17. Yasmina
Yasmina
I t would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with Jafar.
As the remains of our dinner are taken away, leaving us staring over the table at each other, I’m forced to admit the truth—I’m more than halfway there.
I wish I could find joy in that knowledge.
Love is supposed to be this wonderful, all-encompassing feeling that sends flowers springing to life inside me and has me walking around with a foolish grin on my face. This doesn’t feel anything like that.
It feels like being in the middle of a violent storm, and Jafar is the only thing anchoring me in place. Everything hurts . If butterflies ever existed in my stomach, they’ve been replaced by something with claws and teeth.
These violent delights have violent ends.
Romeo and Juliet is not a romantic arc I wish to mirror, throwing away everything for a man. At least Juliet had something before love swept her away. My family, what little of it there was, has been murdered. Any power I possess is all illusion. Enemies lurk in the shadows.
If I were a smarter woman, I would number Jafar among them.
“I have something special planned for you tonight.”
His low words coax me from my dark thoughts, and I’m only too happy to let his sheer presence wash away my concerns. At least for a little while. Tomorrow is soon enough to worry about the future, about the implications of what Jafar has laid out tonight.
He wants to keep me happy. That should be a positive. I want to be happy. But my needs and his are forever at odds. He wants me content in this place. I need to be free.
Tomorrow. I’ll form a plan tomorrow.
I finally dredge up a smile for him. “Something special?”
“Yes.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. I tense, half expecting him to toss me over his shoulder again, but Jafar seems content to tug me along behind him. “Under other circumstances, this would go down at the Underworld, but some adjustments were required.”
Because of Ali.
I should be happy Jafar wants to keep me out of that man’s hands.
I am happy about that. It’s losing the Underworld as a destination away from the penthouse that I can’t stand.
My cage keeps closing tighter around me, the trap teeth digging in deeper to my limbs.
A constant reminder that I have no control of my life.
Jafar leads me into the lounge, and I stop short. “Meg?”
Meg leans against the bar, a wicked smile painting her lips. “Apparently play time came early.” She winks. “You should thank your Daddy for me. I’m truly a gift.”? 1
I turn to Jafar. “You…” He set this up for me, because I expressed interest.
He sinks his hands into my hair and pulls me forward to press against his chest. His dark eyes see everything I can’t put into words.
“It’s my pleasure to meet your needs, baby girl.
All of them.” His glances over my shoulder, and I don’t know what knowledge has passed between him and Meg, but I can hear her moving behind me.
“Working up to the other fantasy starts here.”
The other fantasy.
The one where he invites more people. Where we jump from them watching to them taking me up on the invitation simmering in my blood. I open my mouth, but it’s as if all the air has disappeared from the room. It takes me three tries to force out the words. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He tugs on my hair, forcing my attention to narrow in on him. “It’s the same rules. Safe word and it stops.”
Which allows me to resist, to fight them, to drive my desire higher every time they overpower me. I lick my lips. “I understand.”
“Good.”
Just like that, he goes cold, his expression closing down in a way that has my heart leaping into my chest. He releases my hair and grasps my chin. “You’ve been teasing again, baby girl.”
“No,” I whisper. I jerk away, and he allows me to take a step before he spins me around and pins me against his chest. Meg’s moved to the couch, and she has a tumbler of amber-colored liquid dangling from one hand and her legs crossed.
She’s wearing another suit, the gray pants perfectly tailored to her body and the white blouse translucent enough that I can see the faint outline of her nipples through it.
Her mass of dark-brown hair is pulled back from her face, and she’s done something with her makeup that emphasizes the wicked slyness in her blue eyes.
Dark-red lipstick finishes the look, and yes, my entire body goes tight at the realization that she’s going to do more than look tonight.
Jafar moves closer to the couch, forcing me in front of him. “I invite Meg over for a nice drink, and you come in here in that dress.”
“You bought me this dress,” I protest, pushing back against him, trying not to roll my ass against his hard cock.
Wanton. Every time we play this game, Jafar makes me feel absolutely wanton .
He boils me down to my very essence, to pure lust, pulling forth fantasy after fantasy and delivering them without qualm. The man is addiction personified.
“I bought you that dress to wear for me .” He moves us forward another step. “Not so you can flash your pussy at our guests.”? 2
Meg takes a sip of her drink, as relaxed as if we’re having a normal conversation and Jafar isn’t forcing me closer and closer to her in short steps designed to draw out the journey. She tilts her head to the side. “She’s got a pretty pussy, Jafar. No wonder she wants to show it off.”
“You’re wrong,” I whisper.
“Am I?” She shrugs as if she doesn’t care one way or another. “I think your Daddy is right.”
“She likes to play the tease.”
The promise of punishment has me struggling in earnest. I dig in my heels and thrash, the movements driving the hem of my dress higher.
Jafar pins my wrists at the small of my back and tsks. “Look at her, Meg. Putting on a show even now.”
I struggle harder, but he bands his other arm around my waist and lifts me off my feet entirely. Two steps and we’re to the couch.
I bite my bottom lip. “Stop.”
“Jafar.” Meg’s voice is low, her amusement as cutting as Jafar’s threats. “Your hospitality leaves something to be desired if you can’t even train your girl correctly.”
“We’re a work in process.” He moves my hands up to either side of his neck. “Keep them there.”
“But—”
“If you’re going to disobedient, I’ll tie you down.”
Oh god.
Meg leans forward, which is right around the time I realize she’s even with my hips, where my short dress has ridden up to indecent heights. She runs her thumbs along the hem of the dress, inching it a little higher, baring me. “No panties. A liar in addition to a tease.”
“I did tell you.” Jafar kicks my feet apart and spears a finger deep inside me. He withdraws before I can do more than gasp and holds it up. Another of those tsks that I love and hate in equal measure. “Meg, she’s ten seconds from getting off, all because she’s put you in a bad way.”
“Wicked girl,” Meg murmurs. She looks over my shoulder, and I have no idea what she and Jafar communicate in that look.
They have a history, but somehow the very thing that made me jealous a few days ago seems so…
mundane. Something left over from the world of shouldn’t .
I let it drift away as Meg runs her hands up my thighs.
For all her angles, she’s so much softer than Jafar, her hands smooth where his are rough.
I focus on her red lips and lick my own.
She catches the movement, and her low laugh has me clenching my thighs. “I think a punishment is in order.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” He pulls my dress up my body and over my head, leaving the stretchy fabric tangled around my wrists on the other side of his head.
It’s not truly trapping me, but the sensation feels like being trapped.
Jafar spreads his hand over my lower stomach, forcing me still.
“Have a taste, Meg. My baby girl is sweet as fuck.”
She parts my pussy with her thumbs and breathes against my clit. “No coming.”
“No coming,” he confirms.
I can’t look away as she closes the last of the distance between us and gives my clit a teasing lick.
Jafar always seems to go down on me like I’m the very air he needs to breathe.
Not so with Meg. She tests me with little touches of her tongue, her gaze on my face as if filing away every minute expression.
Jafar chuckles. “So fucking prissy.”
“Mmm.” She lifts her head, but her hand replaces her mouth, stroking me in light touches that curl my toes and have me fighting against Jafar’s hold.
“How long did it take for her to come the first time? You went after her like a starving man, didn’t you?
” Her smug smile contains a plethora of knowledge.
“Finesse, my friend.” She pushes two fingers into me, expertly finding the spot on my inner wall that makes my knees go out.
He adjusts his grip, catching me under my thighs and spreading me wide. Jafar holds me easily, as if he can bear my weight the entirety of the night if he’s so inclined. His bruising grip only makes the feeling of Meg’s fingers inside me all the hotter.
I gasp out a breath. “Daddy, please. Please let me come.”
“See.” She arches a brow. “Finesse.”
“Enough.”
I sob out a protest, but Meg gives my pussy one last long kiss and slouches back against the couch. She’s left her mark on me in the way of her lipstick, and there’s something so obscenely sexy about seeing it smeared across the most private part of me. I want more. I want it now. “Please.”
“Ah ah.” Jafar sets me back on the ground, yanks my dress off my wrists, and uses a hand on my shoulder to drive me to my knees.
“You don’t get to tease her and then have us playing with your cunt for the rest of the night.
Orgasms are a reward for good girls, and you’ve hardly been that.
” He goes to his knees behind me, once again using his body to force mine closer to Meg. “Are you wet, Meg?”