by Jasmin Quinn
Jack pushed her back from him, his brows knitted in irritation at her swift change of mood, her lack of response. “Nothing to say, Mira? In court you had plenty to say.”
Mira drew a shaky breath. She needed to find her courage fast. “I said the truth in the courtroom today.” Her throat was dry, her words faltered.
Jack brought his large hand up to her narrow neck, stroking it with his fingers before tightening his grip around her throat, just a little. Enough for her to understand his power. “Are you sure you said the truth? Did you think to look a little deeper, to where the doubt might have been? I thought you were smarter than that, thought you wouldn’t be blinded by lies like everyone else. But that wasn’t the case, was it? As soon as you knew it was a Creed, you stopped looking for the truth, didn’t you? Are you that bitter, Mira?”
Shock rippled through Mira. Jack thought his brother was innocent. “He confessed,” she protested, but her words faltered as his hand tightened around her throat.
“You should have agreed to manslaughter.”
Mira closed her eyes to his anger. Her mind racing – was this bullshit? Another lie from another Creed? But his words tugged at her conscious. “It’s too late, isn’t it?” It sounded too blithe, to her ears and surely to his.
Jack’s eyes narrowed as his hands circled her waist and yanked her to him, her soft body slamming up against his hardness. “It’s not too late, Mira. That’s why you’re here. To understand a few things. You need some lessons. You need to learn a little humility.”
“And if I don’t?” Mira’s voice was cold, her tone emphatic. Now that his hand was off her throat, her own anger was winning over her fear. She remembered who she was, and it sure as fuck wasn’t a lamb. She gazed into his eyes, a challenge despite her vulnerability.
“If you don’t?” He ran his hand up her shoulder to her face, caressing her cheek, then dropping it back to her shoulder, squeezing it gently, a false lover. “Here’s what could happen. You’re here for the weekend. When Monday morning rolls around, I could take you home. But that would depend on you. How behaved you are, how well you learn your lessons. Whether I can trust you to leave here and resume your life without turning this into a three-ring circus like you did with Rob. That’s one option.” He paused, looking at her, at her eyes, at her lips, at her neck. “I could kill you. That’s another option. But I don’t really want to – it would be such a loss to lose a beauty like you. And I’ve always been fond of you. I guess we’ll see if I’m still interested at the end of the weekend. I could keep you. Second chances and all that bullshit.” He rubbed at his chin as he eyed her. “The outcome of this weekend depends on you, Mira. You were such a good little girl five years ago. I wonder how much you’ve improved.”
“I don’t understand, Jack. I don’t know why I’m here.”
“Oh, I think you do, Mira. Just for the weekend, let’s reconcile. You and me, pick up where we left off five years ago.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can reignite the magic.”
Mira looked into his mocking eyes. It angered her that he was finding humour in their former relationship. “You hurt me,” she said boldly. “Why the fuck would I want to have anything to do with you?”
Jack gazed at her, his eyes drilling into hers so hard she shuddered at the invasion. She dropped her eyes to his chest, his tie. He drew his hands down her body and she shivered, her nipples hardening. He grinned ferally. “Are you wet, Mira? Does your fear of me make you hot and needy?”
Tears shimmered in Mira’s eyes as her body betrayed her. She couldn’t understand how she could loathe this man and at the same time, want him in a greedy, lustful way. “I hate you,” she spat.
Jack’s fingers dug into her waist, bruising the flesh. “Remember who you’re talking to, Mira. It’s going to be a hard weekend for you if you forget to respect me.”
Mira clamped her lips together. Another threat, like the options he gave her, use her, kill her, keep her. And none of them were viable except one. She had to find a way to convince him to let her leave on Monday. Even if she had to submit to him over the weekend. Had to let him use her, fuck her, dominate her. “What do you want?” Her legs were weak, her head reeling, the question redundant.
Jack smiled his victory. “Oh baby, it makes my cock joyful to hear such a pretty question. Be a good girl. That’s all. Do what I want willingly. Give yourself completely to me. Can you do that?”
A sob stuck in Mira’s throat. “I don’t know.”
Jack hugged her to him, stroking her hair. “You’ve done it before, Mira. Do it again. Nothing will happen this weekend that will leave you damaged. I know what you need, what you want, what you crave.”
Mira was stunned. She tried to pull back from him, but he held her tight. “What do you mean by that?” She was chilled to the bone.
“Mira, yes or no?”
Give herself to him willingly? No. But she didn’t dare say it. “Yes.” she choked. What choice did she have? She was fighting for her life now.
His demeanour changed as he pushed her from him. His eyes bored into her, studying her face, seeing past her façade. “Good girl,” he said tersely, knowing the truth. “Let’s see how long you’ll honour your promise.”
He pulled her around the desk, forcing her to stand in front of him as he sat down, she started to cross her arms, but his sharp frown stopped her. She dropped them down to her sides.
“On your knees, beautiful. If I recall, you were a little inexperienced. Let’s see if you’ve improved any.”
Mira froze, felt her legs shake, willed herself to stay standing.
“Mira,” he warned, his eyes flashing dangerously.
She had to comply. She dropped to her knees in front of him. “Jack, please.” She begged him with her eyes, thinking that if he could see her fear and disgust, he would find his humanity. He wasn’t like this five years ago. He was lighter, kinder, happier.
But he chuckled contemptuously as he undid his pants and pulled out his penis. Large like him, already hard, pulsing its eagerness. He took her head in his hands and forced her face down, her mouth to his penis. “Begging for it already, are you? Suck it well and watch the teeth. What happens next will depend on how you do now.”
Mira took his penis in her mouth, closing her eyes to its size, to what was happening. She didn’t want to touch him, any of him, but she needed to leverage herself, and so she brought her hands up to his hard thighs, holding them as she sucked. He didn’t help her other than to stroke her head in his hands, tightening his fingers through her hair and tugging on it.
She understood what he meant when he told her to ‘suck it well’. She was going to have to make him come. Panic pulled at her, choking her as she sucked him, drawing his penis in and out between her lips, trying to get him to come. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she sensed that if she cried while she was doing this, he would get angry. She didn’t want him to be angry – she didn’t want anything else in this world right now than to please him.
Then she skimmed her teeth on his shaft, by accident and he inhaled sharply, grabbing her head and forcing it up and down his cock. “Faster,” he instructed. Her mouth was stretched and her jaw ached. She wanted this agony to be over. He slammed into her mouth, pushed himself against her throat, making her gag, thrusting in and out. Then he came with a shout, shooting hot semen down her throat, thrusting his penis past her lips, until he was empty. As he withdrew from her, he let go of her hair and pushed her away. She rocked back on her heels. She was still afraid, but a felt a tremor of anger at this man. How dare he do this to her? How dare he treat her like she was his whore?
Jack contemplated her with his dark eyes as he slid his penis back into his pants and zippered up. He seemed to sense her anger and he grinned at her like she was his fuck toy. He picked up a phone from his desk and tapped at it. “You can call it a night. She’ll stay the weekend with me. Stay away. Anything comes up, handle it.” He ended the call and dropped the phone onto the desk, retur
ning his gaze to Mira, watching her speculatively.
“Mira, we have the entire weekend to ourselves. You’re off to a very good start, don’t you think?”
Mira was still at his feet on her knees, still angry but also grateful that he sent his goons away. So many emotions she couldn’t begin to unpack them. Humiliation flooded her as she knelt before him like he was her king. Tears pricked at her eyes and she didn’t want to look at him. But she had to answer him. The weekend was a long way from being over. “Yes,” she said, her voice quivering.
He pulled her to her feet as he stood up. “Ah, such a good girl. Let’s go to my rooms and continue this conversation.”
He held her arm tightly in his grip as he pulled her along behind him down the hall to a double set of heavy oak doors. “My private living quarters.”
He entered a code into a keypad by the door. As the lock whirred, he opened the door and pushed Mira through it, releasing her. “We’re locked in now, for the weekend. Just you and me, Mira,” he said as he reset the code. Then he turned to her. “What shall we do next?”
Mira watched him warily as his eyes raked her body. They were alone, that was good. She’d caught the first three digits of the 5-number code. If she could somehow take him down, then maybe she could escape. She needed to distract him, but she was smart enough to know that suddenly becoming seductive would set off his alarm bells. And after what he made her do in his office, she didn’t think she could pretend to even like him.
As he moved toward her, she took a step back, which was a mistake. His hand snaked out and caught her by the throat, pulling her to him, slamming her body against his. Then he slid his hand to the back of her neck, forcing her face up to his, brutally kissing her. He had his other hand splayed across the small of her back, holding her against him, moulding his body to hers. Making her feel the hardness of his chest, his arms, his thighs. There was no give to him, no softness.
Then just as suddenly, he released her, causing her to stumble backwards. She managed to regain her balance, but just. “Mira,” he said in a friendly conversational tone that left her floundering at his swift change of intention. He walked away from her to a well-stocked bar and pulled a scotch bottle towards him. “What’s your choice of drink? If I recollect, back then it was something silly. Grasshoppers or something. I hope you’ve outgrown that.”
“I don’t want a drink.” Her voice was hoarse, as if it had rusted from her tears.
Jack narrowed his brow and considered her. “It doesn’t matter what you want. I want you to have a drink. You can choose or I can choose for you.” He raised the bottle of scotch in emphasis. “I won’t ask you again.”
“Water’s fine,” Mira needed to keep her head about her; she didn’t want alcohol marring her judgement.
“If you’re a dog, yes. Otherwise, water is not fine.” His eyes were hard and expectant, waiting.
“Red wine.” She bit the words off. At least it would kill the taste of his semen in her mouth.
“Good.” He smirked as he took a large wine glass and poured a generous amount of a French red into it. Then he poured his scotch, neat, no ice. As he handed the wine off to her, he gripped her elbow and steered her towards a plush white sofa.
“Sit here,” he said as if she had a choice. He dropped onto the couch and pulled her down next to him so that she was trapped between him and the armrest, his hard thigh brushing against her bare leg, causing her to tremble. She looked down at her almost naked body. When had she forgotten to be self-conscious? Maybe when she was on her knees in his office with his penis down her throat. She blinked back her tears.
Jack took a swallow of his scotch as he watched her. “Drink.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” His hard gaze was a magnet forcing the wine glass to her lips, forcing her to take a small sip. Even through her terror, her brain dimly appreciated the fine French Bordeaux. It slid over her tongue like silk, hit her empty belly and a warmth flooded through her. Did she eat today? So long ago since morning. A coffee and a bagel. No lunch, no dinner. Maybe she should drink the entire bottle. Numbness would help.
Jack drew in a breath as he watched her, and she realized that her simple act of drinking the wine turned him on. It was a detail to file, to remember, to use against him when she had the chance. He took another swallow of scotch, then returned to the topic of his brother’s sentence, “You convicted an innocent man today.”
Mira forgot her precarious situation for a moment as she took another drink of wine, felt her head spin, reacted to his words. “That’s bullshit. No one believed he was innocent. He bloody well got away with murder.” Then she clamped her lips together remembering where she was and who she was with. Remembering Jack’s warning. Another sip of wine.
But Jack laughed at her. A strong, hearty, true laugh before he turned serious. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Mira. By Monday, a shadow might be cast on your good character. It might leak out to the press that you spent the weekend with me, maybe even a story about our former affair, both of which will destroy your reputation. You’ll be fired because the relationship you and I have will taint the trial. The conviction will be overturned, and a new trial will be set. My brother will be out on bail. And you, my little prosecutor, will believe in Rob’s innocence so much that you will defend him against your old colleagues who will want to try him for first degree murder.”
Mira gaped at him, wondering if, as well as being a crime boss, he wasn’t also stark raving mad. She took another sip of her wine and said, “You might destroy my reputation enough to cause an overturn of the conviction. I’ll likely get fired. You may even get your brother out on bail. But there is no way in hell you will convince me that he’s innocent, that what he was saying was the truth. And you’re insane if you think there’s a chance I will ever defend that sonofabitch.”
He chuckled. “I like that you are so naïve, Mira. That I know you better than you know yourself.” He placed his glass of scotch on the table in front of the couch and then took the wine glass from Mira’s hand and placed it next to the scotch. “One more thing.” He pulled Mira toward him, forcing her thighs open as he sat her on top of him, her back pressed against his chest. “I’m about to make you come.”
Three
Mira would have laughed at Jack if she wasn’t so vulnerable. He parted his knees so that her thighs were forced further open, stretching her, exposing her. One of his arms was wrapped securely around her waist holding her hard against him, the other trailed up to her throat and gripped it, forcing her head back onto his shoulder so that if he turned his head, he could see her face. “Keep your head there,” he commanded as he dropped his hand from her neck to her breast, squeezing it gently, rubbing at the nipple, forcing its hardness. Then he skimmed along her belly, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her flesh, until he reached her pelvis.
Mira almost jolted upright as he pushed her panties to one side and nimbly ran his fingers down the folds of her vagina. “Stay still, Mira,” he warned her. He slid a finger into her, and she trembled at the violation. He eased it in and out, running his thumb across her clitoris, sometimes feather soft, sometimes increasing the pressure, but maintaining a steady rhythm.
“You’re wet, Mira. Why are you so wet?”
She couldn’t find the words to answer as he pushed another finger into her, stretching her, massaging the inside of her vagina, forcing tremors through her body as her breathing sped up. She closed her eyes to him as he turned his face to hers so he could nuzzle her neck with his lips. Teeth tenderly pulling at her sensitive skin, his hot, silky tongue lingering, sending bolts of lightening through her body, causing her to arch her back, towards or against, she didn’t know. He pulled his fingers from her vagina and brought them up to her mouth, pushing them between her lips.
“Taste yourself, Mira. Suck my fingers like you sucked my cock.” His other hand dropped from her waist to her pussy, pulling the juices from her vagina and running them ov
er her clitoris, thrumming it like strings on a violin.
Mira heard herself groan as she sucked at the fingers in her mouth, tasting her wetness mingling with her saliva. Jack removed his fingers and pushed her face to his, kissing her hard, replacing his fingers with his tongue, taking hers into his mouth, sucking at it. All the while he continued to stroke her. It was too much. It had been too long since she’d been touched this intimately and with such skilled hands. As Jack pushed two fingers into her vagina, she bucked against them, unexpectedly wishing they were his cock, wanting him inside her. He dropped his lips to her neck again, teasing her sensitive skin with his tongue while at the same time, thrusting his fingers in and out of her vagina, in rhythm with her bucking.
Their breathing knotted together, his heavy breath on her neck as he nipped her tender flesh, strangling her own frenzied gasps. Then he shortened the strokes on her clitoris, speeding his thumb up, rapidly rubbing it. The pressure in Mira was building. How could her body be responding to him like this? Even as she implored god to not let this happen, her body shattered, her vagina tightening on his fingers. She wrapped her hands around his wrists, gripping them as she cried his name. Then she came, hard, spasming as her hips rocked against his hand, wanting him not to stop at first and then to stop as the tremors started to ebb and a throbbing sensitivity slid over her. But he milked her, stroking her clit with his thumb, gently forcing little aftershocks through her body.
When she was spent, he turned her toward him and pulled her into an embrace, rocking her, stroking her gently. For a minute, she felt a tenderness tug at her heart, like before, like five years ago. Then he said, “That one was a gift. The next one you’ll have to work for.”