Kiss the Sky (31 page)

“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.”