DECEIT (B723)

by Hazel Grace

  I feel her shake her head against my palm. “But…I have kids.”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “I know, I saw them. That means I can’t love you?”

  “They’re babies.”

  I kiss her chin. “No shit.”

  “Bishop,” she says tiredly. “They’re a lot of work.”

  I pull at the straps of Emmy’s tank top and lay my lips to her collar bone. “I like work.”

  “We can’t even communicate, let alone raise children together.”

  Her breast spring free from her shirt and my tongue dashes across one of her budded nipples. “I just told you I love you, wife.” I suck on the tip then say, “What else do you want to know?”

  “Why?” Her greedy little body arches a tad for more. “Why didn’t you just tell me so we could’ve avoided all this.”

  “Wasn’t ready. Why didn’t you?” I work the band of her cotton shorts down her thighs as I flick my tongue over her other breast. “You terrified me. Still do.”

  “You want to stay married to me?”

  “Yep.” I trail my mouth down the bundle of her shirt and to her pelvis, where I shimmy her out of her panties and shorts.

  “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she censures. “I’m not in the mental space right now.”

  I kiss right above her clit and my mouth waters with the lack of having her taste on my tongue. “I want you for the rest of my life.”

  “Bishop.” My name sounds like a warning. “Atlas and Alaric are another man’s children.” My tongue runs up the wet seam of her pussy, and Emmy groans out, making my dick hard as fuck at her need for me laced in it.

  “I’ll love them like I do you,” I answer. “They’re a part of you, the only pieces I had left when you were gone.”

  “You want to be a family?”

  “And I want you to come on my fucking face.”

  Emmy’s body arches into me again, demanding more. I fight the urge to finger-fuck her, wanting my cock to be the only selfish thing that enters her tonight.

  I nudge my nose along her sensitive bundle, inhaling her again. “I want to be a fucking prick and demand you take my last name.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She opens her legs wider for me, giving me full access to her pretty pussy and whatever I want to do with it.

  She’s hesitant and waiting for the other ball to drop. For when I change my mind and take everything back.

  When I don’t love her anymore because she must’ve thought I never did. And I didn’t help.

  “What’ll make you change your mind?”

  She runs a hand through my hair as her heels dig into the sides of my ass. “I’m not sure yet. I think I’m dreaming.”

  I growl in irritation because I’ve really been a fucking asshole to myself and her.

  Extending my tongue, I bow down to lick her center then right to that pretty little clit to give her some insight on forever with me.

  “I’m surrendering, wife,” I drawl, climbing up her body and leaving kisses and licks of my tongue on the way. “My cock and head have been going at it for years when it comes to you.”

  “Sounds exhausting.” I kiss her jaw and she releases a heavy exhale. “What are you doing here?”

  “I can’t stay away from you.” My lips find the other side of her face. “And…I’m sorry for earlier.”

  “Are you high?”

  A chuckle forms in my chest as my hungry hands roam up her sides. “Not off cannabis.”

  “I know something you can do for me.”

  “What?”

  “Take your shirt off.” I smile and do what she wants to where she wastes zero time roaming my chest with her fingertips.

  “What else, baby?”

  She leans forward and says close to my lips. “I wanna be on top.”

  “Shit.” I release an unstable exhale and don’t know what I did right in life to desire this woman.

  For such a small and pretty little thing, Emmy has all two hundred plus pounds of my attitude, muscle, and facial hair within her petite hands. It’s just letting her keep it and into my full spectrum of fucked up which is the scariest thing.

  I condone her wishes, lying on my back and Emmy crawls over, straddling my body and reaching behind her to undo the button and zipper of my jeans.

  “Like this?” I ask, clasping my hands underneath my head.

  “Pull down your pants.” Bossy Emmy lifts her weight off my stomach but doesn’t remove herself as I reach around her and work my legs and hands to pull the jean fabric down.

  My dick hits her ass when it springs free and Emmy leans over, her weight pinning me into her mattress.

  A hand goes through my hair again and she pulls so that my neck is exposed. Her lips latch onto the sensitive piece of my anatomy and she sucks, claiming me with a mark that she made.

  My breathing hitches as the tip of my cock nestles itself into the cheeks of her ass when I bring my knees upward.

  “No one has had my ass since you,” she mutters against the stubble of my neck. My eyes snap closed and a rumble sounds from my chest. “Do you like that?”

  “I love that,” I answer back quickly. “I fucking love your ass, baby.”

  “Can I fuck you first?” she asks, her voice so small and innocent and everything sweet sounding in the universe. “Will you let me sit on your big cock and stretch me out?”

  I nod because she’s fucking with me. Torturing me with how pure and untainted her tone penetrates my ears.

  Emmy straightens her spine, leaving the now cool air against her hot kisses. She rearranges herself, finding my already attentive hardness, and slowly sinks down the length of it.

  I think I start to go into cardiac arrest because I can’t breathe, my chest hurts, I’m numb all over watching her bounce her beautiful body on my cock and taking me like she’s always had me.

  Her hands find her headboard and she’s on full fucking display for me. All I can see is her silhouette and every curve but it makes it that more erotic.

  Emmy hums in pleasure and I suppress the need to frantically show her how much she has of that and more.

  My balls tighten at how she feels at this angle. How I can feel her expressions as she sinks in and off me. Her tits sway with each thrust and I don’t touch them because I want her coming first before I take my turn.

  “Bishop,” she coos, her voice soft but demanding for me not to forget what I said. I couldn’t even if she wanted me to. I can always feel her everywhere, all the time. “If I’m a good girl, will you fuck my ass like you used to do?”

  “Emmy,” I warn, clamping my hands together to keep from moving. “If you wanna fuck me the way you want, you need to stop talking about your ass and how you want me to take it.”

  “Ah, but when you love someone—“ One of her palms land on my shoulders and she squeezes it as she slows her pace. “—you respect them.”

  “And if you fuck up,” I retort through clenched teeth. “You make it up to them. And, trust me, I’ll make it up to you.” My thumb finds her wet clit and I begin to rotate it in circles. “I wanna turn, baby.”

  Emmy rides me and my finger, leaning back to give me full access to her pussy. “Shit, that feels so good.”

  I lose my composure, readjusting myself on the bed and flopping Emmy onto her back. She wraps her arm around my neck and pulls me closer, kissing me so I can’t breathe or focus.

  We’re a tangled mess of limbs, lips, and tongues. Her underneath me does something different. It extracts the animal and dark side to emerge, demanding to take and conquer. To forget and shove back the past and everything that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s a double-edged sword, how quickly it wants to crush and overturn but soak and enjoy her.

  It warns me against Emmy.

  It tells me that she proved me right.

  That, in the long run, Emmy is my demise and the reason I die.

  Emmy moans, reveling in my cock delving into her at a mindless pace as I screw my
head-on.

  “Come get it then, baby,” I encourage softly. “Fuck away everything. You’re mine.” Her mouth clamors into mine, punishing me to shut the fuck up and do what she wants.

  I pick up my speed, releasing how I’ve always wanted to take her. I taste blood after she bites down on my lip then quickly laps it up with her mouth and opens wider for me to drive my tongue back inside.

  I’m titter-tottering on the brink of busting my load, sinking myself as far as I can go just to almost fully come out and do it again.

  I demand her to feel all of me, how I can dig myself into her both through sex and mind.

  I want to be a remaining thought.

  I need her to think of me all the fucking time.

  I crave something more than what we haven’t allowed ourselves to do. And I’m tired of fighting it.

  “Bishop, I’m going to come,” she breathes, panting as she presses her forehead to mine. “Will you come with me?”

  “You start, baby, I’ll finish.”

  Then she does, crumbling underneath me and uttering my name like it’s her favorite song. I fall down the same hole she does. Her voice, my name, her in general, makes me want to go again right off the bat.

  “Kace Bishop—“ She cups my face in her little hands. “—you’re in trouble now.”

  “He’ll have a honey oat milk latte preferable with a heart designed on the top because he doesn’t have one.”

  The young girl behind the register doesn’t give a shit about my insult because she’s too busy. However, Alexander does as I watch him slowly turn around, composing a look of pure shock before he flicks his eyes down the entire length of my body as if he has a fucking right.

  “Emmy,” he whispers. “Geezus Christ...how are you—aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

  “Alexander,” I mock back with a condescending tone. “Your seeing me means that you’re dead.”

  His brows furrow and the look of surprise quickly wears off. “Dead?”

  I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll be over there. Tell your fellow at the front door that you’ll be a few minutes. And the man at the table looking like he just had someone shit in his Cheerios that if he starts a scene, there'll be a bullet in his head before he even stands.”

  I give my ex a wink before I pivot and make my way over to the third man in the small coffee shop who watches me intently approach his table.

  “Mr. Williams,” I greet with a smile. “While your services, I’m sure are greatly appreciated by the asshole you work for, I’m going to need you to either move or leave.”

  “Excuse me?” he grumbles, his face contorting to the fact that I just walked up to his big ass and told him to take a long walk off a short pier.

  “Move or leave,” I repeat. “Your wife that works at the flower shop on Main and Fifth is going to suffer a car accident today if you don’t get the fuck out of my view.”

  “Listen, you little bitch,” he growls, leaning over the tiny and circular table. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—“

  “Oh, I know exactly who I am.” I bend over the table, and my name is growled from behind me. Bishop sits at the table right next to this one as my backup and personal support system. “She’s wearing black jeans, a green jacket, and she has really pretty brown hair that’s in a ponytail—“ The man stands and doesn’t utter a single word, rounding the table and walks towards the front door.

  That was honestly easier than I thought.

  Alexander must be highly desperate for security because that dude either sucked, or I just scared him enough to not care how much he’s getting paid for this job.

  “Why the hell did you decide to wear that dress?” Bishop chides sharply behind me. “If you bent over anymore, you’d be giving everyone in this coffee shop a free show of your ass.”

  “You don’t like my dress?” I smile when he doesn’t answer me. His blues boring into my face, clearly unamused.

  Honestly, I didn’t put too much effort into my attire. And it’s not a dress, it’s a mini romper, so my ass is well hidden and protected. However, I’m not going to correct Bishop on it, and his cute little jealously rant. I need to focus on facing the man who assaulted and almost murdered me.

  When I turn around to make my way to the table I told Alexander I’d be at, I steal a look at Bishop. He’s so beside himself that I feel a little sorry. His blue eyes glimmer with annoyance and displeasure at us being here, but he agreed without hesitation.

  One, because he wants to decapitate the man who almost murdered me.

  Two, because he doesn’t want me to be near my ex-anything.

  And three, Bishop wants to keep me from reliving events in my head.

  Unfortunately, he can’t.

  Ever since Bishop found me out, my brain made room and can retain seeing Alexander staring at me with pure disdain in his eyes. The look of nothing, he showed. No remorse for repeatedly stabbing me and our unborn children.

  I’m going for the surprise factor here.

  The one where I make my demands that would possibly fall short on Alexander’s ears. Today’s meeting was to see where his head was at, and I was going to play him as he did during our whole relationship.

  This encounter is to get him to change his will so that when I kill him, Alaric and Atlas get everything for their lives that were almost taken.

  I don’t need his support.

  I actually prefer not to have it.

  However, he’s loaded, and his money going to his shady family or brother over the sins he committed against me and my own—it doesn’t sit well with me.

  Atlas and Alaric deserve college and a decent car, all things I can provide. Still, he stole their ability to have a relationship with him. His money will go to a down payment on their first home, their weddings, for their children.

  It’s their blood money that he tried to spill all over my condo floor after all.

  Another reason is I wanted to give false hope. If he focused on me other than Mills and the twins, it’d give me more time to set them up how they deserve, then take his ass out.

  I just need a few days for him to change the will and we’re on our way.

  “See you in a bit,” I mutter, swaying my ass just a little more than I normally would for my husband, who faithfully won’t leave my side.

  Our eyes meet from across the shop when I sit down, and he pulls out his knife that I gave him and a zippo lighter at his side, lifting them up and down as if he’s giving me a choice on which one I want him to use.

  I smile and shake my head then roll my eyes because he’s impossible.

  We’re not killing Alexander today.

  We’re rattling him up.

  His frame suddenly blocks off my view of the only man I want near right now, and Alexander sits, not wearing his usual suit and tie but a white dress shirt and black slacks.

  “I think I might need you to pinch me.” His dark eyes take me in again. “Are you...you are Emmy, right? Now a twin sister she had or…”

  “No.”

  “Fuck.” He runs his hand down the side of his face, and his mouth widens as he drags it down. “You’re still absolutely beautiful and...even from the dead.” Alexander’s smooth talk pricks at my nerves as if I’ve forgotten everything, and his charm is going to cloud me from it.

  “And you’re still an absolute prick,” I counter. “I came here to talk business, not how you think I look.”

  “Business?” His features stretch, eyes widening for a moment while he tries to get his bearings. “Damn, Emmy, I’m still trying to get used to you being in front of me right now.”

  I cock my head to the side. “Have you been mourning me?”

  “Of course I have.” His face contorts. “I lost my girlfriend who I was in love with. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Um, healing from my wounds.”

  “At the hospital?”

  I glower at him, ready to take the small vase with one red rose betwee
n us on the table and shove it down his lying ass throat. “I didn’t come here to shoot the shit.”

  “And here I thought you may have missed me,” he mutters as if he’s actually sad.

  “Did my fake death give you that impression?” He frowns at me, clearly distressed at my company. That I’m still alive to tell the tale to the whole world that he’s a piece of shit.

  Because we both know it’s not because he cried himself to sleep every night over his loss.

  “How did you do it? How much did you pay someone to lie and make us all believe you were gone?”

  “Not much,” I deadpan. “But you should thank me, you weren’t turned in to the police.” That turns his sorrowful facade into a serious one.

  There he is.

  He straightens his spine, somber now that I’m not feeding into his bullshit and the cops are the last thing he wants sniffing around his ass with his shotty dealings.

  “What are you doing here, Emmy? You’re clearly still pissed.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?”

  He pushes his cheek out with his tongue and nods. “Yes, you have every right to be.” His eyes bore into mine as if to convince me to believe him. “And I’ll do anything to fix it, Emmy. Tell me how.”

  My forehead puckers. “Fix it? How would you do that? You said you loved me, and the next, you’re stabbing me multiple times. You almost…” I release a heavy and choked exhale, placing my palm over my heart as if this is extremely hard for me to speak about, and it is.

  But not to this level. I wouldn’t allow myself to.

  I’m afraid to get there and how deeply it’ll affect me if I ponder and let it sink in.

  This is all for Alexander’s sake. And all I want to do is give Bishop the go-ahead to use one of his choice weapons on him right now.

  “Anything,” my ex croons. “Whatever you want.”