Page 69 of Root

“I can shoot, Jess. I’m an excellent marksman. I can fight, too. I can kill. I can break bones. I can do all the fucked up things Nikolai does. He trained me to be a survivor, to thrive.”

To kill after I killed Ben when I was nine. Because as he said, it’s an art, an ugly one, but an art. Learn to do it and you won’t accidentally kill.

He never blamed me for Ben.

Ben betrayed us, but I didn’t…I didn’t mean it and he knows it, and I also know if Nikolai could change it and kill Ben himself, he would.

Even now.

And I hate the burden that sits on him. The blame for me doing what I did as a kid.

But if Nikolai had pulled that trigger he wouldn’t have even blinked.

Nikolai would have tortured him for taking me. Then killed him.

And it’d be just another day for him.

Nikolai has the darkness I don’t. No matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t go there.

It’s part of my failure.

Shoving it all away, I look at her.

“Thing is, I’m not him and I never will be.”

I’m a fuck up, I know that.

“But make no mistake, even though I’m not Nikolai caliber, I can be deadly if I want.”

She grabs me, slams me into the bench and kisses me hard and deep and violent. Her hands are on me. She pushes her hand into my boxer briefs, and starts to jack me and oh, fuck me, it’s beyond hot.

Jess looks up at me. “So can I.”

I grab her hand and pull it from my underwear. I turn her, twist her arm back, and with one foot, I kick up my belt, catching it with my free hand.

She starts trying to pull free, but I’m stronger than her, so I press down, and I use the belt to tie and lock her hands behind her back, buckling it.

Then I lean over her, aware of the heat that’s a furnace between her thighs, aware of the soft flesh of her as I push my still-sheathed dick against her.

Fuck, I want to bury myself in her, deep.

I want her cunt, her ass. I want her mouth.

What I’d do for those soft lips wrapped about my dick.

But I let her go because it’s time for payback, fun. I stand back, wanting to stroke my cock, but not wanting to rush things.

“You look good like that,” I say as she struggles up.

She half spins, hot generous tits bouncing. Guess I’ve never gotten over big tits.

She glares. “Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

“No, I’d have to stuff you full and paint you in gravy.” Okay, now I grab my cock, just so she gets my drift.

Her panties have a delightful wet patch. They’re the thinnest cotton, like super thin, and peach. They sit low on her hips, molding in against her, and I can see the prettiest fucking camel toe on the planet. I can see her cunt through that soaked material.

I know what it tastes like, too.

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