by Katee Robert
“Yes.” If anything, his tone gets gentler, a direct counterpoint to the pain of his grip on my hair. He cups one breast and circles my nipple with his thumb. “Spread your thighs and let Daddy give you a kiss.”
A shiver works its way through my whole body. I want to keep struggling, but I want his mouth on me even more. Still, I hesitate. “I want to be good.”
“No, you don’t.” His voice still has a sliver of disappointment in it, but he’s stopped hiding the dark desire written across his face. Like I’m being bad, and he’s allowing it, but it’s turning him on despite himself. I know it’s just play, but power still sizzles through me, driving my desire higher.
I lean back on my hands and spread my thighs. Slowly, tentatively. I want what he’s offering, but the shame I feel isn’t totally feigned. This man is supposed to be my enemy, but I’m starting to fear I’ll do anything he asks as long as he keeps drawing forth my darkest desires and putting them into action.
He releases my hair and steps back, taking me in. Jafar’s gaze drags over my pussy, heavy and hot. “Wider.” I obey faster this time, and he chuckles darkly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To force my hand.” He goes to his knees in front of me and jerks my hips to the very edge of the desk. “You’re practically dripping. It would be a shame for any of you to go to waste.” He drags his tongue up my center and I can’t stop myself from crying out.
Jafar leans back and slaps my clit. “None of that.” His expression goes forbidding. “My men can’t be walking around with cockstands for a pussy that isn’t theirs. It belongs to me and me alone, do you understand?”
I wet my lips. “Yes, Daddy.”
“I’m not a cruel man. I won’t have you moaning and screaming and tempting them to taste you just like I am now.” He grips my thighs hard enough to bruise, wrenching them wider yet. “You make too much noise, and I stop. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be quiet. I promise.” I can barely think straight as I look down my body at the tableau he’s created. I look just as much the little slut as he’d described me. My breasts are out, my skirt hiked up around my waist, my pussy exposed and begging for him. As I hold my breath, he dips down and gives me a long lick, his gaze holding mine.
It’s sinful and decadent and I never want it to stop.
Jafar wedges his hands under my ass and lifts me to his mouth the same way he did in the car. As if he can’t get close enough, can’t drive his tongue deep enough into me. As if he’ll devour me whole.
I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in far too long.
If he consumes me entirely, maybe he can take my guilt, my shame, my fear.
He can take everything.
Chapter 12
Jasmine
I half expect Jafar to bring me to orgasm as quickly as he has the last two times. I really should know better by now. He never does the expected, and this moment is no exception. He explores my pussy with his mouth as if we have all the time in the world. It’s all too easy to pretend that we’re actually in my father’s office. That he sent Jafar to deliver my punishment instead of doing it himself. That Jafar lost control and finally touched me.
That he’s really going to fuck me on my father’s desk.
I whimper and everything stops. Jafar lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head sadly. “I told you.”
“Wait.” I reach for him, trying to move his mouth back to where I need him, but he catches my wrists and forces them to meet at the small of my back. “Jafar, Daddy, please.”
But he ignores my pleading and stands slowly. I press my lips together, torn between being quiet and saying whatever it takes to get his mouth on me again. He gives me another of those long looks that seems like he can reach into my mind and draw forth every fantasy I’ve ever had. “You want to come?”
“Yes, please,” I whisper.
“You want me to reward you for bad behavior.”
“Yes.” I shake my head. “No. I—I don’t know.”
He wraps his hand around my hair, and I know where we’re headed even before he nudges me off the desk and guides me to my knees in front of him. I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop squirming as if the limited friction of my thighs is even close to enough to get me off. It’s not, but it feels naughty to luxuriate in denied pleasure.
Jafar looks down his body at me, taking me in with dark eyes. He’s still dressed to perfection, his suit barely rumpled from our struggles. His cock presses against his slacks and my mouth waters at being this close to doing something I’ve always wanted to do. He strokes a devastatingly gentle hand down my face. “You want to be a good girl? Prove it. Earn your reward.”
I don’t point out that sucking his cock is hardly good girl behavior. It doesn’t matter. This is the game we play, and I love it. I undo his pants with shaking fingers and drag down the zipper. Seconds later, he’s filling my hands. Long and broad and perfect. I’m too impatient to be cautious as I suck him down, reveling in the feeling of him filling me in a completely new way. His hand tightens on my hair, holding me back, but I fight the restraint and make a frustrated noise.
“Slow,” he murmurs.
No.
I don’t want slow and careful. I want rough and ready and everything he can give me. I dig my nails into his hips, pricking him the same way my frustration pricks me.
“Wicked girl.” He shifts his grip, keeping one hand in my hair and tilting my head back a little. “You want me to fuck your mouth.”
“Mmm.”
He uses his free hand to touch my left wrist. “It’s too much, you let me know.”
I make another sound of assent. Jafar might like playing with the darker edge of desire the same way I crave, but he always manages to check in with me. To make sure I’m right there with him.
It makes me feel far safer than I have any right to.
He holds my head immobile as he begins to move. Slowly at first, testing my limits. I’ve never had a sensitive gag reflex, but it’s not a trait I was particularly grateful for until the moment his cock bumps the back of my throat. It’s not a comfortable feeling, but I breathe through my nose and relax into it as best I can. I want this.
I need this.
“That’s it, baby girl.” His soft praise lights me up from within, and I can’t find the strength to hate the feeling. Instead, I luxuriate in it as he begins to move in earnest, thrusting between my lips, forcing me to relax into it or choke.
My eyes water and he wipes my tears away with a gentle thumb, so at odds with the rough hold on my hair. “Next time we do this, you’re going to swallow me down. Every single fucking drop.” He slams into me again and again, his voice low and rough and as brutal as the way he fucks my mouth. “But not tonight. Tonight I’m coming all over those tits you like flashing at everyone. Remind you who you belong to.”
Once again, I’m left shaking and wondering if he can pull an orgasm from me with his words alone. Coming on my tits? It’s dirty and a little degrading and I want it more than anything in that moment.
He wrenches me off his cock and fists it with his free hand, jerking himself once, twice, a third time. He comes in great spurts that lash my skin, the almost-agony on his face turning me on as much as his marking me does.
His shuddering exhale is the only warning I get before he releases me and steps back. I’m left swaying on my knees as he tucks his cock back into his pants and looks down at me. “You love this shit.”
To fight or to embrace the truth?
I meet his gaze. “I love this shit, Daddy.”
He pulls me to my feet, and then his mouth is on mine and nothing else matters. Claiming me with teeth and tongue, marking me as his with this searing kiss the same way he has with his mouth and hands and cock and come.
Jafar owns me, body and soul.
I’m too drunk on pleasure to fear that truth. Not tonight. There’s plenty of time to let it sink in, to worry about the future tomorrow.
When he finally lifts
his head, I have to cling to him to keep my feet. From his indulgent smile, he knows it. “Tell me how you want it.”
No question to his meaning, not with his cock already going hard again. I almost tell him to bend me over the desk, but that’s not the answer I give. “I want to ride you.” He’s some kind of wizard to pull the truth from me again and again, even when it would serve me better to lie.
He moves to one of the low leather chairs and sinks onto it with a grace I envy. As I watch, he undoes his pants and pulls his cock out. “Come take your reward, baby girl. You’ve more than earned it.”
I unknot my shirt with fumbling fingers and shrug out of it. I’m still sticky with him, but I don’t care. I’m not ready to wipe the mark away. After a hesitation, I slide out of the skirt, too.
I like the sexy outfit, but there’s something particularly decadent about climbing into his lap while he’s mostly fully clothed and I’m completely naked. I feel like the little slut he’s named me, like he can do whatever he wants to me and I’ll love every second of it. I’ve been captive too long. If I can’t embrace the rest of the world, I’ll embrace the endless variety that fucking brings.
This is just another flavor of it.
I’m so wet, I’m practically dripping. Jafar drapes his arms over the back of the chair, leaving me to guide this play. I’m not in charge, though. I’m a fool if I believe otherwise.
I guide his cock into me and sink down until he’s sheathed to the hilt. Even with the earlier orgasms and his fingers readying me half the night, it’s still an adjustment. I roll my hips experimentally, shifting as the almost-pain of him melts into pure pleasure. “Oh.”
“Mmm.” His gaze tracks every flicker of my expression, reading me. “This is my fantasy, baby girl.”
I blink. “What?”
“That I’m working late. The house is quiet around us, everyone off doing their own shit. And you walk through the door wearing nothing but that cocktease of a robe. We don’t need to talk. You just drop the robe, climb into my lap, and take my cock just like this.” He cups my breasts roughly, tugging at my nipples. “You don’t even lock the door. You’re too eager to get me inside you.”
I brace my hands on his shoulders and lift myself almost all the way off his cock, only to slide down again and take him deeper yet. I roll my hips, rocking against him. Yes, this is exactly what I need. “I need your cock too much to worry about someone walking in.”
“You have my cock.” The way he says it almost sounds like he means something else, but desire wraps too tightly around us for me to divine what.
I rock faster, my orgasm building with every stroke. “I want them to walk in.” I can’t stop fucking him, can’t stop talking, simply can’t stop. “I want them to watch me ride your cock, to see you slide into my body, to see you claim me.” So many things I shouldn’t want, but I burned shouldn’t to ash tonight. I don’t care what a good girl would want, because I do want these things.
And Jafar seems only too happy to provide them.
“You want them to watch.” His voice is so low, it rumbles through my body in the most delicious of ways. He finally touches me, grasping my chin and bringing my gaze to him. “That’s just for starters. Yes, they’ll watch. They’ll fist their cocks and imagine it’s them you’re so desperate for.” He pulls me closer yet, until his wicked promises ghost against my lips. “And next time, I’ll crook my finger and one of them will join. We’ll pass you around just like you’re craving, let you fuck us until you run out of desire.”
I can’t breathe.
Every time he mentions the idea of more people in the room, more people inside me, I can barely process the sheer need that rolls through me. “My mouth?” I breathe.
“Mouth. Cunt.” His other hand moves down to trace my crack. “Ass.” His slow grin has me grinding harder on him, fighting to take his cock deeper yet. “But not tonight. Tonight is just for watching.”
He releases my ass and reaches behind him. I’m still trying to figure out what he’s doing when he uses his grip on my chin to turn my head to the wall bordering the hallway.
It’s completely transparent now, and there’s a crowd watching. Men and women, both. I pick out Meg near the front. She meets my gaze and smiles slowly, sending a bolt of sheer heat through me. “Oh, god.”
“This is what you wanted.”
Not a question, but demanding an answer all the same. “Yes, Daddy.”
He pulls me off his cock and rearranges us, moving to bend me over the chair. He pulls the tie out of my hair and then digs his fist into it, using the hold to turn my face to look at the clear window.
And then he’s shoving inside me, somehow so much deeper than when I rode him. “Don’t close your eyes. Watch them and know that they’d give damn near anything to be in here with us.”
Yes.
I keep a white knuckled grip on the back of the chair as he slams into me. I look at the people watching. I can’t help it. I don’t want to.
Lust. So much lust, I could drown in it. They’re watching me and I know the angle has our bodies in profile. They can see his cock sliding into my pussy, can see my breasts bounce with every stroke, can see my wetness coating my thighs.
Yes, yes, yes.
“Touch that greedy little clit of yours. I want you coming around my cock. Put on a show, baby girl. I know how much you crave being the center of attention.”
I have to shift to brace my hand on the seat of the cushion and the new position leaves my ass in the air like an offering Jafar is only too happy to take advantage of. As I circle my clit, he does something that changes the angle and I can’t help but cry out. “Yes, Daddy!”
He does it again, working that one spot inside me while I work my clit. I want to last, to draw out the show, to keep this forbidden feeling going longer. It’s too good. Too perfect.
I tumble over the edge, Jafar’s name on my lips as oblivion reaches up and sucks me under.
I must drift off at some point after Jafar cleans us up and wraps me in a warm blanket in his lap, because I wake in an unfamiliar room alone. I sit up and stretch, smiling at the ache in my body. The earlier nerves of being in this place are long gone, chased away by the grounding effect Jafar has on me. Foolish to trust him enough for that, even more foolish to let him draw me back to earth one rough stroke at a time. I’m not sure what other option I have.
I agreed to play his game the moment I ran from him.
I don’t see how to win this, though. He holds all the cards, and the only advantage I have is that he wants me. That’s it. A poor advantage as such things go. Jafar isn’t one to lose his head and let his cock take control.
The door opens and my heart actually skips a beat. He’s back.
Except the man who steps out of the shadows isn’t Jafar.
It’s Ali.
I yank the sheet up to clutch against my chest. “What are you doing here?”
He grins. Ali has a rakish short of charm that dazzled my father. It doesn’t dazzle me. No one else seems to notice or care that his smiles never reach his black eyes. That there’s a mean glint there that raises the small hairs on the back of my neck every time I’m in the same room as him. That, from the moment we met, he looked at me like he owned me.
And now I’m naked in a room with him.
“Ali, what are you doing here?” Surely he’s not a member? If he was, Jafar would have said something. I glance past him to the door, and he laughs.
“He’s busy. We have a few minutes.” He moves closer, but stops when I jerk back. His mop of curly hair might be charming on another man, and his slow smile certainly would be. But this isn’t another man. This is Ali. “Jasmine, I’m going to save you.”
I blink. “What?”
“He killed your father. Did you know that?” He takes another step. He’s nearly to the bed. “Took him into your backyard and shot him like a dog that needed to be put down.”
I know my father is dead, of course. I won
’t mourn that man. I refuse to.
But I don’t know how I feel about this apparent execution Ali describes. “Please leave.”
“You’re right. No way can I get you out of here with all of Hades’s people around.” He reaches out, startlingly fast, and grabs my hand. I lose my grip on the sheet and it falls to my waist. Ali stares at my breasts for a long moment and I stare back, refusing to fight him despite the fear leaving me cold. I’m afraid of what he might do if I try to pull my hand back.
Playing that way with Jafar is one thing. Play. It might not look like it to an observer, but I know the truth.
Ali isn’t Jafar. This isn’t play. I want to shower off the filthy way he makes me feel with a single look. Fear clogs my throat, slowing my thoughts. A scream builds in my throat, a sound full of terror and rage. It leaves me hoarse from the fight not to set it free. “He’ll be back soon.”
I mean it as a threat. Jafar will kill Ali. Even if he didn’t intend to before now, if he walks in on this scene, I have no doubt how he’ll react. He won’t misread the situation.
Ali takes it another way. “You’re right.” He drops my hand. “Be ready, Jazz. I’m going to get you out.” He lunges forward and takes my mouth in a brutal kiss that sends shards of ice tearing through me. “Until then.” He’s up and out of the room before I can react.
I stare at the door until I’m sure he won’t return. Only then does my stomach lurch sickeningly. I scramble off the bed and through the open door to the small bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to be sick. I retch again and again, unable to stop feeling his mouth against mine. A promise that’s nothing more than a threat.
He wants me for the same reason Jafar wants me—a trophy in their game of tug-a-war. An outward representation of the power they claimed. Or, rather, the power Ali wants to claim.
“Jasmine?”
I tense for half a second before I register Jafar’s rumbling voice. Not Ali.
And then he’s there, crouching next to me. “Jasmine, are you okay?” Jafar reaches out, but stops before he makes contact. “Did I hurt you?”
