Bishop: A True Lover's Story

Edison ran his hand over his tie, laughing lightly. He wasn’t sure he could get used to the compliments. “Thanks, Bishop.”

“I have to help the guys unload the equipment then I’m gonna go home and shower all this dirt and shit off me.” Bishop looked down at his filthy khakis. “Then if you still wanted to, I have the finished sketches for your yard. We can go over those and see if you like them. But, I have to go home and change, I smell like what-the-fuck.”

Edison’s heart did that flip and his balls clenched anytime Bishop used those swear words all willy-nilly. They just rolled right off his tongue as if it was nothing, and Edison found he liked that. Liked Bishop’s bad mouth. “Sure. Yes, I’ll be home. I definitely want to take a look. And I… I was thinking…” Edison trailed off, forgetting exactly how he’d rehearsed his next line. Danggone.

With his eyes on his wing-tipped dress shoes, he saw Bishop move closer until his boots were almost touching his own toes. “If my hands weren’t so dirty, I’d touch your handsome face. Look at me, Edison.”

Edison’s heart almost stopped, and all life seemed to slow down. He glanced around to see if anyone else was watching but they were alone. He’d have been so embarrassed if anyone witnessed Bishop reducing him to a puddle of goo on the sidewalk. The lawn crew was around the side parking lot, and most of the people who worked in the building clocked out of their offices at five o’clock on the dot, not five-oh-one. God, he didn’t care if Bishop’s hands were filthy or not, he wanted them on him. He almost said he didn’t mind, but he kept his lips together as he raised his head. He had a long way to go as his eyes traveled up Bishop’s body, inch-by-inch. His chest bulged and Edison could see the definition of his abs outlined through Bishop’s sweat-drenched T-shirt. His throat was thick and damp, his stubble was just the right amount to burn his cheeks. He didn’t meet Bishop’s eyes, instead his vision stalled on his lips.

“You were saying,” Bishop prompted. His lips barely moved but his voice rang out clear and forceful.

Edison tried to hold back his body’s reaction to Bishop’s closeness, to his gravelly voice, to his musky, grassy scent. He licked his lips, though they were already moist. He thought he heard Bishop moan, but his pulse was pounding so loud in his ears he could’ve been wrong. “I-I was gonna say… I could make us some food to eat while… ya know, while we look at your plans.” Edison exhaled then hurried to continue, “Like a business dinner, of course. I’m not big on eating out or discussing contracts in crowded places.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Edison could feel the heat of Bishop’s glare, yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to get lost in those eyes. Not right now. He adjusted his bag and his knees almost buckled when the sturdy material nudged his hard dick. He gulped and stared at Bishop’s mouth, waiting on him to mumble another few words, or to hum his approval again, “It’s up to you. I’m not making anything wonderful so if you wanna eat at home then—”

“Dinner with you sounds like the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. Trust me.”

Trust him? Edison was so flabbergasted by that reply that he couldn’t think what to say next. No one had ever spoken to him in that way. Ever. He’d built up the nerve to ask a couple of guys out in his life, but both of those had been embarrassing displays of his inexperience and had been quickly followed with rejections. The one guy he had dated for a while, well, he wasn’t going to even think of that catastrophe. Bishop was nothing like that jerk. Already, Edison loved the parts of Bishop he’d seen, and what he’d so boldly and bravely offered up.

Yet Edison couldn’t shake the voice whispering in his head that Bishop had just been released from prison, and he’d probably take any sex he could get. But then the next second, Edison’s rational mind was assuring him that Bishop was one of the sexiest men he’d ever encountered, in so many exceptional ways. He could hit up any night club—and there were plenty in the seven cities of Hampton Roads—and leave with the hottest guy in there and enjoy him until the morning came if he desired. He didn’t have to waste his nights and weekends getting to know Edison.

“That…” Edison nodded, not wanting to say anything silly. “Then okay.”

Neither one of them said anything else, but neither of them moved until Trent yelled Bishop’s name from across the yard and told him they were ready. Trent didn’t wait for Bishop to acknowledge him as he left to go wait with the other men, which was good because Bishop never took his eyes off Edison. The man was so dang intense it made his skin prickle.