As if I’m just a toy for him to play with.
I’m panting now. I can’t seem to stop. “Please.”
“Please?” He nips my earlobe. “Do better. You have more than enough words when you’re pissed. Tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth.” What’s supposed to be a demand comes out like a plea. It’s as if a dam breaks and suddenly all I have are words. “Lick my pussy, Daddy. Please make me come.”
“You want your reward before you earn it.”
I strain my hips, but I can’t get him where I need him. I’m so close, and yet so far from what I need. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Mmm. We’ll see.” He drops me on the seat and shoves me back against the door. “Lift your dress and spread your legs.”
I scramble to obey, lust making it impossible to think about fighting him on this. He wrenches my legs wider yet and I have to reach overhead to the handle above the door to keep from sliding down the seat.
Jafar dips down and I can feel his breath against my clit. “Ask me again, baby girl.”
Baby girl.
God, it feels downright wicked to play like this. Wicked and a little wrong, but so incredibly right. I gulp down a breath, trying to hold still. “Lick my pussy, Daddy. Please make me feel good.”
He wedges his hands beneath my ass and lifts me to his mouth. The first swipe of his tongue leaves me weightless and giddy with relief. Back in the shower, Jafar was only playing with me. Teasing.
He’s not teasing right now. He spreads me wide and tongues my clit as if he knows exactly the touch I need to get me to the edge. Pleasure rises in a wave I try to fight, try to resist. I don’t want it over yet. I want this moment to last, to draw out this wickedness, to keep feeling dirty in the best way possible. Jafar is tonguing my pussy in the backseat of a town car because I called him Daddy and asked really nicely.
If this is his idea of a reward, maybe I should have been playing by his rules all along.
I can’t hold out any longer. I come with a gasping cry. “Oh god.” He keeps tonguing me for several long moments, gentling his touch until it’s the lightest of kisses.
Jafar sits back and pulls me to straddle his lap. When I go to grind down against his cock, he stops me. “You’ll make a mess.” His lips quirk. “You already have.”
“Sorry, Daddy.” The title falls easier from my lips. Naturally.
“No, you’re not.” He swipes a thumb across his bottom lip, where I can still see evidence of my orgasm there. He presses his thumb into my mouth, and I suck him eagerly. I’ve tasted myself in the past before. Of course I have. It was never this sexy before.
Before I can think better of it, I dip down and lick along his bottom lip. And then his top. Jafar holds perfectly still as I clean myself from his face, the only evidence of how affected he is in the bruising grip he keeps on my hips.
When I finally lean back, he gives a rasping chuckle that goes straight to my clit. “Fuck, baby girl, you better be good tonight, because I’m as eager for that reward as you are.”
“I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise.” I want his cock. I want him to force me down and drive into me. I want so many things. Things I’ve barely allowed myself to fantasize about. It felt too cruel to do it before, to want something I was never going to be allowed to have.
With Jafar, I might just earn it.
He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and finishes cleaning his face, his beard. It’s only then that I realize the car has stopped, has been still for quite some time. Jafar sets me aside and arranges my dress. “Remember. Eyes down. Obey.”
“Okay,” I whisper. An orgasm is a release, a little death. Coming hard enough to make my limbs loose and my head spin should take the edge off my desire, should draw me back to earth where I belong.
It doesn’t.
I want him more now than I ever have. It’s a sickness in my blood, making me woozy and almost drunk. “Jafar?”
He pauses, his hand on the door. “Yes?”
“How can this possibly work?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he opens the door and steps out, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Leaving me with no answers at all.
Chapter 8
Jasmine
From the little I know of The Underworld, I half expect to climb out of the car and find myself in front of an old Victorian mansion. Something that hints at the inner goings on within its walls.
It’s nothing of the sort.
I look up, craning my neck to take in the sleek building that climbs to touch the sky. It’s almost as if this Hades takes his mythology more serious than most. He may rule The Underworld, but he’s built his very own Mount Olympus. Tink’s words from earlier come back to me. If I truly want out of this trap with Jafar, Hades may be my only option.