Page 64 of Renegade Ruin

I’m done.

Free falling off the edge as my release rips through me so hard I’m a quivering mess on the counter. Every muscle tightens, and I press my thighs against his head, simultaneously wanting to keep him there and push him off my sensitive bits.

Bishop hums his approval against my core, his tongue procuring every last shutter my body has to offer.

Somehow, I manage to make my arms work and push up so I can see him. “Fuck.” I suck in a breath, but it comes out more of a moan. He looks so damn good down there, and I can’t stifle the need to touch him, fist his hair as I ride his face to another Earth-shattering orgasm.

So, I do. And Bishop lets me use him until every last shake and shiver has left me a puddle on the countertop. I lower myself onto my back, my fingers still entwined in his hair, twirling the strands like they’re a lifeline.

A sexy chuckle echoes free from his chest, and I take it as my sign we are moving on.

But apparently, Bishop has other plans.

The fingers still inside me pick up speed, hitting the spot deep inside me he’s never had a problem finding.

“One more, Kitten,” he growls. “Give me one more.”

His tongue lashes against my clit, and I cry out. “No—fuck, I?—”

His hands slip from around my hip and flatten on my stomach, holding me in place. “Don’t you dare say you can’t. You’re thinking too much. Give in, let go.”

The flutters in my stomach travel south and settle in my clit as he ramps me up faster than before, and in seconds I give in to his demands and let go for a third time, falling over the edge again, his name the only coherent cry from my lips.

My body goes limp, the cool countertop warring with the heat radiating from my body as I float in post-orgasmic bliss.

Bishop nips my thigh, and I barely jerk in response. He stands, giving me a lackadaisical smirk covered in my release. It’s a good look on him.

Moving to the fridge, he pulls out a water bottle and grabs a towel off the freezer drawer. He cleans me up before wrapping his arms under me and pulling me against his chest.

My head feels heavy, nestling into the fabric of his shirt. The sound of his pounding heart grounds me, reminding me I’m not alone. We’re forgetting together. And somehow that is both comforting and terrifying.

Bishop’s fingers tip my head up, and he places a gentle kiss on my lips, his tongue piercing through so I can taste myself on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps like it was him that just ran an orgasm marathon and not me. “It’s such a joy to taste every part of you at once.”

A shiver wracks my body, and he chuckles.

“Here, drink.”

My gaze darts from his face to the water bottle and back. I open my mouth to argue that I’m fine, since this feels like more than just forgetting. There isn’t a rule against letting him take care of me, but there should be.

I’m about to tell him as much, but I’m stopped by the harsh glare that forms on his face. I take the damn bottle.

Bishop nods, clearly satisfied as I down half the bottle. He steps back, and the moment I no longer feel his skin, the spellwears off and I get the distinct feeling we’re back to being owner and player. Lawson and Willow.

He grabs his keys from beside the stove and starts toward the door.

My eyes go bug wide as I stammer, “Where are you going?”

“Back to the hotel.”

“Why?”

“Because you need your beauty sleep and if I stay, I’m going to fuck you on every surface imaginable.”

My head tilts to the side and I force a playful smirk. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

His lips fall into a frown for a split second before he matches my grin. “I changed my mind.”

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