Page 45 of Desperate Measures
“Yeah. Oh.”
I really shouldn’t find his amusement at me sexy, especially considering how we left things earlier, but my reactions to Jafar have never been logical.
His voice deepens. “Pretend I’m standing at the foot of your bed, and give me a show.”
“I could just go into your office again.”
Another of those delicious chuckles. “You could, but you’re sounding all rumpled and sleepy. I’d hate to push you past that.” The barest of hesitations. “Spread your legs, baby girl.”
“Mmm.” I kick off my covers and obey, feeling wicked as the cool air licks at my exposed skin. “I like that.”
“I know you do. Now, put me on speaker so you have both your hands.”
It’s so easy to do what he commands in that moderate voice. Even after a few days, I can hear the tension below the low words, can tell that he’s just as affected by this as I am. I put the phone on speaker and set it next to me. “I’m addicted to the feeling of your mouth on my pussy.”
“It’s a mutual addiction.” A pause, and then his voice lashes me. “Can’t have you aching and empty, can we? If I’m not there to fill you up, you’ll have to make do with your fingers.”
I eagerly skate a hand down the center of my body to push two fingers as deep as I can. I must make a sound, something desperate and needy, because he doesn’t hesitate to keep talking, spinning his web of lust tighter around me.
“You’re a wicked girl, aren’t you? How many times did you play with that pretty pussy and think about me while you were in your father’s house?”
A small voice tells me to lie, but I’m too far gone already. “A lot.”
“A lot,” he repeats slowly. As if it’s new knowledge. As if we didn’t spend so much of last night reenacting fantasies that we both had during the last five years.
I shouldn’t tell him more, shouldn’t reveal yet another fault line for him to take advantage of. And yet I can’t seem to help it. “Every time we verbally sparred, I’d go upstairs and touch myself. Every time, I’d be just like I am right now. Wet. Aching.”
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. 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 of 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?”?4
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 lie 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.”
15
Yasmina
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.
