Page 120 of Something So Strong

“I only kiss Jesse.”

His eyes are back on me, and seeing the look on my face—the one he’s been waiting for—he takes Daisy by the wrists and removes her from his lap. “Get your ass back to the van.” His voice is deep, and daddy, and I know I’m in trouble.

My head knows, my heart knows, and god dammit, my dick knows too.

Ripping my hands from Cammie’s pockets, the stool scratches along the floorboards as I slide it backward. Once my coat’s on, I stick my hands in the pockets to hide my hard-on, and give Jesse a stare that says, you better hurry the fuck up, before I spin to leave.

“I haven’t finished my drink,” Cammie calls out to me and I backtrack until I’m close enough I don’t have to yell.

“I couldn’t give a fuck. You’re not coming.”

She might have called me an asshole—perhaps something even worse, but the amount of fucks I give is apparent by how quickly I’m out of the pub and across the other side of the street.

I hear someone jogging behind me. I know it’s Jesse by the sound of his boots. And it’s the only noise I need to hear.

“Slow the fuck down!” Jesse’s voice is one hundred percent annoyed by the time the van is in sight.

“You hurry up,” I growl back at him.

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

Hand on Jesse’s chest, I grab a fistful of his stupid sexy floral shirt and throw him against the side of the van. “What the fuck was that?” I bark, pushing my dick against his.

He scoffs—fucking scoffs—at me and has the balls to try to push me back. “I was only doing what I was told.”

“I never told you to do that.”

“I thought women weren’t a threat.”

“They’re not.”

“So what’s all this toxic masculinity about then, Kai?”

I grind against him with envious determination, and his fingers bully their way into the belt loops of my cords.

“You can touch them.”

“Kai—”

“The things I don’t have.” Defeated, I accept my jealousy and lean my forehead against his, yanking his body closer still. “I’ve got hands, Jesse. I’ve got lips… And a mouth…”

He nudges my nose with his. “A sexy mouth.”

I inhale so sharply that it stings my nostrils and aches in my chest.

One of Jesse’s hands leaves my pants, scrapes its nails up my neck, and drags its fingertips across my lips. And like a ravenous animal on the brink of death, my life depends on them. Darting out my tongue, I seek them and coax them inside my mouth.

The relief I feel is instantaneous. Calm and soothing. The second the pads of his fingers glide across my tongue, I’m satiated. All the envy I felt seeing Daisy’s hands on him, and all the self-loathing and destructive tendencies that threatened to ruin everything, evaporate like smoke on the water.

For several moments, Jesse allows me to pacify myself. I wrap my tongue around his fingers and suck. Long and hard. It’s better than any cigarette or drug, and when my breathing has calmed, he explores. He pinches at my tongue and scrapes his nails along the top. Beneath. The roof of my mouth. He makes a show of stabbing at the insides of my cheeks—stretching them out and watching the skin bulge under the pressure. Then, just as my knees start to buckle, he drags them out, spears the strings of spit down my chin, and squeezes my neck. “You’re a liar, you know that?”

My breath catches in my throat as my head tilts back.

“You said you like to be rough. But you don’t, do you? Not with me.”

My dumb and staccato blinks are my reply.

Pushing me off of him with only the hand around my throat, Jesse turns and slams me back against the van door.

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