I COULD SWEAR EVEN MY skin vibrated as I stepped into the shower and hurried through my routine. I’d never been so turned on in my life than I was when Bishop was telling me about this new aspect he was weaving into my list.
You wanna get dirty in NOLA, cupcake?
With him? Absolutely. I wanted it more than anything. I was already dying to know how he was going to feel inside me, and now he promised I wouldn’t have to wait long.
Tonight was the night.
I shaved every inch of skin that could possibly need to be shaved, and scrubbed the scent of donuts and coffee from my body and hair. When my fingers dragged over my pussy to make sure I hadn’t missed any stray hairs, my clit flared to life and I stifled a moan. I was tempted to keep circling it until I came.
What would he do? Come in and spank me for being a naughty girl and getting myself off in the shower?
“You better not be playing with that pussy in there, cupcake. I’ll see it on your face when you come out.”
Really? How could he possibly know that? His timing was unfairly ridiculous and accurate.
“I don’t know what you could possibly be talking about,” I yelled from the shower, although it was unnecessary. With an apartment as tiny as mine, you barely had to breathe to be heard in the next room.
“Yeah, you do.”
“I’ll be out in a second.”
When I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, I peeked out of the bathroom door and Bishop was there watching me.
“Are you wet, cupcake?”
“Well, I just got out of the—”
“No, your pussy. The one you were touching while you were in the shower after I told you not to.”
Heat bloomed on my cheeks, but I wanted him to know the truth. “Yes, but I only bumped my clit. I didn’t even make myself come.”
“I’m gonna have to check for myself, I think.”
He reached under my towel and skimmed the back of his knuckle along my slit.
“Fucking soaked.” He groaned as he pressed just hard enough to slide his finger between my pussy lips.
My legs trembled, and I reached out a hand to press against his chest to brace myself. I don’t know what to call the sound I made, but it was somewhere between a moan and a cry for more.
Bishop kept stroking.
“You make yourself come a lot in the shower?”
My voice shook when I answered. “Sometimes . . .”
He straightened his finger and circled my clit. “Do you picture me while you do it? Say my name when you come?”
I leaned into his touch, wanting more pressure, but Bishop pulled away as I pressed closer.
“Answer me, cupcake.”
On a moan, I replied, “Maybe.”
Bishop pressed hard against my clit, and I could feel the orgasm rising. But he didn’t let me have it. He pulled his hand away and sucked his finger clean.
“But—”
“Greedy girl with your wet little pussy. Get dressed before I change my mind and never let you out of your bed for the next twenty-four hours.”
I stared at him. “How is that a threat?”
Bishop chuckled darkly. “Go, now.”
When we stepped out of my apartment, anticipation thrummed through me, along with need that wouldn’t quiet. It had taken everything I had not to get myself off in the bedroom after he’d brought me so close. But I had a feeling he’d make me pay for that somehow.
The sounds of a city partying its hardest came from every direction in the French Quarter, and it seemed every balcony was full. I’d opted for the teal dress and black ballet flats, and had dried my hair and applied makeup faster than I ever had before.
Bishop’s appreciative gaze told me I’d done just fine. His words confirmed it.
“You’re a class act, cupcake. And you’re all fucking mine tonight.”
As much as I loved that, a feeling of disappointment threaded through the excitement. Tonight was all well and good, but what if I wanted more than just tonight?
I pushed away the thought and decided to focus on having fun and checking off as many items on my Must Do list as I could. I was here to live in the moment, not worry about what was going to happen tomorrow. For all I knew, I could get a message telling me to get my ass back to New York.
I pinned a bright smile to my face and followed Bishop. “Where are we going?”
I expected him to say something about crawfish for dinner or maybe the casino for blackjack, but instead he shocked me.
“First, we’re gonna get you some beads.”
“We’re what?”
Bishop threaded his hand through mine and pulled me toward the corner. “Going to Bourbon Street.”
“It’s a madhouse out there.”
“And you’ve got your own personal security, so don’t worry. Besides, you wanted a hurricane at Pat O’Brien’s and we’re gonna knock that one off too.”
“On Mardi Gras? Are you crazy?” After a few days in New Orleans, I realized how ridiculous it would be to try to knock off any of my list during Mardi Gras. It was the busiest time of the year, and we’d have to wait hours to even try to get into the bar.
“Let me worry about that.” He glanced down at me with a grin. “You forget, I might not be the most social guy on the planet, but I know a fuck-ton of people. Who do you think Con turned over all his clients to when he stepped away from the business? Who do you think they keep coming back to?”
“You, I’m assuming.”
“Which means I know a big chunk of the Quarter. So you let me worry about making things happen.”
“Okay, big guy. Whatever you say.”
He looked down at me. “Don’t believe me?”
I shrugged playfully. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see if you can deliver.”
I spun in a circle, and the skirt of my dress flared.
Bishop grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. “You better watch it. No one gets to see that sweet little ass but me.”
One hand covered my left cheek and squeezed. I bit my lip, and he shook his head.
“Naughty little thing. You’ll pay for that. And, cupcake? I always deliver.”
He released me with another squeeze and I shivered with excitement.
I stayed beside Bishop until we reached the police barricades that barely held in the partiers on Bourbon, and then he released my hand and wrapped an arm around my waist loosely.
“You’re gonna walk ahead of me, and I’ll tell you where we’re going.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to follow you?” I yelled over the din.
“I can’t see you if you’re behind me. If someone grabs you or you get pulled away, my reaction time is slower. If you’re in front of me, no one is going to touch you because they’re gonna see me and know I’m what they’ll have to deal with. And if someone does, they won’t be able to do much before I grab ’em by the throat and take care of them.”
His explanation made sense, and I walked as he directed me through the crowd. I was concentrating on the ground and the people right in front of where I was walking, but Bishop spoke into my ear.
“Look up, cupcake. This is what you wanted to experience.”
I looked up as he turned me in a circle in the middle of the heart of Bourbon Street. I soaked up every sound, smell, and sight, tucking them away to remember someday soon. Bishop pointed up, and I followed his arm to see a woman in a purple, green, and gold tutu standing on a balcony with her gold bra barely concealing her large boobs. She threw beads every which way.
“That’s where you’re getting your beads.”
“How—”
But I should have known Bishop already had a plan. He grabbed both of my hands and lifted them into the air and let out the loudest wolf whistle I’d ever heard. It got the woman’s attention and she bounced on the balcony, hands full of beads waving back and forth.
“Do you know her?” I yelled.
“Nope.”
But it didn’t matter because she flung a handful of beads right toward us, and I pushed up onto my tiptoes and caught two strands as they flew our way.
Bishop caught four more, and turned me to face him in the middle of the street before lowering each necklace over my head. As he released each one, he pressed a kiss to my cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally my lips.
I wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer to take the kiss deeper.
Cheers and shouts dulled around us. Every one of my senses was focused on Bishop and the giddiness roaring through my senses.
This is living.
When I finally released him, he dropped another kiss on my temple and spun me around. “You see that corner? We’re headed there and then we’re taking a left. Next stop, Pat O’Brien’s.”