Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
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.”