If I do, I’ll end up with her knee to the balls again.
Or worse.
“Do you want to hurt me, Hellcat?”
Her eyes flutter open and meet mine, and I withdraw only to slam into her again, drawing a throaty gasp from her parted lips. She nods, her nails biting into my chest. “Yes.”
That should act as a warning. A very real one. It means I’ve pushed too hard, gone too far in what I’ve asked of her. But I’m not afraid of being hurt—at least not physically.
A little pain is often necessary to complete the mission. And my mission isn’t complete where Bishop Clarke is concerned. Not by a longshot.
The brutal honesty from her is a good start, though. And instead of being offended by her admission, I grin, remembering the feeling of her knee driving between my legs. “How badly?”
She sucks in a sharp breath, her darkened eyes locked with mine. “Badly enough that you’ll never doubt that I can.”
“Oh, Hellcat.” I shake my head, rolling my hips as I thrust inside her, grinding her back against the tile. “You have no idea how badly you’ve hurt me the last few days, do you?”
Her body tenses for a second, as if she didn’t anticipate me saying that.
And she probably didn’t.
She probably doesn’t have any clue how torturous it’s been to be so close to her, yet feel like we’re miles apart. To not be able to touch her like this. To not be able to taste her or feel her lips moving against mine.
Bishop thinks this is all some game, but she has no idea that it’s over. She’s already won. All she has to do to claim her prize is admit she needs me and what I’m offering.
Help.
She needs to accept that she can’t do it all on her own. That she can’t carry the weight of protecting the Hawkes on her shoulders alone and expect it not to break her. There has to be some give, some release, some relinquishment of her need to control everything.
The longer she considers my question, the softer her gaze becomes, and I keep pumping into her, slowing my hips, taking the violent intensity of the first few minutes and allowing it to fade back.
But she doesn’t seem so ready to let it go.
Bishop squirms against the tile, waiting for me to move hard again. She clenches around me, trying to urge me to move with her feet at my lower back.
I chuckle lightly. “You know better than to try that, Hellcat. Where does it get you?”
She grits her teeth. “Frustrated.”
A feeling I am old friends with.
I hate that she feels this way. So much pent-up tension and aggravation overtaking every moment of her life.
The pang of pain that hits my chest makes me still my hips completely.
I bring one hand up to capture her cheek. “You really can’t let go, can you?”
Those beautiful lips of hers part with a retort. Like she has so many other times, she wants to argue with me. She wants to deny it’s a problem. All those years of being strong, of taking on the weight of the world around her on her own rather than admit it’s too much have made it impossible for her to do what I’m asking of her.
I see the exact second she realizes that I’m right.
I’m sure it isn’t anything dozens of other people haven’t said to her over the years, but standing here under the water in the shower at her cousin’s gym, where anyone might walk in on us while I have my cock buried deep inside her, has made it very clear to her that the only time she ever lets go of her death grip on control is with me.
That night and now.
But even at this moment, she tries to cling to the last vestiges of that control like a lifeline.
She needs it.
