Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(41)

Scott snorts but has nothing to fling back in my boyfriend’s face.

I concentrate on bathing. I still have to shave my leg. And that means bending over in front of Connor. He continues to hide me from Scott, so I have no clear view of him—thankfully. I don’t want Scott to see my ass. He can look at Connor’s all day—you know, since it’s his best feature.

Maybe I can skip shaving.

I shudder.

Fuck it. I’ve come this far. I’m naked in a shower with a naked man. I can bend over a little. I lather soap on my leg, and then I lean over to finish shaving. My bottom rubs against his dick, and I go to stand up and scoot forward, away from him, but Connor puts a hand on my back, forcing me to stay down.

His other palm caresses the soft flesh of my ass. And then he squeezes me hard, and I hear the warning in his grip don’t give Scott anything of yours.

I wince and can’t help but smile, loving that he cares. He alternates between a forceful grip and a soft one, rubbing and clenching, nearing the spot between my legs. Not yet entering. My arms shake as I attempt to shave, especially when he massages my bottom and then slaps it. Ahh…f*ck me…

Why does that feel so good?

He releases his hand on my back, allowing me the option to stand, but his fingers perilously dip to the crease of my ass.

He lowers them. And I yelp, a sound that has never left my mouth before. I’ve just been startled out of my f*cking mind. Holy… I knick my kneecap, drawing blood, and stand up straight, causing Connor’s hands to fall from me.

Scott laughs. He’s f*cking laughing, which only pummels me with more guilt and shock. I just rejected Connor right in front of Scott—is that what it looks like? I slowly turn around and meet Connor’s complacent, composed and most importantly unreadable expression. I channel so many apologies through my face. I’m using facial muscles that have been static for the past twenty-three years.

Scott’s chortles still scald my eardrums. Out of haste, I try to turn on the producer and curse him out, to ineloquently explain how it wasn’t just Connor. If any man tried to do that with me, they would have been met with the same alarmed response.

But Connor pinches my chin and forces my gaze on him. Our eyes connect on a different level. The world becomes small.

No Scott.

No shower.

No rush of water or nakedness.

Just me. Just him. Just us.

Together again.

Desire blankets and pulses and shrouds me in its heady web. Wants and urges bubble, feelings that have been caged since we moved to the townhouse. It all springs to life, and I see the longing swim in his deep blues.

We haven’t gotten off in a while. I haven’t masturbated in our bed, fearful of the noises catching on microphones outside the walls. And Connor used to masturbate in our shower, which has become complicated with the communal style here.

We’re both horny as hell. Especially after arousing each other downstairs.

And then his thumb brushes my jaw, my lower lip, and slides into my mouth.

An audible noise of consent, of yearning and delight escapes.

It’s a moan that I am not so quick to catch this time.





[ 15 ]

CONNOR COBALT



She closes her lips around my thumb. Her pleasure flushes her cheeks and causes her to shift towards me, my cock throbbing for her tightness, for the place that she’s let no man into.

I want to remind Rose that I’m the one who causes her body to tremble—not the f*cking moron one shower over. Her anger towards Scott only fuels him and lets him believe he has power over her. Biting comments, insults, that love-hate relationship is our dynamic.

He can’t have it.

But as soon as she makes a noise, he shuts off his shower. I watch him wrap a towel around his waist, and he glances at me once with cold, pissed eyes before he shoves through the door. I’m not uncomfortable by the situation, but hearing my girlfriend moan from my touch must have been his limit.

My free hand slides to the back of Rose’s neck, holding her very close to me. I lower my head and whisper, “I’m going to put something else in your mouth, Rose.”

Her eyes meet mine with questions. I say only one thing with my gaze.

You’re safe with me.

She can leave. She has full capability to knock me back in the chest and chastise me about commanding her to drop to her knees. Rose is not shy. She is not weak or insecure. If she doesn’t want something, she’ll let me know.

She’s a virgin, I remind myself. Giving her what she craves, what she’ll love but denies—it’s going to take time, no matter how much my body protests the long wait. But if she can accept this, to begin to submit in bed, then we can finally move forward.

As she processes my words, her body responds by curving towards mine. She wants to let go for once. I know this. She knows this. She just has to decide if she’s going to allow herself that pleasure or refuse it on some higher, ridiculous moral ground.

Her fingers skim my wrist, and I remove my thumb from her mouth. Quite slowly and effortlessly, she sinks onto her knees, eyelevel with my dick. I want to drive it into her mouth, to f*ck her the way I want to f*ck her *. She’s a virgin.

Patience, Connor.

I grab a fist-full of her wet hair, the shower pelting her beautiful body in waves. Her breath deepens as she looks from me to my partially hardened cock. I rest a hand on the tiled wall.