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There was a soft pop as he used his foot—long and narrow with the most perfect toes—to pull the plug and release the water. There weren't many bubbles left, she noted blearily, and for some reason, it made her sad. That feeling deepened as Jasper slipped out from behind her, stepping from the tub to snag a towel as she sat forlornly in the receding water. "But...but..."
"What's wrong, kitten?"
Archie didn't know. She suddenly felt as though her stomach was falling into her feet, her heart was where her stomach had been, and someone had just dumped a ton of sand on her shoulders. She lifted her arms to him when he reached for her, picking her up as easily as a child. "What happened with the hunter?"
"The hunter? Oh. Well, you made him very happy, Anarchy. He fucked this sweet little ass until he came, enjoying all the noises you made, then picked you up just like this, and cuddled you for the rest of the night."
She burst into tears.
"Yeah, I thought this was waiting to bite you. Non-consensual scenes, even fantasy ones, aren't easy to justify." Jasper set her on her feet and bundled her into the towel. She was barely standing for thirty seconds before he scooped her up again and carried her off down the hall to the guest bedrooms. "Society tells us that such things are taboo, that it makes us evil or sick in the head. What society doesn't like to admit is that a lot of people enjoy the idea of being taken by force."
He paused at a door; Archie shook her head. "Pseudo-rape scenes aren't uncommon in clubs and in private. Rules are set, limits are defined, and the safeword is always, always in play. You aren't a bad person for being turned on by the thought of being hunted down and taken against your will, Anarchy. It's a primal thing. Could be that if we acted it out, you wouldn't enjoy it. We don't have to go down that avenue if you're not comfortable with it."
She trembled. "I don't understand why I liked it."
"We can't be held responsible for how our brains are wired. There are some kinks we can't explain why we enjoy them. We have to rely on our morality and decency as human beings not to cross certain lines. I'd happily engage in a non-consensual scene with you, Anarchy, with measures in place to protect you. I'd take great delight in it, because underneath it all, you'd have the assurance it wasn't truly rape." He kissed her softly when she peered up at him. "Could I go into Phoenix, pick out a woman, and drag her off into an alley to rape her? Absolutely not. I'd put a bullet in my head before I turned an innocent woman into a true victim."
Okay. Okay, she got that. When he stopped outside another door, she nodded. He nudged the door open with his foot and swept her inside, setting her down beside the bed. It seemed like an age since she headed downstairs for a snack.
Tutting, Jasper picked up her laptop and closed the lid. It had already gone onto standby. "Don't leave your laptop unattended on the bedclothes, Anarchy. They overheat and set on fire." He set it on the bedside table, then turned—still gloriously naked and dripping—to dry her off. "It doesn't matter what kinks you've imagined, what you'd like to try. I'm the man who's going to give you the reality of them."
Her heart rolled over in her chest, then splatted at his feet. "That sounds like you want to make this serious, Jasper."
He rubbed the towel over her briskly, then whipped the duvet back and ushered her under the covers. When she was snuggled in, he dried himself off without shame, much to her delight. He had an amazing body. Where Atticus was thickly muscled in keeping with his build, Jasper was sleeker. Just as deadly. There were scars littered over his skin, and she had no doubt each one had a story that fit into the collective mystery that was Jasper Fairfax.
"Serious enough I intend to collar and cuff you, kitten." He slung the towel around his waist and covered up the impressive cock she had a fierce yearning to feel inside her again. "You're beginning to comprehend what I am and what I expect a submissive to take from me, I think. As mysubmissive, that expectation will be more intense. You will be the focus of all my attention, take the brunt of my sadism, and be my everything. If you accept that—no," he corrected. "Onceyou accept that, there's no going back, Anarchy. That's all the warning you'll get."
She blinked sleepily at him as he crouched beside the bed and stroked the hair away from her face. "You're not coming to bed?"
"I will, soon. Happens we made a mess in Braun's kitchen, and someone caused a small flood in the bathroom. I'm going to clean it up so he doesn't kick my ass when he gets home, and then I'll join you, okay?" He leaned forward, those icy eyes warming, and kissed her slowly, sweetly. For all he was a sadist, he had being sweet down to a tee. "Close your eyes, kitten. You've made me proud tonight."
Warmth from his praise, from pleasing her Dom, drifted through her. A submissive's main goal was to make her Dominant happy, and judging by Jasper's face, she'd exceeded that goal tonight. Her lips curved, and Jasper kissed her again. He stayed in sight until her eyes were too heavy to bear their own weight.
*
Anarchy was content in his company.
Jasper rubbed his chin as her tired brown eyes drifted closed, that damned smile still on her lips. He was fond of those lips, how they warmed beneath his, and gave so willingly. He ran his finger down the length of her nose, then pushed to his feet and stepped away; she really did need to rest, and if he didn't stop touching her, she'd get none.
Padding from the room, he left the door ajar in case she woke and needed him. Not that he believed she would—she was a woman with a fierce independent streak—but he wasn't sure she was as unaffected by the mock non-consent scene as she tried to believe. Her subconscious would speak the truth.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and grimaced. Bathroom or kitchen first? They'd made a pretty mess in both, hadn't they? If he was going to take advantage of Braun's guest under his best friend's roof, Jasper had no desire to rub it in his face. Braun had more than enough on his hands trying to get to the bottom of what ailed Bodie, and fighting to keep her in hospital when she, rightfully, had an aversion to the fucking place.
Months of surgeries and pain, needles and poking, would be enough to give anyone a phobia.
Shuddering at the thought, battered by memories of being restrained to the padded table in Doctor Rita's lab of horrors as a kid, Jasper paused in the hallway and braced his hands against the wall.
His stepmother liked her probes and sensors. Research, she'd called it, as his skinny, adolescent body jerked and strained against the crack of electricity pulsing through him. Needles jabbed into veins and muscles, taking out blood and pumping in whatever shit she decided was her next breakthrough substance.
It was a wonder he hadn't turned into a junkie by the time he was ten.
I'm not fucking ten years old anymore. I'm not that kid. I'm what I've made myself.
Seething, he pushed away from the wall and stomped into the bathroom,discarding the towel around his waist into the laundry basket in the corner and retrieving his clothes from the counter. His temper grew as he dressed, thenthe next thirty minutes were spent ruthlessly cleaning the tub and mopping up the floors as he argued with himself about the past and his future. By the time the room was cleaner than it had been, Jasper was sweating with the effort of convincing himself he wasn't a fucking failure.
At the end of the day, he reasoned, he hadn't become the monster Dominic Fairfax had wanted him to be. It was just that simple. It had to be. The only way Jasper could fail himself was by sliding back into the training beaten into him and embracing the killer within. As long as that part of him was kept contained, he was succeeding in living his own life the way hewanted to.
Anarchy was a huge step forward toward that lifetime achievement.
