Page 138 of Bad Bishop

“Tiernan…”

I pushed two fingers into her, curling them to tickle that spot that always made her go wild. I pressed my thumb to her clit, kissing my way down her body. Collarbone. Breasts. Rib cage. Waist. I pushed her legs open, holding her by the back of her knees, and got to work, flattening my tongue against her pussywith her panties still yanked to one side, my fingers still inside her.

“God…”

“Nah. Even he doesn’t get to touch my wife.”

I licked and teased and sucked until she had her first orgasm, before pushing up and kissing her, using one hand to jerk my cock free.

“Hold on to me, sweetheart,” I murmured into her mouth, sliding inch by inch into her. She arched and moaned, her sweet breath skating over my face. Her muscles clenched around me, the familiar rush of heat coating my cock. I couldn’t even tell if I was enjoying myself or not, I was so laser-focused on making her come a second time.

She needed to sleep well tonight.

That’s all that mattered.

I pounded into her the way she loved being taken—with long, controlled, deep strokes at first. Then, when I felt her trembling, gasping for air again, I picked up the pace.

It was only after she fell apart inside my arms that I quickened my pumps, fusing our mouths in a dirty, tongue-filled kiss, hitting the magical spot deep inside her that was already making her quake again. My balls tightened and an explosion of heat sizzled down my spine. I came so hard I saw stars. I collapsed next to her on the mattress. Lila was still breathless, blinking at me with that sweet innocent expression of hers.

This thing between us had no business being this fucking good. It was ruining my focus, priorities, and fucking life.

“What are you thinking?” She spoke, rather than signed. She only did that when she felt extremely comfortable and placated.

I reached between her legs, curling my index into her drenched pussy, and with our mixed cum wrote one word on her upper thigh—mine.

I popped my finger into my mouth, rubbing the residual nectar of her cunt on my gums like it was high-end coke. I’d never sampled the shit I sold—hard drugs were a red line—but there was no point in denying it. I was a junkie. Addicted to my wife. There wasn’t a low too low for me to stoop to in order to get my next hit.

We both stared at the possessive word for a long moment before she spoke again.

“If I weren’t pregnant, I’d tattoo over your handwriting to keep it there forever.”

“If I wasn’t made too jealous by the prospect of a tattoo artist laying their hands on you, I’d let you.”

I considered hopping into the shower for exactly one second before remembering that (a) smelling like the Ferrantes’ baby sister’s cunt was exactly the kind of punishment her brothers deserved, and (b) I, myself, took strange comfort in smelling Lila on my skin.

“I have to head out in the next ten minutes. Just texted my driver to round up the car.” I strode over to my walk-in closet, tugged a fresh shirt from a hanger, and buttoned it on my way back to the bedroom. Lila covered herself up with her dress and sat on the bed, staring at me through tear-coated eyes.

I’d rarely seen her cry.

She was braver than all of my soldiers combined.

I didn’t miss my other eye often. But when I did, it was because it took me twice as long to watch every atom of my wife’s existence every night. To count each of her thirty-three beauty spots—yes, including the one behind her ear. Her fourteen freckles, all of them peppered across her celestial nose. All the twenty shades of yellow and silver in her hair.

“There is something I want to give you before you go.”

She reached for her nightstand and took her sketchbook, tearing a page and handing it to me. I tugged it from between her fingers and flipped it.

It was me.

A portrait of me, to be exact.

Much like the one she drew of Tate, but somehow…better. Sharper. I looked more alive in the drawing than I did in real life.

It looked like I was forged through marble and flames.

And it was the first time I stared back at myself and liked what I saw.

I swallowed hard, loathing how vulnerable this made me feel.