DECEIT (B723) - Hazel Grace (the reader ebook .txt) 📗

and shove back the past and everything that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s a double-edged sword, how quickly it wants to crush and overturn but soak and enjoy her.

It warns me against Emmy.

It tells me that she proved me right.

That, in the long run, Emmy is my demise and the reason I die.

Emmy moans, reveling in my cock delving into her at a mindless pace as I screw my head-on.

“Come get it then, baby,” I encourage softly. “Fuck away everything. You’re mine.” Her mouth clamors into mine, punishing me to shut the fuck up and do what she wants.

I pick up my speed, releasing how I’ve always wanted to take her. I taste blood after she bites down on my lip then quickly laps it up with her mouth and opens wider for me to drive my tongue back inside.

I’m titter-tottering on the brink of busting my load, sinking myself as far as I can go just to almost fully come out and do it again.

I demand her to feel all of me, how I can dig myself into her both through sex and mind.

I want to be a remaining thought.

I need her to think of me all the fucking time.

I crave something more than what we haven’t allowed ourselves to do. And I’m tired of fighting it.

“Bishop, I’m going to come,” she breathes, panting as she presses her forehead to mine. “Will you come with me?”

“You start, baby, I’ll finish.”

Then she does, crumbling underneath me and uttering my name like it’s her favorite song. I fall down the same hole she does. Her voice, my name, her in general, makes me want to go again right off the bat.

“Kace Bishop—“ She cups my face in her little hands. “—you’re in trouble now.”

“He’ll have a honey oat milk latte preferable with a heart designed on the top because he doesn’t have one.”

The young girl behind the register doesn’t give a shit about my insult because she’s too busy. However, Alexander does as I watch him slowly turn around, composing a look of pure shock before he flicks his eyes down the entire length of my body as if he has a fucking right.

“Emmy,” he whispers. “Geezus Christ...how are you—aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Alexander,” I mock back with a condescending tone. “Your seeing me means that you’re dead.”

His brows furrow and the look of surprise quickly wears off. “Dead?”

I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll be over there. Tell your fellow at the front door that you’ll be a few minutes. And the man at the table looking like he just had someone shit in his Cheerios that if he starts a scene, there'll be a bullet in his head before he even stands.”

I give my ex a wink before I pivot and make my way over to the third man in the small coffee shop who watches me intently approach his table.

“Mr. Williams,” I greet with a smile. “While your services, I’m sure are greatly appreciated by the asshole you work for, I’m going to need you to either move or leave.”

“Excuse me?” he grumbles, his face contorting to the fact that I just walked up to his big ass and told him to take a long walk off a short pier.

“Move or leave,” I repeat. “Your wife that works at the flower shop on Main and Fifth is going to suffer a car accident today if you don’t get the fuck out of my view.”

“Listen, you little bitch,” he growls, leaning over the tiny and circular table. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—“

“Oh, I know exactly who I am.” I bend over the table, and my name is growled from behind me. Bishop sits at the table right next to this one as my backup and personal support system. “She’s wearing black jeans, a green jacket, and she has really pretty brown hair that’s in a ponytail—“ The man stands and doesn’t utter a single word, rounding the table and walks towards the front door.

That was honestly easier than I thought.

Alexander must be highly desperate for security because that dude either sucked, or I just scared him enough to not care how much he’s getting paid for this job.

“Why the hell did you decide to wear that dress?” Bishop chides sharply behind me. “If you bent over anymore, you’d be giving everyone in this coffee shop a free show of your ass.”

“You don’t like my dress?” I smile when he doesn’t answer me. His blues boring into my face, clearly unamused.

Honestly, I didn’t put too much effort into my attire. And it’s not a dress, it’s a mini romper, so my ass is well hidden and protected. However, I’m not going to correct Bishop on it, and his cute little jealously rant. I need to focus on facing the man who assaulted and almost murdered me.

When I turn around to make my way to the table I told Alexander I’d be at, I steal a look at Bishop. He’s so beside himself that I feel a little sorry. His blue eyes glimmer with annoyance and displeasure at us being here, but he agreed without hesitation.

One, because he wants to decapitate the man who almost murdered me.

Two, because he doesn’t want me to be near my ex-anything.

And three, Bishop wants to keep me from reliving events in my head.

Unfortunately, he can’t.

Ever since Bishop found me out, my brain made room and can retain seeing Alexander staring at me with pure disdain in his eyes. The look of nothing, he showed. No remorse for repeatedly stabbing me and our unborn children.

I’m going for the surprise factor here.

The one where I make my demands that would possibly fall short on Alexander’s ears. Today’s meeting was to see where his head was at, and I was going to play him as he did during our whole relationship.

This encounter is to get him to change his will so that when I kill him, Alaric and Atlas get everything