Page 36 of Desperate Measures
“I’m not a cruel man. I won’t have you moaning and screaming and tempting them to taste you just like I am now.” He grips my thighs hard enough to bruise, wrenching them wider yet. “You make too much noise, and I stop. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be quiet. I promise.” I can barely think straight as I look down my body at the tableau he’s created. I look just as much the little slut as he’d described me. My breasts are out, my skirt hiked up around my waist, my pussy exposed and begging for him. As I hold my breath, he dips down and gives me a long lick, his gaze holding mine.
It’s sinful and decadent, and I never want it to stop.
Jafar wedges his hands under my ass and lifts me to his mouth the same way he did in the car. As if he can’t get close enough, can’t drive his tongue deep enough into me. As if he’ll devour me whole. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in far too long.
If he consumes me entirely, maybe he can take my guilt, my shame, my fear.
He can take everything.
12
Yasmina
I half expect Jafar to bring me to orgasm as quickly as he has the last two times. I really should know better by now. He never does the expected, and this moment is no exception. He explores my pussy with his mouth as if we have all the time in the world. It’s all too easy to pretend that we’re actually in my father’s office. That he sent Jafar to deliver my punishment instead of doing it himself. That Jafar lost control and finally touched me.
That he’s really going to fuck me on my father’s desk.
I whimper, and everything stops. Jafar lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head sadly. “I told you.”
“Wait.” I reach for him, trying to move his mouth back to where I need him, but he catches my wrists and forces them to meet at the small of my back. “Jafar, Daddy, please.”
But he ignores my pleading and stands slowly. I press my lips together, torn between being quiet and saying whatever it takes to get his mouth on me again. He gives me another of those long looks that seems like he can reach into my mind and draw forth every fantasy I’ve ever had. “You want to come?”
“Yes, please,” I whisper.
“You want me to reward you for bad behavior.”
“Yes.” I shake my head. “No. I—I don’t know.”
He wraps his hand around my hair, and I know where we’re headed even before he nudges me off the desk and guides me to my knees in front of him. I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop squirming as if the limited friction of my thighs is even close to enough to get me off. It’s not, but it feels naughty to luxuriate in denied pleasure.
Jafar looks down his body at me, taking me in with dark eyes. He’s still dressed to perfection, his suit barely rumpled from our struggles. His cock presses against his slacks, and my mouth waters at being this close to doing something I’ve always wanted to do. He strokes a devastatingly gentle hand down my face. “You want to be a good girl? Prove it. Earn your reward.”
I don’t point out that sucking his cock is hardly good girl behavior. It doesn’t matter. This is the game we play, and I love it. I undo his pants with shaking fingers and drag down the zipper. Seconds later, he’s filling my hands. Long and broad and perfect. I’m too impatient to be cautious as I suck him down, reveling in the feeling of him filling me in a completely new way. His hand tightens on my hair, holding me back, but I fight the restraint and make a frustrated noise.
“Slow,” he murmurs.
No. I don’t want slow and careful. I want rough and ready and everything he can give me. I dig my nails into his hips, pricking him the same way my frustration pricks me.
“Wicked girl.” He shifts his grip, keeping one hand in my hair and tilting my head back a little. “You want me to fuck your mouth.”
“Mmm.”
He uses his free hand to touch my left wrist. “It’s too much, you let me know.”
I make another sound of assent. Jafar might like playing with the darker edge of desire the same way I crave, but he always manages to check in with me. To make sure I’m right there with him. It makes me feel far safer than I have any right to.
He holds my head immobile as he begins to move. Slowly at first, testing my limits. I’ve never had a sensitive gag reflex, but it’s not a trait I was particularly grateful for until the moment his cock bumps the back of my throat. It’s not a comfortable feeling, but I breathe through my nose and relax into it as best I can. I want this.
I need this.
“That’s it, baby girl.”
His soft praise lights me up from within, and I can’t find the strength to hate the feeling. Instead, I luxuriate in it as he begins to move in earnest, thrusting between my lips, forcing me to relax into it or choke.
My eyes water and he wipes my tears away with a gentle thumb, so at odds with the rough hold on my hair. “Next time we do this, you’re going to swallow me down. Every single fucking drop.” He slams into me again and again, his voice low and rough and as brutal as the way he fucks my mouth. “But not tonight. Tonight I’m coming all over those tits you like flashing at everyone. Remind you who you belong to.”
