by Tara Lee
I wipe at my face and the angry wet tears covering my cheeks. I am so furious at myself for letting my heart get involved. I knew it would happen, but I let this thing go on for too long. Bishop was something else, and the way he fucked made my entire body quiver just thinking about him and that glorious dick of his.
I cry a little more, and before I know it, my eyes are heavy with sleep. It's not until I wake sometime later, I realize it’s dark outside.
I know it’s the last thing I should do, but, I need a night out to take my mind off Bishop. Luna will be busy playing mom, and I don’t want to bother her with my dramatics, so I guess I’m going solo tonight.
I shower and get ready. Taking extra time to prep myself so I am smooth and soft, I wear the shortest dress I can find and match it with a sexy lingerie set. Once my look screams,
‘I need to get laid!” I grab my clutch and head out.
The Uber drops me at one of the hottest clubs in New York. The line is out the door, but I walk straight up, confident I can flirt my way in. My cleavage is on full show, my dress barely keeping the girls in place, and my ass hangs out just enough that if I bent over you’d see the lacy white thong I have on underneath.
The guy at the door eyes me up and down as I flash my eyes at him.
“Well, aren’t you just fucking gorgeous.'' His voice is deep and husky, and for some reason it reminds me of the man I am trying to forget.
He pulls the rope aside and doesn’t even check my ID. I blow a kiss his way as a thank you and strut my stuff. People in the line groan and boo as I waltz inside in my six-inch high heels that make my legs look fabulous.
No sooner than I order a drink, I sense someone standing next to me.
I turn, and the guy standing next to me is the complete opposite of Bishop. No visible tattoos, blond instead of dark hair, and no facial hair whatsoever. Not exactly my type but as long as he knows how to use his dick, I'm not too fazed.
I just need his help in forgetting Bishop-fucking-Stanton and his magical dick.
“I’m Nick, beautiful.”
“Callie.”
He takes my hand in his and kisses each knuckle. The way he lingers gives off creep vibes, I push that aside and Nick proceeds to buy me a couple drinks. I’ve been touching his arm and running my nails up his shoulder, flirting so loudly that he has to have figured out my plan by now.
“You want to get out of here, sweetheart?” His voice deepens as he slides his hand up my thigh just stopping below my pussy.
His touch sends chills down my spine, but not the good kind. The mere thought of sleeping with this man feels like I’m betraying Bishop somehow.
He doesn’t want you, my inner drunk bitch screams.
“Maybe some other time.” I can hear how hesitant my voice is.
He groans and lets me pass him.
“You’re killing me, darling.” His hand grips my arm; not possessive but in a ‘stay’ kind of way.
“Sorry, Romeo, but I need to get home.”
He lets me go, much to my surprise, and at first I'm relieved I didn’t make that mistake, but once I’m outside, that guy is the least of my problems.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my future slut of a wife.”
I stop and nearly trip in my heels at that voice. It can’t be, there is no way he found me.
I slowly turn as my heart races.
“Eric.” My voice is a whisper. My chest tightens knowing he’s right here.
“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”
Eric stands in front of me with his hands in his pockets and a cocky grin on his smarmy face. His eyes rake over my body, and I hate the feeling I get when he does.
“How did—” I gasp as he comes toward me.
He wraps my hair around his fist and kisses me hard. His tongue slips in, and I almost puke. His taste, his smell, it's all wrong.
It doesn't feel right. In fact, it feels distressing. I pull back and push at his chest to stop him. His lips are inches from mine, so I hide my face away from him.
“Why the fuck are you stopping, sweetheart?”
That name disturbs me, making me cringe; the way it rolls off Eric's tongue has bile threaten to spill. Bishop would never have me feel like this.
“Look, Eric, you need to forget me. I’ll never marry you.” I go to leave, but he grabs my arm a little too hard and yanks me, slamming me against the wall. The way he leans in toward me has me sensing he’s starting to unhinge more.
“Ow, you asshole, watch it,” I cry, my back pressing into the brick wall and my heart rapidly beating. Fear courses through my veins. My heart never belonged to Eric, it belonged to Bishop, even if the man made me want to stab him at times.
He leans over me more, caging me between him and the wall, and wraps his hands around my throat, squeezing and cutting off my air supply. I gasp as my fingers try to claw at his skin.
“Listen here, you little dick tease, I don't appreciate being made a fool, so let’s say you yank what little dress you have up and let me slip my dick inside that pussy. Because, fuck, I’ve missed it.” He spits.
As I process his words, I panic.
“No, Eric, let me go.” My voice wavers. It’s barely audible as he squeezes my throat. I hate that tears brim in my eyes.
Please don’t let me fall apart, not here.
“You’re mine, Callie, always were and always will be. If you think I’ll let you slip by me again, and let him take you instead of me, then you are dumber than you fucking look.”
Blood rings in my ears as I try to block Eric out and free myself.
“Listen, dickhead, I said no, so fuck off.” I push my voice as high as it will come out. I try to sound like I have it together, that I’m not scared for my life right now. I spit in his face, and his hand tightens and cuts off my air supply further.
He wipes his hand down his cheek. He has a sadistic smirk as he steps as close to me as possible.
I grasp at his hands and claw my fingernails at it, trying to get him to loosen his grip.
“Listen here, you little bitch, no one says no to me, no one. You got that?”
He gropes at me, and I let out a small cry with what little air he lets me have.
“I said you’re mine, Callie. You will come home. You will stop slutting it up, and you’ll be by my side where you belong.You understand, you little bitch?”
I stare him right in the eyes, seductively blinking in order to distract him enough to make my escape.
He loosens his grip slightly, and I make my move. Slipping off one shoe with my free hand, I snarl.
“I said fuck you, Eric, I’m not yours and I never will be again.” My voice comes out a little hoarse, and I slam my heel into his shoulder.
He lets out a blood-curdling scream and tries to grab me again. I yank my shoe from his shoulder. Blood spatters out, covering both of us. I slam it into his shoulder again. He hisses, as he struggles to grab me, I slip my other shoe off and before I run, I kick his balls with enough force to have him crumble in a heap on the ground. I don’t look back. I don’t stop, not even when my lungs are gasping for air. I don’t know how far I run, but finally I have to stop. I grasp my stomach and bend over, and do my best to fill my lungs with air.
My feet hurt; my lungs feel like they're going to explode.
I scramble for my bag, thankful I have it over my shoulder.
Before I even think, I dial his number.
I slowly keep walking, the ringtone echoing in my ear. I don't want to stop in case Eric catches up to me.
God, what a sight I must look, walking around New York City with a short-as-hell dress on, no shoes, and crying with mascara running down my face and my hair a mess. I get a few stares, but I keep going, ignoring each and every one.
“Pick up, pick up.” My voice wavers. I stop to look down at my phone, and finally it cuts out once Bishop doesn’t answer.
My heart sinks at the thought he may never answer me again.
/> I wipe at the tears cascading down my face and I ring again, determined for him to come save me. I need him now more than ever.
“Hello.” His voice sounds gravelly, like he’s just woken up. Or he’s already bored with our conversation.
Of course he is after two in the morning.
“Callie?” he asks again, and I sense the worry in his voice.
Tears fall down my cheeks, and I let out sob after sob.
“Callie?” Bishop tries again.
Finally, it registers that I need to talk.
“I need help,” I cry into the phone.
“Where are you, I’m on my way.”
There’s rustling in the background, like he's getting dressed.
I tell him the street I'm on as I pace on the sidewalk while I wait. I go over the conversation with Eric. I stop when I remember him saying something about not letting him take me. But he isn't referring to himself. No, Eric meant someone other than himself. Who the hell was Eric talking about?
My brain tries to work out what he meant, but before I know it, Bishop’s car pulls up and he jumps out with the engine still running. He envelops me in his arms once he sees the mess that I am.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Callie, what the hell happened?”
I sink my face into his chest and cry as he holds me. He runs his hand up and down my back and through my hair, comforting me. I try to stay strong, and as his hands caress every inch of me he can.
I try to talk, try to say something, anything, my voice trembling involuntary with the bile creeping up my throat at the thought of Eric’s touch.
“Come on, let's get you home.” He leads me to his car and helps me inside. He buckles me in once he sees I'm not going to do it. He plants a soft kiss on my head and then comes around the driver’s side. The touch feels almost loving.
He looks over and he pulls out.
“I can see that you're shaken up, sweetheart, but I need to know what happened.”
I close my eyes as he says that name. The way it sounds coming from his mouth doesn’t feel right.
“Can you hold me while I tell you?” It's one of my requests. I catch sight of him as he nods, and am a little relieved when I see we're at his place not mine. I let out a small sigh.
“Can you please not call me that?” My throat closes up at the thought of that word coming from Bishop’s lips.
Bishop eyes me, wary.
“Sweetheart?”
I frantically nod. Hot tears burn my eyes and Eric’s voice plays over and over again.
“No more, baby.”
Bishop helps me out, and it’s then he sees the bruises forming on my arm and around my neck. I catch him looking down at my legs and what little dress covers me. I can practically feel the rage building off him. I swear he mumbles, “fanculo- fuck!”
But I have no idea what it means.
He yanks me in front of him as we walk toward the building. His hand firm around my arm, he doesn’t once look at me or even say another word. We ride the elevator up to his floor. I may have got myself in trouble, but Bishop may just be angry enough to deliver on that spanking he messaged about. Being in trouble with this side of Bishop may just be too much.
The man is intense. I tug on the hem of the dress trying to cover myself. My legs suddenly feel over exposed.
“No fucking good now,” Bishop snaps.
Anger vibrates from him, and he helps me into his apartment. His hand tightens on mine. He drags me through the door. I should have known not to anger the beast.
Bishop has this intensity about him that would make even the meanest man follow his every command. I know all he wants right now is to punish me. He releases a growl and stalks toward his kitchen, leaving me to find a seat.
Once I’m seated on his sofa and he’s given me a glass of water, I take a sip, my adrenaline slowly coming down. He watches me, sitting in front of me, waiting. His expression darkens as I tug on the hem of my dress once more.
Predatory. Intense. Salivating.
I can practically feel him shout, mine.
I take in the hardness of Bishop’s chest. The way his shirt hugs every muscle is like he’s carved from stone. He’s all man, that’s for sure.
I feel like Bishop is about to tear me to pieces using nothing but his teeth.
The possessive expression he bears is only a reminder of what this man makes me feel.
His eyes finally soften when he takes me in. I’m shaking so bad I can’t control my own body. Bishop crouches between my legs. The way his fingers brush over my legs makes my body hum around him. I feel treasured but I know I should feel anything but.
“Callie.” He covers my hands with his fingers, curling them around my palm.
“Do I need to pay someone a visit?” His threat is clear. He would go to war for me without even asking what happened first.
Can I tell this man what really happened? He will lose it, Bishop likes control, even I’m aware of that. Right now, it’s killing him knowing I was hurt and he couldn't control it. I knew wearing a skimpy dress was the wrong choice, but after he hurt me, all I wanted was to feel in control, but after the way Bishop devoured me with just his eyes, like he was about to make me beg for mercy, made a thundering in my chest explode like fireworks.
I shake my head and swallow. I pull him to me. He comes easily, not fighting me even the slightest. My fingers wrap around his forearm; I need to feel him, I need him to hold me right now. I just need his touch. I know he’s mad this instant because I put myself in a situation that could have been avoided. I’ll let him be, but now I need sweet Bishop, not this possessive side, not to mention I think Bishop’s past is a little darker than even I think.
Bishop follows my lead and pulls me into his lap once he’s seated next to me. He wraps me in his arms. I close my eyes, and a slight smile appears at how safe I feel. I shouldn’t feel safe with this man. I barely know him.
I mean, I don't really know Bishop. This man gives off psycho vibes, like he could kill you with his bare hands.
“Piccolina, I need you to talk to me, I’m freaking the fuck out here.”
Bishop cradles my face.
“I’m about to tear down New York City, killing every man in sight, not giving two shits if they're guilty or not.”
I see the war in his eyes. He really would tear his way through New York just to save me. So why does it feel like being with him is as wrong as it is right?
“What does that mean?”
Bishop’s fingers leave a soft trail over my shoulder, stopping when I test the name.
“Pic- picco.”
Bishop chuckles softly, licking his lips. He re-adjusts himself, his fingers spread out over the skin on my back.
“Piccolina?” I nod
“It means little one.” He brushes my hair from my face, placing it behind my ear.
“Little one? Is that how you see me?”
Sighing, Bishop opens and closes his mouth, and finally he says, “Yes, I see you as this girl who needs my protection. Who needs me to keep her safe.”
My heart flutters at his words. Even after everything, he’s right. I want him to be that man.
“It was my ex.” I take a breath as everything hits me. “He was abusive before I broke things off and he somehow found me here.” I bend my head, ashamed of myself. But not before a deep growl vibrates from Bishop.
“Hey.” Bishop lifts my chin again and places a soft kiss on my lips, which makes me melt in his lap.
“My father expects.—” I cut the words off. I can’t do it. I can’t tell Bishop I was promised to another man, not a man like Eric.
“Callie, I will handle this. This man will beg for mercy. He won’t get away with hurting you.” His fingers caress the bruises around my neck.
“No,” I shout.
Bishop recoils, not amused at my tone.
“Callie, now's not the time. I need you to be safe. It's my job to take care of you.”
“I never ask
ed you to.” I move from his lap; it was a mistake to call him.
“I’m sorry I bothered you with this. We broke up or stopped being fuck buddies, whatever we were. I’m not your problem.”
I stand to leave, but Bishop catches my arm, not letting me get even an inch away from him.
