by Katee Robert
“Sit, sit. You don’t have to stand there all formally.” He waves a languid hand to the chairs situated on either side of us. I take the left one and pull Jasmine down into my lap. She tenses for half a second and then relaxes into me. I wish I could say that I’m doing this to send a clear message to Hades, but the truth is that I know she’s still shaken and I don’t want her to feel untethered.
And, fuck, yes, I want to mark her as mine in front of the king of this place. She doesn’t wear my collar, but that’s a mere formality at this point.
Hades lifts his brows again, but before he can say something sure to piss me off, Meg walks back into the room. A short nod from her and he turns back to us, all seriousness. “My apologies. We have rules and Ali didn’t follow them. It won’t happen again. His membership will be rescinded.”
And no doubt Hades would take payment for the infraction.
“Thank you.” I urge Jasmine to her feet and stand. “See you around, Hades.”
“No doubt you will.”
I don’t hustle Jasmine out of The Underworld, but I set a pace that doesn’t invite lingering. Even with Hades’s assurances that it won’t happen again, I want to get her home.
Safe.
Chapter 14
Jasmine
Jafar doesn’t stop touching me the entire ride back to his penthouse. It’s not sexual in nature, which I can’t decide if I find a relief or a disappointment. Sex would drive away my concern over the interaction with Ali, over the threat he offers that no one saw fit to tell me about until an hour ago, but it won’t fix things. I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that nothing will fix my current situation.
He offered to give me my trust.
I might laugh if the gesture didn’t make me want to cry. Whether Jafar did it to be cruel or because he honestly thought I’d be able to take it really doesn’t matter. Growing up, I had dreams. Dreams of traveling, of moving through the world and experiencing all the things denied me while I remained under my father’s thumb. Of carving out a space that was mine and mine alone.
All it took was one night out to lock me up and send panic fluttering in my throat. How can I face the entire world if I can’t handle a single club?
Jafar takes my hand and ushers me out of the car. It’s not until we leave the elevator into his penthouse that he pulls me to a stop. “Jasmine … Baby girl … Let me take care of you for a little bit.”
Take care of me.
I know he doesn’t mean it the same way an owner takes care of a pet, but I’m so raw, I can’t differentiate between the two truths. If I was stronger, I’d tell him to fuck off and find my balance on my own without needing to lean on another person.
I’m not stronger.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
Jafar doesn’t hesitate. He lifts me into his arms. He always seems to be carrying me, and another time I’ll have to lay down some ground rules about that, but right now I simply don’t have it in me. I let him carry me back to his room and pull the borrowed clothes from my body. He undresses to the waist but no lower, setting the tone for this interaction. No fucking, then.
Again, that flicker between relief and disappointment. I’m so tangled up, I don’t know which way I’m supposed to go, how I’m supposed to react.
We end up on the bed, me tucked in his lap with the blankets wrapped around both of us. Jafar’s body warms me as much as the blankets do and I finally, finally manage to relax into him.
“There,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.” His big hand smooths down my back and up again, soothing me.
I let my eyes drift shut. Easier to sink into this experience, to let his presence overwhelm my earlier fear. My despair.
Ali is resourceful. I know enough about him to know that. The man didn’t get to be where he’s at now without having a skillset that lends itself to ill deeds. He can frame his narrative as a rescue all he wants, conveniently forgetting that he purchased me from my father, but I know the truth.
Not that the truth matters here. It certainly won’t stop Ali from trying for me again. “He’s not going to stop.”
If I’m looking for comforting lies, I’m looking in the wrong place. He sighs. “I know. I have men looking for him right now. It’s not enough, though. I’m going to take up the search personally.”
“No one could have expected him to accomplish this.” I don’t know why I’m defending these faceless men of his. If they’d done their job, Ali would be … What would he be? Dead? Can I really condone murder?
I think back to way he looked at me this morning, to the way he always seemed to look at me. Yes, I can condone murder. Better him dead than me forced to live within his control.
I don’t know why it’s different with Jafar. As displeased as I am with the way he’s thrust me into these four walls and restricted my ability to move about, there is now real evidence that I’m not ready for more. I hate that weakness, hate how it hamstrings me when I need to be able to run the most. “Promise me that I can leave when I’m ready.”
His hand pauses in the middle of my back. “Elaborate.”
“You can’t keep me locked up here forever. I’ll hate you. I’ll kill you.” My throat tightens, but I force myself to keep speaking, to draw forth this truth into the minuscule space between us. “Don’t make the same mistake my father did.”
He resumes his slow stroking of my back, but there’s a new tension there. “It would be smart to keep you cobbled.”
“You would be working on borrowed time.” I can’t live like this forever. I don’t know what the future holds, but if I wanted to be a dangerous man’s sex toy, I could have married Ali. The thought of his hands on my body sends a shudder through me.
“We’ll talk about this later.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “I recognize that this isn’t ideal for you, but until things are under control, I can’t risk you being hurt.”
If I was a little more idealistic, I’d think he’s expressing concern over my welfare because he cares about me. I know better. The state of my person entirely reflects on Jafar’s power. It did when he dressed me in his shirt and hauled me out of my father’s house over his shoulder. It did when he fingered me in front of the man who holds the territory to the south
And it did when Ali slipped into my room after I was left without protection.
Business. That’s all I am to Jafar. And a warm woman to sink his cock into and play his games. A symbol of his might.
I push against his chest. “I’d like to sleep now.”
“Baby girl.” He captures my chin and lifts my face. His brows are drawn and he doesn’t look particularly happy at my attempt to create distance. “What’s going through that head of yours?”
“Nothing but the truth.”
“Tell me.”
Anger blossoms in me, a fragile flower I cultivate as if my life depends on it. My life may not, but my heart does. I let it bleed into my eyes, let him see exactly how torn and battered I feel. “You have access to everything I am. Allow me a private thought from time to time.”
There’s something on his face, a flicker of indecision, as if I’ve surprised him and he doesn’t know the best way to play this. It’s all a game, after all. Jafar may have mentioned marriage, but if he strong-arms me into going through with it, it will be in name only. I almost smile wryly. Well, I don’t imagine we’ll stop fucking, but there will be no love there. No equality.
I deserve better.
“Let me go.”
“Baby girl,” he says again, and this time he sounds just as tired as I feel. “Haven’t you learned by now? Every part of you belongs to me. Your body, your brain, your heart. All mine.”
This time, when I push away from him, he allows it. The fact that he allows it, that I can’t do even this on my own, it’s too much. I fight my way off the giant bed and stand on shaking legs. “I don’t belong to you.”
“Yes, you do.”
I turn around and walk away. I have to.
If I don’t establish some kind of distance, the smallest kind of distance, right now, then I’m lost forever.
All I want to do is crawl back into that bed and let him tell me that everything will be okay. That he really does care. That no matter how unconventional the beginning of this relationship was, it is a relationship. I want him to tell me a lot of things.
No, not things.
Lies.
And because they’re lies, because he might just deliver them as if they’re the god’s honest truth, I have to walk away.
His voice stops me when I reach the door, the snap of command stilling my feet despite myself. “Jasmine.” I don’t turn, don’t answer. I simply wait. Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait long. “I meant what I said—I’m going after Ali. I might not be home for a few days, but you’ll be safe here.”
I press my lips together, hating how worried I am about him. “Okay.”
“Tink will be here Monday morning.”
He scheduled the appointment with her that I asked for. “Thank you, Daddy.” My lips form the words without thinking, and I can’t even manage to make it sarcastic.
“Be ready at eight Monday night.” Some amusement melts into his low voice. “I’m feeling generous, so I won’t even command you to kneel.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper. I feel broken and filled with shards. The worst part is that I don’t hate the sensation, that I’m looking forward to whatever he has planned Monday night more than I’m looking forward to two days left to my own devices.
If I’m not careful, I might forget myself and grow to love this cage he’s built around me.
That fear, more than anything else, gets me moving again. I walk down the long hallway to the opposite end of the penthouse. My bed feels cold and empty after leaving Jafar’s, but I ignore the sinking in my chest. I have to put some distance between us. He’s too big, too dominant, too overwhelming. Too much. I forget how to fight when he’s touching me. No, that’s not right. I still fight. I love to fight Jafar.
I forget how to fight to win.
Despite my racing thoughts, I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, soft light filters in through the gauzy curtains covering my windows. I sit up and push my hair out of my face. My body hurts in the most delicious way possible, and I press my thighs together, relishing the ache.
A note perches on my nightstand, a short line written in Jafar’s careless scrawl. Call me when you’re up. A phone sits next to it, one I’ve never seen before.
It’s so new and slick, it practically slips from my fingers when I pick it up. The first thing I do is pull up the contacts. There are only two. Tink. Daddy. I press his name before I even have a chance to consider disobeying. With a sigh, I flop back into my oversized pillows and stretch.
It rings three times before he answers. “Afternoon, baby girl.”
“Hi, Daddy.” Every time I say it, it feels more natural. Right and yet a little dirty, all at the same time.
“Did you dream of me?”
That startles a laugh out of me. “You mean did I dream about shoving you out a window? If so, then the answer is yes.”
“Brat.” His chuckle has my body perking up. I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep from squirming. How does he manage to do that? His voice lowers. “Are you still in bed?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have to apologize to you.”
I blink. “Apologize, because …”
“I’m not there to make your pretty pussy feel good right now.”
This time, I can’t keep my little whimper inside. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” I really shouldn’t find his amusement at me sexy, especially considering how we left things earlier, but my reactions to Jafar have never been logical. His voice deepens. “Pretend I’m standing at the foot of your bed and give me a show.”
“I could just go into your office again.”
Another of those delicious chuckles. “You could, but you’re sounding all rumpled and sleepy. I’d hate to push you past that.” The barest of hesitations. “Spread your legs, baby girl.”
“Mmmm.” I kick off my covers and obey, feeling wicked as the cool air licks at my exposed skin. “I like that.”
“I know you do. Now, put me on speaker so you have both your hands.”
It’s so easy to do what he commands in that moderate voice. Even after a few days, I can hear the tension below the low words, can tell that he’s just as affected by this as I am. I put the phone on speaker and set it next to me. “I’m addicted to the feeling of your mouth on my pussy.”
“It’s a mutual addiction.” A pause, and then his voice lashes me. “Can’t have you aching and empty, can we? If I’m not there to fill you up, you’ll have to make do with your fingers.”
I eagerly skate a hand down the center of my body to push two fingers as deep as I can. I must make a sound, something desperate and needy, because he doesn’t hesitate to keep talking, spinning his web of lust tighter around me. “You’re a wicked girl, aren’t you? How many times did you play with that pretty pussy and think about me while you were in your father’s house?”
A small voice tells me to lie, but I’m too far gone already. “A lot.”
“A lot,” he repeats slowly. As if it’s new knowledge. As if we didn’t spend so much of last night reenacting fantasies that we both had during the last five years.
I shouldn’t tell him more, shouldn’t reveal yet another fault line for him to take advantage of. And yet I can’t seem to help it. “Every time we verbally sparred, I’d go upstairs and touch myself. Every time, I’d be just like I am right now. Wet. Aching.”
His low curse is so incredibly vindicating. Each time his facade cracks, just a little, he reminds me that I’m not the only one lost at sea with this arrangement. I fuck myself slowly with my fingers, relishing the tease, the way pleasure builds in slow waves. I cup one breast and pluck at my nipple, the light pain causing desire to spike higher, to bring me closer to the edge.
“Your birthday last year.” He still sounds hoarse with need, but the command is back in his voice. “You wore that little cocktease of a red dress. You stopped in the hallway to fix your shoe.”
Heat suffuses me. “I knew you were there.” I’d bent at the waist intentionally, feeling just as wicked and dirty as I do right now. I hadn’t known then what I wanted to accomplish, had only aimed to make him miss a step.
“It took everything I had not to touch you then. To walk up and drag those lacy black panties to the side and tongue you right there in the hallway.”
I can picture it exactly as he describes. The party was going on in the next room, loud and boisterous like all the parties in that house were. I can feel Jafar behind me, the rough touch as he yanks my panties to the side, his breath on my pussy. I withdraw my fingers to circle my clit. It’s nowhere near as good as his mouth, but it builds the fantasy around me the same way his voice does. “I could come from that. Right there.”
“Better be quiet. If someone walks in …” Another low curse and I know without a shadow a doubt that he’s got his cock in his hand and he’s jerking himself. “You taste too good to stop, baby girl. A man could lose himself in the way you try to fight down those moans of pleasure, in the way you writhe against my tongue. I need to have you coming all over my face.”
“I’ll be quiet. I promise,” I whisper, still circling my clit. There’s not enough air in the room. My whole body tightens in anticipation and I slow my touch, needing to draw it out. “I’ll spread my legs for you. Let you in.”
“Good girl.” His breathing is just as ragged as mine now. “We’re running out of time. Every second—do you hear someone walking our way?”
I can almost feel the heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It’s too much. I press hard on my clit and cry out as I come. Distantly, I can hear him saying my name, the syllables gone hoarse as he follows me over the edge. I lay there in my bed and stare at the ceiling. Difficult to remember that I’m still
furious with him, with the situation, with my entire life. No doubt that’s the point, but I can’t dredge up the energy to be irritated by it. “Thank you.”
“Believe me when I say it’s my pleasure.” Now, I know I hear the amusement in his voice. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Chapter 15
Jasmine
I spend the weekend in a strange sort of haze. I swim, I watch movies, I do my best to entertain myself until I pass out exhausted in my bed.
Every night, Jafar comes to me. He wakes me with a touch, a hand stroking down my spine or through my hair. In the dark of my room, he explores my body with his hands and then his mouth, our respective silences making the entire experience feel like a fever dream. It doesn’t matter if I’m riding his cock or if he’s driving me deeper into the mattress with the force of his thrusts. It’s so surreal, I can almost convince myself I hallucinate the experiences.
Every morning, I wake to find him gone except for a note beside my bed.
By Monday, I’m going out of my fucking mind. I want to see him, to go another round of verbally sparring, to do something other than wait and try not to think too hard about the danger Jafar is in by hunting Ali.
I’m desperate for the distraction Tink represents, and so I’m impatiently waiting for her when she walks through the elevator doors. Today she’s dressed in a pair of flirty floral culottes that kick out with every step and a white lace top that only seems emphasized by the bra I can see through it. She gives me a look that’s almost an apology, and it’s the only warning I have before a second woman pushes another rack of clothing into the penthouse.
Even in everyday clothing, I’d recognize Meg anywhere. She wears a black jumpsuit that dips low between her breasts, offering a flash of pale skin that is all the more tantalizing because it’s the only thing remotely scandalous about her outfit. She offers me a slow smile. “I hope you don’t mind my crashing the party.”
