I clench them together. “No.”
“Yes.” If anything, his tone gets gentler, a direct counterpoint to the pain of his grip on my hair. He cups one breast and circles my nipple with his thumb. “Spread your thighs and let Daddy give you a kiss.”
A shiver works its way through my whole body. I want to keep struggling, but I want his mouth on me even more. Still, I hesitate. “I want to be good.”
“No, you don’t.” His voice still has a sliver of disappointment in it, but he’s stopped hiding the dark desire written across his face. Like I’m being bad, and he’s allowing it, but it’s turning him on despite himself. I know it’s just play, but power still sizzles through me, driving my desire higher.
I lean back on my hands and spread my thighs. Slowly, tentatively. I want what he’s offering, but the shame I feel isn’t totally feigned. This man is supposed to be my enemy, but I’m starting to fear I’ll do anything he asks as long as he keeps drawing forth my darkest desires and putting them into action.
He releases my hair and steps back, taking me in. Jafar’s gaze drags over my pussy, heavy and hot. “Wider.” I obey faster this time, and he chuckles darkly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To force my hand.” He goes to his knees in front of me and jerks my hips to the very edge of the desk. “You’re practically dripping. It would be a shame for any of you to go to waste.” He drags his tongue up my center and I can’t stop myself from crying out.
Jafar leans back and slaps my clit. “None of that.” His expression goes forbidding. “My men can’t be walking around with cockstands for a pussy that isn’t theirs. It belongs to me and me alone, do you understand?”
I wet my lips. “Yes, Daddy.”
“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.
Chapter 12
Jasmine
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.”