Kiss the Sky (Calloway Sisters #1)(59)

“So you’ve told me.” He pauses. “How far have you been with her?”

I hesitate to reveal this, which surprises even me. I’m usually open about everything with Frederick, but being with Rose makes me want to keep every moment close to our chests, so no one can share what happens but us. It takes me about a minute to finally say, “She sucked my cock.”

Frederick’s brows rise in surprise. “You got her to blow you?”

“Rose had the choice.” I don’t want one of us to lose with sex. We both need to come out successful and fulfilled.

“How kinky?” Frederick asks.

I let out a mock sigh and stare at the ceiling. “We’re not there yet.” I tilt my head. “Give her time, Rick. She’s a virgin.”

“I’m surprised you’re not pushing her harder. For years, you’ve talked about how you want to—”

“I’m going to push her as far as I think she can go without having her run out on me. She’s packed a suitcase before, remember? She stayed in a hotel in the Hamptons for a week just to prove a point. And we weren’t even living together then.”

Frederick laughs. “I remember. You were both fighting about the Theory of Relativity.”

“She loves to disagree with me.” We argue a lot about theories because they’re easily debatable, but we always, somehow, kiss in the end. When she finally returned to Princeton, I spent the day with her in bed, sucking on her neck, gently easing her to go further. She was too scared to do more. But I think, for once, she will now.

“When she went down on you, you didn’t let her use her hands?” he suddenly asks.

“No.” These questions are annoying me more than usual.

“Did she like it?”

“Immensely.”

“You’re very possessive of her,” he states, taking out his notepad.

“How can you tell?”

“You sound irritated.”

Wonderful.

“Did you go down on her afterwards?”

“No.” I shift my jaw, trying to get my words to cooperate and not come out so damn coarse.

“Because you didn’t have time?”

“No,” I almost snap at him. I clear my throat as Frederick scribbles something down.

“Because she wouldn’t let you.”

I stay quiet since he phrased this one as a statement, not a question.

“She’s frightened to let you touch her. The alcohol she wants you to buy will lessen her inhibitions and reservations. If she’s afraid in the first place, maybe she’s not submissive, Connor.”

My eyes narrow, a territorial feeling boiling inside of me. “She responds the way a submissive would. She shudders in pleasure when I take full control. But she’s still horrible at it; I’ll admit that. I’m trying to get her to a place where she can accept what turns her on.” I pause. “Outside the bedroom, you’re right, though. She’s not submissive. And she never will be.”

“And you like that?” Frederick asks, his pen hovering over the notepad.

“Yes.”

“Why does that appeal to you so much?”

“You know why.”

“But I want you to hear yourself say it again.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and clear my throat for the second time. “I enjoy being matched outside of the bedroom. It’s a constant game that’s fun to play. She keeps me on my toes.” The words come out like I’ve rehearsed them, but it’s only because I’ve said them so many times before. “But I love the part where I can give her everything she needs in sex, and I get the same in return. Through that bedroom door, I become in control again, and I can empower her. It’s a dynamic that never gets tired or old.”

I often thought about her when I was at Faust and Penn—remembering the conversations we had at academic bowls and conferences. I never believed she’d enjoy giving up control in bed. But the longer she shied from affection, recoiling from other men, I thought she was just scared. And how could a woman as powerful and unabashed as her be frightened of sex? And then it dawned on me. She didn’t wish to rule a man in bed. She wanted to be ruled. But she didn’t know how to ask without feeling weak. So she thought being alone, unfulfilled sexually was the better option. I’m here to tell her it should have never been a fucking solution in the first place.

Frederick nods.

“There’s more.” I need to be honest about what’s going on recently. “She thinks once she gives herself to me, I’ll leave—that our relationship is nothing more than a game because I won’t allow myself to love anyone.”

“And why don’t you love her, Connor?” His chair creaks as he leans back, and a shadow of a smile plays at his lips.

He acts as though he understands what I can’t, putting me at odds with myself. He’s listened to my beliefs about love for years, but that doesn’t stop him from routinely asking more.

“People relate love to insects fluttering inside their digestive system. I’ve never had that affliction.”

He cracks a smile. “It’s a metaphor.”

“I know what a metaphor is, Rick.”

“Then stop being a smartass and so will I.”