Wrapping my hair around his fist, he leans up to look right into my eyes, his nose barely touching mine, all while never missing a single thrust.
“Let go, Madison. Give me all of you.”
My lip catches between my teeth, but he kisses me instead, and all at once the pent-up energy and clenched muscles release around him. My thighs turn numb, my lips quivering as my orgasm rolls through me so violently that my body jerks, and tears prick the corners of my eyes.
He smirks down at me as I’m still catching my breath. Reaching up to his dark brown hair, I run my fingers through the sweaty strands, rolling my lips beneath my teeth to stop my smile.
“That was nice.”
“Yeah?” he asks, and when his dimple pops out on his cheek, I know it’s not over.
Rolling onto his back, I straddle him and push up from his hard chest with a slight sigh. “I’m tired now.”
“Tired?” his fingers trail over my lower belly until his thumb is pressing on my clit. He licks his bottom lip, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Mmmm, don’t know that word.”
My hair hits my tailbone when his other hand comes to my breast and a lazy moan slips from my mouth. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”
I begin rolling my hips over him slowly, feeling that familiar heat build from between my thighs and spread like venom all over my body. Bishop pulls me back down until my lips are back on his and one hand is tight in my hair while the other on my ass.
“Fuck.” His animalistic grunts vibrate over my sweat laden flesh and I almost pass out from the intoxication of power it gives me. “Ride me harder, not faster.”
I smirk against his mouth before sucking on his bottom lip. Keeping the same rhythm, same pace while pushing my hips further into him until I feel his dick twitch against me. “Like that?”
“Faster…” he pants, and I swear it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“But I though—”
His hand is on the front of my throat, squeezing tight enough to cut off my oxygen. “Baby…”
Leaning over, I ride him faster, pulling out just enough until the head of his cock crowns my entrance before slamming back down onto him. Covering him like a glove. Hard and fast. That familiar heat is back, spreading like wildfire through my veins with no escape plan.
“Bishop…”
The slapping of our bodies becomes more desperate, more brutal, as his grip on my hair tightens and his other hand lands on my ass with a loud slap! As soon as the sting vibrates over my muscles and to my inner thighs, it’s enough to tip me over the edge. I sink into the crook of his neck with weak whimpers leaving my mouth as his dick jerks inside, both of our releases dripping out and down the inside of my thighs.
“Pretty sure you just got pregnant,” he says breathlessly, his sweaty chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.
I laugh, running my finger through the sweat covering his tattoo. “Let’s hope not.”
I wake up the next morning with a smile permanently etched on my face. After last night, I feel lighter on my feet. Maybe Tillie was right, and I just needed attention from him. Maybe I should just be honest about what I need. Bishop is a hard man, but I know he softens with me.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I sweep up my phone and open Instagram as I make my way down to the kitchen. I go through Tate’s story, snickering at her gym selfie in the mirror after a workout and a weird selfie shot with some jacked-up pop-eyed looking gym nut.
I chuckle, texting off a reply while opening cupboards to find the granola. We’ve been here for a couple of weeks now, but I still struggle to find everything.
@madisonvmontgomery stop exposing your toys.
Tate has an uncanny ability to make the men she plays with feel inferior. I feel for Spyder, I do, but it wouldn’t be Tate if she didn’t at least make him hurt a little.
I place my phone on the counter and finish making my breakfast. I know I’m fortunate to live the life I do, but it doesn’t come with its battles. For one, I’m bored. Secondly, the dangers of this world. Losing Tillie and Nate’s baby Micaela recently hit a spot in me that I didn’t want to touch. When God takes a child, he doesn’t do it gracefully. She was the most beautiful baby in the entire world, an angel, and this world ruined her.
My phone starts vibrating and I swipe it unlocked, hitting speaker while spooning granola into my mouth.
“You know, you didn’t have to do me dirty like that,” Tate scolds through the phone.
“Oh please!” I say around my food. “You and I both know you don’t even know his name.”
Silence.
“What are you doing? I feel like we should be doing something, you know, for Tillie, but I don’t know what.”
“I know,” Tate sighs gently. “Look, it’s no secret we don’t like each other, but Madison…”
“I know,” I whisper, staring off into the distance. There are no words that can fill the gaping hole of losing a child, so what do you do for your best friend when this happens? “And I’m not sure what we could do. I think right now, she needs to heal, and unfortunately, I think the only way she’s going to do that is with Nate.”
“Her healing isn’t going to be easy. We know that.”
I snort. “Yeah, because of who is doing the healing. Those boys are going to torture her to push her through, I just know it. Their love language is torment.”
“I don’t understand why you guys tolerate it,” Tate says. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. We have a lunch date.”
I hang up with Tate and continue with my day. I eat, train, shower, sleep, and then shop. It’s almost a routine, all because Bishop is so desperate to push me out of the fold. It’s not until I’ve had my bath that night that I realize what the time is, and that Bishop still isn’t home.
I lotion my skin, blow out the luxury scented candles in the room, and slide between the sheets before unlocking my phone. Seeing Hunter has added to his stories, I click on his circle and my heart sinks. Music is playing at his condo as he moves through the house. I see the Kings sprawled out across the sofa, Nate looking as fucked as the last time I saw him and with no Tillie in sight. I feel my throat swell until it’s blocking my air intake. As much as I know if I keep watching I’m going to be more annoyed, I click next. I like the taste of pain because it reminds me why swallowing the good in life is important.
Bishop raises a glass up to his lips and I watch in slow motion as a red-haired girl falls comfortably onto his lap. I squeeze my eyes closed as rage burns through my veins.
Mother-fucking-fucker-cocksucking-fuck!
I shove the covers off me and make my way back into the kitchen. Sliding open the butler’s pantry, I climb up on the counter and take down the metal box my body instinctively yearns for.
Leaning against the wall, I bury my face in my hands. “You don’t need to do this, Madison. You don’t need it.” My phone vibrates again, and I swipe it open like a fucking crackhead, checking the latest notification. Do I want to do this? The more I watch, the angrier I’ll become, and then what? What do you do with a handful of pain and no outlet? I know what I do.
I flip open the box lid, pull out the small clear bag filled with the Devil’s ash. It’s ten p.m. I need a distraction. This is what my life is going to become, a series of waiting for my cheating partner to get home while he’s off running a fucking billion-dollar crime empire. He’s Hector Hayes’ son, and as much as his mother has tried to imply that he is nothing like his father, he’s morphing into his daddy every fucking day that goes by.