CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Tingles crawled along Stella's back as she walked crisply to her office. Bishop followed behind her, wordlessly. She could sense his towering presence. Excitement nipped at her heels as scraps of memories banged along the shield around her mind. She attempted to still her throbbing heart and concentrate.
Bishop was here for a reason. Too many options encircled her conscious thought. He was here to confront her about her time with Newb, possibly thinking she was milking the poor guy for answers. He wanted to apologize for his actions the other day. He wanted to give her a tip. He wanted to lead her to temptation, to distraction. The thoughts piled up in Stella's mind.
She swept into her office, leaving Bishop to close the door after he stepped in. Then, she waltzed to her desk, so the furniture was firmly between them. It was a short distance and a weak barrier against the allure she still felt for him. Still, she attempted a chilly tone as she addressed him. “What do you want, Mr. Bishop?”
Bishop scuffed his boots across the wooden floor. He didn't know why he wanted to see Stella. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find a conversational starting point. “Newb says you've been visiting him a lot lately.”
“Well, he did take a few bullets for me.” So, Bishop thought she was using Shupe for intel. Stella tried to ease the disappointment from her shoulders. Pasting on a thin grin, she shrugged her shoulders. “I figured I could show my gratitude by bringing him some heart-clogging fast food.”
Quiet tension hung in the air. Bishop grunted something that sounded suspiciously like 'good, good.' Stella watched him carefully, but he refused to look at her and the muscle in his jaw flexed continually. She could almost see a mental war going on in his head; however, the content of his inner turmoil remained lost to her.
Bishop mentally kicked himself. He didn't know where that topic was meant to go. In hindsight, it seemed to be a question that a jealous boyfriend or Stan would ask. Bishop's stomach lurched at that prospect and, now, he couldn't bear to drag his gaze to Stella. Although now his thoughts were less agitated and he took solace in her disinterest in Newb.
Stella cleared her throat, gaining his attention. “Anything else, Mr. Bishop? I'm very busy.”
Bishop bristled. Was Stella trying to say he wasn't busy? What did she think the Seven Tribesmen were doing? He scowled and said, “Yeah, so are the Seven Tribesmen.”
“Then, you better get going.” She smiled thinly—despite the fact amusement peppered her thoughts.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, part of him not wanting to reveal any information, part of him wanting to continue to talk to Stella. He ran a hand through his hair and averted his gaze. “I figured out what you meant when you left my office that day.”
“It wasn't meant to be cryptic,” Stella chuckled, but cocked an eyebrow. The ache to talk to Bishop and spend time with him grew painful. She forced the slight smile from her lips, straining her lips into a neutral expression. She pushed away from her desk and began to stroll toward the door, as if to usher Bishop out. “I really must be getting back to work, Mr. Bishop.”
“Wait.” Bishop's nimble fingers grabbed Stella by her elbow. She swallowed down her emotions as the feeling of his strength teased her nerves. Their eyes locked and heat roiled between them. Bishop licked his lips, before rasping, “You told me it would be too big for the 7T.”
“Yes.” Stella nodded her head, forcing herself to stare at his eyes.
“Well, I wager it's too big for the FBI, as well.” Bishop toed the dark whirlpool of uncertainty. He wanted Stella away from the situation, away from danger. If she didn't shove off, she could get tied up in his club activities. His fingers tightened on her elbow, thinking about how the White Knights had almost got her.
Stella's eyes shot to his hand on her elbow. His hold had tightened for a beat, whether out of intimidation or fear, she wasn't sure. Her gaze slowly climbed back to his face. “What are you saying, Bishop?”
“You guys aren't equipped to deal with motorcycle club affairs,” Bishop asserted, leaning over Stella. His heart thrummed just thinking of her being caught between feuding clubs—especially with a cartel involved—she'd have a big, red target painted on her back. And it would all be thanks to him. “I am and it'd be better if I didn't have to worry about feds pissing on my hard work.”
“The FBI will protect the people of the United States, Mr. Bishop.” She narrowed her eyes, her tone icier than she expected it to be, pulled her arm out of Bishop's grasp, and straightened her clothes. Without looking into his eyes, Stella sniffed, “We won't idly sit by while crime syndicates and drug cartels have a violent pissing match under our noses.”
“Crime syndicates?” Bishop gawped, incredulity piercing the anxiety of this thoughts.
“Now, Mr. Bishop, if your intimidation tactics are over with,” Stella made a move toward the door, “I must insist you leave.”
Bishop suddenly felt as if he didn't have a handle on the situation. Not that he expected Stella to listen to him, but for her to blatantly misrepresent the situation sent a sick chill through his thoughts. Had their time apart already done this much damage on their relationship? “Intimidation? You really think that's what this was about?”
“That's what the Seven Tribesmen have done to this town.” Stella stopped with her hand a few inches from the door. Her eyes flickered to Bishop's face, as her thoughts tumbled and tangled around one another. She knew he wanted her away from this situation. He wanted her far, far away to protect himself or, just maybe, to keep her safe. The latter thought brought a pleasant warmth to her core and a frustrated prickle to her thoughts. The challenge flared in her eyes and steeled her tone. Stella took a step closer to Bishop, growling under her breath, “What's a little FBI agent to their big, bad boss?”
Bishop's gaze flickered over her face. The man seemed lost, as his expression pinched and eyebrows furrowed. Stella couldn't pinpoint his emotions, but she saw fear, uncertainty, hope, and frustration all swarm in his eyes. He couldn't find any words to assuage Stella, who stood before him as an immovable statue of determination. Her scent danced through his head, intoxicating and distracting. Her body heat licked at his skin and reminders of having her pressed against him tickled his memories. Only one word, one answer, seemed sufficient for Stella in his mind.
“Everything,” rasped Bishop, as the tension in the air exploded into pure, erotic heat.
“Wha–?” Stella didn't a chance to finish her question. Bishop leaned down, catching her by the back of the head. He pressed her closer, catching her lips against his. For a split second, surprise needled through Stella's thoughts—before desire cleaved through it. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned into the kiss, raising up on her tiptoes and bracing herself against his chest.
Hormones overtook Stella's thoughts and, for a brief moment, she forgot where she was. She forgot about the breaking cocaine case. She forgot the police department. All her brain seemed to focus on was Bishop—his body heat, his mouth, and his muscles twitching under her palms.
Bishop hoisted her up, cradling her by her ass. He pressed her harder into him, as her supple thighs wrapped around his torso. Heat knotted in his lower stomach, making his growing erection pulse and throb. An ache he wasn't aware of was lost in the hormones and the rush of heat.
He stumbled to her desk, setting her rump atop the paperwork strewn over it. Papers wrinkled and hissed under the shift of her body. She clung to him, enjoying his heated, slow kiss. His hands grazed over her body, his palms like fire through her clothes. She moaned against his mouth, writhing under his touch.
His fingers played with the button and zipper of her pants, undoing the restraints and coaxing the slacks down. Excitement filled Stella's lungs as the fabric passed down her legs and over her shoes, pooling onto the floor beneath her. Her breasts tingled with long-withheld desire, her fingers crooked around his shoulders, digging into his back.
Reverence danced in Bishop's mind, battling against caution. Their last weekend together was supposed to be the end. This wasn't supposed to happen. However, his hands moved of their own accord. He could feel Stella's brown eyes on his face as he pulled away. Her scent, her heat, it drove him crazy. Woozy intoxication played across his thoughts, taunting his hormones and pulling his worries into the clouds of carelessness.
Stella watched him as he knelt before her spread knees. Anticipation and excitement sifted through her nerves. His hot breath played over her thighs, driving Stella's hormones into a frenzy. Her fingers curled against papers on the desk, her breathing hiccupping slightly.
Bishop watched her from between her legs. His lips twitched into a smile as her scent and heat surrounded him. It was dizzying and delightful. Over her panties, his tongue pulled across her swelling lips. Stella sharply inhaled, his tongue reviving a sense of passion that had been missing the last few days. Heat soaked through the panties, taunting her sex. When his fingers looped through the elastic of her panties, Stella's heart shuddered with eagerness. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hoping their time apart hadn't made her painfully sensitive to his ministrations.
Her core warmed and seared, aching to feel his tongue against her. Briefly, his mouth left her underwear, as his fingers forcefully edged it around her seated rear and down her thighs, down her knees, down her ankles, over her shoes. Her sex was now bared to the cold draft and Bishop's eyes, and a sudden mixture of hot and cold roiled inside Stella.
Soft, malleable heat grazed between her lips. She clenched her eyes shut and tingling pleasure raced over her limbs. Her fingers dug into the edge of the desk, adjusting her hips until they were right on the edge of the furniture. Bishop grinned against her, enjoying her subtle reactions and the throaty, soft groans that involuntarily left her. The muscles in her thighs twitched as his tongue lazily lapped at her, up and down. Inching closer and closer to her swollen nub of sensitive nerves.
His fingers worked their way up her legs, massaging them. He could feel the muscles along her calves, as she curled her toes in her heels. His erection throbbed in his jeans, hot and ready.
Bishop wanted to take his time though. He wanted to enjoy every inch of Stella. He wanted to drown in her scent, her torrid body heat, and the sounds he'd hear echoing from her throat.
Stella's fingers sifted through his hair, tangling in the locks. Her hips shifted, obviously yearning for his immediate attention. She savored the feelings that he coaxed out of her. The fact that had settled in her mind their last weekend together was that no other man could play her body as expertly as Arthur Bishop. The thought was bitter and left a bile taste in her mouth.
Her enjoyment stuttered as knuckles rapped on her office door. Her eyes flew open. Had they locked the door? Her mind scrabbled to remember. Her body, however, wasn't wasting time. Stella pushed Bishop back and herded him, wordlessly, beneath her desk. The hulk of a man barely fit, but he obliged, mind muzzy from hormones.
Stella plopped down in her chair and scooted against the desk, her knees on either side of Bishop, just as the door swung open.
Agent Grant sauntered in, holding a small pile of documents against her chest. Her gaze flicked over Stella's desk, eyebrows ticking upward. She looked worriedly at Stella, her voice laced with the ultimate concern, “What happened in here?”
Stella stopped, her gaze cast over the desk littered with crumpled and wrinkled documents. She swallowed, deciding a half-truth was in order. “Uh, Bishop pushed me on the desk. The papers got rumpled.”
“Oh, my God. Are you all right?” Agent Grant's eyes widened, and she sidled closer to the desk.
“Yeah, I'm fine.” Stella took a deep, shaky breath and weakly smiled. From between her thighs, she could feel Bishop smile against her skin. The sensation unnerved and excited her to no end. Stella shifted awkwardly, barely containing a whimper as his lips worked kisses and nips against her thigh.
Agent Grant eyed Stella, critically. Something was obviously on Agent Grant's mind and Stella hoped she'd drop it. No such luck though; Agent Grant licked her lips and averted her gaze from Stella's gaze. “I know you two have…had…a thing going on for a bit.”
The smirk against Stella's thigh faltered. Bishop strained to hear this woman talk. Had Stella talked about him to this woman? Hadn't Stella mentioned something about a new partner? His curiosity piqued, Bishop ceased his momentary teasing.
Stella's heart froze in her chest, her eyes widening just slightly. She really didn't need her new partner reprimanding her on office politics, especially while Bishop lingered agonizingly between her thighs. “What?”
“Well, you know how cops like their gossip.” Agent Grant laughed, awkwardly. Her cheeks pinked as if she were embarrassed for Stella.
“Ah,” Stella grunted noncommittally. Her heart still shuddered in concern.
“I just want you to know it's fine if...you know…it's not over.” Agent Grant still couldn't meet Stella's eyes. In fact, the pink on her cheeks seemed to worsen. Finally, Agent Grant found Agent Holmes's eyes, as she said, “I guess I'm trying to say your secret is safe with me.”
“It's over, Agent Grant,” Stella bit out firmly—despite the lie. She could sense amusement and confusion radiating off Bishop. Oh, what a situation she had found herself in. Stella forced a smile to her lips and inclined her head to the other agent. “But thank you.”
Agent Grant viewed her with a mixture of uncertainty and disbelief. The woman had barely known Stella for a week and already Agent Grant seemed to read her remarkably well. Deciding to drop the topic, Grant reverted to business. Plopping the small stack of papers onto Stella's desk, she said, “Here's the statements from the prostitutes and a visual of the timeline for the delivery.”
“Thank you, Agent Grant,” Stella said, straining to remain professional. She didn't want her partner feeling as if the cocaine bust was being brushed aside. Trying to keep the smile on her face though, Stella tried to politely dismiss Agent Grant. “I'll review these and get back to you.”
Agent Grant nodded once, eyebrows lowering into a curious furrow. Stella tensed, but Agent Grant began to exit her office. At the door, Agent Grant half-turned to address Stella again, “Are you sure you're OK, Agent Holmes?”
Stella's eyes darted to the open corridor. Officers passed by her door, going about their business. Meanwhile, she sat without bottoms and Arthur Bishop sat hunched under her desk, his lips oh-so-close to her sex. She fought down the heat that threatened to spill over her face. Nodding her head resolutely, she hiccupped loudly, “One-hundred percent.”
Agent Grant didn't appear convinced. Her eyebrows still arched in concern. The woman seemed caught between leaving and pressing the issue. Stella shifted in her seat, praying Agent Grant wouldn't linger. The longer that door was left open, the greater Stella's fear of having Bishop found beneath her desk increased.
“Your eyes lit up when you heard he was visiting, Stella,” murmured Agent Grant. Her gaze flickered away from Stella, embarrassed with her forward statement. Bishop heard the words, an inexplicable joy puncturing his thoughts. No, he couldn't let himself get too far ahead. Stella's breath caught in her chest, the reminded excitement throbbing through her core. She couldn't deny her delight. “It may not be my place, but I'm just saying.”
Stella swallowed as Agent Grant ducked out of the room and, gloriously, closed the door firmly behind her. Relief danced across her thoughts as her shoulders eased from their tense hold. The room shifted as Bishop pushed her chair backward, crawling out from under her desk.
An insufferable grin curled at his lips. The flush Stella had been holding back careened across her face, angry and mortified. Stella's reaction only made Bishop's grin grow. “Your eyes lit up?”
The burn at Stella's cheeks intensified. She bent down, allowing her hair to hide her cherry-red face as she picked up her panties and pants. “We shouldn't do this.”
Bishop's over-inflated sense of impending pleasure deflated. They had work to do. He stood, his gaze flickering to her desk. Stella's new partner had brought in statements. He vaguely wondered if he could nick one without her noticing. Anything that helped his club would help. He glanced back at her, bent over and putting her clothes back on. His hand inched toward the pile of documents. “You're right.”
Bishop's fingers found the topmost page. He silently clawed it from the stack, folded it, and jammed it deep into his pocket.
A sense of disappointment cleaved through Stella's thoughts. Bishop agreeing wasn't something she had expected, especially seeing the size of his bulge as he stood. She hid the emotion, as she struggled to get her pants back on. Standing up, pulling the waistband up over her newly affixed panties, Stella buttoned and zipped up her pants.
He straightened himself, crossing his arms over his chest as Stella straightened up and stared up at him. Something sad danced just behind her expression, and guilt stabbed into his chest. He didn't need to ask to know what he had done to upset her. However, how she felt took second place to his club activities and retribution—though seeing her carefully masked expression, Bishop struggled to see how.
Stella's feet carried her to the door. Feeling hollow inside, she muttered, “You should go.”
“Yeah, I should.” Bishop crossed around behind her desk. He stared down at Stella, who refused to look him in the eyes. The doorknob rattled, as she moved to open the door. A sudden urge took over Bishop, and he slammed the door shut with his palm. Stella's gaze snapped to his face, her eyes wide and face red. He loomed over her, almost able to hear the excited thrum of her heart. Locking their gazes, Bishop muttered, “I'm not good at doing things I should though.”
Stella stared up at him. In the back of her mind, her memory replayed every last encounter they had in this office. The first time, Stan cut their intimate jaunt short. The second, she ended it before he could reach his climax. Third time's the charm, right?
Her heart jolted as Bishop locked her office door. Her breath locked in her lungs and temptation crawled over her thoughts. Her eyes focused on Bishop's face again, and excitement tingled through her veins. A revelation slammed into her thoughts—she could say no, but she wasn't going to.
Stella reached out and snagged Bishop by the front of his shirt. She tugged him down and pressed her lips against his, funneling all of her need and desire into that kiss. His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Both became painfully aware of each other’s bodies. Bishop relished in the soft, pliability of Stella—while she basked against his hard body, quietly enjoying his body heat and his erection against her lower belly.
Bishop started their slow descent down, down, down. To the floor, just in front of her door. At the back of her mind, worries and concerns pinged, but her hormones drowned them out. They had already tempted fate twice. A third time wasn't going to bankrupt them. He pressed her back against the carpet, his hands working quickly at the buttons of her blouse.
The rebellious thrill of taking Stella while just beyond the door a department of coppers worked at Bishop's mind. However, the thought that consumed him more was touching Stella. He craved flesh-on-flesh touch. Parting the sides of her blouse, Bishop revealed expanses of bare flesh only marred by the barrier of her bra. Through the fabric of the brassiere, tight nipples strained against the material. He dipped down, pressing his lips to her throat. His teeth razed and scraped over her skin, suckling gently and dropping light kisses along a path from jaw to clavicle.
Stella bit her bottom lip, swallowing down moans, as Bishop's fingers trailed up her sides. His thumbs teased her covered nipples, her breasts tingling and throbbing in desire. Her breaths caught, just slightly, as she squirmed under him. Against her thigh, his cock pulsated through the layers of material. She clamped down harder on her lip, trying to keep all moans—whether anticipatory or reactionary—from alerting her co-workers.
Her own hands explored Bishop, familiar with all the delightful dips and divots of his body. Memories nipped at her thoughts. She wanted those careless, long, lazy days back. Her digits took their time exploring his shoulders, down his chest, sneaking beneath the hem of his shirt. Her nails traced his back, and he arched beneath her grazing nails. Against her neck, Bishop groaned loudly, the vibrations reverberating into her core. A mewl squeaked from Stella's throat, and his cock twitched in reply.
Bishop felt intoxicated. He was basking in a fog of hormones, enjoying the languid touches and their slow pace. He wanted to savor this, to savor her, but damn if he didn't also want to bury himself into her. His hands skirted down her stomach, causing her to squirm and arch her back. Her breasts squished against his chest, her nipples taunting him even through his shirt. Her fingers crooked, digging a little harder into the small of his back. He grunted, as tingling heat exploded along his back and leaked into his loins. His cock couldn't wait.
Bishop’s fingers quickly undid Stella's pants for the second time that day. As she wiggled in assistance, he yanked her dress pants off her, taking her shoes and panties with them.
He wasn't given long to enjoy the scene. Stella shifted, pushing Bishop onto his knees. Her hands departed from his back, drifting towards his pants. She quickly undid his jeans, tugging them down to reveal his cock and balls. She watched him intensely, as she ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft.
The sudden heat and wetness from her mouth caused a low, loud groan to resonate from his lips. Her pussy clenched and throbbed, as her tongue swirled around his head. Bishop's hips bucked, and he closed his eyes, losing himself in the heat of her mouth. His member twitched against her tongue, throbbing as an influx of blood pounded through it. Tingles and prickles sliced across his skin, draining heat into every inch of his body.
A particularly loud slam of a desk drawer was followed by a string of harsh obscenities, startling both of them. Stella sat up, gasping and covering her chest. Bishop's eyes flew open, his gaze instantly on the door.
He recovered a half second sooner than she did. Before she could resume tasting his cock, Bishop grabbed her and hoisted her onto his lap. Her hot, wet pussy radiated against his cock, as it throbbed and bounced against her pussy lips.
Another gasp tore from her lips, as she found her breasts in Bishop's face and Bishop's cock teasing her slit. Through the flimsy material of her bra, he sucked and nibbled on her nipples. She screwed her eyes shut, enjoying the wet warmth. The graze of his teeth through the fabric taunted her tits, making them throb with heat and pleasure. Her core echoed the throbbing sensations, knowing his dick was so close.
With only gratification in mind, Stella shrugged off her blouse, tossing it away, as her hips rocked forward. Bishop groaned against her chest, her slickness and heat tainting every one of his thoughts—especially the way she rolled against him, teasing him and goading him to enter her.
Stella shifted and Bishop realized the bra was coming off. He found his face buried into her supple breasts, her nipples standing at agonizing attention. His gaze flickered to her face, a grin tilting at his lips. She stared back, her dark eyes glazed with pleasure and her cheeks pinked enticingly. He watched her as his tongue flicked over her nipple, trailing around it.
She moaned quietly and threw her head back, jutting her chest toward his face while her hips gyrated against him. Bishop squeezed her hips once more, and Stella felt herself hauled upwards. The muscles in her legs tensed; her pussy throbbed; and, her heart skipped a beat. Down she went, meeting Bishop's hips halfway.
His hard, throbbing member buried itself inside her. It cleaved into her opening, filling her moist core with hot friction. She clamped down on her lips as a moan threatened to overcome her. Her hips rolled, as Bishop smirked against her breasts. His teeth and lips worked along both breasts, giving them detailed and concentrated attention. Her fingers curled against his shoulders, and her thighs squeezed against his sides.
The two gently rocked on the floor, muffling their gasps and moans as a slow mounting pressure expanded in both of them. Bishop couldn't get enough of Stella—her scent, her sounds, and her body. His fingers clenched tightly against her hips, bringing her harder against his cock. His balls tightened as jolt after jolt of pleasure throbbed through his loins.
Stella whimpered and gasped, bringing her head close to Bishop's ear. The muscles in her abdomen clenched and unclenched. She was barely holding back the heat that threatened to crumple her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her toes curled, as heat blossomed in glorious pleasure along her body. Stella's lips worked along his ear, tongue flicking around the exterior. Gently, she gasped, “Oh, Arthur, I–”
She didn't have a chance to say anything further. A harsh gasp left her lips, and she pressed her lips against his ear, muffling her moans. She dropped herself heavily onto him, her whole body throbbing and clenching around him, as pleasure sloshed heavily through her.
His balls seized, and the knot of pleasure in his groin tightened and exploded. A groan left his lips, muffled by Stella's breasts, as his hips rocked gently against her. Together, both surfed the waves of pleasure that resonated across their bodies. Stella's body continued to rock and convulse as fresh, smaller orgasms teased through her sex.
The two sat together on the floor, tangled around each other. They continued to gently move and rock against one another, evoking little gasps and moans. Neither wanted to separate.
Both felt this would definitely be their last time. They wanted it to go on for as long as they could milk it.