Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4)

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Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4) Page 22

by Briana Michaels


  “Well, you attracted me,” Bishop playfully winked.

  Valor growled from his seat. When Tilly looked over, he stopped immediately, grabbed his glass, and took a sip of whisky.

  “You have a better theory, Foxy Boy?”

  His glower stretched across the table, “Doona call me Foxy Boy. And no, I doona have a better idea.”

  Bishop chuckled quietly and grabbed his glass of ice water, “Foxy Boy,” Bishop rolled the name around on his tongue, “It suits you, Val.”

  The alpha looked positively furious, “Haud yer wheesht, Hound!”

  Tilly’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Holy shit! You just went ten kinds of Scottish on us.” She snatched Valor’s glass and took a sip of his Deveron 12, “Say Sassenach.”

  He growled at her.

  “Please?”

  He growled louder.

  Bishop whispered loudly, “His accent gets stronger with every sip, Sweetness.”

  Valor stood up so fast, his chair toppled over. “Excuse me.” He left the table and disappeared from sight.

  “It’s part of being a Hell Hound, Sweetness.” Bishop wiped his mouth with a napkin, “We get aggressive when we’re off balance.”

  “Off balance,” she repeated, thoughtfully. “How do you balance out?”

  The dirty dog had the audacity to smile big, “Fucking and Fighting.”

  Tilly’s cheeks grew hot, as did other places on her.

  Bishop leaned into her personal space, “We’re incredibly complicated creatures, yet very simple. We were made in our maker’s image and it came with some consequences. We were granted powers that help us do our job, but it comes at a price.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “Kinda gives new meaning to pound of flesh.”

  A hot flash hit Tilly hard. Snatching her ice water, Tilly downed the rest of it in a few big gulps and placed the emptied glass back on the table.

  Bishop watched her every move. “The heat you feel,” he said gently, “is probably residue from Valor.”

  “W-w-what?”

  “You keep feeling hot. It’s not you, it’s him.” Bishop squatted down between her legs and cupped her cheeks with both hands. “Yeah, you’re burning up, Sweetness.”

  “It’s a fever, I think.”

  “No. It’s Val. He had to transfer some of his power into you after the car accident. He’s running hot right now too. This is just a side effect of his magic in you. It’ll either wear off after a while, or subside once he’s balanced, I suspect.”

  “Once he’s balanced, like after he’s hunted enough malanum or fucks someone?” Her hands curled into fists and yup, she felt hotter.

  Bishop cocked his head to the side and watched her reaction cautiously. “Does that bother you?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Good,” Bishop stood up and grabbed her hand, “Come on, Sweetness. Let’s go unpack the rest of your things.”

  She took his hand and realized Bishop was even hotter than her. The truth hit Tilly hard enough to knock the wind right out of her. “You’re unbalanced too, aren’t you?”

  Bishop didn’t answer. Instead, he squeezed her hand tighter and led her up the stairs. When they reached her bedroom, Bishop waltzed in and Tilly stopped in the doorway. He turned and tipped his head, silently asking her to join him. Her bags were on the floor. Valor must have brought them up earlier. She wondered where he was now. Then she tried to figure out how she’d managed to land herself in this clusterfuck of a situation.

  She was in a house with two unbalanced Hell Hounds that each had more muscles than most MMA fighters and could easily do whatever they wanted to her. They were built to protect. Could have been a lie, she thought. A trick.

  But, something in her said that wasn’t true. It was the same voice in her head that said she was safer with them than anywhere else. It was also telling her this was where she needed to be right now.

  That thing was probably called Delusions of Grandeur. Or Insanity.

  Bishop cleared his throat, “You want to be left alone, don’t you? I’m probably crowding you. I have a bad habit of that.”

  “No,” she said unconvincingly. It wasn’t that Bishop was crowding her, it was that she really didn’t know the correct way to respond to anything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. Tilly wiped her brow with her forearm.

  “I can leave.”

  “No,” she took a step into her room. Then another and another. “I’m just trying to get a handle on all this, okay?”

  Bishop released the bag he was about to unzip and grabbed Tilly’s hand, bringing her in close to his chest. “Fuck, Sweetness. I keep forgetting you aren’t from our world. You just… you feel like you fit. And with everything that’s happened, my head is so fixated on finding the twins that I forget other people out there have lives and feelings and their own problems. I’m a selfish asshole for not thinking beyond my own troubles. Fuck, I suck.”

  Tilly buried her face in his chest and breathed in the scent of him. “You don’t suck. If I were in your shoes and my sister was missing, there’s nothing else I would be able to focus on either. Nothing else in the world would matter to me except finding her and keeping her safe.”

  Bishop squeezed her hard and sighed. “I still feel like shit.” He pulled back and smiled down at her. The look he made seared her. “It’s not over for you, Tilly. We’re not going to give up on helping you.”

  She felt her gut twist. Tilly pulled back, grabbed a bag, and unzipped it. “I don’t want to talk about the curse anymore.”

  “But we—”

  “I said I don’t want to discuss it.” Her words were clipped. She wrenched open her bag, snatched whatever was on top and stuffed them into a drawer. “I just hope this all works out for you guys.” Her situation wasn’t going to improve. And hey, why should it? Some people aren’t cured and they die from whatever had a death grip on them. Tilly was no better than anyone else. No reason to think she or her sister would be the lucky ones.

  “Sweetness.”

  She ignored Bishop and stuffed more clothes into drawers. Then she opened her carry-on, grabbed an armful of shoes, and tossed them onto the closet floor in a heap.

  “Tilly.”

  Stop saying my name like that, she thought. The last thing she needed was to hear her name said with a painful, sorrowful tone like that.

  “Matilda Jane!”

  “STOP TALKIING!” Angrily, she threw a handful of clothes at him. Bishop caught some of it, which turned out to be a pair of panties.

  Perfect.

  She marched over and tried to snatch them while they dangled on his finger. He jerked them out of reach just before she could get them. “Look at me.”

  She refused.

  “Look at me, woman!”

  Never look down. Tilly deadpanned him and ignored how much her eyes stung with unshed tears.

  Bishop’s arm dropped and the panties fluttered to the floor. “God damnit.” He got all into her personal space again. “Give me permission to kiss you. Please.”

  What was it with this guy? Instead of asking, Tilly nodded because she wanted to make the pain go away. She wanted to forget. She wanted to feel something that wasn’t pain or failure.

  “Say it,” he whispered. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “Kiss me, Bishop.” She placed her hands on his pecs, “On the mouth, this time.”

  It felt like he moved in slow motion. His hand rose and gently gripped the nape of her neck. The other wrapped around her waist. Bishop tilted his head to the side and came in nice and slow. Gracefully. With purpose.

  His mouth seared hers and she sank into his embrace. He inhaled through his nose and groaned, then he darted his tongue out, begging entrance. She opened for him and the kiss went from soft and sweet to almost a power struggle for dominance.

  Things escalated swiftly.

  Bishop grabbed her ass with both hands and picked her up. She wasn’t a petite woman, but he made her fe
el delicate and light as a feather. He swiped one arm out, knocking her bag off the bed before laying her down. Breaking free from their kiss, his eyes darkened. “I don’t want to fucking stop at just a kiss.”

  “Me either,” she panted.

  Bishop crushed his mouth to hers again and this time it was aggressive and hungry. She let him have control because her wits were totally gone with the way his tongue moved in her mouth and how his hands roved over her body.

  He broke away again. “Limits. I need to know your limits.” He ripped off his shirt. Holy fucking shit, he was so fucking hot. “Limits, Tilly.” Bishop sucked on her bottom lip and pulled it back before releasing it so she could talk.

  “I don’t think I have any.”

  Bishop froze. “You have them. Everyone does.”

  Tilly shook her head. “I… I’m not sure.”

  “Can I eat your pussy again?”

  Uhhhh say what-what? “Ummm”

  Bishop grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head. “Fuck, your tits are incredible.”

  Ohhh god. What the hell had she gotten into? Fuck it, she didn’t care. She just didn’t want it to stop.

  “What can I do to you, woman? I need to know what my limits are with you.”

  Her heart climbed into her throat then dropped to her core. Never in her life had someone said anything like this to her. Tilly didn’t know how to respond. “What do you want to do to me, Hound Dog?”

  Bishop’s gaze darkened even more. His skin was so hot she could have sizzled a steak on his chiseled motherfucking abs. Ohhh those abs. Holy hell, Tilly’s head was swimming.

  “I want to lick every inch of you,” he put one foot up on the bed and started unlacing his boots. “I want to eat your pussy until you scream.” He kicked off that boot and started undoing the other one. “I want to fuck you – your mouth, your pussy, your ass. I want to come all over your body and make you orgasm harder than you ever have in your life.” He started working on the fly of his pants. “I want to bend you over that dresser and fuck you from behind. I want to pull your hair and make you say my name.” Gone were his pants and he went commando. Holy fuuuuuuck. His dick was perfect. “I want to lap up your cum and swallow you down while you howl my goddamn name until you can’t fucking breathe.”

  Oh. Dear. God.

  “Does that sound good to you?” Bishop’s arms were shaking as he stood there before her, naked, hot, and waiting for permission again.

  “I-I-I don’t know if I can actually do all that.”

  “Then we need a safe word.”

  “Are you always this way?”

  “You mean do I need to know my limits? Yeah, cause once I start, I don’t fucking stop until I know I have to.”

  He meant need to, right? No guy could last as long as it would take to do everything on Bishop’s wish list in one night. Right? Right?

  “I behaved with our last kiss,” his voice was deep and rough, “I’m not inclined to act like a gentleman again.”

  Another heat wave slammed into her. Tilly swayed.

  “Do you still want this?” Bishop’s jaw clenched, his chin turned up slightly.

  Did she still want this? What a loaded question. She decided to not think too deep on that one. “Yes,” she groaned. “Fuck yes. And stop asking permission. Just go wild. I want wild.”

  “Safe word, Sweetness. Let me hear it.”

  Tilly’s mind felt too scrambled to come up with a good word, “Bananas.”

  Bishop nodded and then…

  Chapter 30

  Her scent was the first thing that nearly brought him to his knees. As Bishop stood before her, naked, hard, and vibrating with need, he had to check himself. This woman was magnificent. She smelled like paradise – all feminine and sex and sweet things.

  He stared down at her, one hand on his cock, the other reaching out to trace a finger down the valley between her luscious mounds. Fuck, her tits were perfect. Natural. Every bit of Tilly was ripe and sensual and –

  “Take off your pants,” he commanded. Bishop would have done the honors himself, but he was perilously close to losing his control. If he reached for her zipper, he’d likely rip the jeans from her body and turn them into scraps of cloth. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that later.

  Tilly obeyed. Opening her fly, she lifted her ass up and peeled those blue jeans off like she was unwrapping candy for him to devour. Next, without breaking her gaze from his, Tilly slowly pulled down her panties. Such confidence she had. Such beauty. He didn’t know where to feast first. A low growl resonated up and out of his chest. Bishop pressed his hand on her neck and gently lowered her down on the bed. Then he crawled on top of her like a lion and licked his bottom lip before saying, “If it gets too rough, say the word and I’ll stop.”

  Her cheeks flushed and eyes grew wide. “I don’t mind rough.”

  He dipped down and bit the side of her neck. Again, he needed to see her limits. Fucking bananas. He hoped she wouldn’t say the word, but would respect it if she did. Not everyone could handle his wild side…

  While nipping her earlobe, he pinched her pebbled nipple to test how hard she liked it. She moaned and pushed into him. He dragged his tongue down to circle her other nipple before sucking it into his mouth. Holy Hellfire, she was sexy. Her skin burned under his touch, which only fueled his own fire.

  Sliding down her body, Bishop nipped, kissed, pinched and squeezed everything he could grab, making sure to alternate between rough and gentle. The effect was just what he intended – by the time he reached her sweetest spot, she was a panting, desperate, needy ball of desire.

  “Bananas!” she yelled out.

  He didn’t go any further – even though he was one inch away from tasting her wet heat, Bishop didn’t move a fucking muscle towards her pussy. He backed the fuck off.

  “We need protection,” she panted. “I don’t want to stop, but I know what I’m going to want after you’re done with your mouth down there, and we’re going to need a condom. Lots of them.”

  He smiled broadly, “Okay.” He stood up and wiped a hand down his face as he tried to collect his cool. How did he fucking explain that he didn’t have any condoms and that they weren’t really necessary without sounding like a douche canoe?

  But the thing was, condoms weren’t necessary for Hell Hounds. They couldn’t spread or contract human diseases and they couldn’t get females pregnant. Or… well, fuck… that wasn’t entirely true because Sara was a Hound and she was pregnant. Bishop didn’t know if Hounds could get Hounds pregnant or if that was a special case because, you know, it was Sara and she gets special things because she’s the Devil’s Darling. But in all Bishop’s life as a Hell Hound, no one else had fathered a child.

  “Hounds don’t carry diseases,” he said to fill the awkward silence. “STDs and all that aren’t an issue for us.” Then he started to jabber-jaw, “I’m not just pulling your tail with that, it’s the truth. Not that I expect you to believe me, but you’re right, we should be careful. I don’t know if that’s possible to get you pregnant or not.” He was rambling and he knew it. Fucking idiot.

  “I had my tubes tied,” she replied.

  Bishop’s gaze snapped to hers and some piece of him felt like it cracked a little on the inside. “Why?” Shit, he had no right asking her that. It wasn’t his business. Her body. Her choice. Still, he wanted to know everything about Tilly. “You don’t have to answer. Sorry.”

  “I know what it’s like to grow up without a mom,” she sat up and sighed, “I wasn’t about to take the risk and leave my kids behind. I’ve gone my whole life making sure I left no one behind.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and deflated a little. “That was a total mood killer, wasn’t it?”

  Bishop sat at the edge of the bed, not looking at her. God damn he hated how unfair life could be somedays. She denied herself the possibility of a child because life was denying her the possibility of a future. She was so young. Too young to carry this much weight
on her shoulders. He must have stayed quiet too long because Tilly bristled and covered herself up.

  “I have a terrible habit of ruining a good moment, huh?” she half chuckled. “First, I kick you out of my apartment just as you were showing me your lovely ink and now look,” she threw her hands up in the air, “I just baby bombed you. I suck at this.”

  “No you don’t.” He reached over and rubbed her thigh. “I’m thinking neither of us are in the right headspace. These interruptions might be a sign. We gotta move a little slower or something.”

  “I don’t want to move slow,” she fussed. “I don’t have much time left, Bishop. I have less than a year left to live and that’s hoping I live up to the day of my next birthday. I could die tomorrow and if this is my last night, I don’t want to spend it thinking about the things I failed doing. I’d rather enjoy it. With you…”

  Another piece of Bishop’s heart broke. Tilly was acting like this might be the last thing she did on earth and how fucking scary was that? But she was right, she might not live long and had every right to want to spend her days doing anything she fucking wanted. The fact that she wanted to spend time with him didn’t make him feel proud, it made him feel like shit. He was in a bad headspace thinking this could be a damn good time and an easy balancing for him. He wasn’t worthy of her.

  Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to be, though.

  Bishop crawled up and scooped her into his arms.

  “What the – what are you doing?” she allowed him the cuddle, but didn’t seem very happy about it.

  “I’m going to hold you,” he said, then he kissed the top of her head. Ignoring the fact that his dick was screaming in protest and was so hard, it could snap, Bishop brought Tilly in close and kept his cool.

  “I don’t want to be cuddled, I want to be fucked.”

  Yet, she wasn’t fighting to get out of his embrace at all. “When was the last time you felt safe, Tilly?”

  She stiffened in his arms, “What?”

  “When was the last time you felt safe?”

 

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