Page 56 of Gemini Queen
Didn’t we cover that terrain this morning, to my complete and total embarrassment?
“That’s pretty much what I figured,” she sighs. “Which means you don’t really know, Neo. You might not like sharing at all. Plenty of people don’t. And in particular, you might not like another guy in your bed.”
Involuntarily my brain jumps to those moments in thethermaeI usually try not to think about. Because I do share a house and a bathroom with three other guys, one of whom is the student the whole school crushes on, and one of whom is the headmaster our whole house crushes on. A certain level of familiarity with my roommates’ bodies, even with Vasili who’s so beautiful but hates my guts, is hard to avoid. Warmth creeps down from my hairline to toast my cheeks.
“I don’t think I’d mind,” I mumble, watching our joined hands so I don’t have to look into her face. “I’m not a total neophyte. I read very extensively.”
“Wow,” she whispers, and my head jerks up. She’s watching me with a soft smile teasing her lush lips and a hint of color warming her cheeks under her California tan. “You’re actually bi-curious, aren’t you? And you really don’t have any idea how tempting you are to a girl like me, do you, Neo Mercury?”
I shake my head with a smile. If the concept of having an awkward blushing virgin in her bed is somehow tempting, I can only be grateful for the miracle.
Her fingers thread through mine and her face turns troubled.
“Honestly speaking,” she breathes, “I’m pretty torn.”
“About what?”
Her long Marilyn Monroe lashes fall over her eyes. “About you. On the one hand, it seems criminal to let that sex famine you’re needlessly enduring on my account drag on a minute longer.”
I’m all for ending my sex famine too, here, now, with her. And it’s possible I’m not keeping that bond between us sealed off as tight as I’m trying to, because she chuckles like she hears me.
“On the other hand,” she resumes, her colorful brows scrunching together, “I’m afraid if we go down that road, it’ll only confuse the situation for you and me and everyone else. Because we’re not actually mated.”
We are, though. We totally are. My hand clenches around hers in protest before I can stop it and her wary face lifts.
I scoot closer to her and settle down and focus like I do before a big test. Because I’ve been studying what I need to say to her all day. “I know it’s a foreign concept in this day and age. There’s no real analog for earthbound humans, even if they do understand astrology, and even if they study their natal charts. But for arcanes like us, with seventh house significators as strong as ours—each of our charts pointing straight at each other, Zara—it’s more than a tendency or a prediction. Our natal charts together form an ironclad prophecy. And a natal chart prophecy as clear as ours has status in witching world law. Legal, ethical, magical status.”
I lean toward her, close enough to kiss her if I only dared, and pour every atom of conviction into what I’m saying. My voice vibrates with emotion. “I’m yours in every single way, Zara Gemini. I’m so completely yours.”
Her chin firms and her mouth opens and she’s going to deny it, I know she is, she’s going to say we aren’t mated. And I can’t stand it. I can’t. I’mhers.
I lunge forward and claim my mate with a kiss.
Despite my virginal state, I’ve had a few kisses, because arcanes don’t get their charts officially read until they turn fifteen, and I was a precocious kid. But I’ve never kissed anyone like her. Her lips are so soft and her kisses are so confident. She tastes a little peppery from the pizza, which should clash with the breath mint I optimistically consumed before knocking, but it doesn’t.
Underneath she’s sweet, like strawberries and cream, she’s so sweet.
I lean into her kiss and our noses and chins bump awkwardly, because I really don’t know what I’m doing. She cradles my face between her firm hands to steady me and takes command of our kiss, her mouth searching mine, her tongue finding mine, drawing my tongue into her mouth so I can explore her too. When she sucks on my tongue with her warm silky lips, a lightning bolt of need rips through me and makes my dick ache.
I groan and push closer, as close as I can get with our legs crossed and our knees nudging, my hands finding her taut waist and a scant inch of exposed skin between her tee shirt and her yoga pants. Frustration and hunger claw through me. I need more, more of this, more of her, more.
“Babe,” I groan against her mouth like I’m dying.
“It’s okay, baby,” she whispers against my lips.
Obviously I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m worried about going too fast, but she’s at least thinking about ending my sex famine (as she puts it) and I definitely want to encourage her in that direction and not in the direction of avoiding confusion and denying our bond. So I push forward and she falls back and I climb over her and straddle her, careful not to crush her with my big clumsy body.
“You’re doing great,” she breathes, and I wonder if she even realizes she’s reading me through our bond.
If she doesn’t, I don’t want to say anything that will freak her out.
Her body is tight and sleek and warm under me, so warm, so right, full breasts pressing into my chest, hands still cradling my face to hold me steady. I nuzzle into her neck and breathe in roses and vanilla—she’s wearing the perfume I left for her too—and I nudge up her shirt to feel the sleek skin of her tummy and the ripple of her ribs against my bare hands.
“Neo,” she breathes, arching into my touch.
My glasses are steaming and slipping down my nose, but I don’t want to stop touching her long enough to deal with the issue. She chuffs out a chuckle and removes my glasses and ferries them onto the nightstand. She’s definitely reading me through the bond, and it makes me so happy.
I bite gently into her neck, just to see if she likes it, which makes her moan and shiver, so it seems like she does. Her hands thread through my hair to encourage me, so I open my mouth in a sucking kiss against her neck that makes her arch into me with a gasp. I suck harder to mark her.
