Page 65 of Root

“You must be fun at parties.”

He slides off his shoes and peels off his socks. “You’ve no fucking idea how much fun I am at parties. I’m the star attraction.”

“Does your ego have to wait outside?” I pause. “On account of it not being able to fit through the door.”

He just laughs. “Admit it, Jessie, you’ve got a thing for me and my ego.”

“I can’t wait to shoot you. Now, tell me the damn rules.”

“Okay.” He sucks in a breath. “Every shot outside the nine you lose a piece of clothing, and we look at each other.” He waves his left hand. “I’m left-handed.”

“Fine. But prepare to be buck naked.”

It’s hard to do this when we don’t look at the targets so it’s fairly even. He loses his sweater first, or should, but being Rush, he opts for jeans, and he’s right—his package so…there, delineated in the fitted boxer briefs, is distracting. Then, he loses his sweater. I get a run of bad luck and lose my T-shirt and jeans.

Rush loses his T-shirt next.

Through it, my pussy throbs, and I can feel the wetness. Like my brilliant idea of wearing the dress and those panties when he was going to put me up, or when I made him eat me…I’m a slave to my body’s runaway desires, and every single one of those are team Rush.

I didn’t have to taunt him the other night; I wore that dress to make him lust. I certainly didn’t need to make him eat me.

Though that last one still sends thrills rippling through me.

I force myself to breathe as I shoot again, looking at him. Except my head is all about trying to not stare at his sizable package that I know is thick, heavy and can get so hard I want to ride it until I hurt.

“Missed.” His voice is soft, taunting because there’s no deliberate taunt to it.

I look.

Fuck.

Rush smiles. “Bra or panties?”

I set the gun down and go for the bra, fingers shaking as I flick it open and pull it off. My nipples are hard.

Rush drinks them in like he’s parched.

I raise my chin. “Your turn.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Your boxer briefs or my panties. We need a winner. Your turn.”

“I don’t think so.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why? Are you scared I’ll laugh at what you have? Look at those boxer briefs that cling…are they too small or is your dick just tiny?”

He grabs his junk. “They mold to me perfectly. I’m fucking huge and the look on your face says you want to lick and suck me like an all-day sucker.”

“I’m never going to a fair again.”

“Have you ever been?”

“No,” I snap, “but I fucking will just so I don’t have to ever go again.”

He comes at me, backing me into the wall of my booth. Then he checks my rounds and goes to his side, comes back as he switches them out. “You might need more than one shot if I choose to let you win.”

“You’re making this a draw?”

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