Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Jasmine

Across the room, the woman—the Domme—finishes the spanking and is stroking her hands along the tender flesh of her submissive’s ass. She reaches between his thighs to cup his balls, and there’s no mistaking his enthusiasm at her touch.

It’s so much hotter to see in person than it is to read about. I shift in Jafar’s lap, rubbing my thighs together. His cock is a hard length against my ass, but he simply keeps me in the gentle cage of his arms. His thumb idly strokes the underside of my breast, and he plays the fingers of his other hand across the sensitive skin of my thigh. Close to where I ache for him. So close.

I wonder if he’ll touch me if I answer his question.

What’s going on in my head?

I wish I knew.

I wasn’t prepared for this. That truth becomes clearer every second I spend in this place. I’ve read about these things, fantasized about them, come more times than I can count to those very fantasies. But seeing in person? It feels like standing in the middle of a hurricane, each gust of wind tearing away a piece of the wall I spent my entire life building up around me.

The only thing steady is the man at my back, and if that’s not the very definition of irony, I’m not sure what is. He’s the reason I’m in this situation to begin with, adrift with no compass and no map, completely helpless in the face of the elements.

I take a deep breath and a leap of faith. “I like that he’s on display.”

“Watching or fantasizing about being in his place?” Jafar dips his hand farther beneath my dress and draws a single finger over my pussy.

“Both.” I part my legs. I can’t help it. I want him to touch me, and I don’t care that people might see.

Or maybe the fact that people might watch only adds to the lust filling me to the brim and beyond.

“Wicked girl.” He keeps up that gentle touch, torturing me with need. “You want that pretty little cunt on display. You know damn well that anyone who looks at you will want a taste.” He nips my earlobe, the sharp pain making me gasp and squirm against him. “Just for that, I should let them. Blindfold you and put you in a spreader bar so you can’t play the bashful virgin.” Another stroke of that evil finger, this time directly over my clit. “I’ll let them eat your pussy until you’re begging for mercy, and then I’ll fuck you right there in front of them to remind everyone—to remind you—of who you belong to.”

I shouldn’t want exactly what he’s describing.

Except, no. That’s not me talking. That’s the shame I’ve had drilled into my head since before I could speak. Good girls do this. Girl girls don’t do that.

Good girls don’t want their pussies licked by strangers.

Good girls certainly don’t want to be claimed in the most intimate and public way possible by a man who’s supposed to be the enemy.

Fuck. That.

I relax against Jafar, inch by torturous inch. I let my legs drape on either side of his thighs, let him have full access to my body. The dress still hides anything too intimate from view, but it’s not about that. It’s about accepting what I want without “shouldn’t” involved. “Is that supposed to be a punishment or a reward?”

His deep laugh startles me. Have I ever actually heard him laugh before? Jafar drags his mouth over my bare shoulder. “That answers my question. Another night, baby girl, and we’ll see how you can earn that experience.”

I shiver. So many experiences I want, so many I don’t have enough information to know I want.

A group of people walk through the door, and a man peels away from them to head in our direction. Jafar murmurs in my ear, “Remember the rules.”

Eyes down. Silence.

As if I can find words with him pushing two fingers into me. I tense, waiting for him to withdraw his hand at the man takes the chair across from us. Jafar doesn’t. He just keeps fucking me slowly with his fingers.

My dress covers me, yes, but the slinky fabric hides nothing of the movement of Jafar’s hand. There is absolutely no question to what he’s doing to me. I don’t know what I expect, but the man glances down, grins, and slouches back in his chair as if he has conversations with couples in the midst of finger fucking every day. Who knows? Perhaps he does.

“Jafar.”

“Hook.”

I try to concentrate on what they’re saying, but Jafar pushes a third finger into me and then starts slowly circling my clit with his thumb. I let my head fall back against his shoulder and focus on keeping my moans from escaping. If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to come right here in front of this stranger, and that knowledge only makes my pleasure spike hotter.

I writhe, but Jafar shifts his free hand to band across my stomach, holding me still as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. If not for his hard cock against my ass, I wouldn’t have any indication that he’s affected by what he’s doing to me. His dry tone as he speaks with Hook certainly doesn’t give anything away.

He increases the pressure and that’s all I need. My orgasm bows my back and I grip his wrist as I ride his hand, unable to stop myself from grinding down against his fingers, soaking up every bit of pleasure he gives me.

Hook booms out a laugh. “Christ, Jafar, why are you wasting time talking with me when you have her willing to ride you like that?”

“Business first, Hook. Always.”

I open my eyes to find Hook watching me. Watching us. His expression is a little mean, but it reeks of jealousy rather than anything as simple as enmity. He pushes to his feet and his fitted pants don’t hide the fact that he enjoyed the show. He catches my look and grins. “You get bored with this asshole, you’re more than welcome to come play with me.”

Meg is more compelling than any single person has right to be. Hades scares me a little, because I’m sure his charm covers up unplumbed danger, but he’s just as compelling in his own way. Hook is attractive enough. He’s built lean in a way that makes me think of a sword—one wrong move and an enemy won’t even feel the cut until they’re bleeding out on the floor. Just business, and in that way he’s likely no different from Jafar.

The difference is that Jafar cares about me enough not to want to break me open for his pleasure. To Hook, I’m simply a curiosity and I have no doubt he’d be careless with me. Again, nothing personal, but he wouldn’t stick around long enough to ensure I wasn’t bleeding out on the floor from a wound, imagined or otherwise.

Jafar slips his hand free of my dress and presses his fingers to my lips. I instinctively suck them deep, one at a time, tasting myself on his touch. He chuckles when Hook groans and palms the front of his pants. “She’s taken, Hook. Find your own.”

“Too many choices to tie myself down with one.” He grins and then tips a mocking bow to us. “See you around, Jafar. I trust you won’t go back on your word with me the same way you did with Balthazar.”

There’s nothing in Jafar’s voice to indicate the way he tensed beneath me. “Don’t cross me and my word is as good as yours.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Another of those booming laughs and he ambles away.

Jafar kisses my temple. “What did you think of our friend Hook?”

Is that a trick question? How was I supposed to concentrate on anything at all with him touching me like that? I think back, trying to come up with something. “He’s afraid you’re going to attempt to expand your territory and he’s worried he can’t hold his.”

“What makes you say that?” As always, his tone gives nothing away. He could be asking about the weather for all the interest he shows.

I know better by now. “If he was confident, he wouldn’t feel the need to seek you out. He’d make preparations to hold his territory—he’d be a fool not to—but he’d keep all word of those preparations to himself so he’d have a chance at surprising you.”

“Well done.” He sets me on my feet and straightens my dress. “Are you ready for your reward?”

I’m still reeling from the balloon of warmth in my chest that his praise brought into existence. I barely manage to keep from pressing my hand to the spot between my breasts, sure that if I do I’ll feel the physical evidence of the change in temperature there. I lick my lips. “Uh … Yes. Yes, I’m ready for my reward.”

He doesn’t stand immediately. He just watches me with a strange look on his face, as if he can’t decide whether to be proud of me or to do something to put me in my place. I find myself holding my breath, waiting to see which side of the line he falls on.

This whole thing.

Everything. My life now. The room behind me, filled with people in various stages of pain and pleasure. The man sitting before me.

I thought I was prepared. I spent years reading everything I could get my hands on. The romance novels, yes, but also tomes of nonfiction on everything from current politics to gardening to law and contracts. I always planned to escape. The timing never felt right. No, that’s not correct. It had nothing to do with timing and everything to do with my courage failing me before I could take that first step. Tonight reinforces that lack of courage. I can fake it with the best of them, but the truth is that I’m terrified. If I walked into this place without Jafar’s hand on my back, I would have turn and fled. The sheer number of people is sensory overload enough.

It’s not until he stands and pulls me against his chest that I realize I’m shaking. Weak. So incredibly weak when all I want is to be strong. I close my eyes and let my forehead rest against his shoulder for a beat, two. On the third, I raise my head and try to push away.

“Not yet.” His hand is at the back of my neck again, his favorite spot. He easily holds me to him.

To be honest, I don’t fight that hard.

“I want this.” This. The sex. The life outside my father’s walls. The freedom I can’t quite seem to wrap my mind around. “Why am I struggling?”

“Learn to crawl before you start sprinting.”

He said something to that nature before, but I barely paid attention to it. I’m paying attention now. I fight against the despair threatening to steal my breath. I am strong. I am. It doesn’t matter that I don’t feel strong in this moment, that if he wasn’t here to hold me up, I might fall to my knees and never get up. I close my eyes, ashamed of the way they burn. “I don’t know how to do that.” I don’t know how to do any of it, and that knowledge stings just as much as the tears I refuse to allow to fall.

“I’ll show you.” He takes my hand and tugs me toward the back of the room.

I dig in my heels out of instinct, but as often as Jafar and I are at each other’s throats, he hasn’t done anything tonight except keep me on my feet. Yes, I know being here serves his ultimate purpose and that he’s showing me off like a prize for a conquering king, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s been startlingly careful with me.

I can trust him this far, can’t I?

I keep my gaze pinned to the middle of his back as he navigates the room. It’s full of significantly more people than when we first arrived. I get flashes of men and women of every age, shape, and color engaged in various sexual and painful displays. Some of them seem to just be here for the conversation, though impossible to miss the way most have someone kneeling at their side. Eyes downcast. Silent.

Jafar’s not the only one who extends those rules, apparently.

He stops in front of yet another door, though this one doesn’t have anyone guarding it. As soon as we step through, quiet descends and I breathe out a sigh of relief, some of the tension bleeding out of my body. I can do this. Whatever this is.

Doors line the hallway, and it takes me several steps before I realize what’s strange about the walls. “They’re mirrors?”

“No.” He pulls me toward a section of the hallway bathed in light and I finally understand. The wall isn’t a mirror.

It’s a window.

There are two women in the room. One is an icy blonde so beautiful that it almost hurts to look at her. The other is dark haired, but I can’t see her face because it’s buried between the blonde’s spread legs. “Oh.” I take in the cuffs holding the brunette’s arms captive behind her back. Her bare back is red and I realize why as the blonde brings a flogger down across her skin. The blonde lifts her gaze and meets mine, the sheer strength behind it driving me back a step.

“Oh.” I press my hand to my lips. “Do they …”

“Yes, they like being watched, and yes, they like knowing they’re being watched.” He doesn’t give me more opportunity to watch before pulling me several doors down. I catch sight of a discrete green light above the handle and then Jafar opens the door and tugs me into the room.

Lights flip on the second we step inside. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s a relatively normal looking bedroom. Jafar clears his throat, and I drag my attention to him. He points to a series of switches next to the door. “You control the transparency of the wall here.” His finger moves to the red button. “Panic button. It will bring Hades’s people running.” He points to a camera tucked into the corner of the room. “Once your membership passes the three-month mark, you have the option of turning off the camera while you play.”

“My membership.”

His lips quirk. “Starts tonight.”

A lot of information to process, but I allow it to slide away for when I’m alone. Right now, it’s easier to focus on Jafar and what he expects of me. To anticipate my reward.

He leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “Your reward, your choice, baby girl. How do you want to play this?”

I open my mouth to tell him that he’s ruining the fantasy, but it’s not the truth. He’s giving me a choice, a clear choice. He has been since the beginning, even if it suited my purposes to pretend otherwise. Part of me still wants to push him, to make him choose so I don’t have to. The rest of me knows Jafar won’t let me get away with that. I lick my lips, gathering the shreds of my courage. “Make me, Daddy.”

His dark eyes flare hot enough to scald me to the core, but he doesn’t move. “Remind me of your safe word.”

Remind myself, he means. “Rajah,” I whisper. The thrill I get out of the fight, out of telling him no, is unparalleled, but it only works if there’s no miscommunication between us. I know that. I’ve always known that.

I take a step back and he pushes off the wall, stalking toward me. My heart leaps in fear and desire. Yes, this. This is what I need. Him chasing me down and fucking me back to safe ground. I step out of my heels and pick up my skirt so I won’t trip on it. There isn’t much space to maneuver in this room. I have to get the bed between us.

I bolt right as he grabs for me. He catches my skirt and yanks me back a step, but I’m not going down so quickly. I jerk away, ripping the fragile fabric. The sound only makes me hotter. Wetter.

He sees it. Of course he sees it. His grin is nearly feral. “I’m going to rip that dress right off your body.”

“You’re going to try.” I scramble back to the edge of the bed, only then realizing what a poor plan this was.

Or a brilliant one.

He’s on me before I reach the corner of the mattress. Instead of tackling me, Jafar hooks an arm around my waist and tosses me onto the bed. I land and flop onto my back, aiming a kick at his head. He laughs. The bastard laughs. I kick out again, and this time I make contact right in the center of his chest.

Too late, I realize he allows it.