Page 31 of Desperate Measures
As if I can find words with him pushing two fingers into me. I tense, waiting for him to withdraw his hand as 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 envy 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 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 Hook 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 analyze the details I was able to take in. “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 just 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 had walked into this place without Jafar’s hand on my back, I would have turned and fled. The sheer number of people is sensory overload.
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 of 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.?2 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.
