“I’ll tell you what, Hellcat.” I grin at her. “Next time, I’ll let you be on top.”
Her eyes flare, the heat there mirroring that of her cunt squeezing around my cock. It ripples along my length as she shifts, and she grinds down, drawing a low groan from deep in my chest.
Her nails bite into the skin there again, then she slides her hands up into my hair, tugging on it to move my head to the side.
Bishop dips her head to my ear. “You’re not ready for that.”
Good fucking God.
My balls draw up tight, the tingle of my impending release racing up my spine. “You’re playing with fire, woman.”
“No”— she shakes her head—“you are.”
When she flexes her cunt around me this time, she does so at an angle that causes the head of my cock to catch in that spot she loves so much. I roll my hips back, and it becomes a primal drive instead of the deliberate one it was before.
I slam into her again and again, plunging deep, drawing out harshly, each time demanding she take more and that she give it all up at the same time.
Her heels digging into my lower back, moving with me, forcing me to take her hard for both of us, and I drop my mouth to her collar bone, exposed in the wet tank top she still wears. The taste of her skin on my lips and tongue makes me downright feral, and I sink my teeth into the flesh there.
She gasps but doesn’t stop rolling her hips to meet mine, doesn’t stop the way her body clamps around mine, or how tightly she clutches me to her.
When I draw my head back and see my teeth marks on her dark skin, that’s the end of me. My thrusts become as erratic as my breathing. I grip her face in my hand, her hip in the other, and drag her mouth to mine, capturing her scream as her body finally tenses and she comes, just in time for my own orgasm to come roaring out of me.
I don’t bother trying to bite back my own scream.
Fuck.
When I warned her it would be fast and hard, I should’ve been warning myself, because even I wasn’t ready for it. All that tension between us exploding. That was what we started in the ring finishing here.
And now that I’ve finished inside her, my hips still and she sags, my body pressing her to the wall the only thing keeping her upright. Her feet slide from my back and I grip her ass, keeping her upright, but I refuse to release her face until her eyes flutter open and meet mine again.
A single tear clings to her lashes, and I kiss it away, nuzzling against her—face to face.
“Did I hurt you, Hellcat?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Have I ever? Even that night?”
Another tear slips free from her eyes, and I wonder when the last time she cried was.
Biting her trembling lip, she shakes her head again. “No. Never. The only thing that hurts is—” She swallows thickly. “Is how right you are. About everything.”
She collapses into my hold, burying her face against my chest as a tiny sob slips from her. Sliding my hand around the back of her neck, I clutch her to me, letting the hot water soothe away some of the pain she’s feeling now that the dam has broken.
Tugging her chin up, I meet her tear-soaked gaze with mine, hoping she can see how much I mean the words I’m going to say to her. “You won’t run from me again. You won’t pretend that this is nothing. I know you’re scared, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m not walking away. And you’re not going to either.”
She draws in a deep breath, her body trembling as she stares at me from under thick, dark lashes. A flicker of that tenacity darkens her eyes. “I can do whatever I want.”
I smile softly. “I know you can, Hellcat, but you don’t want to. Not really. Not deep down. You just don’t trust yourself to fully open up to me, to show me all the things you try so hard to hide. But I’m going to make sure that you do. I’m going to make sure that you see how fucking perfect you are, what an incredible, badass woman I’ve got my cock buried deep inside of right now. Even if you’re overwhelmed. Even if you’re scared. You are safe right here. You understand me?”
The Bishop who walked into this gym earlier this morning would be fighting me. She would argue with me and say she isn’t overwhelmed, that she isn’t scared, because admitting those things would mean conceding she can’t do it all alone.
But this isn’t that same woman.
She nods—a tiny, almost imperceptible movement of her head—but it’s enough to know we’ve moved beyond the fighting stage, that she’s finally ready to let me see the other side of her. The one that lies under the tough-as-nails exterior.
Bishop Clarke is finally letting down her guard.
