Damned: Seven Tribesmen MC (19 page)

Brushing aside the indiscretion, Bishop slammed the answer button with his thumb. Holding the phone up to his ear, Bishop barked, “Yeah, what is it?”

“Are you okay, boss?” On the other end, Coyote nearly shrieked. Bishop winced and held the phone a little further away from his ear.

“A little banged up, but we're okay,” he answered, hugging Stella closer. She leaned her head against his chest again. Tingling warmth crept across his body, but Bishop ignored the sensations. “Did you guys find anything?”

“The mask was at the asshole's place at the bottom of his garbage.”

“I found the chloroform.” Bishop tactfully avoided mentioning the photographs for now. He could explain everything in detail to his vice president tomorrow after some stitches, some pain killer, and a good night's sleep.

“Good,” Coyote answered. He shifted on the other end of the line, as if hunching his shoulders and scuffing his feet. “We also talked to Delilah.”

Coyote's hesitant tone piqued Bishop's concern. His brows furrowed, trying to scrape his mind for ideas for his sudden change in Coyote's demeanor. “Yeah?”

“Boss, we need to talk.” His tone took on firm resolution. Bishop could almost picture his vice president squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin. He couldn't prepare for Coyote's next words, though. “Our trust in the Grave Demons was misplaced.”

Knives of disappointment slashed against Bishop's guts. His eyes flickered down to Stella, who stared up at him with her big, warm brown eyes. His heart tipped and pitched forward with disappointing premonition. The cocaine gang was found out. The Seven Tribesmen were innocent, and justice, in one form or another, would be dished out. Bishop swallowed and squeezed Stella's shoulder gently. He highly doubted Stella shared his sense of due process. Their adverse interpretations would come up soon enough.

Sirens shrieked outside accompanied by red and blue lights that rotated over the room. Bishop clenched his eyes shut and ended the call, shoving his cellphone back into his pocket. Stella stirred, and he could feel her curious gaze like a hot lash across his face. Bishop opened his eyes and his now free hand caught Stella by the jaw, bringing her lips to his. Her eyes widened just slightly, before she sighed and melted against him. He moaned against her mouth, pleasurable tingles licking up his flesh.

Bishop wanted to forget the inevitable ending he and Stella would soon face.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Stella tried to focus on the sizzling bacon that curled and coiled in the cast-iron pan on the stove.  The surrealism had set into her brain at five in the morning, and she had been trying to stave it off ever since.  Stan was in lock-up, and she was in Bishop's hous
e—
wearing one of his old t-shirts. 
Only
one of his old t-shirts.

And she was cooking breakfast.

Weird didn't even begin to cover everything that sifted through her mind.  Everything since the attempted abduction had been distressing.  Hell, who was she kidding?  Ever since she got to Grand River, her stiff worldview had slowly begun to wobble.  And it was mostly thanks to Bishop. 

Stella flipped the bacon over, the renewed hiss of steam cutting her thoughts short.  She didn't need to dwell on him.  Their inevitable separation was fast approaching.

“My, oh my.  Agent Holmes, are you getting domestic on me?”

Stella jolted as Bishop's voice sounded from behind her, and his body heat soon followed.  She mentally kicked herself as a thrill tilted down her spine.  Bishop's bare legs pressed against the back of her thighs, his bulge taunting her well-stocked imagination.

She didn't tur
n—
though an amused smile quirked at her lips.  Their separation didn't need to spoil what they had now.  “What makes you think that?”

“You're cooking breakfast for us,” Bishop teased, his arms wrapped loosely around her midsection.  

Stella snorted as a piece of bacon popped loudly. “That's petty presumptive to think I'm cooking it for you.” 

“Well, that's certainly a lot of bacon and other stuff.”  Bishop listed his head toward the pile of bacon and then to the plates that lined the counter.  Scents wafted from beneath various paper towel
s—
eggs, pancakes, sausages, even banana nut muffins.  Anything remotely considered breakfast food in Bishop's pantry had become a victim of Stella's nervous cooking.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Stella stated matter-of-factly.  She couldn't help the smile that continued to grow on her lips.

“Well, I suppose that explains your stamina,” Bishop mused, his grip tightening playfully on her midsection.  His stomach vibrated against her back, gurgling quietly.  “However, I am famished.  I've been working hard the last few days, y'know?”

Bishop's bulge grew against her ass, and Stella sighed with faux exasperation.  As she leaned over to turn off the burne
r—
and simultaneously taunt him with her rea
r—
she huffed, “Well, I suppose you can have some, but you have to earn it.”

“Oh?  And what's your price?”  Bishop's eyebrows quirked upward, a grin curling at his lips.

Stella turned in his arms, leaving the bacon unattended.  Her hand raised up, finger tapping Bishop on the lips with every word she spoke. “Where's the fun in that?”

His features darkened with lusty mischief, and his grin flickered into a smirk, as he grabbed Stella forcefully.  He lifted her up, relishing the feeling of her warm thighs wrapping around his torso.  His erection rose to the occasion, twitching against her warm pussy, as he positioned his hands on her rear.

He swooped down, catching her lips against his.  His overnight scruff scratched at Stella's cheek, eliciting excitable surges down her body.  She moaned against his mouth, coaxing his cock to twitch against her.  Her fingers curled against the back of his shoulders, where crisscrossing red marks gently throbbed.

Bishop moved over to the kitchen tabl
e—
one of the few free surfaces in the kitche
n—
and he sat Stella down.  His hands slid up her body; his fingers crooked so he could rake his nails gently against her curves.  She shuddered under his touch, her pussy throbbing with excitement.  The dull ache of overuse pulsed through her ab
s—
only adding a delicious twinge to her pleasure.

Suddenly, Bishop snatched the hem of her t-shirt and lifted it up.  She obliged by raising her arms, ready to wiggle out of the clothes.  However, at that point, Bishop stopped.  He tied the ends of the t-shirt above her head, knotting the fabric twice.  An excited lick slapped across Stella's heart, as she wiggled fervently to escape the sudden restraint.

Bishop grinned, hearing her shocked gasped and watching her struggles.  As he stepped away from her, his body ached to feel her heat.  Noticing his missing warmth, she let out a confused whimper.  She wiggled and fought against the shirt harder.  Her arms bent awkwardly, hands seeking the knot. 

Her mind raced, imagining Bishop was going to play coy and rebellious.  She could just see him munching happily on the breakfast she worked so hard on, watching her struggle with a smug smirk on his lips.  The thought almost brought a growl to her lips.

She didn't hear the rattle of ice as Bishop plucked her glass of water from near the stove.  Nor did she hear him take a swig of the refreshment.

What Stella noticed was the return of his body heat, undoubtedly to untie her while tauntingly gnawing on a bacon strip.  He didn't remove the t-shirt though.  Instead, his lips pressed against her breast.  She gasped, a slow moan easing from her lips as his kisses and suckling skirted around her nipple.  She bit her bottom lip and groaned, arching her back and clenching her eyes shut.

Then, his lips wrapped around her nipple.  Cold tickled against her sensitive flesh, and heat flared within her.  She sharply gasped, as Bishop's teeth worried roughly against her nipple.  Her fingers clenched into fists, the coldness of his mouth streaking across her body.

His lips twisted into a grin around her nipple.  To her neglected breast, he slowly dribbled water from the ice cube down her breast, her nipple instantly hardening to the cold.  She jerked under his mouth, as little droplets raced down her body.  Her toes flexed, as her pussy throbbed. 

Heat and cold mixed over her skin, as Bishop slid the ice cube back and forth, leaving behind streaks of water.  Her abs tensed, and Bishop's erection twitched with every one of her shifts and groans.

Just as his mouth returned to its normal temperature, he decided it was time for another ice cube.  His body heat left her once more; but, this time, she caught the clatter of ice in the glass.  Her chest rose and fell, and her body shivered from the cold tracts of water on her skin and her heady excitement.  She shifted on the table, waiting for his mouth to descend.

This time, he didn't taunt her breasts.  His lips pressed faintly cold kisses between her breasts, over her belly, down, down.  She didn't even stop to wonder where he was heading.

Bishop could barely contain his smirk though.  His lips neared her swollen pussy.  By that time, the ice cube had mostly melted, leaving his mouth and tongue chilled.  Without giving Stella a chance to realize his plan, he flicked his tongue against her swollen clit.

Iciness crossed Stella’s hot nub of sensitive nerves, causing her to pitch forward and gasp loudly.  Her eyes opened wide, as the expanse of the t-shirt reminded her of the restraint.   Her body tingled, confused as to whether she should be writhing in discomfort or pleasure.  Her sex throbbed intensely, sensing Bishop's mouth in close proximity.

Stella clenched her eyes shut again, and Bishop's tongue made lazy circles around her clit, chilling her to her core.  Meanwhile, pleasure boiled and bubbled in her lower tummy.  Involuntary whimpers and moans leaked from her throat, her body twitching and pulsing.  When Bishop's cold tongue delved between her lower lips, she gasped.  Tendrils of cold waved through her pussy, touching overheated and incensed nerves.  Her abs clenched, as he lapped hungrily at her wet sex.

Heat and pressure built in her core, and frustration dotted her hormone-fuzzy thoughts.  Her hands clenched and fingers flexed; her toes curled and uncurled; and, she ached with the need for release.

Stella’s scent, her wetness, her moans, and her soft thighs were driving Bishop crazy.  He could feel her body, strung tight and wavering.  His erection throbbed, wanting her heat and her wetness.  Finally, he couldn't take it any longer, so he pulled away and climbed to his feet. 

The next thing Stella knew, the t-shirt was ripped from her body.  She blinked, as her sight suddenly returned.  Bishop crushed his mouth against hers, but her mind didn't have long to enjoy the taste of her juices on his lips.

Bishop grabbed her hips and positioned her closer to the edge of the table.  Her arms instinctively went to his shoulders, fingers crooked in preparation.  After days of being together, his body innately knew the exact angle to thrust deep into her.  His hips slammed against her, as Stella wrapped her legs around him.  The table creaked and squeaked under their bodies.

She gasped loudly against his mouth, instantly arching into him, as his thick cock filled her.  Delight exploded along her nerves and licked at her core.  His girth pressed tightly against her nerves, the friction like a red-hot knife of ecstasy along her insides.  Her fingernails dug into his back, as she clung to him.

The shift of his muscles, the gentle huffs of his breath against her ear, and his heat taunted her hormones.  Every limb tingled happily, and her muscles drew tight around him, as exhausted aches teased her core.  Her gasps soon shifted to moans, which she muffled against the crook of his shoulder.

As she placed her hot, wet mouth on his skin, it sent tingles to his spine.  He drove further into her, fast and hard.  Her pussy undulated around his cock, milking his hard shaft and enhancing the friction.  He groaned, as he gripped her hips.  She'd come soon.  He could read her every twitch like a book now.  His lips twisted into a smile, as Stella's nails dug into him.  Her moan started off as a breathy gasp, as her body clamped around his dick. 

Heat, tightness, and twitches rolled through her, as she clung to him.  Her lower belly twisted tightly, as pleasure crashed over her. It seared her spine, as her fried nerves sizzled. 

Bishop, however, continued to pound hard and fast into her.  Her raw nerves screamed and sang, as his hard, thick cock slammed into her.  His actions took on a sharp edge, his huffs determined.  He wanted her to cry out his name.  He wanted her so wet and exhausted, she'd fall asleep right there on the table.  His groin snarled for release, and his balls tightened almost painfully.  He didn't want anything but to hear Stella scream his name.

Sweat formed on his back, dampening her fingers.  She continued to moan louder and louder, twitching around him.  Her lungs ached for air, as the cold chill of sweat tickled over her flesh.  Bishop’s cock pulsed inside her and, faintly, Stella wondered how he could restrain himself.  Her orgasms slammed into her, as typhoons of pleasure whipped over her body and heat nipped at her overworked nerves.  She gasped and twisted against Bishop, her convulsions becoming harder to control. Her thighs trembled around him, as her toes curled and flexed, trying to alleviate the intense delight.

“
Arthur
!” Stella gasped, a whimper laced in her tone, as her body heaved against his.

That one word shot delight right to Bishop's groin.  He grunted and slammed his hips into her one final time.  A torrent shuddered through his body, filling Stella with heat.  He groaned and threw his head back, her name on his lips.

She continued to tremble, as his liquid heat teased at her nerves.  Her breaths heaved, as her body slowly relaxed.  Her fingers uncurled from his shoulders and she released his torso.  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into the crook of his shoulder.  Contentment burned inside her, originating from her core.  He held her close, as his panting breaths slowed, as well.

Bishop didn't want to move.  He didn't want to remember that today was the last day of their second weekend together.  The chances of a third weekend were about as high as his hog sprouting wings and flying away.  He needed this day to last…to drag on and on. 

His stomach gurgled insistently, as hunger pinched at his gut and his thoughts.  Against his shoulder, Stella chuckled lightly.  She patted him on the shoulder, as if to signal to pull out.  Gently, Bishop slid himself free of her and stepped back.

Together, they mechanically moved around the kitchen, cleaning themselves up and dishing out their food.  Stella retrieved the shirt, undid the knot, and shoved it over her head.  They quietly sat down and shoveled food into their mouths.  A sadness twitched across their guts, dampening the delightful afterglow of intimacy.  Both felt Monday was coming on much too soon.