Page 106 of Bad Bishop

Me.Murderer. Psychopath. Pervert.

Lila tilted her head, studying my cock like it was a medieval painting.

“Are they all the same size?” Her head snapped up, her pale blues meeting my eye.

“No.” I was glad she couldn’t hear the strain in my voice. “Size, length, and width vary.”

She frowned, tapping her lips pensively. “Makes sense.”

“Why?”

“Because if…he…had one like yours, I don’t think I’d have survived.”

Something primal kicked me into high gear at her words.

I ducked down and caught her lips in mine to shut her up. She gasped into my mouth but opened up for more. Our tongues found one another. I sank to the mattress, laying her down. I braced my arms on either side of her head without mounting her. I didn’t want her to think about that arsehole.

Our kiss deepened, and Lila reached for my cock between us. At the touch of her silky hand, it spasmed and pulsed, leaking into her palm. She moaned into my mouth and patted it like it was a dog’s head. I didn’t even care. It was perfect. She was perfect.

She was playful and confident and fearless. I no longer set the pace of what was happening. The conqueror became the conquered. And I knew, with amusing, dark finality, that I was completely, tragically, wretchedly hers.

She used her free hand to hold the side of my face, stroking her fingers along my cheekbone. Her mouth moved over mine, looking for different angles to deepen our kiss. Meanwhile, the hand that worked my cock discovered that if she stroked it up and down, it instinctively thrust into her. She did that while I went through Rhyland’s idiotic video in my head, trying to remember all the right moves, and coming up blank.

Lila let go of my cock to tug her nightgown down all the way. She fumbled with the material. I pushed myself backward on my knees, watching her.

You bleeding idiot. You should be doing that to her.

“Should I…” I cleared my throat. “I mean, should I?”

Did you just mumble, motherfucker?

She bit her lower lip, nodding.

I unbuttoned her gown, searching her face intently for signs of discomfort.

My wife looked alarmed and a little overwhelmed, but not like she wanted to stab and shoot me simultaneously, like our so-called honeymoon.

“I want you to put your penis in my mouth. See why you like it so much.”

“No,” I growled, a little too quickly, a little too harshly. “This is not about me. It’s about you.”

“Shouldn’t it be about both of us?”

She reached for my face again and slowly removed my eye patch. I held my breath, forcing myself not to look away and hide.

“I think you are beautiful,” she voiced out loud, to bring the point home. “And if I had to choose a husband all over again, I’d still choose you.”

I leaned down, taking her right nipple in my mouth, giving it a good suck. It was sweet and warm and smelled of her coconut body lotion. Lila arched, asking for more, and I used my left hand to tease her other nipple, tracing it with my finger, gently stroking and tugging, testing different pressures to see what made her toes curl.

Her tits were… Ah, fuck, was there even a word for this? I couldn’t get enough. My tongue lapped against every inch of her right breast, then moved to the left. All the while, she wassquirming, thrusting her pelvis upward, begging for something she didn’t understand, and I didn’t know how to give.

I kissed my way down her torso, not because I remembered Rhyland did that in the video—I couldn’t recall my own bleeding name, let alone the tutorial—but because I wanted to know what every corner of her body tasted like. I ran my tongue along the curve of her waist, hands gripping her ass as she squirmed breathlessly—ticklish, duly noted—kissed her hip bones, nuzzled my nose into her pussy through her panties, inhaling deeply. I realized her scent was an aphrodisiac; it made my cock leak precum all over the sheets.

I wanted to rip her panties to shreds and gorge on her pussy without even knowing what it tasted like. But I had to be careful with her.

No,wantedto be careful with her. I’d won the most precious thing she had to give—her trust—and I wasn’t going to fuck it up.

I moved my hands across her legs, massaging them, working my way up; I sat back on my knees, snatching her right leg by the ankle, pulling her panties off.