Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters, #1)(28)

“That’s all I want.”

“Wait.” Daisy holds up her hands and then points at me. “You’re giving Rose a lap dance?”

“Yes.” I untuck my black button-down from my slacks.

She smiles brightly. “Okay, we have to record this.” She turns as if she’s going to get a camera, and her elbow knocks into Savannah’s Canon Rebel. “Oh…right…never mind.” Only Daisy, a girl who’s swarmed by photographers for her job, would momentarily forget that we’re all being filmed.

“This I have to fucking see,” Ryke says, settling on the couch next to Scott. Everyone takes seats, ready for the show.

But I lock eyes only with Rose as I approach her. She white-knuckles the side of the wooden chair, afraid and anxious and aroused.

She trails my body as I unbutton my shirt, and her breathing deepens.

The unknown is frightening for her.

But it can be the wildest, most tempestuous out-of-body experience she’ll ever have.

Get ready, darling. This may spin your head.





[ 10 ]





ROSE CALLOWAY


Oh.

My.

God.

Connor slowly pushes the last button through his black shirt, club music blaring in the background from a pair of speakers. He stands confident, tall and domineering, like a perfect marbled statue, never once looking away from me.

I refuse to cower and crumple into a frightened ball. So I sit stiffly, waiting for him to near me. Waiting for—I don’t know what. I have no idea what Connor Cobalt plans to do after that.

“Shake your ass, sweetheart!” Loren yells over the bass.

Connor doesn’t give in to Lo’s wish, and I feel Scott’s penetrative gaze on me as he watches from the couch.

The moment Connor’s legs brush against my knees, all the air tightens in my chest, chained deep inside my ribcage. He places his feet on either side of my chair, still standing and towering above me. I absorb his position, and my heart has decided to dance on its own, clenching and flipping and fluttering. Basically spasming. My heart is doing an idiot dance, the equivalent of shaking stupidly on the floor.

And then he tilts my chin so I look into his bottomless blue eyes.

Power radiates in his motionless stance.

My neck grows hot, and he pries my hands off the chair, guiding them to his ripped abs. I feel him in ways I haven’t before, the lines and hardness of his muscles. I warm the longer I run my hands along his body. I’ve thought about this so much. About what it would be like to be beneath someone as strong as him. I just never allowed myself to give him that victory, in fear that he’d run off with it and leave me behind.

I realize I’m practically eyelevel with his crotch. My ankles hurt as I cross them tighter together, forcing my legs shut.

My panties are soaked. That’s all it took—him standing above me. Really, Rose?

I wait for him to shake his ass in my face or do some silly dance moves on my lap. But he doesn’t perform either.

Scott clears his throat and lets out a laugh. “Connor, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Connor stares right into my eyes and says, “Je sais toujours ce que je fais.” I always know what I’m doing.

He unbuckles the belt to his slacks. And my heart pitches wildly. Really, my heart needs to go sit on the bleachers and take a serious timeout.

“You’re not going to like me very much if you move. So stay fucking still.”

It’s not possible to move anyway. I am frozen to this chair.

He slips off his leather belt, and I fixate on it as he lowers to me. But instead of sitting on my lap, he rests his hands on my knees, breaking them apart, spreading my legs open. It allows him room to sit on the seat with me. The music still thumps loudly in the background, unraveling my senses.

My eyes widen in alarm, and I clutch his biceps. I try to breathe normally, but my lips are sealed shut, afraid, mostly, of any noises escaping. Pleasurable, fearful—all of the above.

He suddenly grips me by the waist, the belt wrapped around his hand. And he slides my back halfway down to a slumped position. One of his hands grips the top of the chair. He now shrouds my face from the cameras, but in the same instance, he dominates me completely.

He unwinds the belt and brings my wrists behind my back. He binds them together, the leather snug on my skin. Connor knots the belt and then cups my face. He begins rocking to the beat of the music.

He grinds his pelvis into mine, following the rhythm and tempo so it’s not just dry humping. He’s giving me a lap dance, and it’s more sensual than anything I could have accomplished.

I struggle to keep my eyes on his. I am so aware of the people in the room, of the cameras, of the fact that he’s on top of me, my legs hanging with uncertainty around him.

As his hardness digs into me, my nerves prickle, and my toes constrict in my high heels. Oh my God…

Is this really happening? In front of everyone? And soon-to-be nationally televised.

What did I get myself into?

His parted lips reach my ear. “Ne pense pas.” Don’t think.

That’s a little difficult, Richard. But I can’t open my mouth to form the words. His movements quicken with the music, rougher, and I grit my teeth hard to hold in a sound that tickles my throat. Oh…God… This shouldn’t arouse me this much. Not with everyone watching.