ROSE CALLOWAY
“This week went by so fast,” I say, watching the snow fall outside, the dark sky illuminated by the ski resort’s bright lights in the distance.
We fly back home soon. Back to rabid paparazzi. American television. And my mother. Even though Ben, Brett, and Savannah have followed us around, it’s been nice to have a house that isn’t rigged twenty-four-seven with cameras.
Connor sidles up behind me, and his hands slip around my waist. I sink back into his chest, the action so much more natural now. It’s hard to
believe that months ago I was scared of this intimacy. Now all I think about are ways to be closer.
He pulls my hair off my shoulder and kisses the sensitive skin of my neck, marking a line up to my ear. My nerves prick with each feather-light touch. “This week may have gone by fast, but tonight will feel so…” His warm breath tickles me. “…unbearably…” He brushes the straps of my nightgown, and they fall off my shoulders. “…slow.”
The air nips my skin, and he runs a hand from my thigh, along the curve of my hip and settling his palm on my breast. He tugs the silky fabric to
expose them. A breath hitches in the back of my throat as he kneads my breast with one hand, standing behind me while I stare at the snowfall. His muscular body overtakes my frame, no space between us, and I eagerly wait for his skin to meet mine, for his shirt to be gone, his pants to disappear.
Please, yes…
He massages my breast with force and want, rippling a new feeling through my core. I ache for him. All of him. His thumb flicks my hardened nipple back and forth, shivers cascading down my spine.
And then he spins me around, his eyes grazing my breasts and the way the nightgown bunches at my waist. “Step out of it,” he tells me.
I wiggle the nightgown to my ankles, my head starting to readjust, to make sense of what’s going to happen. “Are we…” I trail off, lost to the way his eyes bore into each crevice and curve of my body as I stand bare, only in a pair of black cotton panties.
When he finally meets my gaze, he says, “I’m going to fuck you.”
Not we’re going to make love. Not we’re having sex. Just, “I’m going to fuck you.”
A demand that drops my mouth and soaks my panties. Right there.
That’s it. I’m done for. He can take me any way he wants.
I cast out any nerves that try to attack me because I’m still a virgin.
Despite being with him for over a year and gaining confidence, this is still new. I imagine most girls are anxious their first time.
Connor grabs me around the waist before I descend further into my head. He hoists me over his shoulder, and I let out a gasp. He pats my ass while my head dangles upside down, all the blood rushing to my brain.
“Stop thinking,” he orders, throwing my body onto the soft mattress.
My breath and thoughts leave me at once.
Holy… I watch him slowly unloop the leather belt from his pants. My heart races as he leans over and takes my wrist in his hand, wrapping the leather around it and a rung in the wooden headboard. When he secures the buckle, he bends to his suitcase and finds another belt.
For my other wrist.
“My first time is going to be tied up?” I ask, fear suddenly bursting in my belly. So much for not thinking.
“Yes,” he says after he has my left wrist tethered to another rung much farther apart. He strokes my hair, and our eyes lock. “I’m going to take you deep…” His eyes fall to my lips, and my chest collapses. “…hard…” Oh, fuck… The spot between my legs clenches, beginning to pulse for something large, something powerful. “…rough…” He bites my lip, and I moan.
Just come inside me already.
He smiles with my bottom lip caught between his teeth. He lets go and says, “Patience.”
He has plenty more than I do.
My whole body flushes in hot, agonizing want.
He straddles my waist and meticulously rolls my panties down my hip bones, past my curved bottom, down my thighs and slender legs, right off my feet. I am completely naked now. His to play with. His to take care of and consume.
But then he crawls off the bed. “What are you doing?” I ask. “No more questions, Rose.”
I glower. “I’m about to lose my virginity. I can ask whatever the hell I want.”
He steps closer, his shirt unbuttoned, and he covers my mouth with his large hand. He bends down so his lips skim my cheek, his breath warming my skin. “You may compliment my cock, you may beg, and you may politely ask for more. I don’t want to hear anything else, and if I do, I’ll stuff your mouth with your panties so you can’t speak.” His fingers dig a
little deeper in my cheeks. “But believe me, I don’t want that. I want to hear all your noises. I want to hear you come.”
Translation: Shut the fuck up. And holy hell it turns me on. My body is like a taut rubber band ready to be snapped.
Before he removes his palm, he reminds me why I don’t need to ask questions. “Vous êtes en sécurité avec moi.” You’re safe with me.
He kisses my forehead and draws back, retreating to the closet and leaving me naked and tied to the bed. I have to trust that he locked the door
—that no one will dash into the bedroom while we have sex. Wouldn’t that just be my luck?
When he returns, he carries a towel, and I stay quiet even though my stomach overturns with anticipation and nerves. He approaches me again and lifts my waist, spreading the towel underneath my bottom. And then he sheds his shirt off his shoulders, revealing defined, rigid muscles across his abs.
He turns his back to me before I can stare too long, and he disappears
below the bedframe, rummaging in his suitcase again. I only have a view of his wavy brown hair.
“I have something for you,” he tells me, standing with a slender black box. I’ve seen enough jewelry boxes to know it’s a necklace.
Hopefully diamonds. They’re my favorite.
My eyes sparkle and my anxiety dissipates as he climbs onto the mattress, sitting near my waist. I jerk my wrist, wanting to not only touch the box but his body, from his shoulders to his waist, to the hem of his pants. The restraints fix me to this one spot, but I cross my ankles, waiting for him.
He lingers, his palm rubbing the soft black velvety box, teasing me.
How much I’d give for that hand to be caressing me.
“Is this where I’m supposed to beg?” I ask, not able to soften my eyes that narrow in a glare.
His lips lift, and his eyes flood with arousal. “That’s a wonderful idea,” he says. “Beg for this box.”
I glare harder. “I was joking.” “I’m not.”
Like hell. I’m not about to beg for a box. I stare harder at the case and imagine the jewelry. It’s taunting me. I bet the necklace is gorgeous, something I would love. My resolve begins to weaken. It’s not like I’m
pleading for his cock…although, I think…I think I’m almost there too. The object of my desire is jewelry…diamonds. I would beg for diamonds.
But begging sounds weak. Internally, I can plead for his cock.
Outwardly, how the fuck am I going to grovel?
“Please, can I have that box?” I ask, softening my usual coarse words. I didn’t do so awful, right?
He doesn’t move. “Didn’t you say something about graduating with honors?” he asks in amusement. Yes, I often remind him of this fact in
arguments. It’s not really a winning point considering he graduated with the same accolades.
“Highest honors,” I refute anyway, my eyes swimming with challenge. I like arguing with him far too much. I have a feeling it’s going to get me into trouble tonight.
“Highest honors.” His lips twitch. “Well then, if you’re so smart you should know how to beg properly.”
“I said please.”
“Say it like you mean it.” He sets the black box on my bare chest, the velvet smooth on my skin. With my hands tied to the headboard, there’s no way to open it myself.
“Do you want me to call you sir, is that it?” I have no idea how far we’re taking this.
His eyes darken. “I have my own way of doing things, my own rules.” He skims my leg with his fingers, which tightens the aching, pissed-off spot that dearly, dearly wants him. “Sir is impersonal. You can call me Connor, or if you’re really good, I’ll even let you call me Richard.”
His words relax my shoulders. My eyes drift back to the box on my breasts, and impatience strikes me cold. “Just open it, Connor,” I say angrily.
He squeezes my kneecap in a firm clutch, and that hand descends to the top of my thigh, his fingers gripping my flesh. “No.”
How can one word carry so much force? I clamp my thighs tighter, my bony ankles hurting as they dig into each other. I am so naked. So aroused. And I have to beg to get what I want. I can feel how wet I’m becoming, and he raises his eyebrows knowingly.
The spot between my legs clenches.
Jesus Christ.
The longer the anticipation, the more torture. So I suck up my pride and take a deep breath.
“Please, please, please open the box,” I plead in a whispered tone. “I want it badly.”
To my surprise, he snaps the velvet case, flipping the lid. My heart careens as I absorb all the diamonds, strung together in long rows. The
entire necklace is made of them. It shines and glitters in the dimmed light, the jewelry turning me on almost as much as his words.
And then I finally see past the linked gemstones to realize what type of necklace this is. Not just a choker. No. These diamonds are embedded into a leather band with a silver buckle at the back.
It’s a collar.
Anger boils in me like nothing before. “I’m not your pet.”
“You are my pet.” He climbs further onto the bed. “You’re also my girl.
My lover. As I am your man. The only difference…” He pauses, drawing out the tension between us. “I’ll always be on top.” With both of his hands, he has hold of my legs and in one motion, he spreads them apart. I try to
writhe against him and return my thighs to the “locked-you-can’t-have-me” position, but he glares. And a Connor Cobalt glare is very, very hard to
come by. His new dark expression causes my body to go utterly still.
And then the corners of his lips curve upward. Like a fucking prick. “Gloat all you want. I’m not wearing it,” I snap.
His smile spreads from his mouth to his eyes. “Stop me then,” he challenges. But he has pinned me down with his body. His pelvis in line with mine, his erection hard against a spot that hates and loves him.
I can’t stop Connor. Even if I truly wanted to.
I’m barely breathing as he delicately wraps the leather choker around my neck. His fingers graze my skin as he buckles it in the back.
My anger is replaced by this feral need for him. My entire body screams for his touch, to know what he would feel like within me. And for the first time, I’m about to find out.
He leans back to soak in my body, my position and readiness. I watch his eyes flit from my new diamond collar, to my reddened breasts from his hands, to my naked flesh that cries for him. Just come inside me already.
He rests a hand on the mattress beside my head, and he kisses my temple, his lips sucking a line down the nape of my neck, grazing over the fullness of my breasts, tantalizingly slow.
“Connor,” I moan, needing him to hurry.
“No talking,” he says huskily, his lips close over my nipple with a strong suction. The force bucks up my hips for more contact with him. He digs his hardness down into me, stifling my movements and stirring my desire.
“Con—”
His hand flies to my lips, muffling my voice. He resumes his exploration of my body with his tongue. I am at the mercy of his mouth, descending at a sluggish, tormenting pace.
All forms of intelligence have deserted me. My thoughts have resorted to a stupid, ridiculous chant. Lower, lower, LOWER!
“Lotherrr!” I mumble against his hand.
Connor bites down on the soft flesh of my hip—hard. The pain shoots up and ignites something new inside of me. Something stronger and headier. Spanking—I like. Choking—I like. So I shouldn’t be surprised that biting my hip flushes my cheeks and neck. But it does.
I like to be bitten.
Like a goddamn vampire. Dear God.
“Shh,” Connor whispers with a forceful tone. He kisses the reddened mark on my hip and continues his descent. His lips finally graze my clit, flicking against the sensitive bud, and my entire body responds by jumping, my heart taking the biggest leap. A high-pitched noise catches in my throat, and I whimper.
His lips part at my sound, his breath deepening. He removes his hand from my mouth and lifts his head from between my legs. My eyes immediately fall to his pants where his erection tries, pathetically, to remain hidden.
He’s big, even beneath the fabric.
Any words that I anticipated saying have been lost to rawer senses. Like the way he sheds his pants slowly, without ever peeling his eyes from mine. Desire, passion, lust, they all spin inside me like a whirlpool with no bottom, no end, no resolution to these feelings.
He slips off his navy boxer-briefs, his cock in full view and closer than ever before. Connor nudges my legs open with his knees, locking them to a position for his use. He grabs my ass, squeezing and lifting me into his hands, stretching my arms that stay fastened to the headboard.
I’m horny and so confused.
Because he never slows, never hesitates. Not to put on a condom. The nerves that I kicked aside abruptly crash into me like a hundred foot wave.
Connor freezes, going still, concern shadowing his powerful gaze. I must wear confusion on my face, a rarity for me.
“Speak,” he orders.
My throat has gone dry. I’m doing this all wrong again, I think. He continues to hold my bottom in his hands, my legs wrapped around his waist, but he sets me on the bed, no longer prepared to enter me.
Fuck.
“Dammit, Rose,” Connor glares. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’re going to wear a condom, right?” I phrase it like a question, which makes me cringe. Normally I’d just command him to wrap his dick.
Connor’s shoulders slacken, and he lets out a breath of relief. I realize I scared him, an emotion he rarely feels. I suppose we’re bringing out new
sentiments in each other.
I tap his thigh with my ankle. “I have one in my bag.”
A smile slowly overtakes his face. “Do you? Were you expecting to get laid on this trip?”
“I’m always prepared,” I remind him, trying to hide my own smile. He picks up my foot and places a light kiss on the bottom of my heel.
“No condoms,” he suddenly says. “What?” I snap.
“I don’t want anything between us,” he tells me. He scoots forward, his hardness so very near, and his hands slide from my knees to my thighs. “I want to fill you, Rose, even after I pull out and hold you in my arms.” He wants to come inside you, Rose. I could stare at the ceiling and say, Thank you, Lord, but Connor would be so pissed. The thought almost urges me to do it, but the sensible part of me returns.
Because if he doesn’t use a condom that means… “We can’t…” I shake my head. “We can’t be hypocrites. Loren and Lil—”
“Are irresponsible,” Connor finishes for me. “Lily forgets to bathe and eat, and we both know she regularly forgets to take birth control, which is why we remind Loren to use condoms. And you, Rose, are the most
responsible woman I know.”
His words have a way of placating worries, even mine. I nod. This is it.
I can’t help but stare at his blue eyes that swim with a familiar ambition and passion. This is Connor, I remind myself. For ten years, I’ve known him. And not very many people ever truly do.
He’s roped to my gaze, inhaling a deep breath. He brushes a piece of damp, sweaty hair from my cheek. “I’ve wanted so many things in life,” he says softly, “but you’re the one that has meant the most to me.”
Translation: I love you.
His thumb skims my bottom lip. Oh, that thumb…
And then he plunges in, so hard and fast that I cry out. The pain comes all at once, but it’s slowly usurped by more pleasant sensations. He thrusts, pulsing each one in deep succession, the rhythm blinding my vision. I tilt my head back, my eyelids fluttering, trying to stay sane. The fullness drives me to a new place, but it’s the way his hips pound into me, his force as I stay bound to the headboard, that truly sends me over.
He grips my thighs for support as he pushes deeper. He lifts one of my
legs higher to fit more of him inside me. I gasp and struggle against the belt restraints. Connor…
My whole world spins.
I’m drenched in sweat while a hot layer gathers across his skin. I’m also soaked between my legs, and if I concentrate on just how deep he stays, just how far he goes, how it seems like his cock rides into my belly, my back
begins to arch. My rotating world lights on fire.
He groans as he hooks my leg underneath his arm, holding it up, rampaging my body like it belongs to him for this purpose.
God yes…
Why the hell did I wait so long?
The headboard rap rap raps against the wall, and Connor breathes in
low ragged breaths through his nose, the determination in his eyes fucking me just as much as his cock. I want him to choke me. To steal my oxygen for a second.
And just like that, he grabs my leather collar while thrusting, not missing a beat. And he uses the collar to lift my neck up to his face, our lips meeting. He kisses me hungrily, passionately, eagerly—and he chokes me
of air this way, my lips swell underneath his, numb to the pressure, his minty taste swirling in my mouth with his tongue.
As he thrusts again, he hits a spot that breaks my lips from his and
mangles my voice. It was a noise from a place five-thousand-feet high, in a cloud.
He watches my excitement, and his arousal continues to grow, his muscles tightening, never letting up. He increases his speed. Faster.
Holy…
No breaks. Not even as more sweat beads our skin. We create heat like we’re gods.
I don’t know how he deepens his movement, but he does. My noises escalate until I can’t contain anything anymore. And he pulls at the collar
again, kissing my parted lips once and twice before setting my head back on the pillow. Then he reaches up to my hand on a rung of the headboard. He
interlaces his fingers with mine, holding me as he drives me to my climax.
My sex clenches around him, three or four times, my entire body writhing. My toes curling, my moans morphing into deep breaths of dizzy pleasure.
“Let it out,” he whispers in my ear as he continues his mind-numbing pace.
Tears prick my eyes as I fall down from the high, but he’s not done. I realize he hasn’t come yet. He continues to rock against me, building me back up.
I never want this feeling to leave.
As if he senses this, he makes the moment, somehow, pass like an eternity.
And then we both reach the peak in unison. When he comes, he thrusts forward, hard, and then he rocks his hips against me, milking his climax
until we’re both lightheaded and breathing heavy.
As everything slows, I become acutely aware of my surroundings and thoughts again. Of what happened. I was the virgin in this scenario. He’s
done this before, and I want to know if I was awful. Or if he’s had someone better. I’m competitive by nature. In bed—I want to be the best he’s ever had. It might be too much to ask.
His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. He hovers above me as if preparing to do it all over again.
I kind of hope so.
And then he begins to laugh, his smile enveloping his face—not in humor but in happiness.
“What?” I ask softly.
He stares at me like I’m the only one he wants here. Underneath him. “You and me,” he says and licks his lips. “We fuck like winners.”
I grin. He didn’t say I fuck like a winner. It was we. Us. Together. “You have ten seconds,” he tells me, “before I take you again. You
ready?”
Oh yeah. I’m ready.
