Page 107 of Root

“Glad they’re of use to you.”

“I’m not trying to emasculate you.” I’ll pull free. Soon.

“Didn’t say you were, just…I make you out of control, and being dominant is your way of taking the control.”

“No,” I whisper, hating he’s hitting a truth I didn’t know about. “I am a Domme, a top.”

He starts moving his hand up and kissing the side of my throat, scrambling my thoughts, turning my emotions to mush.

Rush strokes my pussy through the leggings I’m wearing, and I immediately know they’re the wrong things to have worn. But then again, nothing’s right with him. I could wear a chastity belt, and it would be on the floor in seconds with him around.

But there’s something about the thin, fitted material as he uses it to stroke my clit that just makes it so wrong and feel so good.

The fires build, rise, threaten to explode when he stops and whispers, “No, you’re not. You’re a switch, and we don’t fit any profile you’ve got in that pretty head.”

“What are you?”

“Rush fucking Rhodes.”

And he drops his hands. I get off the bike, my legs shaking, and my eyes go to the big tree.

I know immediately Jack hasn’t been here. The earth at the bottom hasn’t been disturbed and there’s no black ribbon hanging from the branch.

So why do I want to go and check, rip back the earth and find the lockbox?

“Something wrong?” he asks, because this guy always sees too much.

“Go play with your hobby bike, fuck boy.”

“See? You’re fucking scared of softness. You want this.” He pushes me.

I glare, the needs inside really waking up. “Don’t. Push.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“You’ll find out.”

He laughs again and erotic anger bubbles. “Is something wrong?”

“You, fuck boy.” I say those words again, hoping to rile him.

He grips my hair and pulls me back. I stumble and fall, a thrill rushing through me as the hard yank on my hair keeps me upright.

“What was that, whore?” His eyes glitter, and there’s something so compelling about the carnal monster looking at me, as well as the man with the curiosity shining bright.

“Fuck. Boy.”

The glitter jumps into shining blackness and he opens the storage box on the back and pulls out some bungee cords. He pulls me around so I’m facing him and then he smiles. It’s not a smile of warmth or friendliness or even fuck boy seduction. It’s not even Rush seduction that I’m used to.

It throbs in me, that smile, and excitement runs wild.

“Whore.”

His gaze rakes over me as he takes hold of my chin and urges me up, where he drops a kiss on my lips.

“Except you’re not,” he says.

“Stop twisting things.”

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