Page 29 of Root

She rises, tits—now those are of size, lush, tattooed, and perfect now they’re free—brushing against me.

Jess does something surprising.

She brushes her mouth with mine.

I take it and run. Still holding her hand against the wall, I use my other to guide her mouth back and I kiss her.

I’ve wanted this since we started the flirting and our no-rules sparring match.

Oh, fuck. She’s soft and warm. She tastes sweet, a little minty from toothpaste, and she moans as her lips part and our tongues meet.

It’s a slow combustion on fast forward.

One second, I’m just kissing her and holding her arm and the next every nerve ending in me thrums with need, urgency, and I can’t get enough of her. I’m so fucking hard and she’s wrapping about me like she wants to climb me.

We kiss, the act getting deeper, darker, hotter. It’s sex with clothes on. It’s never fucking going to be enough and we attack and pull at each other. We meld and melt and then a wave of destruction crashes down and the need to own her and defile her and have her now is overwhelming.

I hit the mattress, and she hits me.

Jess is on me, straddling, and I’m hard. She’s hot and I swear she’s so wet I can feel it through her panties and my jeans.

Then she breaks the kiss. “Fuck. My side.”

“Are you—”

“Asshole.” Her eyes narrow and I almost miss her intent as she tries to hit me.

I catch her wrist and tumble us so I’m on top, straddling. I pin her hands to the bed, at the sides of her head.

“You,” she says, “tried to drug me.”

I lean in close, lips half an inch from hers. “Did drug you. Not tried.” No. Wait. I take a breath. “The doctor drugged you.”

“What? Like a drug-induced coma?”

“No, you idiot. You were a banshee and ripped your stitches. You kept on about ‘Et tu Brutus’. I said it’s Brute, but you wouldn’t be corrected on your Shakespeare.”

“It’s the same thing.” She stops.

I go on. “So he had you on morphine or something fun that I wanted to try but Nikolai threatened me with death. The painful sort.”

Rolling off her, I lie on my back and start laughing.

She hits me in the stomach, hard.

I roll to my side and prop up with one arm and capture her hand with my other one. “Oh, man you should have seen you. Big drug eyes, talking about aliens, about how you wanted my dick. My big dick.”

She did actually say that.

“You’ve got some kind of girl hard on for Julius Caesar,” I say. “The play, not the man.”

“What did I say?”

Brutus, she kept on about Brutus, about saving him. “It was a mess of words, Jessie, a total mess.”

She snatches her hand and grabs my throat. I let her. There’s something…hot about it. “Call me Jessie again and the Castrate won’t even want you.”

“I don’t even know what that means. You’ll castrate me and take my voice box? I can’t sing.”

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