by Asha Daniels
Placing his hand on her shoulder, he studied her reflection. The silence shared was a reckoning for both of them, an understanding that they had to rely on each other.
She nodded once, their eyes locking. She’d give him no additional trouble
Cutter lifted the edge of her towel and sighed.
Smack! Crack!
The pain was instantaneous, and she bit back a scream as the anguish forced her onto her toes, the move pushing her cheek against the glass.
Pop! Crack!
The snapping sound along with the whoosh was echoed.
Whack! Slap!
She whimpered, her entire body shaking. This was a different level of pain, the stinging trickling down both legs.
When her towel continued to drop, he stuffed the edges around her and caressed her ass. “I want this lesson to be one you remember.”
“Yes, sir,” she managed.
Smack! Crack! Pop! Crack!
Cutter peppered both ass cheeks, one after the other, moving in an orchestrated rhythm.
Slap! Pop!
Tears rushed to her eyes, burning and she tried to blink them away. She fell into memories from the past, her first boyfriend who’d been selected by her father. There was no romance, no passion shared between them. Only obedience. Submission that became a crushing claustrophobia. This man, this moment was entirely different.
Smack! Crack!
“Oh!” She jerked up, flailing back her arm.
“None of that or we’ll start again.” Cutter pressed his hand against the small of her back, his eyes flashing disapproval.
Lowering her arm, her fingers clawed at the mirror, her hot breath creating rings of steam and saliva.
Pop! Slap! Smack!
She heard the snapping sound seconds before the head of the brush hit the tops of her thighs. “Shit!”
“And no cussing. I will wash your mouth out with soap,” Cutter growled.
Whack! Crack!
The spanking as well as the tears continued, and she allowed the trickle of wetness to fall, sliding down both sides of her face.
Pop! Slap!
Jasmine blinked and could see his contorted but gorgeous face. She was falling in a sublime moment, a rolling place of utter peace. This had never occurred during her countless spankings and she was in awe.
Smack! Crack!
“I think you’ve had enough.” His voice strained, he rolled the brush over several times before placing it on the counter, the action so deliberate. His hands gripping in a loving fashion, he pulled her back, turning her so he could wrap one arm around her waist. He placed the other on the back of her head as he guided her into the embrace. “You did well. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
How small she felt but how safe in his arms. She nuzzled her face against his chest and the sound of his rapid heartbeat was thrilling, lulling her into a quiet space. Clinging to him, she inched even closer until she could tell how turned on he was, his cock throbbing, straining against the thin material.
A strangled huff left his mouth as he stroked her back, his fingers brushing in a lazy fashion.
She swayed back and forth, moving from foot to foot, and the friction between then increased, creating additional current, unbridled desire. She was panting as she ground her hips, her fingers kneading. The scent of him, so masculine, so full of testosterone was heady, leaving her breathless.
“Jasmine…”
The word was said so softly that she wasn’t certain he’d even whispered her name. As his shaft throbbed, she undulated and could feel her towel slipping. This was a precarious position. Of that she had no doubt, but she wanted his touch, his control, taking her body in any manner he desired. She pressed her wet mouth against his skin and darted her tongue to the surface until the tip was just touching.
“No.”
Lifting her head, she could tell he was fighting his dark cravings, needs that had been unrequited. When he lowered his head, she rose onto her tiptoes, reaching for the kiss, the first embrace.
Cutter shook his head and gripped her arms. “No. This can’t happen.” But he lingered, his expression filled with lust. “Get dressed. We need to talk.” Taking a step back, he swallowed visibly.
The towel slid, falling to the floor. Her lower lip was quivering, and she made no move to pick it up. She was shaking, her pussy clenching. There was no denying the attraction between them, the longing.
He shook his head and turned around. “I left a few things in the bedroom for you. You’ll need them while we’re here.”
The sound of his heavy feet on the wooden floor matched the ragged beating of her heart. She bent over, grabbing the towel then slumped against the counter. There was no doubt.
The man wanted her.
* * *
What in the hell are you doing? What is wrong with you? Cutter clenched his hand around the coffee cup before taking a sip. Swallowing was a bitter pill and it had nothing to do with the staunch taste of Chicory.
He was angry, but only with himself. He’d allowed his guard to fall more than once and at this point, there was no denying his desires, the kind of aching hunger leaving him empty inside. Only this woman could fill the hole. He stood at the back window, studying the trees but not seeing a damn thing. The coffee tasted bitter, but he needed the warmth. Chills continued to course through every muscle in his body. But the damn kiss was incredible. He rubbed two fingers across his lips, savoring the taste. “No,” he muttered and shook his head, trying to ease the sexual fog. Protect. Nothing more.
Sleep had been an impossibility. Even though he felt they were safe, at least for the time being, he’d lain wide awake, his mind moving back and forth from his attraction to Jasmine and a past that would never allow him to become connected again. And what the fuck had he done? He should have refused the assignment, no matter what decisions Jeff made regarding his employment. There was no way he could come out of this unscathed. Besides, if the Press got wind of the firm Mr. Rush had hired, there was a good chance his name would be splashed across the papers.
And he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not to Jasmine.
He took another sip of coffee and rubbed his aching eyes. Given his inability to sleep, he’d spent time on the computer, digging through every press release, magazine and newspaper article and even made a time line of her appearances with Danger. He had notes on the band members, her manager and especially any bad press she and her band had received. Other than the usual, due to her princess like attitude, there had been no sordid scandals that he’d been able to find.
But there were always scandals and given her father’s position as well as the man’s lengthy list of enemies, the FBI should have their hands full. He would concentrate on having her provide her thoughts and ideas on the perpetrator. Even certain words in an email could help. If she’d be forthcoming. She was hiding behind a mask.
Concentrate. Help her survive. He realized his hand was shaking. This was the worst position for him to be in. She was so vulnerable, and she had no idea how much. He held his breath as he envisioned her without the towel, wet from the shower and the way her nipples had hardened, the short breath sounds and caressing fingers. She’d wanted him as much as he craved her. “Fuck. Fuck!”
Moaning, he tried to push her out of his mind. Spanking her was one thing. Seducing her something else entirely. The way she’d looked at him, her eyes full of an intense longing, had spiraled his emotions almost out of control. And control had kept him alive more than once. He brushed his hand through his hair, loathing the way he was shaking from the adrenaline rush.
He walked back to his laptop and studied the file Jeff had sent. While he was no detective, the information could help him eliminate methods the asshole would try and reach her. There was nothing glaring and from what he could tell, the perpetrator had thrown shots in the dark. At least according to Jasmine.
The sound of the bacon sizzling drew his attention to the stove. Cooking was his method of subspace
, only now, he wasn’t entirely certain he could find any peace. He’d plated breakfast before she came into the room.
Holding out her arms, she glanced down at her attire.
“That will work much better,” he commented and in truth, seeing her in stiff tracking boots with her jeans gave him a sense of security. His sixth sense had kicked in, creating an odd but remaining vibe. The person who attacked her was just getting started. “I have a thick parka and gloves as well.”
“Great. I already look like a logger,” she huffed and headed straight for the refrigerator, yanking out the carton of orange juice. Jerking open three cabinet doors, she snagged a single glass.
“You can walk in the snow as needed.” The incident less than an hour before seemed to be all but forgotten, including the minutes of intimacy. He groused and slid a plate across the counter. “You need to eat.”
“Why? Who cares?”
Cutter gave her a half smile. “I care.”
“Of course.” Jasmine stopped short and grabbed a second glass, pouring both with juice. “You can cook.”
“There are many things you don’t know about me.”
“I’d like to.”
The words hung, another wave of awkwardness cresting. He carried both plates to the table. “Let’s talk about what happened.”
“You already heard the details.”
“I heard,” Cutter said as he sat down, “the watered-down version you chose to provide in front of your father. My guess is that’s the same version you told the various members of the law.”
Jasmine bit her lower lip before smiling. “You’re right. I just didn’t know how to say what happened in a way my dear father could understand.” Sliding into the chair, she fiddled with her fork.
“Are you afraid of your father?”
She seemed surprised. “Afraid isn’t the right word. Not really. He’s used to getting his way. People follow his orders without question. They’re like minions or rats, scattering around him, ready to suck up his crumbs. I don’t understand the mentality.”
“People love to surround themselves with powerful individuals and word on the street is that your father could be the next President of the United States. I’ve actually heard that he plans on announcing his intentions within the next two weeks.”
“With all the ugly skeletons in his closet?” Jasmine snorted.
“Skeletons. We should talk about those. It could be that one of your father’s enemies is exacting revenge on his daughter.”
She took a bite of bacon, her eyes flashing.
“What aren’t you telling me, Ms. Rush?”
“Jasmine. If we’re going to spend time together, if you’re going to learn all my family’s dirty little secrets, then you need to call me by my first name.”
Cutter exhaled. “Agreed. I know little more than what’s been in the papers about your father. Bitter divorce. Battles with Congress as well as certain members of the Press. But all of this has already been discovered. Your father certainly doesn’t hide anything.”
“Why should he? He simply pays off everyone who gets in his way. Oh, my father is very discrete in what he does, but he can’t hide from his daughter.”
“And what do you think he’s hiding?”
She took a mouthful of food, chewing as she studied Cutter’s face. When she placed her fork down on the plate, she smiled. “He killed my mother and I think he’s trying to kill me.”
Chapter 5
Cutter wasn’t shocked. Very little shocked him any longer. While he could tell the statement was meant to inflame, she continued to hide behind her words, as if they were the only weapon she had against her father. “Explain.”
“Nothing to explain,” Jasmine stated then laughed. “He drove her away. First, into the arms of another man because he had no understanding of love. When he realized that he could no longer control her, he tossed every legal means to get her out of his life as well as mine. She was not only unwanted but remained a snag in his wheel of fortune. My mother didn’t come from money or influence. She was a simple woman who fell in love with a man studying to become an attorney when they were in college. She put up with his bullshit. She fell into his traps. Parties. Clout. Power. He loved every aspect. My mother couldn’t care less. She only wanted a man to love her.”
He hated hearing the words and allowed her to talk. She could have no way of knowing how much he understood.
Jasmine took another bite then pushed her plate away. “My mother left him, but Daddy wouldn’t let her take me. Oh no. After all his pushing, his threats, she walked out with nothing more than a single suitcase. She’d won, you see. She’d beaten the powerful man because she didn’t care about the pittance of an alimony that he was going to give her, given her indiscretions of course. She found a new life and was happy to go.”
“And your father didn’t like this,” Cutter said quietly. No wonder the girl had a chip on her shoulder.
“Oh, you don’t best my father in anything. He pushed her hard, riding her. Used to taunt her with details about me, my schoolwork, my longing to see her, which he refused. When she became sick, he did everything to make her life miserable. I was shielded, even by my mother. I had no idea what had occurred until after she’d died. Cancer was the official ruling, according to the doctors, but I knew better, at least later on. I overheard my father talking to a colleague that the noose around his neck was gone, the one connection that would be a scathing mark on his unblemished record. She had no money and no insurance, so you can imagine the medical attention she received.”
He sat back, absorbing the information. “Does he have any idea that you know this?”
“None and as far as I’m concerned, I’ll use the information when I deem it right.” Jasmine gave him a calming smile.
“This is why you joined the band?”
“You bet, although I honestly just figured this out. I tried out on a whim after a night of drinking with my friends. I’d dabbled in music for years, even playing in a few clubs. My father thought I’d grow out of the ridiculous concept. My mother’s gift, remember. A beautiful guitar. There was an ad in the paper for a new singer and I went to the tryouts. The rest, as they say, is history. No longer under my father’s oppressive thumb.”
“Does anyone know that you’re aware of the circumstances?” There was no way of telling whether this had anything to do with the threats, but power and greed certainly had alarming bedfellows.
“No. No one.”
“Tell me about what happened. You received a few emails from someone, a fan?”
Jasmine shrugged. “I receive dozens of emails a week, most of which I never see. I was bored one night and read a few. I also answered them. The email was signed a fan, the usual. I corresponded with this guy for a couple months on and off. Nothing serious. Nothing that would lead me to believe that he was stalking me. Until one night.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, he told me in no uncertain terms that no one else was good enough for me and that he would protect me at all costs. I told my manager about it and he suggested I simply stop answering the emails.”
Cutter nodded. “And the guy became angry. Right?”
“Angry? Furious. He started asking why. Why didn’t I talk to him? Why couldn’t I see how much he cared? I sent one last email telling him that I was blocking him. And I did.”
“But he found another email.”
“Yep, pretending to be a friend of mine, but I quickly figured it out. Then he somehow found my phone number. The first time he called, I was confused and spent a couple minutes on the phone. The second time, he started threatening me. I had no idea what to do.”
“Wait a minute here. There is nothing in Jeff Gammon’s report about phone calls and this isn’t something you mentioned yesterday,” Cutter admonished.
“Maybe now you can understand why. I don’t trust my father with any aspect of my life.”
The way she said the words was laced with sadne
ss, as if she had no home to go to. “These threats, were they specific?”
She thought about his question. “Honestly, it’s not as much what he said as his anger behind it. He was furious that I refused to talk to him. He said that he knew me and what I needed.”
“Which is?”
“Utter control.”
Cutter absorbed the words. They were usually issued by someone close, not by a fan. “Did he say anything else?”
“That he’d stop at nothing to have me. The phone calls stopped after two months and nothing until the night of the concert. He sent me flowers, or at least I think so. I thought Johnny, the guy from the band, had sent them, but I knew better. Then the email. He said that I should die.”
“What did the email say exactly.”
Jasmine shuddered and rubbed her arms. “You will die. Nothing more. The email was different, but I knew it was him.”
“Different?”
Exhaling, she shook her head as if thinking. “I guess too forward, exacting maybe? I knew he was frustrated, angry but to threaten my life? Just different.”
“Okay. Did anyone catch a glimpse of the shooter?” Pieces of the attack weren’t adding up.
“Not that I know of. It came from the balcony, or so I was told, but I swear to you that the shot was closer, just off stage and on the floor. I did tell the police this part, but they were convinced the angle of the hit meant he was up higher. But when I looked into the crowd, I just thought I noticed him.”
“What did he look like?”
She bit her lower lip and her eyes became unfocused. “I just saw his eyes. Evil eyes.”
Cutter realized this wasn’t anything he could go on or the FBI for that matter. “What about the band. Were they ever threatened?”
“Not that I know of. A couple of them told me I should brush it off, which is what I tried to do.”
“And your manager?”
“Tyler is a good guy. He was always concerned. You should have heard him screaming at the police. He was livid. I never knew he had it in him.” Laughing, she looked toward the blinds. “Am I really stuck in here all day?”