DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

“Again?” he repeats. “As in, you getting pregnant again and the father trying to kill you?”

  “Figure of speech, Bish, keep up.”

  He snorts through his nose like a snob. “I wouldn’t say we’re even by a long shot, but the shit you just pulled are the things I’ve had to deal with. I can’t tell if you’re fucking insane or just plain evasive with someone telling you it’s a bad idea, don’t do it.”

  “Maybe both.”

  “Emmy, you’re different, always have been. Always will be. You’re better than all of us. Then you died and we all suffered. I almost killed Mills because—“

  “I know,” I reply. “I handled that.”

  His blues narrow on me. “You sent that guy after me?”

  “Yep.”

  “He shot Armageddon.”

  My eyes expand. “What?”

  “Grazed him but—“ I reach behind me to pull out my cell. Kai never fucking told me that he hit Bishop’s dog and he was with me for at least an hour. More than enough time to tell me.

  “Who was the guy?” Bishop asks, capturing my forearm to keep me from my phone.

  “Dude I met a few years ago on a mission.” He lifts a questioning brow. “If you ask me if I’ve slept with him, I’m gonna fuck you up.”

  Bishop leans up off the back of the seat, his scent filling my senses, and I fight the urge to sigh like a smitten little girl.

  His full lips hover over mine, provoking me to move and deny that I want him.

  That it doesn’t matter what he does or says, I’m still his.

  I still need him.

  Because without Bishop, nothing feels whole. My body, even though we haven’t been together in months, still believes that it is.

  “Undo my pants, Emmy,” Bishop orders out, prompting my body to listen right away but I hold on to the thread of pride that still struggles to remain still. “You fucked Alexander raw and denied me the chance for those twins to be mine.”

  “I didn’t—since when do you want kids?”

  A slow smirk rides up Bishop’s features, derailing that said pride from earlier, and the primal need to just let him do what he wants begins to take over.

  “You can lie and say you don’t need me. That your life would be perfect without me in it. Truth of the matter is, Em, that it’s just as bad when you and I are not together. I might be a prick but I cared about you. And I also might not be the most vocal character in the world but notice how I always bitched at you for shit. Must mean something.”

  I scoff through my nose. “Not enough.”

  “Isn’t it?” Bishop's fingers find the front of my black leggings and tears the seam of my crotch. “I want to fuck you into listening to me. I need to forget what you did. What my wife—that I didn’t know I still had—decided she was going to do.” His palms find my hips and he pushes me downward so I can feel how hard he is through his cladded jeans. Memories of how he used to fill me up, fucked me into seeing stars still play vividly in my vision. “That you do shit to me that no one has done in a long time.”

  “If you wanna fuck me, Bishop, take off your own damn pants. I’ll do the rest so we can get off and I can go home.”

  “Is that where we’re at? You’re going to fuck me with no emotion, Em?”

  My lips lift. “I don’t know. We’ve had sex enough. I think I’ve learned sufficiently from you.”

  Bishop’s hips rise off the seat, nostrils flaring as he peels his jeans off and down his thighs. Our eyes never leave each others’ as he aligns his cock to my entrance.

  I don’t follow through yet. I can’t when his eyes trailing down my body as his palms cup my ass. As though he’s remembering years past. When he literally would worship me for hours.

  A gentle brush of his fingers trails up my thighs, silently coaxing me to sit on his dick. To give in to the sins that we used to perform so perfectly together.

  Mustering up all my courage, I pull away my panties and lower myself downward, feeling his hand and the base of his cock hit my entrance.

  I bite down on my lip, compressing a moan the moment the first inch of him goes inside me. Bishop’s head hits the back of the seat as he watches me take him for the first time in a very long time.

  I literally can’t.

  He’s the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on and if he knew how much he still controls my heart, I’d have to kill him so I didn’t have to seriously divorce him.

  His cock stretches me so deliciously that it’s taking everything in me to not have my eyes roll back in my head. And when he’s to the hilt, I moan for the first time.

  Bishop’s chest shutters, his face appearing pained now as I begin to ride him like I’ve always wanted to.

  My hands hold steady to the roof of the SUV, letting my tits bounce as I impale myself over and over again on Bishop, reveling in the simple fact that he’s watching me take what we both want.

  “Looks like you’re enjoying yourself,” he voices, the strain in his tone obvious and evident.

  “Mhm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He thrusts upward, hitting a spot that is both painfully and inviting. It reminds me how much of a maniac he is, inside and outside of bed. That underneath me is the most violent killer of B723. “God, Bishop.”

  The moment my last word leaves my lips, Bishop has lugged me off his lap and onto my hands and knees on the other side of the bench seat.

  With my hair in my face, I move an inch before I feel Bishop behind me, his cock already positioned to enter me again.

  Encasing his warm forearm around my waist, he pulls me up so my back meets his solid chest.

  “Then I’m not doing it right,” he whispers in my ear, his comment warm against my skin. “Because this is for me now…not you.”

  In one swift thrust, he enters me, gaining an immediate gasp from my lips. Bishop doesn’t work himself into me—no, he pummels inside to show me he’s still pissed off.

  At the base of my shoulder blades, he pushes me so I’m back on my palms, exposed to him as he takes his anger out.

  He spreads my ass cheeks, squeezing them greedily as he continues fucking me without abandon.

  And I take it.

  All of it.

  His unforgiving drives, the way he proves that he doesn’t care that he might be hurting me because what I’ve done has him shook.

  And I’m glad.

  He needs to treat me like everyone else.

  “Damn,” Bishop rumbles from behind me. “If only I could split you in half every time you pissed me off.” It’s at the tip of my tongue that he can but I hear him spit before his saliva drips down my asshole. “Are you going to take all of it, Em?”

  I arch my back needly, tossing my hair back to peer over my shoulder. “It’s your punishment. You want to try and destroy me again, go for it.”

  He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he slows his pace while the pad of his thumb grazes my other entrance. A tight pressure begins at my ass and Bishop starts back at screwing me like he really does loathe me.

  That this is a lesson he wants me to learn and memorize.

  I feel Bishop’s hips hit my cheeks as his thumb enters me, getting me to squirm under his intrusion.

  “Relax for me, baby,” he commands softly. “And if you’re a good little girl, I’ll let you come.”

  I squeeze my pussy to torture him back and he growls like an animal.

  Yeah, he doesn’t not want me to finish.

  “Has anyone had this ass since me, Em?” I bend over more, letting him gain the full view of his favorite body part of mine. He spits again, using his own lube to work inside me. “Well?”

  I don’t answer him, another thing that drives Bishop crazy. His own imagination creates all sorts of scenarios that would be better than anything I could create. He’s his own worst enemy.

  Bishop suddenly removes his finger from my ass and rakes all of them through my hair, hauling my spine back to his body. Moving my locks aside, he exposes my neck, giving
himself the perfect opportunity to whisper whatever he wants in my eardrum.

  “You gonna to answer me, baby?” he whispers before his lips calm around my earlobe and sucks on my sensitive skin.

  This time, my eyes do roll back into my head. I relax all my weight on him, letting him use me as his own personal vessel to take his resentment on.

  He licks up my ear then whispers, “That’s okay. I’ve already imagined him fucking you enough in my head.”

  “Stop.”

  “I can’t,” he growls. “I haven’t finished yet.”

  With his hand wrapped around my hips, Bishop unleashes everything he has onto me and my body.

  He fucks me like he owns me.

  He licks and tastes me like he can’t get enough.

  He has me almost believing that he wants this as much as I do.

  That I’m not the only one who regrets us breaking up.

  His lips trail down to my neck, biting with his teeth and making sure he could possibly leave a mark before sucking on it like we’re teenagers who can’t get enough of each other.

  “He hurt you,” he mumbles against my warmed skin. “How do I let that go?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter off an exhale. “But it’s going to be okay. I’ll handle it.”

  He sinks his teeth into the column of my throat again, and a violent shutter escapes my frame, leaving a cold trail of goosebumps lining my arms.

  “You’re not alone, not anymore. Let me burn him alive, Emmy. I’ll drag his crispy body through the streets while you watch if you want me to.”

  My chest clenches at his wanting to do this for me—it’s as romantic as he gets. Killing someone how I want and allowing me to observe.

  He’s like a cat that kills a bird and brings it in the house and at your feet. He’s proud to do it.

  I hear a clicking sound before Bishop raises his left hand to show me the jagged blade of a knife. “Remember this, Em?”

  I nod. It’s the knife I bought him for his birthday when we were dating. On the bottom of the handle is a small carved heart with my initials underneath.

  “It’s my favorite,” he mutters, lowering it. “I always carry it with me.”

  My eyes snap shut.

  What in the actual fuck? No, no, no. Don’t get sucked in.

  “Do you know how many people I’ve stabbed with this? How many times I’ve thought of you when slicing someone’s tongue out. When I light my Zippo over the tip just to combine us together when I torture someone?”

  A deep moan rumbles from my chest then I feel the edge of the handle against my clit.

  “Will you fuck me and it, Emmy? Every time I touch it, your pussy will have brushed and came over it.”

  His palms skim up my ribs underneath my shirt to cup my breast over my bra. Yanking the material roughly down to free my tits, he flicks my hard nipple with his thumb.

  “I’m going to kill him for you and your kids,” he utters behind my ear, every plunge inside me, forcing the handle to rub against my sensitive nub. “And I’m going to think of you again…and again and again, Emmy. Because there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you whether you believe it or not.”

  His lips wrap around my earlobe as he begins to jackhammer inside me like his life depends on it. I can hear his heavy breaths as he peppers kisses and trails wet paths around my neck with his tongue.

  “Fuck, I’m going to come in this pussy.”

  My cool facade cracks and I’m writhing underneath his touch.

  And that’s what he does.

  I come within a minute of him being rooted so profoundly in me that when I think I’m going to scream, the air isn’t in my lungs to do so. The hard handle of his knife along with the steel length of his cock has me gasping and whimpering for more.

  Bishop follows when I grip his hand that’s holding his blade, guiding him to finish with me.

  Pressing a kiss to my neck then my temple, he finds something to clean me off with and for himself, then pulls his jeans up.

  Tossing the keys to me, he tells me to drive myself home. The back door closes next and he takes off without another word down the street, disappearing with my heart cracking behind him.

  Taking a walk to clear my head and settle down my still throbbing cock, I called Kyson to meet me. I’m not sure how much shit Alexander is packing, and I’m not looking to develop holes in my body tonight. Nor do I know anything about the motherfucker.

  My previous meeting with him may speak volumes on its own but I’m not considering testing it out when he might have a whole army of security surrounding him now.

  Instead, I’m thinking about the ways I’m going to mutilate this shithead because it’s what I’m good at, and I’m not going to do it alone.

  Every single individual on B723 owes Alexander their own personal brand of payback. Not only did he try to kill me, but the twins and my wife.

  Divorce is out of the question at this point. The only way I’m going to sleep at night and be able to focus on my day-to-day is if Emmy is at my side, in my bed, and announced to the world that she’s my wife.

  So, I’m making moves to have that done too.

  Forgiveness is something I’ll work on with everything else. It’s better than thinking about every day with her bad decision making putting her into another horrible situation.

  And I still fucking love her.

  A blue truck pulls up in front of me, revealing Kyson in the passenger seat of Marty’s truck and a deep scowl written on his features.

  “Where the fuck is your car?”

  I step forward, not giving a shit about his mood. “I drove with Em. Then I let Em drive off without me in it.”

  Kyson keeps his unimpressed and exasperated expression pasted on his face. “Leave her alone. She’s going through enough.”

  “Can’t.”

  “It’s a losing battle to pick a fight with Ems,” Marty claims behind the wheel. “Are you new?”

  The backseat window suddenly rolls down before Mills’s mocking smile hits me in the face. “Sooo…what are we doing?”

  “We’re burning down someone’s home.” All three faces inside the vehicle immediately frown. “But first, we might get to have some fun.”

  That has two of the faces somewhat lighting up while Kyson still sulks in the front seat.

  “Hold up,” he conveys sourly. “Mills hasn’t even been able to look up this asshole’s place. We don’t know how much security he has in there now.”

  My eyes narrow. “You coming or not? That was the whole point of my calling you.”

  “Not,” he replies. “None of us are. What’s wrong with you?”

  Emmy.

  Emmy Lou Rhodes is what’s fucking wrong with me tonight.

  “He has a point,” Mills claims, rubbing the edge of his chin. “We might be outnumbered. And if you want it done right, we need a plan.”

  “Hate to agree with him also,” Marty states. “But we need to go in with some sort of—“I raise my hand to stop him right there.

  I may have highly enjoyed what we just did, but I’m still pissed at her. Not only that, Mills needs more practice.

  “Mills, can you do it?”

  He nods while his brows clinch slowly together. “I think so.”

  “Why not Em?” my best friend asks because God knows we just can’t leave it alone.

  “Because my wife wants to come and I want to just get this shit over with.”

  “Your what now?” Mills presses, leaning out of the window and looks over at Kyson for confirmation. “Did he just say wife?”

  “Yeah.” Kyson gives a slight shake of his head. “The cocksucker said wife.”

  “You married Emmy?” Marty thunders. “What the fuck?!”

  “Damn, man—“ Mills rubs his forehead. “—no wonder you really had it out for me.”

  “It just added more to other reasons,” I tell him. “Perfect opportunity.”

  “Holy fuck,” Marty mumbles, slamming
his back into the seat and looking straight ahead in awe.

  “We need a plan,” Kyson says. “Come on, let’s go grab something to eat.”

  I climb in with Mills in the backseat, and we drive off.

  None of us come up with something we can agree on because Emmy isn’t with us.

  And, again, this all started with her.

  With my family out of the house and on their way down to Florida, I didn’t want to be alone.

  Which is insane because normally I was and am until about a year ago.

  But now that I know Emmy is out and about, her head all sorts of crazy, I need to be at her side.

  I need her to be within an arm’s length of me and nowhere else.

  Sneaking into her apartment again was easy. I realized that I don’t have her new cell or burner number, and I gave her fifteen seconds to answer the door when I lightly knocked—respectfully and shit.

  I find Emmy sleeping, curled into a defensive ball alone and against everything she’s had to face.

  She must miss her kids.

  The fact that she can’t wake up with them in the middle of the night and cuddle them back to sleep. To feed and change them and whatever else you do with babies.

  So the need to end this quickly weighs heavily on my shoulders. So I can give her the peace of mind she needs and the path to move on.

  Crawling into bed at her side, I gently wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into my chest.

  My face nestles in the crook of her shoulder and head, and I whisper her name like a prayer. One that I’ve needed answered for years with no response back.

  She hums in response, hearing me and this time not fighting the fact that I’m back—in her space, against her body that I just used hours ago to tamper down the anxiety and fear that’s nested in my genetic code.

  “Do you have a plan?” I ask, brushing my hand down her clothed torso. She nods sleepily, and I leave it as that for her to tell me in the morning.

  We’ll do this how she wants with the exemption that we’re with her.

  Cupping her soft cheek, I turn her face so that I can reach her lips. “Emmy.”

  “Mhm?”

  “I love you.” Her head pulls back, and with my body shadowing most of the light coming from the curtains, I can’t tell if her eyes are open. “I’ve loved you since before we got married. It was no joke for me. I had a lot of liquid courage and an opportunity to blow it off if you said no. But you said yes… and I could never let you go, Emmy. You could slay me open, and I’d still crawl back to you. You fucking scare the shit out of me. I swear I felt like I was slowly dying every day I believed you dead.”