24. Renne
Renne
Connor carries me into a room with a wall full of monitors.
He dumps me on the bed and reaches behind his head to take off his shirt, but I’ve cooled off now because his brother might’ve taken a picture of us.
Now I’m on my back in a room full of monitors. It means there are cameras everywhere.
Connor lies on top of me. Blue eyes search my face. “What did I do now?”
“It’s not you.” I press my palms on his hard chest. Under my skin, he’s warm.
“That’s a first.” His gaze darts between my mouth and my eyes. “What’s the problem?”
“The monitors. Are there cameras in this room?”
“Yes, of course. I sleep here.”
“Yes, of course?” I sit up and cup his beautiful face. “Um, no, that’s not how people sleep.”
“I do.”
“I understand, but I can’t.”
“I’ll turn them off.” Shirtless, Connor walks over to the monitor station. There’s an open chess game, which I bet he plays with himself, trying to beat himself every time. I wonder how that works.
I used to play with dolls. I’m wondering if Hanna will play with the pink bear Connor got her when he points to the corner of the screen.
“Camera 1023. Off.”
“Ten twenty-three was your room number at the hospital.”
“You saved my life.” He turns to lean back against the desk.
He crosses his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankle. His muscles ripple under the tattoos covering them. They’re mainly skulls and a gothic tower that might also be a giant skull.
“Do you draw?” I ask, sitting at the edge of the bed. His bed. The room smells like his cologne. Masculine and inviting.
“Mmhm.”
“Did you draw your tattoos?’
“Not all of them. Only the clowns.”
“Why the clowns?”
“Because I’m a vicious joke.”
I’ve noticed Connor talks down on himself once in a while. Self-deprecating humor is one thing, but what I hear from him sounds like something else. When self-deprecation is delivered by a confident male, others might believe it and think he believes it too. I don’t, though, and I tell him so.
Connor just smiles. “I took off my shirt. You rejected me. I’m a fucking joke.”
“That’s not what happened.” I sigh and decide to tell him the truth. “I think your brother snapped a picture of us.”
“And?”
“And it…” I shrug. “It threw me off my game.”
“You don’t need any more game when you’re already the most valuable player.”
I find his black-and-white rug suddenly interesting. “I don’t mean to tease you.”
“I forgive you today. But if you do it again, I might want to keep you around because I like being teased by you.”
I look up. “Keep me how?”
“Any how.”
I don’t know if that’s a threat or if I want him to keep me. When it comes to Connor Crossbow, I’m at odds with myself.
“Toss me my shirt, would you?” he asks.
I swipe the T-shirt as I walk over to him. The heat of his body and the sheer beauty of it make me dizzy. I should’ve stayed away. I sniff his shirt. “I’m keeping this.”
“Oh yeah?” He spreads his legs and pulls me to stand between them. “You want me, but you don’t want me.” Long fingers slick back my hair as if he’s going to tie it into a ponytail. He tugs and then rises to his full height to tower over me.
“Tease me all you like. Keep my T-shirt. Fuck yourself with it for all I care.” He releases me and turns around to move a chess piece. “Check.”
He hovers over the board.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“We’re done here. Get out.”
I throw the shirt at his back.
He turns and throws it into my face.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I bundle it and pitch it like I used to pitch softballs in high school.
He catches it with one hand and starts toward me, looking as angry as ever.
I back up and hit the wall.
“You’ve got skills, my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
“But you want to be.” Connor pulls my pants down, and I step out of them. Bare from the waist down, I curl my toes on the hardwood floor.
“I know you want to be my girl.” He drops his pants and lifts me up, then nails me to the wall with his cock.
He covers my gasp with his hand while his other hand holds up my bottom as he moves inside me, stretching me almost painfully. “Say you want to be mine.”
I grip his shoulders, and he moves slowly, not rushing it, even though I wish he’d bang me against the wall.
Connor is a walking contradiction. Just when you think you have him figured out, he moves in the opposite direction.
He won’t be pinned down. Boxed in. Molded to fit your vision or approval. He’s a sovereign, through and through.
Maybe so am I. Maybe I’m more like him than I care to admit. A little on the wild side. Or a lot.
He slams into me.
I wince.
“Say it.”
“I want to be yours.”
Connor picks up the pace. “What’s your form of contraception? Because it’s not the pill.”
“How do you know?”
“I know everything.”
Alarms go off somewhere in the back of my head, but Connor’s dick muffles them.
I completely ignore them and let eight and a half inches of pierced dick penetrate me thoroughly.
It feels glorious. And for a girl who loves sex and hasn’t gotten any in a while, I’m in absolute heaven.
My breasts shake up and down, my head tilts back, my eyes close, and I hang on for the ride.
Connor supports me with one hand. With the other, he chokes me.
The moment my airway is cut off, I come, melting like a jelly. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Welcome.” He continues to pound into me, and I can tell when he’s getting close. I grab his face and bite his bottom lip. A little harder than I intended. But I think he likes it because his eyes close and he pulls out to ejaculate into his T-shirt.
The window is behind him, so shadows cover his face, but they can’t cover the brightness of his eyes. His chest heaves, his jaw’s tucked, and he watches me.
“You are beautiful,” I tell him.
“Only on the outside.” Connor pulls up his pants. “I’ll wear a condom next time.” He walks away and stands at the window. “Where is that asshole going?” He dials someone on the phone. “Hey, where are you going?”
My knees wobble as I walk over to him.
“The baby is sleeping,” he says. “Wait for Dina to come out.” Then: “She’s not coming out? Why?” A pause. “Oh.” Connor laughs. “This is great. Wish I was there for that, but I wasn’t, and now that I am, I’m telling you not to go into…DICK!”
Connor rushes out. I dress quickly and rush down the steps after him. “What’s going on?”
“He woke up the baby. I knew it. She was fussing because her teeth are coming in.”
By the time we’re downstairs, Declan is walking back in, again looking like a wet Doberman.
Connor clips him on the shoulder as he walks by. “What did I say, hm?”
“Bring them into the house,” Declan orders.
“Oh, really? Is that the genius in you speaking?”
Dina carries Hanna, who is howling at this point. My friend apologizes, even though it’s not her fault. Or Declan’s, I’m sure. Hanna is fussy. If she weren’t, she wouldn’t have heard him come in.
I carry her into the house and rock her, watching Connor bring the crib in. Declan opens the sliding door for him to walk in, but Connor pauses by his brother. “If the baby wasn’t using this crib tonight, I’d break it over your stupid head.”
Declan’s face tells it all. He’s guilty. You can see he’s uncomfortable. Awww. He does have a heart after all. I pat his shoulder. “It’s okay. She’ll be fine.”