Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters, #1)(103)

“Yes,” he says. “But I would like you less. You can’t please both me and my mother. You can only make one of us happy.”

I narrow my eyes. I don’t like this fact. I want to squash it immediately.

But he leans close, his hand beside my thigh on the leather seat, and I smell the sweet champagne on his breath. His sultry gaze rakes my body. “Don’t ever quit Calloway Couture for me. Your drive turns me on.” He kisses me roughly, his lips hard against mine. His hand rises up the length of my bare leg, slipping beneath the hem of my black dress and plummeting between my thighs.

I let out a gasp. We’re in his limo, I remind myself.

And then his other hand falls to my neck, unfastening the thin chain.

I clutch the diamond pendant protectively. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to play with you.” He meets my eyes, and his lips curve in that arrogant smile. Instead of wanting to slap him for it, I only want Connor to take control of me.

He pockets my necklace and reveals another familiar piece of jewelry.

“You had the collar in your pocket the whole time?” I ask.

“Yes.” He reaches around my neck and snaps it on carefully, making sure not to pinch my skin.

“Even during dinner?” I say, aghast. His mother was there! …briefly.

He squeezes my chin between his fingers. “It’s a necklace, not a vibrator.”

“It’s a collar, Richard,” I rebut.

“And it looks beautiful on you.”

I go quiet more at the way he’s staring at me than his words. His deep blue eyes consume my features like he wants to fuck all of them. An ache fills me, and as it builds, he places a strong hand on my back and forces my stomach to the leather seat.

I sit up on my forearms and my knees. His movements are so fast and domineering. In a matter of seconds, he hikes up my dress, rips off my panties, and kneels behind me, his pants at his thighs, his boxer-briefs down. His cock hard and exposed.

Fuck…me.

Before he pushes in, he rubs my ass and dips his fingers towards the spot between my legs. “What do you say?” Connor asks.

I smile into the leather. “Please, sir?” I nearly laugh at the words.

He smacks my ass so hard that tears crease the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t call me sir, smartass,” he reminds me sternly, no humor to his voice. I turn to see his face, to check if his eyes say the same. But he grabs me by the collar and forces my face straight.

Fine.

Be that way, Richard.

“What do you say?” he asks again, more huskily this time. He lets out a low groan as he edges closer to me. And he drops his hold on the collar so he can massage my breast, lowering my dress so I’m free for his touch.

When he pinches my nipple, I gasp again.

“Rose…”

I swallow. “Please…fuck me,” I beg. I check to see if the privacy screen is still up in the limo. Yes. Thank God. Gilligan, his driver, has no view of this. But I wonder if he can hear my voice pitch high while my mouth opens in a giant O.

Connor is doing a number on my breast with one hand while his fingers rub my clit with the other. And then his fingers dive into me, filling me so much, and the short plunges try to catapult me into the door.

He scoots me back so I stay a safe distance away from it. And he grips one of my shoulders to fix me to this place.

His motions are decisive, hard and unrelenting.

“Connor!” I cry. He fucks me with his hand so fast that it’s not long before my eyes flutter, and I feel myself clench around him. The high is there—in sight. At the top of the hill. Just a few more—

He stops.

Pulls his brilliant fingers out. Every part of me, mind and body, pleads and aches for him.

I think I hate him now.

“I know you’re glaring and I can’t even see your eyes,” Connor tells me. “Would you call that intuition or magic?”

Well, Connor doesn’t believe in magic. If Hogwarts actually existed I’m sure they’d send an owl to shit on his head.

“I’m sorry,” I say rather than answering the question. I try to relax my face.

And then his long, hard cock barrels into me. Holy…

My arms weaken beneath me and I moan into the seat, biting the leather at one point. Fuck…fuck…

My thoughts have been fucked into submission—only curse words passing through.

Fuck…me…

He holds onto the crease of my hips and ass as he slams into me from behind. Thank God, not in the ass. I am nowhere near ready for that.

His breathing is more controlled than my ragged gasps. But he lets out deep, satisfied groans that vibrate my core. Each thrust against my body jellifies my limbs until I am being supported only by his hold around my waist.

Fuck…ahh…fuck, fuck, fuck… “Connor!”

And then the driver turns sharply, and my whole body jerks forward with the car, my head slamming into the door handle. Hard. My vision darkens to black for a split second before dots flicker in my eyes.

“Dammit,” I barely hear Connor curse.

I’m disoriented from the climax and the cranial impact.

I gather my senses when I’m in his arms, on his lap, his boxer-briefs and pants back up on his waist.

“Rose, Rose.” He snaps in my eyes. “Look at me. Rose!” His head spins to the privacy screen. “Gilligan, we’re going to the hospital!”