He growled, and the sound rolled through me, half anger, half urgent demand. By the time he set me down again, we were both breathing hard. His eyes had started to shift, though I doubt he realized it, and my entire apartment smelled like fury and lust.
My body was ablaze with a fire that had everything and nothing to do with the man standing in front of me.
He pulled his shirt over his head as I unbuttoned my jeans, shoving them down with my underwear still inside them, and by the time I had my top off, he stood naked before me, every bulging ripple of a fuckingflawlessphysique highlighted by the pendulum light fixtures hanging over my short breakfast bar.
Bishop was big. He was power given human form and shifter strength. And I realized, vaguely, that if he’d wanted to kill Nolan Blake in the parking lot, he could have done it with one blow.
Growling again, he kissed me, the hard, hot length of him trapped between us. His lips trailed down my neck, over my collarbone, then his mouth closed over my left nipple. I gasped when he sucked, hard, and moisture began to gather between my legs. Bishop groaned at the scent, and his hand slid down my stomach, his fingers prying my thighs apart.
He slid one finger inside me, groaning again, then withdrew to make a circle around my clit.
“Oh my god,” I moaned into his hair, clutching at both of his shoulders.
His teeth grazed my nipple, and I yipped, surprised by the bolt of pain.
“Sorry.” Bishop stood and took a step back, leaving me gasping. “I’m sorry. You taste so good, and I got carried—”
I grabbed his face, squeezing his chin. Making him look at me. “I don’t want sweet. I don’t want gentle.”
His brows rose. His nostrils flared, as if scenting out the truth of my claim. Then his eyes dilated. “You sure?”
“I’m fucking positive.”
Snarling softly, Bishop spun me around and bent me over the end of the kitchen counter, one hand in the center of my back to hold me in place. The tile was cold against my overheated face and breasts. He kicked my feet wide apart, and I squirmed in anticipation. It all felt very primal. Satisfying in a way I’d never wanted before. Never even really considered.
Ilikedbeing in charge. I liked making the rules and enforcing them.
But this—
He slid one finger into me again, testing, and he groaned when my body clenched around him. His hand disappeared, and an instant later it clutched at my hip, steadying me. Holding me where he wanted me.
I felt his tip prod at me for just a second, then he shoved himself all the way in, slamming me into the counter. “Fuck,” I moaned as he pulled out, only to drive into me again. I tried to lift myself onto my elbows, to gain some control over the angle, to thrust against him, but he held me pinned there, his hand hot against my back, a blistering counterpoint to the still-cool tile.
Unable to truly move, I could only…feel. Acknowledge that I’d given up control and enjoy the ride as he pounded into me, drawing hungry little grunts from me with each thrust. Rubbing just the right spot inside me, over and over.
Pressure began to build in a delicious, intimate spiral, and my breaths came faster. I started to squirm again, trying to push back against him. Trying to take what I wanted. “Faster,” I panted.
“Soon,” he growled, maintaining the pace he’d set as his hand clenched around my hip.
“Now,” I snarled, trying to glare over my shoulder at him, but Bishop only laughed.
“Patience, Marshal,” he whispered. And gradually, he began to fuck me faster. Harder. Drawing out my climb toward climax until I whimpered, frantically shoving my hips back at him as best I could. Chasing the bliss teasing me fromjustbeyond reach.
Begging him for it with every desperate moan.
Finally, he groaned, and I felt him tense inside me. “Now,” he grunted, slamming into me rapidly, again and again, rubbing that spot inside as his hand snaked beneath me, stroking my clit ruthlessly.
Exquisitely.
I snarled as I came with him buried deep inside me, shuddering under the power of his own release, rocking into me with the last of the aftershocks.
As I lay limp against the counter, Bishop stepped back, withdrawing, but when I tried to push myself upright, I found his hand still in the center of my back, holding me in place.
“Marshal, you are a littlehellcat,” he whispered. Then, chuckling, he gave my ass a sharp smack and let me go. “Fuckingsnarlingat me…”
Gasping from the sudden sting, I pushed myself up and turned, relieved to see him removing a condom, though I have no idea when he put it on.
He smirked with one glance at my face. “Mind if I crash for a few minutes? Sleep it off?”
