WITHOUT A CHOICE (SERIES 1-2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jasmine

In between leaving me in my room to get ready and meeting me at the door, something changes with Jafar. He barely looks at me in my scandalous red dress before he whisks me down to the car and we’re driving into the night.

I put it from my mind. A chance to be free of the penthouse is too important to worry about where his head has gone. It’s not as if he’ll confide in me. I’m a pet to be taken care of. Something occasionally entertaining, but nowhere near a full partner.

A full partner.

The thought seems ludicrous. Nowhere in the world I move in is there a chance for people to see me as anything but a possession. I hate that. Just because I have a v****a doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be as good a ruler as my father—better than my father. Instead, I am a pawn to be moved about on someone else’s chessboard. My father ensured that before. Jafar ensures that now. He might as well slap a collar around my throat and attach a leash.

The thought sends a shiver through me. I wish with all my heart I could say it’s unpleasant, but the truth is far more complicated. I crave things I don’t understand. Crave things I shouldn’t.

Oh, I understand kink, at least in theory. I’ve read far and wide, and the books I invariable gravitate towards are hot enough to melt my e-reader. They spin fantasies that had me reaching into my drawer for a vibrator more times than I can count.

This is different. This isn’t a story with a happily ever after waiting at the end.

Real life has no such guarantees.

Real life is messy and complicated and dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with my bodily health and everything to do with my soul.

“What’s got you thinking so hard over there that you’re not watching the city around us?”

I jump. I can’t help it.

Jafar seems to melt out of the darkness on the other side of the town car. He’s dressed to kill tonight, his black suit expensive and expertly tailored, his dove gray shirt beneath it pressed within an inch of its life. The clothing should dampen his dangerous aura, but somehow it only brings it into sharp focus. This man is a predator. No one with half a brain who looks at him will believe anything else.

He waits for me to answer, and I spend a useless moment waffling between truth and fiction. In the end, I know he’ll accept nothing less than the former. “What is tonight supposed to accomplish?”

“I’m taking you to a s*x club. It’s going to accomplish you orgasming half a dozen times.”

“Liar.”

He arches his brows. “That’s quite a tone you’ve taken.” Mild. So mild as he issues his non-threats. If I keep pushing him, keep lashing out, will he punish me? Perhaps he’ll put me over his knee right here in the back seat, shove my dress up and …

Focus, Jasmine.

I clear my throat, fighting for control. Fighting to appear just as calm and collected as he is despite the fact my heart wants to thunder right out of my chest. “You are perfectly capable of bringing me to orgasm half a dozen times in the penthouse. You have an agenda for tonight, and I would like to know what it is since I’m taking part in your plans.”

He reaches out and idly twines one of my curls around his finger. “You saw Tink today. What did she tell you about The Underworld?”

I notice that he didn’t question that she told me something. I wonder how well he knows Tink, and something hot and ugly flares to life beneath my skin. Jealousy. The realization almost makes me laugh out loud. As if I have any claim on this man.

No, he holds all the cards, all the claim, all the power.

Am I even allowed to protest if he f***s someone else?

The thought leaves me cold.

I swallow hard, trying to focus on the question he asked me. “She didn’t say much. It’s owned by someone called Hades. He makes deals?”

“Mmm.” Jafar releases my hair and sits back, depriving me of even that minimal contact. “Hades is dangerous, Jasmine. You won’t look at him and think it, but he’s the biggest threat in The Underworld.”

“Then why are we going?”

“Aside from the fact that it’s the best dungeon in the state and I want to play with my mouthy little brat?” A flash of his teeth in the shifting shadows, gone almost as soon as they appeared. “Everyone who’s worth killing is in that dungeon. There are rules that no one dares f**k with, but it’s a good place to go and scope out the enemy. Tonight, it’s about cementing my position.”

Understanding dawns, leaving a sour taste on my tongue. “You want everyone to know you staged a coup of my father’s territory.” I lean back, needing more distance between us. “You’re going to show me off, a war prize for your efforts.”

“Yes.”

I haven’t forgotten the reality of this arrangement. Of how it came to be. I look out the window. “Did you kill him?”

“Why do you sound so wretched, Jasmine? He wasn’t a good man. f**k, he makes me look like a saint with some of the s**t he did.” He moves closer, touching my chin to bring my attention back to him. This close, I can almost see his expression clearly, but it gives nothing away. Nothing except the way his gaze bores into me as if trying to impart some vital information. “He hit you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You would forgive me if I had murdered him?”

It’s still not an answer, but I reach deep for the truth. There’s a curious blankness when I think about my father. A veil I can’t pierce and have no interest in trying. “If you didn’t, you are leaving an enemy at your back.”

A pause, the barest of hesitations like I’ve surprised him.

I smile, though there’s no heart in it. Maybe there’s no heart in me, either. “My father is a terrible person. You worked for him long enough to know the truth.” He would have sold me. He did sell me, despite my protests. I can rail against Jafar until the end of time, but the truth is that I chose our deal, even if I didn’t fully realize the parameters of it. My father didn’t give me a choice. He would have handed me to Ali and never looked back as long as the contract went through.

One less thing for him to worry about.

I lean back in the seat. “He murdered my mother. Did you know that?”

“Yes.”

Of course he did. It was one of the worst kept secrets in that huge house. The official story is that my mother died from a sudden sickness. No one’s cared enough to question it. One day she was there, the next, she was gone, leaving a hole I’m not sure I’ll ever fill. “Did you kill him, Jafar? Answer the question.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. As you said, he was a threat. If he’d gone quietly, it might have played out a different way.”

My breath leaves me in a whoosh and I can’t quite manage to reclaim it. I press my hand to my chest, my head going light. “Oh.”

He’s there instantly, gripping the back of my neck and guiding my head down to my knees. “Slowly, Jasmine. Inhale. Yes, like that.”

It takes several laborious inhales before I can speak again. “I should feel bad. Angry. Sad. Something.” I give a slightly hysterical giggle. “I don’t feel anything at all.” My father was a monster. At his very best, he was neglectful and absent. His best. “You’re right. I’m a horrible, traitorous daughter.”

I barely hear Jafar’s sigh and then he pulls me onto his lap. I resist at first, but he’s stronger and the truth is I don’t want to resist. I giggle again, the inappropriate sound horrifying me almost as much as my complete lack of grief over the situation. “A traitorous daughter and her father’s murderer. Maybe we really do deserve each other.”

“We do.” The way he says it, as if it’s fact and not words meant to comfort. But then, Jafar has proven himself to be s**t at comforting.

That’s okay. It’s hardly in my skillset either. Who would I comfort? I have no friends. No family. The only human contact I’ve had are my father’s men and Jafar.

I shiver and he wraps his arms around me tighter. “I hate my life.”

“Shh.” His lips at my temple, the steady beat of his heart against my back, the strength of him forcing my body into stillness. “Tell me what you need.”

“A friend.” The silly request pops out before I can think better of it. I shake my head. “I really am pathetic.”

“Not that, Jasmine. Never that.”

Strangely, his attempt to comfort me only makes it worse. “I’m not free, Jafar. What am I supposed to do? Ask you to set up playdates?”

His lips curve against my temple. “It can be arranged. Play by the rules and I’ll reward you.”

I shift, belatedly realizing that his c**k is hard against my ass. Heat rolls through me, and I welcome it with open arms. Easier to focus on s*x than the reality that I can’t escape.

That I’ll never escape.

I roll my hips. “What are your rules?”

“They’re simple enough. In fact, there’s only one. Obey.”

Obey.

His grip on me shifts, one hand falling to where the slit in my dress has bared my hip, the other cupping my breast through the silky fabric. “Tonight, you’ll be silent and obedient.” His fingers find my n****e and pinch, drawing a gasp from my lips. “Keep your head down, regardless of what you hear, and obey my commands.”

“What do I get if I do?”

His chuckle makes my whole body go tight. Jafar slips his hand beneath my dress and palms my p***y. He pushes two fingers inside, possessing me completely. “I’ll take care of this pretty p***y tonight.”

I can’t breathe. “And if I don’t?”

Just like that, his hand is gone, leaving me empty and wanting. “Then you’ll get a punishment.” His voice goes dark, any hint of amusement drifting away like smoke. “You like to be punished, but I don’t reward bad behavior. If you disobey, the punishment won’t be one you’ll enjoy.”

Even though I know he’s serious, his words still fan the flame of desire heating my blood. “How do you know what punishment I will or won’t like?”

“You’re going to tell me.”

I blink. “What?”

“Choose your reward tonight.”

That wasn’t what I asked. My mind goes in a thousand different directions, scrambling over itself to provide the best answer. “I want …” I swallow hard and try again. “I want it like it was before. I want you to force me.”

“Chase you.” His thumb circles my n****e. “Pin you down and shove the dress up around your hips.” He moves his other hand back to my p***y, but instead of f*****g me with his fingers, he keeps his touch light. A single finger circling my c**t the same way his thumb circles my n****e. Again and again, a tortuously slow circuit.

“Yes, Daddy,” I gasp.

“Good girl.” He sounds completely unaffected by what he’s doing to me, and somehow that only makes it hotter. I can feel how much he wants me, but his voice and his touch are both so distant and casual that this whole situation becomes a thousand times dirtier.

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 p***y, 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 c**t. “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 p***y, 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 c**t 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 p***y 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 c**k, 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 c**t. “f**k, 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 c**k. 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.