Page 28 of Root

The newish thing isn’t even an excuse. I can fucking flirt my ass off in four different directions at once. I can do it like I breathe. In my sleep.

Call it my superpower.

I run my fingers of my other hand along her spine, over the tattoos and bruises on her, tattoos so fucking beautiful and almost watercolor whimsical in their delicate designs. Except for that edge of viciousness to them.

If I wasn’t busy, I’d explore them, check for shit like angels or worse, fairies. The deranged crap I’ve seen on girls before.

But it just seems darkly Victorian and about nature. I kiss a path over the black lace bird tattoo on her neck, over her still damp skin, up to her ear. “We should talk.”

“Sounds more like you’ve got a death wish, touching me like this.”

“Consider it payment?” Even as the words leave my mouth, I cringe.

I’m a badass, but I’m no Nikolai.

“For getting stabbed?”

She turns her face and the bruise on her cheek cuts deep. Fuck.

But she reaches behind, strokes my cock once more and I almost lose whatever I have of my mind.

Then there’s a little sound.

And she squeezes her hand as something pokes against my thigh.

Something sharp. Hard.

Her fucking knife’s close enough to my junk that I go still.

“Wanna let me know what you’re doing?” I ask.

Her mouth curls, those full lips would look good— I stop. There’s a time to think dirty thoughts and a time to get yourself together when a crazy chick has a ring knife close to your junk.

“Thinking of returning the favor.” She pokes me.

Jess knows what she’s doing, because it’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t pierce skin. Fuck, it doesn’t even pierce the denim.

I step back a little and flip her so her ass hits the wall and I grab her wrist, pinning it, examining the ring. “Stronger than you.” I grin. “Nice piece.”

Her other hand moves and she shoves it down my jeans and I nearly lose hold of everything that’s left of my mind.

“Nice piece,” she says. “If you like compact.”

“Depends on the size of the garage.”

“Rude.”

“Right,” I say, “back at you.”

Never in my life have I wanted to defend the size of my cock like I do now. Never in my life has anyone called it compact. I’m big. I know that.

“It’s what you do with it, fuck boy.”

“Yours or mine?”

A ghost of a smile crosses her features and honestly, I don’t even remember why I came up here.

“Nikolai wants to talk to you.” From somewhere, I scrape that from my head.

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