Page 30 of Roots of the Wicked

The level of wickedness in her gaze was her resounding reply. She took a step back to allow me room to stand and undress. I started, but with all my buttons and the cufflinks, it was taking up precious time. However, Jax waited patiently as she scanned every area I unveiled. Each piece I handed her, she sat neatly across the bedside chair.

She stood before me and blazed a trail along my naked body with her eyes. How she managed to ignore my uncontrolled dick nudging her stomach was beyond me. Her fingers traced my tattooed arm, studying the art I had collected. “This is hot. A full sleeve. You keep impressing me Chase, and I’m not easily impressed with anyone,” she stated with an intrigued smirk. She took her time admiring my tattoos. When our eyes met, her expression had changed from one of intrigue, to one of domineering control.

Her right palm opened, flashing a set of thorns tattooed there. Dark brown thorny branches decorated the inside of her peachy palm. The level of pain she had to endure for those thorns, was symbolic of what they must have represented. The impressive artistry branched off the vine, snaking around her wrist and extended into her palm like the thin spikes of a rose bush.

“These are indicative of the way I like to fuck.”

Those thorns represented, hard, beautiful, pain. Was she telling me that that was what she intended to deliver to me?

My defiant gaze met hers when I lifted it from her palm. I was convinced, there wasn’t anything she could physically do to harm me, so if her comment was meant to intimidate, it didn’t.

A sassy brow lifted at the doubt I must have failed to keep from my expression. “Have it your way, Chase. You will learn.”

Was she addressing the defiant look I had given her? I believe I was receiving more insight on how she felt, when I had taken control of her in that bathroom. I hadn’t ask permission then, yet I got the impression that she was standing in front of me now, asking for the same thing I had taken from her.

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