Page 54

Eden

For all my brave words, my entire body locked up the second his fingers found my clit. I wrenched an arm free from his grip and grabbed his wrist.

“No. Stop.” The words came out as a strangled cry.

I couldn’t breathe. My heart hurled itself against my ribs in an attempt to escape, and my stomach churned. The hand withdrew, moving to curve over my hip and roll me onto my side.

“Eden.”

My name. One word. In a voice that wasn’t Chester’s. My eyes snapped open and met his.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, the hand on my hip slid around to my back and he pulled me against his chest.

“Just breathe.”

And that’s what I did. I pressed my face against his chest and sucked in breath after breath, and slowly my heartbeat returned to a normal pace and the tightness in my chest eased. His hand smoothed up and down my spine and eventually my body relaxed. Releasing a shaky breath, I eased back a little and lifted my head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“You need to stop apologizing for things outside of your control.” He palmed my cheek, tilting my head up, and kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, then the corner of my mouth, before lifting himself up on one arm.

I clutched at his shirt. “Where are you going?”

“I was just going to dim the lights.”

“You’re not leaving?” I didn’t know why the idea caused panic to take hold again.

“I’m not leaving.” He untangled himself from my grip and rose from the bed.

I didn’t take my eyes off him, watching as he crossed the room, shrugging out of his shirt as he went, and fiddled with the lights until they dimmed from a bright glare to a softer glow. When he turned back to face me, his expression was serious … more serious than it usually was.

I pushed up onto my elbows. “What?”

His eyes dipped to my breasts before rising back to my face. One corner of his mouth lifted, breaking the stern look he wore.

“You look like you’re torn between diving off the bed to block my escape and opening the door to throw me out.”

His hands moved to his waist. The sound of his belt unbuckling sent tension through me.

“Interesting.”

My gaze jerked up to his. “What is?”

“The things you react to.”

He pulled the belt from his waist and tossed it to the floor. My eyes followed it and stayed there.

“Eden, look at me.”

When my attention returned to Bishop, he was naked and standing at the end of the bed.

“You still want to—” I bit my lip.

“Just waiting for you to give me the green light.” His hand moved, and my gaze dropped, lips parting at the sight of his fingers wrapped around his erection. “Say yes, Songbird.”

I licked my lips, my heart rate picking up again but this time for a different reason. “Yes … please.”

***

I was slick with sweat, my fingers gripping the sheets, while the man stretched out beside me played with my body like it was his favorite instrument. Twice he’d had to cover my mouth to muffle my whimpers and moans, while his fingers thrust in and out of me and his thumb stroked over my clit. The roughness of his fingertips caused a delicious friction, sending bolts of electricity through every nerve ending.

I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart was racing. Someone was moaning, crying, pleading, begging for mercy.

“Sing for me.” The words were a husky whisper, and I forced my eyes open, searching out the man who was drawing sounds from me that I’d never heard before.

“Bishop.”

He smiled. “Again.”

“Bishop.” His name was a sigh, a moan, a plea.

“Good girl. Once more.”

His fingers pushed deep inside me, angled, and hit a spot that made me cry out. My back arched and my eyes closed as pleasure crashed through me in a tsunami that I couldn’t control.

His name was a chant, falling from my lips over and over.

“Perfect.” His lips found my breast, closed over my nipple and he sucked and flicked at the sensitive peak.

When he withdrew his fingers, I couldn’t stop a whimper of protest. He chuckled, the sound vibrating over my nipple, then moved. His weight settled above me, and he reached across the bed. A second later, there was a rustle of paper, followed by a tearing sound, and I forced my eyes open to see him rolling on a condom. My eyes widened at the glint of silver between his fingers. He caught me looking and smiled.

“Yes, you’re not imagining things.”

“You have a piercing there ?”

“You’ll like it.” He fisted his dick, ran his thumb over the barbell piercing the head, then rubbed the tip over my clit. “Ready?”

I nodded, then moaned. Nothing —not his fingers or his mouth—could have prepared me for the sensation of him pushing inside me. It was incredible, like nothing I’d ever felt before. My hands found his ass, and I dug my nails in, urging him closer, deeper.

He laughed, the sound a little ragged, and nipped a path along my jaw as he thrust into me. His tongue licked over my ear.

“Feel good?”

“So good,” I breathed.

His laughter was warm, sending a thrill through me. And then there were no more words, no more thoughts. Just sensation and pleasure. I swore I could feel that piercing inside me, stimulating my nerve endings into a frenzy, until all I could do was hold on tight and hope I didn’t fall apart under the orgasm tearing through me.

When I finally floated back down, Bishop’s lips covered mine in a fierce kiss, tongue thrusting in and out of my mouth in time with his dick. His teeth sank into my bottom lip, the nip leaving a sharp sting of pain behind which he soothed with a long, slow lick. Then he rolled, taking me with him, until he was on his back, and I was above him.

His hands gripped my hips, and he pulled me down, driving his dick deeper inside my body. The new angle sent new waves of pleasure through me. He lifted one hand to my breast, teasing my nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging, until I was writhing and sobbing, grinding down onto him in my quest for release.

And when it finally hit, I was certain that the intensity of it made me pass out for a second. When I surfaced from the crescendo, I was on my back again, my legs wrapped around his waist, as he slammed into me, movements uncoordinated as he found his own release.

The utter loss of control as he came thickened his voice into a feral growl, sending a new thrill through me, and then he collapsed, spent, on top of me. “Fuck.”