Kiss the Sky

[ 26 ] ROSE CALLOWAY

We’ve switched games three times to help Lily, but she’s still losing. Luckily before we started she layered on clothes in her bedroom, waddling out like a little snowman. She even stuck my bobby pins in her hair and has been throwing them off as a “clothing” item.

She’s down to a sweater and pajama pants without any accessory to fling off, and Scott refuses to switch to another game this time.

I’m a little tipsy, but nothing like Daisy who stumbles around the kitchen trying to find a bag of marshmallows for the fireplace.

“She’s going to hurt herself,” I say, but when I stand to help, everything spins. Okay, I’ve definitely surpassed tipsy. I plop right back down on the couch and try to recover. Maybe no one noticed.

“You okay, Rose?” Loren asks with a knowing look.

Connor combs his fingers through my hair, which feels so damn good that I forget to snap back at Lily’s boyfriend.

“Hey, stay away from the fucking knives!” Ryke yells angrily as Daisy clatters around. He’s about to shoot up from the couch opposite of us, but Julian, her real boyfriend, beats him to it, sauntering into the kitchen.

After I lectured Julian about statutory rape and sodomy, he’s been pretty much exactly the same: dismissive and lackadaisical. It’s really fucking annoying. I tried to capitalize on cutting off his balls during our talk, and he just shrugged at me. I swear he was seconds from patting my head like I was a little girl.

Connor saved him from the wrath of my purse. I could have hit him over the head with it. But Connor drew me away and distracted me with a promise of something new tonight in bed. Although he never specified what new entailed. So I’m left to guess.

Connor’s hand falls to my neck, and he rubs the bareness of my skin with his finger and thumb. I lean into him, snubbing the couch cushion which was warm from my back. But he feels much better, my buzz tingling my body.

Scott refills everyone’s empty shots that line a log coffee table. A bear-fur rug covers the hardwood, and flannel blankets drape over the chilly brown leather furniture. Ryke keeps stoking the fire so no one grows cold. It’s nice. All of us here. Even Savannah and Ben have relaxed in the kitchen with drinks while Brett singlehandedly films our game.

I hiccup and touch my lips. I think the last game we played was designed to get us wasted. Only problem is that Daisy and I weigh less than the guys playing. Ergo, we are getting fucked up faster. The game we’ve chosen now, Never Have I Ever, targets the most experienced person in the room, which means Lily is at a serious disadvantage. I should be winning, but Lily and Loren use phrases like “Never have I ever made an A on a math test.”

I turn to my less-than-tipsy boyfriend. Despite how much wine he consumes, he never gets drunk. “How many shots have you taken?”

“Less than you.” Translation: He’s winning.

“Who’s next?” Scott asks. He’s been the game pusher all night. I think he has his eyes set on Lily, trying to get her naked or nearly naked in front of everyone. She sits on Loren’s lap, looking petrified to continue a game without another bobby pin to remove.

“I’m next,” Ryke says, watching with a hard gaze as Julian guides Daisy into the living room.

Julian has his hands on her hips, whispering in her ear and forcing her back towards his chest. Even drunk, she looks mildly uncomfortable to be in his arms while in our presence. And it shows as she squirms out of his hold. She smiles at him and places a chaste kiss on his cheek to make up for it.

He doesn’t let her off the hook. He literally grabs her face in two hands and plunges his tongue in her mouth.

“Hey, Julius, sit the fuck down,” Loren snaps. Thank you, Loren.

I don’t ask why Loren just mispronounced Julian’s name. Everyone knows Lo’s favorite comic book character is Julian Keller from X-Men, and Lo has declared (to the entire townhouse) that Daisy’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve to share the same name as him.

Daisy puts her hands on Julian’s chest and breaks apart from him. Then she settles in her seat beside Ryke, Julian slouching on the other side of her. She sits up on the edge of the cushion so he can’t wrap his arm around her shoulder.

Connor’s lips brush my ear. “She’s okay. Lo and Ryke have an eye on him.”

I nod, realizing that I can’t fixate on my little sister all night, even though I see how much she just wants to push Julian into the snow and leave him there. But she’s not rude enough to do that.

I most definitely would.

“Ryke,” Scott urges. “Go.”

Ryke scratches his jaw. “Never have I ever…faked an orgasm.”

“That’s just mean,” Daisy says, reaching for a full shot.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done it then,” he retorts.

“And hurt the guy’s feelings?”

Scott motions from the shots to me and I shake my head. I’ve had no reason to fake an orgasm with Connor. And he’s the only guy I’ve ever been with.

Connor holds me closer, and he leans forward and grabs the shot. I glare at him as he brings it to his lips. “Not with you,” he tells me. I’m not even sure how a guy can fake an orgasm, but he’s creative enough that I wouldn’t doubt him doing it for personal gain.

“That’s what they all say,” Scott adds like a five-year-old.

Ugh. His interjection immediately makes me side with Connor, believing my boyfriend more.

“I hate this game,” Lily complains, the only other person who lost this round. She looks down at her available clothes to remove.

“Really?” Ryke says. “You’re a sex addict. I honestly didn’t think you’d need to fake an orgasm.” He must have been trying to help her out.

“Not all guys are created like Loren Hale.”

“Jealous,” Daisy says.

Julian’s lips part in disbelief as he watches her.

“What, I never faked with you,” she lies easily and pecks him lightly on the cheek. She whispers something in his ear that relaxes his shoulders. She’s good at pleasing “people,” so I’m not surprised that skill has translated over to pleasing “boyfriends.”

“Here,” Loren says, grabbing a plaid flannel blanket off the large recliner he shares with Lily. He wraps it around her shoulders and cloaks her body from view. “Take off your sweater.”

“That’s breaking the rules,” Scott informs him from a rocking chair nearest the coffee table.

Loren glares. “Yeah, and maybe I’d abide by them if there wasn’t a goddamn camera in our faces.” He doesn’t want the world to see Lily in her underwear. None of us really do. There’s already enough sick fan mail sent to the house. It’s easy to assume what men would do to a near-naked image of her.

Lily skillfully pulls the sweater off from underneath the blanket and tosses it to the floor. She looks more at ease.

“Rose, it’s your turn,” Scott says.

“Never have I ever…peed in a sink.” Easy.

All the guys take a shot, except Ryke and Lo who strip. Ryke removes his shirt, and Lo pulls off an arrowhead necklace.

And then Daisy reaches for another shot.

Both Ryke and Julian freeze and stare at her with raised brows while Connor and Lo try to contain their laughter. The booze is making my lips upturn more often than usual too.

“What?” She shrugs and throws the shot back, coughing a little as she sets the glass on the table.

“Explain,” Ryke says, handing her a shot of orange juice to chase the alcohol with.

She mouths, Thank you, before drinking that too. “I was at a party in New York,” she says, setting the glass down, “and I had to go badly but my friend was using the toilet. So I used the sink.” She touches her chest and hiccups. “I’m not weird.” She hiccups again. “You all did it.”

“We have dicks,” Ryke says bluntly.

“True.” She smiles.

I rest my head on Connor’s shoulder, the alcohol loosening my inhibitions that stay locked tight in front of others. He smells so good—his expensive cologne like citrus. “I love fruit,” I whisper to him. I imagine myself placing a kiss on his neck, but moving to do so sounds like so much work.

He stares at me with a growing smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, darling.”

“Never have I ever…been engaged,” Julian says, a cheap shot at Lily and Loren.

Lo glares at him while he pulls off his black long-sleeve shirt, and Lily wiggles off her pajama pants underneath the blanket.

Connor says, “Never have I ever…been cheated on.”

No one moves. And Scott blinks at Connor like he’s the devil incarnate, drama-blocking him.

My boyfriend just smiles. “Perfect.”

Scott prods Ben to say one from the kitchen. With a mouthful of chips, he says, “Never have I ever snorted coke.”

Lily sighs. “I hate this game.” Before she goes for her panties, she touches her hair and smiles, revealing a hidden bobby pin.

Lo strips down to his boxer-briefs, and Lily’s eyes gleam in excitement at seeing him almost naked. He shakes his head at her, but he can’t stop smiling.

In a wave, everyone takes shots. Scott, then Julian, then Daisy. And Ryke unclips his watch. Both Connor and I stay seated. I’m not surprised that almost everyone has experimented with drugs, but I’ve never had the urge to try out cocaine. And if someone peer pressured me, I’d say no, no. No. I really have no problem looking like the stuck-up prude in the room who refuses to blow a line with her friends. Hate me all you want. I’m not the one running around naked with dilated pupils.

Loren frowns at Connor. “You really haven’t snorted coke? Not even once?”

“I have a rule about drugs.”

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t do them.” He grins. “My body is a temple.”

“One that only Rose can enter,” Loren banters.

“I’ll let you in sometime, darling. Don’t worry.”

Loren laughs.

I roll my eyes, but I’m actually smiling at their “bromance” that has been heavily praised on blogs. People only like Connor when he’s with Loren. It’s weird. And I really don’t need another reason to be annoyed by Loren Hale, so I’ve let it go. Brushed it off the shoulder. Like dust.

Okay, I think I’m getting drunk.

Lo’s laugh fades quickly, and he stares off in thought. Since the screening party, he does this often. Just ending their quips with a silent, faraway gaze. As though remembering he’s supposed to be in a fight with Connor.

Ten minutes later, I have gained a serious buzz and we’ve reached Scott one last time. I verge on my limit, so I’m hoping he’s choosing a girl-friendly response. “Never have I ever…” His gaze pings from each of my sisters to me. “…swallowed a guy’s cum.”

“Fuck you,” Lo says, defending the three of us who Scott has been singling out the whole game.

Daisy’s eyelids droop a little as she reaches for her shot. She knocks over two more.

Ryke leans forward and cleans her mess. “You can skip this one, Dais.”

“She can handle it,” Julian says, grabbing a shot for her. “Here you go, baby.” He passes the glass to her. She downs it (messily) before Ryke can steal it from her hand.

Lily is now naked underneath the blanket, so the game is over.

And I quickly do a shot, the liquor sliding down my throat easily since I’m feeling good. But not bad yet. Anymore and it’d be a different story.

But Daisy has most definitely exceeded her limit. She’s gone, but as Connor and I watch her, she does something really interesting.

Right as Julian nears her a little, Daisy stands, teetering, and she sits on the other side of Ryke, away from her “boyfriend.” She whispers something to him that sounds like a slurred mess. But he nods like he understands.

And I realize, in this moment, how much she trusts Ryke to protect her—even from her own boyfriend.

Julian reddens in aggravation. But I have no verbal hostility in my throat to chastise him. Alcohol has softened me into a gooey state. I like it once in a while.

We try to ignore Julian’s silent rage, and a few minutes later, we’re on our electronic tablets, scrolling through gossip blogs for Princesses of Philly and trying to find the funniest comments.

Lily squirms on Loren’s lap, having trouble controlling her urges while she’s naked underneath the flannel. Loren tightens his arms around her waist and she stops moving.

Connor’s hand descends down my thigh of my long black cotton dress. The fabric is thin, and I can feel his fingers near a spot that truly begs for him. My lips touch his shoulder, and my eyes flit up to meet his, full of intense desire.

His expression matches mine, and I feel the wetness soak my panties.

He says under his breath, “I’m going to fuck you hard, Rose.” He strokes my head and leans me to his chest. “So hard that you’re not going to be able to walk in the morning.” Why does that sound so good?

I touch his microphone battery pack for a second, realizing that the cameras caught that. But they probably won’t air it anyway. It’s too dirty for network television.

I glance back to the group and notice that Daisy has passed out, her head resting on Ryke’s lap. Julian watches her, but he makes no move to grab her from Ryke yet. I want her to stay with Lo’s brother. I trust Daisy’s judgment, even drunk, and she just chose him.

Connor flips open his tablet, and he scrolls through long lists. I read from his screen as he holds it up to us. The words keep blurring together the longer the alcohol sets in.

“Here’s one,” Loren says. “Ryke Meadows is the biggest jackass.”

“How is that funny?” Ryke asks with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, I thought we were just reading comments.” Loren grins while Ryke rolls his eyes.

“I’ve got one!” Lily clasps her hands together. “Connor is a prick, but I’d bone him.” Lily’s eyes widen at the camera. “Just so we’re clear, I was reading a comment!”

Connor smiles beside me. Whoever that girl is, she can’t have him. He’s all mine. Or maybe I’m his.

We own each other, I think.

I look down at Connor’s screen, and the words don’t make sense to me. That never happens. “What does this mean?” I ask Connor, almost rolling my eyes when I utter the phrase. I can already feel his ego inflate. “Lo and Lily are so my OTP forever.”

Lily lets out a delighted squeal, her hands shooting to her mouth. She bounces giddily on Loren’s lap, and he holds the blanket around her body to keep her covered. “Are you serious?” she asks excitedly. “They called us OTP? Lo, did you hear that?”

“I heard, love,” he says with a smile. “But I didn’t need anyone to say it for me to believe it.”

Her entire face glows at his words.

I’m still stuck on OTP. I turn to Connor and he shakes his head like don’t look at me for this.

“What does OTP stand for?” I ask my sister.

“One True Pairing. Like couples that fans think are meant for each other,” Lily says quickly. “It’s used for fandoms. I guess, since we’re on a reality show, now we qualify.” Weird. But she would know that information, seeing as how they’re both into comic books and general pop culture things.

“Neither of you knew that?” Loren asks with a grin.

“It’s slang,” Connor says like that explains it all. It doesn’t matter. The fact that my sister and her boyfriend stumped us, the smartest people in the room, literally makes them beam in pure glee.

“Okay, what about this: I ship Ryke and Daisy so hard it hurts. What the hell does that mean?” I end up slurring the end of the sentence. Oh my God. Get your shit together, Rose. He’s going to fuck you so hard. He can’t fuck you if you’re passed out! I swallow, but my throat feels like cotton and clouds…which is one of the stupidest thoughts I’ve ever produced. I really am drunk. Dear God.

Connor runs his fingers across my arm, so light that I shiver. He tucks me closer to him. Please don’t pass out, Rose.

Lo groans as Connor rereads what I said aloud, only more coherent than me.

“What?” Ryke frowns.

Lily is all too excited to explain. “Ship is like relationship. When you ship someone you want them to hook up. Like I ship Magneto and Mystique in X-Men: First Class.”

“But they’re not canon yet,” Lo interjects, adding another term that makes little sense to me.

Lily clarifies, “They’re not really together. We just want them to be, but once it happens, they’re canon. I’m still holding out hope.”

Connor looks between Lo and Lily. “So let me get this straight. People are rooting for Ryke and Daisy to be together, but they’re not canon because it’s never happened.”

Lily claps and smiles brightly. “I’m a great tutor.”

Connor laughs.

“And it will never happen,” Lo adds, nodding to his brother to make sure he understands. I think Lo just fears abandonment again. That if Ryke dates Daisy in the faraway future, he’ll lose his brother and that sense of family. It’s not true, but you know, people believe what’s in their heart. You can’t change that so easily.

Julian stays quiet, digesting all of this information even though we’re talking like he’s no longer her boyfriend or even in the room. As far as I’m concerned, she just broke up with him tonight. I’m beginning to think Daisy stays with these losers because she doesn’t have the heart to reject them.

“Hey,” Ryke says, purposefully locking eyes with Julian. “I have fucking fans.” He raises his glass of water, and it’s hard to overlook my sister’s head in his lap.

Julian stands and nears him. “I’m going to take her to bed.”

I open my mouth to refute, my eyes narrowing, despite the booze softening me. But Ryke (sober) is way faster.

“She’s not fucking sleeping with you. Sorry, man.”

“Okay, just hand her over, dude. This shit is getting old.”

“Is it not processing in your fucking head?” Ryke asks with one of the worst glares I’ve seen him use. “You’re not fucking taking her. You’re not sleeping with her. She’s staying here.”

“With you, right? That’s not happening. I don’t fucking trust you with her.”

Lily perks up on Lo’s lap. “She can sleep in my bed, and Lo can go in Ryke’s room. Right, Lo?” she asks.

He nods. “Yeah, sure.” But he looks worried about leaving Lily alone. Not only for her own safety against Scott, but she’ll also be tasked to protect Daisy from her boyfriend. What if Julian crawls into their bed? We don’t know him that well.

“I’ll sleep with them too,” I announce, knowing that I drank too much to do anything with Connor anyway. But I do regret the words, even as I say them.

If Connor’s disappointed, he masks it perfectly, his face entirely unreadable.

“Great,” Julian says, “I’ll go put Daisy in her sister’s bed.”

Ryke stands with Daisy cradled in his arms, her legs dangling lifelessly. He readjusts her so she’s turned towards his chest, looking more passed out and less dead.

Julian waits for Ryke to hand her to him.

“Over my dead fucking body,” Ryke growls.

Before they have a tug-of-war with my sister, Loren steps in and pries Daisy from Ryke. “I’m taking her to bed.”

Lily wraps the blanket tight around her naked frame and follows Loren out of the living room.

Julian puffs his chest out like he could push Ryke and pummel him. But Ryke pretty much has a look like “I’m going to rip your head off and chuck it in the snow.” I’d say Ryke would win based on expressions. That is, if I had to bet on this stupid fight at all.

I really just want to be alone with Connor, even if I already committed to sleeping with my sisters. I can creep in their room later, right? Drunk me says hell yes. Sober Rose would say where did your loyalty go, bitch?

Drunk Rose is so powerful right now.

Connor stands, my armrest gone. I almost fall into the cushion, but I catch myself with an unsteady hand.

“We should all go to bed. It’s late,” he says. He turns to me and easily grabs my hand, lifting me to my feet and supporting me with an arm to the waist.

Scott speaks to Brett, words that I can’t catch, and then they head over to Savannah and Ben in the kitchen to review old footage.

“Yeah, whatever,” Julian says. He shoots Ryke one last threatening look before backing up and climbing the stairs to the loft bedrooms.

When we hear the door close, Ryke’s shoulders slacken. He shakes his head repeatedly and runs his hand through his hair.

“What’d Daisy say to you?” Connor asks. I didn’t realize this was an important piece of information. Okay, I am not drinking anymore for the rest of the trip.

Ryke stares at the ground, his features darkening. “She said, don’t let him touch me.”

My face clouds with worry. She really thought he could have taken advantage of her while she was passed out? “I don’t like him,” I say with the shake of my head.

“Join the fucking club.”

Connor sets a hand on the small of my back. “Let’s just be civil with him for the rest of the trip. Daisy has to work with Julian, so obviously she’s treading some muddy waters here.”

“I don’t see anything fucking muddy about it,” Ryke retorts. “She doesn’t like him. So she needs to dump him.”

“Not everything is black and white, Ryke,” Connor says. “You should understand that, considering your situation with Daisy.”

Ryke scowls. “There’s no situation.”

Connor tilts his head. “Act stupid in front of your brother, but that tactic won’t ever work with me.”

“You like her,” I add, saying each word slowly so I don’t slur them together. “It’s okay to like her.” Hell, I like any guy that makes my sister happy and treats her well. Julian does neither.

Ryke glares at both of us. “It’s not fucking okay. I’m not into her like that. I can’t be. She’s seventeen.”

“What about when she’s eighteen?” Connor asks with an arched brow.

Ryke shakes his head adamantly. “You think I’m going to sacrifice my relationship with my brother for a girl? Then you don’t fucking know me, Cobalt.”

“Lo will get over it.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening. And maybe you’re fucking right—all of this shit is confusing.” His nose flares as he breathes out. “I’ll try not to hit her boyfriend, okay? Only because they work together.” Ryke doesn’t give us the chance to respond. He disappears upstairs, shutting the door to his room.

I spin back to Connor and place my hands on his hard chest. “Maybe…” I say, trailing off. “I can go sneak into Lily’s room later?”

His eyes roam my body, and he brushes my hair off my shoulder. Instead of answering, he leaves my side and walks confidently to the refrigerator.

At the kitchen table, Scott looks up from the camera equipment and stares between us. But I’m so entranced with Connor, the way he commands the room at six-foot-four, his self-assuredness so unquantifiable and so, so attractive.

I unconsciously sway, waiting for him to return to me in the living room. He procures a carton of strawberries and kicks the refrigerator closed on his way back. He bites into the fruit, staining his lips red for a single second before he licks off the strawberry juice.

As he nears me, he twirls my body towards our bedroom on the main level. And then he presses his chest to my back, guiding me with a firm hand to my hip. Wild thoughts jumble in my head, spinning madly with the help of the vodka shots. What is he going to do to me?

Once in our room, decorated with bear cabin décor, he closes the door behind him and sets me on the edge of the bed, a red and brown quilt underneath me.

“Are we going to have sex?” I ask him, my neck straightening in alarm as I process those words. Am I about to lose my virginity?

“No, Rose. You’re drunk,” he reminds me. “You’re going to remember our first time together for the rest of your life. And alcohol isn’t going to take that away from you or me.”

I glare, my shoulders curving backwards in defense. “So you’re just going to put me to bed then?” I’m clearly horny.

He pops open the carton again and eats another strawberry, not saying anything one way or the other. His domineering posture causes me to slowly sink back, my elbows propping my body on the mattress. His penetrative gaze rakes me from head to toe, traveling across all the places that crave his powerful touch.

Images of him on me, in me, breeze through my brain in a wonderful, toxic mess. And I swallow hard as I realize what I want. “Can you be rough with me?” Without the alcohol, I’m not sure I would have had the balls to ask, despite gaining more courage in bed these past couple of months.

He places the strawberries on the mattress, moving casually, easily, contentedly. The uncertainness of what he’s going to do quickens my heart, and then his eyes meet mine, his one forceful look saying everything, I’m going to give you that and more.

He lifts me and throws me further onto the bed, the air rushing out of my lungs. He climbs on before I can orient myself, and he spins me so my stomach is flat against the mattress. “We’re going to play a game…” He digs his pelvis into my ass before he strips me crudely with two hands, tossing my dress aside. The cold nips my bare skin, and he snaps my bra off but leaves my blue cotton panties on.

“What game?” I ask breathlessly.

I turn my head a little and watch him unbutton his shirt and shrug off the fabric. He unbuckles his belt, and the spot between my legs aches for him. I stifle a moan and try to sit, but he puts a hand on my back, forcing my breasts to the quilt.

The only way I can watch him is by pressing my cheek to the mattress. He allows me this at least. He takes off his slacks, only in his navy boxer-briefs. He’s incredibly hard, and as he lowers his underwear, his cock springs out, ready to enter me.

But he’s already made it clear that’s not what he plans to do tonight.

I can’t stop staring at the size of him. “I know you’re going to be able to fit,” I say. “I’m not an idiot, but when you do, I think it’s going to hurt…a lot.”

“Most likely,” he tells me, not denying it. He kneels on the bed and leans me on my side, my bottom facing him. He gathers my wrists and ties them behind my back with his belt.

My lips part as soon as the leather digs into my skin, the buckle cold against my wrist. I close my eyes as the sensations ripple through my middle and settle in tortured places.

His lips find my ear. “Are you scared of being sore?”

I shake my head once. I could beg for that force right now, but the words are lost inside my tangled mind.

He yanks my panties up, hard, the fabric digging into my heat.

“Connor,” I gasp, my arms tugging against his belt restraint.

He groans, and lets out a deep, husky breath. “I can’t wait to fit inside of you.” He kisses the small of my back and exposes my ass without taking off my panties, his lips sucking on my tender cheek. “Hard. Rough. Wet, volatile sex, with no letting up.”

“Who will concede first, you or me?” I ask him.

He bites my ass, and I press my forehead to the mattress. Ahh. A sharp breath catches, and I let out a high-pitched cry.

“We’ll come together,” he tells me. “Always.” Then he opens the fruit carton. With my cheek back on the quilt and in his mercy, he has control of what I see. All of a sudden, the flesh of a strawberry is against my lips.

“Open wide. Don’t eat it. Treat the fruit like my cock,” he says. “You bite down too hard, and you’re going to be spanked hard. Understand?”

“I’m not an idiot,” I remind him.

“You’re drunk, darling. I’m just making sure you’re coherent. Otherwise, this ends.”

“No, I’m here,” I say forcefully. “You’re not leaving me.”

He leans forward and kisses me roughly, hungrily on the lips, his tongue nearly choking me with the pressure. I clench my legs as I throb for more of this and him. He peels away abruptly and says, “I give the fucking orders.” And then he spanks me.

Hard.

I grit my teeth, my face heated, but the spot between my legs reacts much differently. I ache for him to slap me there. God yes. My insecurities about him leaving, not loving me completely, become shelved in the back of my head. And I concentrate only on how this feels. I leave my mind behind, something that I can only do when I am riding a boozy wave.

He slides the strawberry in my mouth, the green end sticking from my lips, and I rest the fruit on my tongue, careful to not dig my teeth into it.

Connor massages my ass with his large hand. I hear his heavy breaths behind me as he strokes his cock at the same time. I’d like to watch, but I have no say in that. So I’m left to imagine what he looks like as his cock swells, as his lips part in heady pleasure and his head tilts back. I’ve seen that adrenaline-fueled “I am close to passing out” look before. I’ve seen his muscular ass tighten as he jerks forward. And there’s nothing more I want to see than all of that while he’s so deep inside of me.

His fingers dip into the wet, dying spot, nudging my panties to the side.

And I spasm at the sudden touch. I taste the sweet strawberry before I realize I’ve bitten it clean in half. I chew and swallow. Maybe he won’t notice. Yeah fucking right, Rose. His IQ is higher than yours by one percent.

His hand whips my ass, and I gasp, then wince, and glare. “That fucking…hurt,” I retort slowly. But as soon as I say it, his fingers return to the needy spot, and he rubs my clit. Ohhh…I melt instantly, and I think I whimper into the mattress. I don’t know what else to call that foreign sound.

“You’re too drunk to have my cock in your mouth,” he says.

I scoff at that declaration, but the aftertaste of sweet strawberry says he’s right and I’m very much wrong. But even drunk, I can’t surrender so easily. “I am not.”

He suddenly sits me up by pulling at my tied wrists, but my spine still faces him. I feel him shift on his knees, the bed rocking with his weight, and his hard cock poking at my back. “Connor,” I moan, close to begging.

“How do you feel?” he asks. “Besides dizzy from the alcohol.” He clenches a chunk of my hair and pulls so my chin juts upward and I can see his eyes as he stares down.

“I feel…” I blink a couple times as I try to form the words. I lick my lips and say, “Like I want you to do anything to me.” Just uttering the words shallows my breath.

He stares at me with a hard, possessive gaze, and his arm extends over my shoulder, and his fingers fit back inside me again. But he doesn’t move.

“Elaborate.”

“I…need you…to move.”

He takes out his hand quickly, and he forces me on my knees. The blood rushes to my head, and he spanks me again, the sting more numbed by the booze than before. He must notice because I don’t whimper or moan or flinch forward.

He sighs in frustration and starts untying my wrists.

“Wait, no,” I say. “Stop.”

“Just months ago, you were telling me to stop from touching you. Now you want me to keep on doing so, and I’m still not going to comply with your order, Rose.” He tosses the belt aside and turns me onto my back, my head relaxing into a pillow. “You know why?” he asks, his hands on either side of my shoulders as he hovers over me.

“Because you’re an asshole,” I snap.

He pinches my cheeks with one hand. “Because you’re wrong. I won’t fuck your mouth, your pussy or your ass when you’re drunk. I’ll fuck you when you’re sober.” He kisses me roughly on the lips before saying once more, “Elaborate.”

On what I feel.

I stare into his deep blue eyes. Lost in the power inside them. And I take his hand for a second, and I fit it between my legs, his gaze never breaking from mine. “This is yours,” I tell him. “That’s what I feel.”

I’ve never wanted a man to toss me around how they want, how they like, using me to their desires so much before. And in this moment, I realize it doesn’t matter what I believe outside the bedroom. In life I can be powerful, but here, I can trust him to fill me with his power, his strength. That has to be okay. Because beyond all thoughts, all logic, it’s what makes me feel so fucking good.

His lips rise. “Ca vous a pris pas mal de temps.” It took you long enough.

“How long do we have left?” I ask him softly, his body beginning to blur.

He strokes my hair. “Pour toujours.” Forever.

I smile as everything fades to black.