“You like your clothes.” He shakes his head slowly, his gaze raking over me. The ice in his expression cracks for half a second, letting me see the inferno beneath, before he regains control of himself. “You’re getting off on leading them around by their dicks, showing them what they want but they can never have.”
I lift my chin. “Who says they can’t have it?”
Something dangerous flickers through his eyes, and I shiver. “Put your hands on the desk.”
“No.”
He starts toward me. Slow and as unstoppable as the tide. Instinct takes over and I run. There’s nowhere to go, though. He catches me by my hair before I’ve taken three steps. Pain brings tears to my eyes, or maybe it’s a delicious kind of shame. Either way, he wraps my hair around his fist and uses that hold to steer me to the desk. “Don’t make me ask again.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I grit out. I slap my hands on the desk, petulance in every move.
Just like that, he releases my hair. “Have you let them do more than look, baby girl? Have they slipped their fingers up this little tease of a skirt and touched you through your panties?” His voice lowers. “Have they gone so far as to tug your panties to the side to see you?”
This might be fantasy, but it feels real. “No, of course not. I’m a good girl.”
“Liar.” His broad hand presses against the middle of my back, bending me until my cheek is pressed against the cool wood of the desk. The new position has my skirt hiked up to the top of my ass, baring me. Jafar tsks. “Look at that. You’re just asking to be fucked.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Not asking. Begging.” His hands drop to my ass, squeezing me, parting me. “Are your panties damp because you like giving them a show? Or because you let them touch what’s mine?”
I don’t know what the right answer is. I can’t think, can’t move, can only focus on keeping still and not rolling my hips in invitation to touch me. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whisper. I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for.
“That answers my question, doesn’t it?” He runs a finger under the band of my thong and down the back, pulling the lace away from my body. Shame suffuses me as he reaches the front, as he finds out how wet they are. His sound of disappointment lances through me. “I try to keep you safe for your own good. But if you’re so determined to throw that back in my face, then I’ll give you exactly what you’re begging for.”
I try to push off the desk, but he’s expecting me. One hand grips the nape of my neck, and the other drags my panties to the side. “Look at you.” Despite the controlled violence of his moves, his voice is just as mild as ever. It’s so fucking hot, I can barely stand it. He drags a finger across my pussy and bends over me to hold the evidence of my desire in front of my face. “Wet and wanton,” he says.
“I just like them looking. I don’t want them to touch. I was never going to let them touch me.” I don’t know where the words come from, but they pour out into the air between us. “Please, Daddy. Please don’t punish me.”
“You think you can walk around in that little skirt, your pussy drenched and begging for it, and not pay the consequences? Baby girl, you know better.”
He releases me, and I shove up, my instincts demanding I run. Jafar is ready for me, of course. He allows me to turn and then he’s there, bodily lifting me onto the desk and stepping between my thighs even as I try to fight him. “Ah ah.” He catches my chin in a punishing grip. His gaze drops to my mouth and for one breathless moment, I’m sure he’ll kiss me. Instead, he shifts his hand to my ponytail, using it to force me to look down my body. “You’re a liar on top of being a little slut.” He drags a single finger down the edge of my shirt. It shifts to the side to bare my nipple. “No bra. Panties that show your pussy as much as they hide them.” He sounds almost sad. Disappointed. “I treat you like a princess, and this is how you repay me.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.” But I can’t stop myself from arching my back to expose my breast further.
He slaps my nipple, the sharp pain sending me writhing. Jafar shakes his head. “You want to be fucked like a little slut, baby girl. So be it.” He holds me immobile and yanks my shirt to the side. The knot holds, the tightness of the fabric offering up my breasts to his gaze. His tsks again and forces me back a few inches to drag up my skirt and hook his fingers around my panties. I try to fight him, but he’s too strong. He drags them down my legs one inch at a time and then tosses them away. “Spread your thighs.”