by Amo Jones
“Whose place is this? And why am I here?”
Bishop ignores me yet again, because he’s good at that, and then pulls me toward the smaller guest house. Walking up the few steps, he slides the floor-to-ceiling door open and pushes the black net curtain out of the way.
Holy fuck. I’m in Bishop Vincent Hayes’ bedroom.
HE SLIDES THE DOOR CLOSED and I pause, looking around the dark room. The walls are glossed with black paint, all except the wall his bed’s headboard is against. That one is red marble with black swirls messily woven into it. There’s no trashy posters, no naked woman—unlike Nate’s. It’s clean, yet disturbingly dark. His bed covers are red and black silk, his dresser black marble, and there’s a large L-shaped black leather living room suite opposite his bed on the other side of the huge room. I thought this was a guesthouse, but it looks like it’s just one huge room with maybe... a bathroom? No kitchen. There’s a red and black rug sprawled out on the dark carpet, and the biggest TV I have ever seen hangs on the wall.
Yet, there’re no personal touches to it. It’s as though he doesn’t spend that much time here. There’re no pictures, no nothing. It’s... empty. I step forward, toward the back wall, which is all glass and looks over the river that flows down his backyard. It’s stunning. This room is stunning. Reaching out to touch the glass, I turn around to find him watching me closely. This is the first time we’ve been together alone in a room. I thought the car ride would have been awkward, but we somehow fell into an easy silence. Being in his room, though, this is strange.
His eyes run over my body. “We’re just waiting for Nate and the boys. They’re shutting down the party.” He walks toward the black mini fridge he has in the corner of the room and pulls out a bottle of water then walks up to me, popping the cap off. “Drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Drink the water, Madison. You look like you’re about to drop into a coma.”
I take it from him. “Thanks.” I sip the cool water, letting it soothe my dry mouth and throat. Jesus, I need to go to bed. My eyes stay on Bishop’s as I take another drink. His mouth opens to say something but is interrupted when the door slides open, showing Nate, Hunter, Brantley, and Saint.
Nate stops at the threshold, eyeing both Bishop and me before a sly grin comes onto his mouth. “Interrupting?”
I roll my eyes, but Bishop ignores him. They all step inside, closing the door behind themselves. Nate walks toward me, pulling me into his arms. I look down at his white tee and scowl. “Jeez, Nate,” I murmur into his shirt. It smells of his cologne and Tatum’s perfume. “Leave my friends alone.”
“Hey!” He feigns innocence, dragging me toward the large sofa and pulling me down beside him. Tucking me under his arm, he grins. “She was all over my dick, and she’s hot.”
I pinch his arm. “Leave my friends alone. The last thing I need is them not wanting to hang with me because my slut stepbrother can’t keep his dick in one hole for longer than twenty-four hours.”
He pauses, his mouth hanging open, but collects himself quickly with one of his sly smirks. “Well, now, that’s not fair. I’ve been known to hit it more than once.”
“No, you haven’t,” Hunter scoffs at him.
“Ah-ha!” I point to Nate, his mouth open again and his eyes narrow on Hunter.
“Why are we even here?” He changes the subject by looking back to Bishop.
“We need to talk about the pick-up.” Bishop leans forward.
“You got there. So what’s the issue?” Nate asks. I thought Bishop called him in the car, but I’m guessing it wasn’t him. My eyes start to get heavy, so I press into Nate more, tucking myself under his arm. Their chatting drifts off into the back of my brain as sleep slowly takes over.
I wake to someone carrying me, and the chilly outside air skimming over my cheek. “Nate?”
“Bishop.” He pauses, and my arm hooks harder around his neck. “Nate had to leave. I’ll take you home.”
What? Nate had to leave? He left me here? Piece of shit.
“You don’t need to.” I clear my eyes as we get closer to Bishop’s car.
“What? Would you rather sleep here?” I don’t miss the laugh in his tone.
I pause. “You’re right. Just put me down.” He puts me back to my feet and pops open the door for me. I slide in, looking down at my phone, and I notice it’s 4:00 a.m. The sun is sure to come out soon. Bishop slips into his seat and fires up the car.
“I was out for a couple hours.”
“You were,” he confirms, driving us out the long driveway.
“What did I miss?”
He chuckles. “Just Nate losing his shit.”
“Do I want to know?”
He shakes his head. “Probably not, no.” He takes the left onto my street, and I was correct; it’s literally a two-minute drive from Bishop’s. After pulling into our driveway, he stops at the front of my house.
I turn to him. “Why are there so many secrets?”
He looks at me sideways, his hand running over his upper lip. “In this world, secrets are weapons, kitty. It’s what stands between us and six feet underground.”
I chuckle lightly, clearing my throat while swiping my hair away from my face. “You say that like you live a different life.”
His head tilts. “Not everything is as it seems.”
“Hmm, cliché.”
He grins. “Come on, I’ll walk you in. Nate said your dad will be back on Monday?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and get out of the car. “I almost forgot. I’ve only been at this school for a week and it feels like a month.”
He laughs, taking my hand and walking me to the front door. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a confusing thing.”
He nods, pushing the front door open and displaying the littered floor. Red cups are scattered everywhere. “Well, luckily I have a cleaner on speed dial.”
Bishop closes the door, and I make my way up the stairs. “You don’t have to walk me up.”
“Yeah, pretty sure I do.” Cryptic again. Nice.
“Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?” I ask, hitting the top of the stairs. I stroll toward my room, with him close behind. I walk in then drop to my bed, and he follows, kicking the door shut behind him.
“It’s not for you.”
“Oh, and just when I thought we were getting along.”
He shrugs. “I’m not doing it for you.”
I don’t know why, but that hurts. Because I’m stupid, that’s why. I swallow, my throat swollen and hoarse. “You can leave then.”
“If I said it was for you—” He walks toward my balcony door and looks out the curtain. “—would you say stay?”
I turn toward him, my hair sprawling out underneath me. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Why are you looking out my door?”
“Why do you ask so many fucking questions?” he shoots back, stepping away from the door.
“You can leave,” I repeat.
“I’ll leave when Nate gets here.”
“That could be two minutes, or it could be days. Depending on how many women he’s found.”
Bishop drops down onto the chair that sits beside my bed, his legs spread out and his finger running over his upper lip. His eyes rake over my body in a way that makes my heartbeat speed up and butterflies erupt.
“We could make this more fun?” He grins.
My mouth snaps shut. “You confuse me. I thought you hated me.” I roll my eyes, kick off my shoes, and then get to my feet. Dying to get out of this damn dress, I walk into my closet, closing the door slightly, and reach for my zipper. Then I laugh under my breath. “Of fucking course.” Peeking around the door, I smile at Bishop. “Can you help me?”
He doesn’t say anything, just gets to his feet and walks toward me. Turning around, I scoop my hair out of the way and close my eyes. He takes the zipper and slides it down slowly, his rough knuckles skimming over my spi
ne in the progress. Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I bite down hard to try to distract myself from the amazing feel of his skin on mine.
“Thanks,” I whisper breathlessly once he’s hit the bottom of my dress. I let the straps fall off my shoulders and then shimmy it down to pool at my feet. Laughing, I spin around, ready to tell him to get out, but as soon as his eyes lock onto mine, his arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me into him. His lips smash against mine, and all oxygen and sense leave at his invasion. I fight it at first, confusion cloaking me, until he walks me backward and my back smashes against the wall, our kiss never breaking.
I open my mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in. He licks the inside of my mouth skillfully, expertly, enough to blow my fucking mind, and that’s when I tap out and my hormones take charge. I wrap my hands around the back of his tanned, muscled neck, my tongue caressing his gently. He groans into my mouth while his hands clench around my upper thighs and lift me off the ground. I squeeze my legs around his waist as his hands come up to either side of my face, while his groin pushes me harder against the wall. Shit. I feel my stomach clench with unease and uncertainty, fueled by fire. Pure, hot, untouched, and lit-the-fuck-up fire.
His tongue slides across my bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth and bites down on it roughly, pulling on it until it pops out of his mouth. He looks at me, his dark green eyes searching both of mine. “Fuck.” He stops, looking down to my mouth and then back to my eyes.
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “Don’t think about it.” What the hell am I saying? I circle the back of his neck like a needy fucking cat would caress its owner to get attention. Jesus, I need help.
He groans again, shutting his eyes. “We had a rule.”
“A rule?” I bait, my head tilting.
“Yeah. Actually, more like a pact.”
“This pact.” I gesture with my fingers. “Does it involve me?”
He looks at me. “Don’t try to be cute, Madison. You know damn well it involves you.”
“What is it?”
“Fuck,” he whispers. “There’s so much you don’t fucking know, and you won’t fucking know. This is already thin ice we’re walking on.”
I look into his eyes, studying them. The way his dark green eyes have an even darker ring around the lighter color, and how his tanned skin glistens under my dim closet light. How his lips are slightly plump, delicious, and enough to make you fight a strong inner urge to bite down on them. Or his damn just-fucked hair. Bishop is intense and drop-dead gorgeous, but has an air of danger that hovers over him—and his damn Maserati. If that isn’t enough to fuck with your morals, the fact he’s an unattainable asshole would.
I grind over him slightly, lean down to his ear, and whisper, “Then we’ll run.” I lean back, seeing the shift in his eyes. Shit, I might still be drunk, but there’s—
His lips smash back onto mine as he lifts me off the wall and walks me into the room. His palm skims down my spine until it gets to my bra clasp, and then he flicks it off with one simple twist of his wrist. Spinning me around, he throws me onto my bed, with nothing covering me expect for my lace panties.
He tilts his head as he pulls off his shirt. “You a virgin? And be honest.”
“Does it matter?”
He shrugs. “Not really. But answer the question, because I don’t feel like being gentle.” He throws his shirt onto the ground while walking up to me, a smirk plastered on his mouth. A mouth I want to chew on, and a chest I want to scratch. Running my eyes up his beautiful body, every muscle trained, every single inch of Bishop Vincent Hayes is perfect. If I weren’t so horny, I’d want to punch him for being so flawless.
My eyes lock onto his as I smile sweetly. Shaking my head slowly, I mouth, “I’m not.”
“Fuck.” He loosens his belt and crawls up the bed with it dangling off his loose ripped jeans. Each crawl he takes toward me, I lie back farther onto my back, until eventually he’s hovering over me. Gripping onto my wrists, he slams them above my head, his legs coming between mine to stretch them wider. I close my eyes briefly, inhaling his scent as his flesh gently rubs over mine. He drops his lips down to mine, and as soon as his tongue dives into my mouth, I suck on it and twirl my tongue around him. He groans again, pulling back and running his tongue over my jaw.
“Shit,” I whisper, the way his smooth tongue and kisses are trailing over my sensitive flesh becoming overwhelming. Dragging his tongue down, he pulls my nipple into his mouth until the cool air is replaced with warm, needy saliva. My back arches into him, and his grip around my wrists above my head tightens.
“Keep still.”
Jesus, what? I loosen, attempting to harbor my breathing, but failing because of the trickery his tongue is playing with my nipple. He drags it down the flesh of my breast, dipping it into my sternum. Licking lower, he looks up at me from below as he sucks all over my flat stomach, until he reaches the elastic of my panties. His other hand comes down and tears them off, flicking them across the room. He leans back and stares at me intensely.
I squirm silently. I’m not that shy when it comes to sex, and I’ve only had it a couple of times. My first time doesn’t count, but the only other guy I’ve ever had sex with was a guy from my last school. We were together for three months. I had no friends, as usual, but he took me under his wing anyway, introduced me to the football team. None of the girls liked me. I wasn’t a cheerleader and wasn’t on the same social level as Jacob, so in their eyes, I was nowhere near good enough for him. We were together for those awesome three months and were quite sexually active. Until I found him in bed with Stacey Chance, the biggest slut of the school. It ended instantly.
But the way Bishop is staring at me, down there, has me fighting to squirm.
“Damn.” He licks his bottom lip, and my eyes blaze open, landing on his instantly. “That right there is the sexiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.” Oh, Jesus. His dirty words shouldn’t turn me on, but they do. He drops his head forward while his eyes stay on mine. “Keep your eyes open, kitty,” he growls from between my thighs, the vibration shaking my clit. Then he presses his tongue against my folds, circling my entrance slowly, then looks down to what he’s doing before running his tongue up my slit, finding my clit.
My chest rises and falls as my breathing rattles, and my eyes fight to stay open. I keep them on him and watch as his lips wrap around my clit, cloaking me with his warm, needy mouth. “Oh shit,” I whisper, my pussy clenching, tingling, aching, and pleading for him to go harder and faster, but he doesn’t. He kisses me down there, and then drags his tongue back down to my opening, slipping it inside before hitting my neediest spot. My head swings back as my hands curl into his hair and my hips rise, grinding against his face. Moaning, I lick my lips as my grip tightens, but then it’s gone, and all I’m left with is the cold air brushing over where his mouth was.
I look back down at him, wondering what the fuck caused him to stop. He swings my leg over so I’m on all fours, slaps my ass, and pulls his cock out. “I told you to keep your eyes on me.” I peek at him over my shoulder, hiding my smile. He grins at me, pumping his sexy, thick length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head sensually before coming back to mine, this time with dark undiluted heat. “Bad kitty.”
I think I bit off more than I could chew with Bishop. He slaps my ass again, this time harder, the sting belting across my sensitive cheek. “Ouch!” I squeal, my back arching and my ass pushing against his cock. He wraps his hands around my sharp hipbones, the tip of him lining up against my channel. Running his hand over my tailbone before going up my spine, he eventually rests his hand on the back of my neck. He squeezes it tightly and then sinks into me. I squirm at the invasion of his length, allowing myself to slowly open for him, clenching around him. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
Once he’s in me, I push back against him. “Harder.”
He pulls back and then slams into me. A loud moan escapes me at the feel of his tip hitting my cervix. Arching my ba
ck, he wraps my hair around his wrist, tugging on it until my head bends backward. He wraps his other hand around the front of my throat, his cock continuing its brutal assault on my pussy. He runs his tongue down my temple, his grip around my throat tightening. His other hand comes down between my legs, and I moan again as his thumb presses circles against my clit. My thighs clench, my stomach filled with heat so hot it could be lit in blue, and then I explode around him, my body wracking, my vision shaking so badly colorful dots dance around my room. He pulls out, flips my sweaty body around, and then lies on top of me, his heavy body pressing mine into the bed.
“Fuck,” I whisper hoarsely.
“Yeah, babe, you just got fucked.” He runs his nose down from my forehead, over my nose, and then his mouth drops onto mine, leaving the taste of myself on the back of my throat. He squeezes my breast, his legs opening me wide, his thick cock rubbing over my clit as he grinds into me in slow circles, slowly working my body up again. His hand comes to my inner thigh as he stretches me wide before slipping inside of me. His mouth comes back to mine, his tongue clashing, rubbing, and licking everywhere. Owning every single inch of me without being too much.
He groans, pulling back and then slamming into me again, my boobs bouncing and my head smashing against the headboard as he rides my body like a wave. His hand comes to my throat as his other comes to my hair, wrapping it around his fist and tugging on it. That sets me off even more as I push up, meeting his every thrust. He grinds himself back into me, all while his mouth never leaves mine, his tongue not stopping its intense caresses. His pelvic bone hits my clit every time he descends back inside me. Picking up his pace, he pounds into me harder until I’m screaming his name through my sore throat and I’m exploding all over him again, his cock pulsing its release. I grind against him, milking every single drop of him. A side of me, a side I haven’t ever opened before, wants to fuck the soul out of him.
