Page 113 of Bad Bishop
He ran his tongue over his teeth to suppress a smile.
“That includes being your wife, by the way. We make the rules as we go. One of them is you share your social calendar with me. Always.”
He sat back, looking almost like a proud father. “Excellent spine,Gealach. I suggest you use it on your mother tonight. I, however, don’t take orders from anyone. Least of all a teenybopper.”
“So you won’t do it?”
“No.”
His answer scorched a hole in my chest.
“Guess you’ll have to see my next move, then.” I forced out a smile. “We should take her a gift.”
I couldn’t shake off the sting of his rejection, though. I loathed when he made plans without me. Even more worrying was that there was Bratva news. Did that mean Alex was back on American soil? That soon a Mafia war would follow?
“I’ll handle it.” Tiernan stood up swiftly, grabbed his coffee, knocked it back like it was a shot, and shrugged into his light jacket.
He stopped briefly on his way out, assessing me with that precious gem eye of his. He tipped his head down, fusing his mouth with mine. I immediately groaned and surrendered to the kiss, feeling his hand cupping my bare knee under my summerdress, climbing up, brushing the seam of my opening ever so softly through my panties. Another yelp escaped me.
I opened my thighs for him automatically, craving more. His mouth disconnected from mine, trailing down the side of my throat, nibbling and biting as he tugged my underwear sideways, his rough fingers teasing and stroking my entrance. I shuddered all over, knowing Imma was in the other room, and that she could walk in on us any minute now. See me with my legs spread for him, fully dressed, letting him toy with me like I was his own personal plaything.
His middle finger grazed my slit, penetrating me halfway, while he pushed his thumb against my clit. I loved how he touched me. How he read me. How he took my cues and followed through. He was an assassin in every fiber of his body. Attentive to the shallowest breath of his target. I arched my back, offering him my strained, taut nipples through the dress.
Tiernan used his free hand to tug at the top half of my dress. My breasts bounced out, so heavy and full I barely recognized them as my own. My nipples were also two shades darker.
My husband leaned down to pluck one of my nipples, sucking it into his mouth, trailing the tip of his tongue over the outline of it, picking up speed between my legs, shoving two fingers in and out of me. I moaned harder, louder, squirming, knowing I was being shameless and improper, and that Imma could no doubt hear us.
And I didn’t care.
I could excuse myself by arguing he was my husband. But the truth was, even if he were nothing but an acquaintance, I would still let him have his way with me.
The first tingles of an orgasm spread like wildfire through my body, heating it to a dangerous temperature.
“I’m close,” I panted, placing my hands on his face, moving his mouth to my other nipple that felt exposed and bare and cold.
A thick, tight knot of pleasure uncurled beneath my bellybutton, threatening to tear my body apart. My orgasms were always so…violent.
“Yes.” I tugged at his hair roughly. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I was now riding his two fingers. He was knuckles-deep in me, and I knew I was ready for more. Iwantedhis entire cock. And I knew he wanted that, too. He always stared at my center a little too hungrily, even after he went down on me. Like he was leaving a place that was dear to his heart.
Suddenly, Tiernan ripped his mouth and fingers away all at once.
A squeal of protest tore from the back of my throat.
“Never threaten me again, darlin’.” He dipped his head down to my mouth. The kiss he gave me was dirty, hard, and punishing. Tongueless. He smeared my wetness on his fingers over the side of my cheek with a mocking smirk. “I’ll pick you up at five thirty.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TIERNAN
My wife was fucking with me.
She wore a sheer lavender minidress to her mother’s birthday. It hugged her breasts and waist snugly, flaring just above the navel to cover her growing tummy. Her supermodel-worthy legs were on full display, endless despite her short stature, shimmering with whatever cream she put on after her three-hour baths.
Lila looked both divine and royally pissed off.
She didn’t speak one word to me the entire length of the drive to Long Island. Didn’t greet me like she usually did, either. In our bedroom, with her legs spread, waiting for the first of at least three orgasms I awarded her each day.
