what we’re going to tackle first.”

  MY EYE
S FLICKED OPEN BUT the rest of my body stilled. Heat radiated against my back, and a heavy arm rested on my side.

  Oh my God, I’m in Bishop’s bed. I repeat— In. Bishop’s. Bed.

  I scanned the room for a clock but saw nothing that could give me a hint as to the time. Last night, we’d eaten stir-fry off of mismatched plates and talked about my list until I could barely keep my eyes open. At one point, I was a little concerned I’d fall asleep midsentence and face-plant in my food.

  I don’t have a problem with carrying you home, Bishop had started to say, but I didn’t remember anything after that.

  He must have tucked me into his bed and called it a night.

  I’m in Bishop’s bed.

  If I had to guess whether Bishop made a habit of letting women spend the night, my answer would be an unequivocal no.

  So, what was this?

  He shifted, and a thick, hard ridge pressed into the crack of my ass.

  Oh my God. His morning wood felt just as big as I remembered from last night.

  “Mornin’.” Bishop’s voice was rough from sleep, and sounded even more delicious than it did normally.

  “Good morning,” I replied before clamping my mouth shut. I had to have horrible morning breath.

  “You passed out after dinner last night. I decided you were sleeping in my bed.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it again.

  “You okay?”

  My response was a nod.

  Bishop’s eyes clouded with confusion for a beat before clearing. “Ah, I’m killing you with my breath.” He picked his arm up and rolled to the side. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  I didn’t speak until he was firmly out of my bad-breath trajectory. “Not you, me. Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

  All thoughts of brushing my teeth died when he pulled an elastic from his hair. The golden-brown waves fell around his shoulders, and he shook them out.

  Holy. Fucking. Hell.

  Everything in me screamed to throw myself at him and climb him like a tree. That was the guy who’d given me the best non-self-induced orgasms of my life. That was the guy who said he’d help me check the items off my list. That was the guy who’d spooned me last night.

  “You’re beautiful.” My voice was quiet, almost reverent.

  Bishop froze. “What?”