Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
The prospect both thrills me and makes me vaguely sick to my stomach. “That’s impossible. What if something happens while we’re gone and we’re needed back here immediately? What if someone stages yet another coup and—"
"Those are the terms, baby girl. Take them or leave them.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re such an asshole.” When he doesn’t respond, apparently content to wait me out, I sigh. “Fine. I agree.”
He leans down and brushes his lips against the shell of my ear. “You have to the count of five.”
“Five? What the hell, Jafar?”
“Five.” He shrugs out of his jacket and moves to the gazebo to drape it over the railing. “Four.”
I take off running, my bare feet hitting the cold ground, each impact a shock to my system. I’d had half a mind to let him catch me before he laid out the terms. Now, I simply cannot allow it.
“One.” His voice echoes through the maze, and I pick up speed. My instincts overtake my rational thinking. This is not a game between willing prey and a loving predator. This is a pursuit I might not recover from. Fear clogs my throat, my breath heavy in my lungs. My mind blanks and I give myself over to the familiar steps.
Left. Left. Right. Left again.
He’s chosen his starting point well. With him blocking the most direct route out of the maze, I have to go through the center and out the other side to escape. The turns bleed into one another. I can’t hear anything over my harsh breathing, can’t tell if he’s closing in, can’t do anything but flee mindlessly, a fox before the hound.
I make it two steps into the center of the maze. Two momentous steps when I think I might be able to do this, to escape.
Jafar catches me around the waist and hauls me to the ground. I don’t miss the fact that I’ve landed on grass instead of the path, and I certainly don’t miss the fact that his hand cradles my head to ensure it doesn’t make contact. Even knowing that, knowing that I’m with someone I trust implicitly, I still fight. “Let me go!”
“You know better.” He pins my flailing hands over my head and transfers them to one hand. “You’re mine to do with as I wish.”
I try to kick at him, but my dress hampers my movements. For a moment, I think it might hamper his intentions too, but there’s a rip and the cold lashes me from the waist down. He just tore my fucking dress. I thrash harder. “You bastard!”
“Yes.” He drags off my panties, easily overpowering me, moving my body to his whim despite my determination not to make this easy for him. And then his hand is there, palming my pussy, claiming me as his own. “Your body always betrays you, baby girl. No matter how much you scream 'no,' you’re fighting yourself not to fuck my fingers right now.”
I hate that he’s right.
I love that he’s right.
I’m torn between spreading my legs for him and trying to kick him in the balls. I twist my hips, trying to dislodge him. It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t work.
Jafar covers me with his body, but he’s not lining up with where I need him. He presses me down to the cold ground, his hand between my legs, and pushes a single finger into me. “I’ll always give you what you need, baby girl. Even when you’re too stubborn to ask for it.”
“I don’t want this.” The lie is all part of the game, but my brain gets things all tangled up. I don’t want a vacation. I don’t want time to think, to feel the things weighing on me.
“Maybe not.” He fucks me slowly with that finger. Taunting me with my helplessness. Taunting me with my wanton desire. “But you need this.”
I’m still forming my denial when he moves. He flips me onto my stomach and rips the skirt of the dress the rest of the way off. I spare a thought to how pissed Tink will be when she finds out what happened to all her hard work, but then Jafar’s hauling me to my hands and knees and there’s no room for anything else.
He doesn’t give me time to brace, and when he shoves his cock deep, I nearly smash my face into the frozen grass. Only his rough hold on my shoulder, pinning me to his cock, saves me.
Then there’s no more space for words, for denial. There is only fucking, harsh and primal and rough enough that I’ll have bruises in the morning. I’ll relish them, just like I’ll relish the grass stains on my palms and knees.
Jafar fucks me like he wants to imprint himself on my very soul. Harsh, deep strokes, yanking me back onto his cock as he shoves forward. Each one drives a helpless sound from my throat. I’ve forgotten the game, forgotten that I’m supposed to be fighting this. I can only feel.