Connor’s deep blue eyes fill mine, and then in a swift movement, he lifts me up in his arms, my legs around his waist as he stands. I think he may drop me to my feet, call it quits, but instead, he hooks his ankle to the vanity stool, dragging it halfway across the room. He stops right in front of our ornate full-length mirror.
Fuck me.
This is even worse.
My exacerbated eyes sear his skull, branding exclamation points across his brain. He sits on the stool with me on his lap, as though we’ve been here all along. He takes my chin in his large hand. “I’m going to do you first,” he says. “Watch and learn.” Those last words should sound condescending, but they don’t. He’s being serious.
And I realize, Connor is tutoring me.
He ties my hair into a pony, holding my gaze for a moment. I think I would’ve allowed him to teach me as a teenager too, even though we were competitors. I’m not sure I would’ve listened all that much or been a very compliant student, but I would’ve tried.
His thumb skims my bottom lip before he leans into my neck and kisses the soft flesh. I focus on the mirror, able to watch his lips close over my skin, his tongue gliding before sucking hard. An uncontrollable moan escapes me, a sharp breath attached. His fingers squeeze the base of my neck, and his teeth nip at my skin.
My body throbs just watching.
He moves as though he’s meant to give pleasure, never unsure, not silly or inept at the task. He’s a man emblazoned with confidence and power that I want to mimic and then surpass.
I absorb every little action, every lift of his head. I count the seconds he sucks and the moment his teeth bare into my skin. My eyes flutter as his hand lowers and pinches one of my nipples.
I slap his thigh. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
He grins into the next kiss.
It lasts for a few more minutes before he raises his head. He rubs my neck with his thumb, the spot reddening. “You’ll need to put makeup on to hide this,” he tells me.
I nod. This was just a demonstration, and he’s been very adamant about dolling out equal tasks to stir the media. It’s my turn, he told me with resolution.
His eyes set on my lips. “Let’s see how good of a student you are, Miss Highest Honors.” He caresses my cheek with the stroke of his thumb, and my lips part with a heady breath. He slips his thumb into my mouth, and I feel his cock grow underneath me. It pours confidence through my bones.
When his thumb leaves my lips, wet and glistening, I scoot forward, grinding on him, and then I press my mouth to his neck.
Every move he made, I repeat, trying to outperform him. I press my hand on the back of his neck, clutching him, and my fingers dig into his skin. I graze my teeth along his nape, tugging at his flesh.
He watches my precise movements in the mirror. I only stumble once, when he shifts my panties, his hand on its own mission between our bodies.
“Keep going,” he commands.
His fingers fill me first, and my thighs tighten around him. Then I feel something larger replace his fingers, something harder…I gasp into his neck as he pushes his erection into me.
He holds the back of my head, forcing me stationary at his neck.
“Rose,” he says sternly.
“You’re the one who went off topic, Richard—” I cry as he rocks up, gripping my hips. How long have I been sucking his neck? Numbers flash through my head with curse words and more exclamation points.
Fuck me.
“Harder,” I choke.
“Rose,” he snaps, his movements ceasing.
I’m a terrific multi-tasker, so this theoretically should be within my capabilities. We have little time before we need to leave, and he’s attempting to kill two birds with one stone. However, my mind keeps shutting off in favor of an incoming climax. “We don’t have time,” I suddenly say, my voice raspy.
His jaw tics in irritation. He guides my head back to his neck. “Do what you feel, not just what you saw.” I listen and suck again, my body warm and pulsing. I find myself rocking against him since he’s motionless, needing that friction between my legs. I never question or hesitate this time.
And then he clasps my hips again, so strongly that I stop rocking, and he moves his pelvis up and down, his cock sliding in and out in hard, deep waves. Fuck.
I kiss him to the pulse of this fiery, vigorous rhythm. Both of us connect on another level, one meant only for two people who love winning together.
But the cautious side of me will always fear for the day where we both lose.
25
CONNOR COBALT
I ride up the hospital elevator with Lo. The three girls drove separately so they could drop Jane and Moffy off at Poppy’s house. None of us even considered bringing a seven-month-old and an eight-month-old into a hospital, and thankfully Rose’s older sister has no issue babysitting for a couple hours.
“Read his order to me,” Lo says, digging through the Lucky’s Diner takeout bag.
I scroll through the group text between Lo, Ryke, and me.
Chili fries, jalapeno poppers, and a Philly steak with onions, mushrooms, peppers, and cheddar cheese. – Ryke
Also if they still have quiche, get a slice of that too. – Ryke
Plus extra mustard…and get me a Reuben. I can save it for tomorrow if I’m still in this fucking hellhole. – Ryke
I read his requests aloud. “…quiche, extra mustard, and a Reuben,” I finish, slipping my phone into my khaki pants pocket. Ryke eats more than the hospital provides him, so we’re trying to rectify this. He’d use food as an incentive to stand up and sprint down the street to a local diner, splitting open his stitches.
However, we can’t remedy his other need. To climb mountains, to workout, to run.
“Fuck,” Lo curses, pulling out a wrapped sandwich to peer deeper in the bag. “Did you say extra mustard?”
“Yes.” I remember specifically telling the cashier for more.
“There’s none.” His jaw sharpens, and he chucks the sandwich back, rolling the top of the paper bag in frustration.
“He won’t notice.” The elevator rises slowly.
Lo looks younger today, in jeans and a black V-neck. “Maybe.” His eyes drift to me, landing on my neck, noticing the hickies for the fifth time. I wait for his cringe to appear again.
There it is.
His brows knot and face scrunches. “I keep imagining this robotic succubus latching onto you because the Rose I know”—he shakes his head in disbelief—“would never give anyone a hickey, husband or not.” Worry flashes in his amber eyes, thinking for a brief second that I might’ve cheated on my wife.
In his mind, he can’t see me with anyone other than her, but he’s having trouble drawing a realistic conclusion. So he paired me with a robot.
“I can be persuasive,” I remind him.
“You know, I’d never even seen Rose kiss someone in public until you.”
“She likes her privacy.” We’ve lost almost all of it, but what we outwardly project for the tabloids isn’t entirely real. What we do alone in our bedroom is, and still, we’ve lost some of those moments through the sex tapes. It’s complicated, but I knew this life would be.
Lo motions to my neck. “Then she’s going to chop off your balls for not covering that shit.” Cameramen bombarded us when we entered the hospital, so it’s clear to him that it’ll be in some tabloid. Regardless of a hickey, there would be articles about us, but it’s important that they’re spun around me, not the kids.