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“Fucking suck them clean, whore,” he says softly, cruelly.
I do because it doesn’t matter what I said. I’d lick him head to foot for a scrap, for a taste, for the pleasure he can unleash.
In turn, I start to finger myself and offer my wet fingers to him. He sucks them in, biting down.
When he’s done, he just looks at me and grabs my cheeks before pushing me away on the floor.
Reality comes back with a vengeance. I don’t regret this exactly, it was too good, but I hate that I just joined the ranks of the Jac fan club. I’m no better than that actress he brought to Hendrick’s party, am I?
And then there’s the Hendrick thing where I’d do anything for a taste of him, too.
Suddenly, the humiliation crashes down, and I need to get the fuck away.
If I can.
I groan. It hurts to move, but I try to get up.
“Wait.” This is a softer, different Jac. It’s so unexpected, I pause. I don’t know what to do with the tone, the lack of violent passion, the lack of arrogant control. “Let me…”
Jac reaches for me, and I scoot away.
Irritation flashes, and he takes my arm and I try to shake him off.
“Stop that,” he says. “Fuck.”
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he eases his hand around my arm, and then when I fall, he takes the other, pulling me up to my feet.
I don’t know why he’s helping me. But he is. It’s not loving or caring when he slides me into his arms, I know that. He just doesn’t want me to collapse. Not unless he’s doing the shoving.
I can’t look at him.
“Can I go?”
“MG—Magdalen—”
“Can. I. Go?”
He breathes. It’s a ragged sound. Like he’s going to say something, but he abruptly nods. “Yes, you can go.”
I’m not saying fucking thank you. He breathes out again, the sound jagged, like something’s there, right under the surface, something that’s almost regret. Which is stupid. Jac doesn’t do self-reflection.
“Jac—”
“I’ll find something for you to put on.”
I still don’t look at him. “I don’t—”
“You’ll get arrested. Public indecency. Come on.” He scoops me up and takes me up to his room before dumping me on his bed.
“If you want more,” I say, “call someone else. I’m done.”
He goes quiet. “Is that what you say to Hendrick?”
“He doesn’t get violent. I get hot for him. I can’t get enough. And, as I said, he doesn’t get violent.”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
But screw him. The world’s been handed to him and it’s time for this asshole to learn things don’t always go his way. Not how I feel, not who I want.
