For her to open up, for her to trust, for her to want and accept what I have to offer. For her to let me keep her safe.
I groan into her mouth as my cock twitches against her, fully on board with this plan. My eager fingers release her nipple long enough to grasp the hem of her shirt, tug it up and off, and unhook her bra so I can free her breasts and see her fully exposed.
Christ, she’s just as beautiful as I knew she would be.
All smooth, silky dark skin and toned muscles she’s earned through hard work and dedication that I know cost her in other places. Like her lack of social life and her inability to let go and just enjoy anything.
But that won’t happen tonight.
I refuse to allow it.
She will only be thinking about one thing—how damn good it all feels. Otherwise, I’ve failed completely at my mission, and I fucking hate to fail.
I slide to my knees at the edge of the bed as I pull off my jacket and toss it behind me, then drag her over to me. Looking up at her, I find a hint of trepidation in her warm gaze. Trailing my hands up her inner thighs, I watch the goosebumps appear on her skin. Feel her shudder restlessly. “Have you even let the men you’ve been with do this? Or is it just quick and hard to ease the ache?”
The flash in her eyes tells me I’m right.
Any sexual partners she’s had never would’ve been allowed to do this, even if they wanted to.
It’s too intimate.
Too time consuming.
Too real.
Too much of the things that Bishop doesn’t want or doesn’t think she can have. All the things she deserves so much to have.
I nod slowly at her non-answer, because she knows I can read her like a book and can see the truth in her gaze.
But tonight, she doesn’t get to control her pleasure.
She doesn’t get to have it fast and hard so she can take what she wants and then run. That doesn’t work for me—now or ever—and by the end of the night, she won’t ever be satisfied with that kind of sex again.
I trail my fingers up her thighs and grasp her thong. One rough tug on it easily rips the fabric, and I toss the scraps to the side, dipping my head to glide my tongue through her slick core.
Her body arches up off the mattress, her hands clutching the comforter beneath her, and I press my forearm across her hips, pinning her in place, preventing her from moving as I gently lick every inch of her.
The taste of her arousal coats my tongue and makes my cock ache to be inside her, but I refuse to give in to that desire. Not until I’ve shown her how good this can be; letting go, allowing someone else to find pleasure in giving her pleasure.
I thrust my tongue as deep as I can inside her, and her hips slam up against my arm, her cunt grinding on my face, but I keep her down, hold her steady while I suck and probe. Until she’s trembling. Only then do I press a finger into her tight heat.
She gasps, the sound echoing around the lofted ceilings. Her hands shift from the bed into my hair, her short nails scoring my scalp and making me groan into her wet flesh.
“Fucking Christ, Bishop. You taste so fucking good.”
I curl my finger and find that spot deep inside her that makes her hips start to roll and a groan fall from her parted lips.
Those little noises will be my undoing.
I set a slow rhythm, thrusting in and out, dragging my calloused fingertips along her inner wall. Her hips roll harder and faster, trying to buck off the way I have her pinned. But I don’t want her in control of this. I want her to allow me to find what does it for her, learn what she needs so I can keep giving it to her again and again.
“Gage…”
My name is a plea from her quivering lips, because she’s close.
So fucking close.
I can feel the tiny ripples of her cunt as her body prepares for an orgasm.
