Page 56 of Desperate Measures
That’s when he begins fucking me in earnest, his strokes going rougher, deeper. Being pinned between their bodies, the slick slide of their skin against mine… Perfection. I cannot put into words how good it is. Meg keeps kissing me and snakes a hand between us to finger my clit. I try to hold out, to make this delirious pleasure last forever, but it’s too good. I come, sobbing against her lips. My orgasm tips Jafar over the edge, his strokes going frenzied until he drives deep and curses.
Time moves a little fuzzily after that. Jafar manages to get us both back on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket he pulled out from somewhere. Meg lounges like a jungle cat, all smug satisfaction as she watches me in Jafar’s arms. “She’s a keeper.”
“I’m aware.”
She gives one last full-body stretch and climbs to her feet. “We should do this again sometime.” She pulls on her pants and blouse and slips back into her heels. Meg pauses to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “See you around, Yasmina.”
Easy enough to read between the lines.
Remember my offer.
Jafar barely waits for her to leave the room before he stands with me in his arms. “Let’s go to bed.” He takes me up to the penthouse and straight to his room. A quick shower and then he tucks us up into his bed.
It’s so right, so perfect. I want this feeling to last forever. An impossible desire.
Dreams only last until dawn, after all.
18
Yasmina
I wake up alone. I’m not even surprised when I reach over to find Jafar’s spot cold. No doubt he left as soon as I fell asleep, content that he’d fucked me back to submission.
I wish it were the truth.
I wish I could be content in this place he’s put me. That I won’t constantly look to the sky I’m forbidden. I have been a bird in a cage my entire life. Handing me orgasms the way one pacifies a dog with treats isn’t enough. Jafar would know that if he weren’t so focused on removing the threat Ali represents. The fact that he doesn’t only reinforces the truth—I will always be second to him.?1 No matter what he feels for me, he will pick the territory first every single time.
That’s not a reality I can make my peace with.
My decision is jagged glass sitting in my chest, and every move drives the shards deeper. So tempting to lie in his bed all day and wait for him to soothe the feeling with his words and body, demanding submission from me that I’m only too happy to give. I love it, too, after all.
I love him.
The realization brings me no joy. If he were another man, if I another woman, then I could luxuriate in this truth. I could take it out and examine it at my leisure and revel in the feeling of being in love with a man like him. I’m not another woman. I’m Yasmina Sarraf.
And I am done being a pawn.
I pull up my contacts as I walk back to my room, look at the number I added there after my fitting with Tink yesterday. My thumb hovers over Meg’s name. If I do this, there is no going back. Jafar might have feelings for me, but he won’t allow that to get in the way of his plans—and his plans include me under his control. He’ll attempt to track me down and haul me back to this penthouse the first chance he gets. I hate the thrill that goes through me at the thought. This isn’t a game. This is my life. I push the button to call.
Meg answers on the second ring. “Good morning, Yasmina. Still thinking about last night?”
I ignore the bolt of heat her words bring. “This is business.”
“Ah.” The barest of hesitations. When she speaks again, her voice is absent of all emotion. “I take it you’ve thought about my offer.”
The edge of this cliff crumbles beneath my feet. I can’t live with myself if I pull back now, if I change my mind and spend the next twenty-five years waffling over my decision. I’ve already survived that time period under the control of someone else. I can’t do it again. I won’t.
I clear my throat. “I’m going to need assistance getting out of the penthouse.”
“Consider it done. Be ready in an hour.” She hangs up, leaving me with more questions than reassurances. If she’s able to penetrate Jafar’s defenses that easily, she must have had this set up already. She was that sure of me.
The realization doesn’t comfort me, but I doubt anything can at this point.
I hurry into my room and pull on a pair of black leggings and a cropped oversize T-shirt. It’s hardly an outfit built for stealth, but it’s better than the gowns beginning to clutter up my closet. I pull my hair back from my face and lace up my shiny new tennis shoes.
My phone rings, and I hold my breath as I answer. “Yes?”
“Take the elevator down to the parking garage. Level two.”
