Page 111 of Hexbound
A warm hand slid down her spine, his fingers curling in the mess of her braid. That insistent tug forced her head back, forced her spine to arch until his cock was riding over something deep within her. Something that beckoned another quake. She let it ripple through her, crying out loudly as his thrusts sped up, and then he buried himself in her for a long, heart-stopping moment, before withdrawing swiftly.
Hot seed spilled over her back. Verity collapsed into the pillow, resting her forehead on her wrists. Her entire body shook and quivered from the aftermath, and then something rough wiped over her back—his towel maybe—and he spilled them both into the sheets, breathing hard as he tossed it aside. Somehow Verity found herself sprawled in his arms, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around her, his hand cupping the base of her skull as if he held something precious. Verity snuggled in against him, more content than she'd ever been.
Until she remembered what he'd said about sex giving her energy. Her eyes blinked open, her hand pausing on his chest, mid-contented-rub.
Bishop's abdominals flexed as he lifted his head to look down at her, no doubt sensing the sudden reticence in her body. "I pulled out in time, Ver."
There was a little pang in her chest, even though she knew he meant to protect her. Meant it for her own good. A little part of her, however, wondered what it would be like to hold a baby in her arms. A baby with his eyes.
She didn't dwell on that thought for long. Just a second before she set it aside. Bishop wouldn't want to bring a bastard into the world, not when he'd been born one himself. He'd been fairly closed off to her when they were linked, but she'd caught just enough of his secret thoughts to know that illegitimacy bit at him. And he would never do that to her, leave her alone to raise a baby like his mother had been.
So she set it aside and didn't look back.
"What was all that about?" she whispered, glancing up into his eyes. The coals in the grate had long since died down to a muted glow, but her vision had adjusted to the dark. She could make out the curve of shadows across his cheekbones and the faint dip above his well-formed mouth.
"I'm fairly certain that was obvious," he said, smiling as he kissed the tip of her nose.
"Ha, ha," she replied drolly and smacked his arm. Settling down again, she couldn't resist stroking his arm, touching him... little signs of affection. "You know what I mean. That was... fairly intense, even for you. Where did you go? What happened?"
"I couldn't sleep," Bishop admitted, and she rubbed his chest as her heart ached for him. "Thought I might as well take care of Horroway. Make sure he won't come looking for you."
"Did you kill him?"
Bishop shifted. "Aye."
So that was what drove him tonight; the power and energy of Horroway's death. Verity kissed his pectoral, then snuggled back in against him, anxiety making itself felt inside her. Of all the things she'd suspected she might lose him to, this was the one she felt she didn't have a chance at fighting back against. His own demons. His own craving.
Stronger than what he felt for her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "So Horroway's dead. Good riddance."
"I felt sorry for him in the end."
She glanced up.
"He's vile, and a sniveling coward—he always has been," Bishop's voice lowered, as though he spoke through a mouth of gravel. "But he knew what it felt like. To live like this."
She saw the doubt in him. "You did the right thing. Who knows what trouble he could have caused?"
"I didn't do it because of that." Bishop sighed, then kissed her fingers. "He wanted me to do it. God, he was so tired, so.... And I felt sorry for him in a way, because Morgana played him. She promised him the Chalice and the power of it, and then she discarded him when he lost it. Jesus." His eyes stared into the distance, seeing something else.
Verity wanted to rub the loneliness and ache she saw from his expression, but settled for kissing his shoulder again. "Did he say anything about them? About Morgana? And Tremayne?"
"No." Bishop sighed, turning on his side to face her, those talented hands stroking her face, her cheek, the hair off her brow. It was as though he couldn't stay still.
"So what do we do now?" she whispered.
"Now? I was thinking about sleep," he grumbled.
Verity smiled. "But tomorrow?"
"Find Morgana. Kill her. Tremayne too, if possible," he muttered, resting one hand behind his head as he sank back into the pillow. He glanced at her. "Kiss you as often as I can."
Verity nestled against his side. "That sounds promising."
"You bloodthirsty little thing...."
Verity poked him when he laughed. "I was talking about the kissing part. You do need the practice."
