Wicked Villain Shorts

by Katee Robert

  Meg stops fucking around. She sucks my clit hard and pushes two fingers into me. I try to resist, to hold out, but it’s too much. My back bows and I cry out as my orgasm rolls over me. I slump back against Jafar, dazed and yet wanting more.

  I always want more.

  He uses his grip on Meg’s hair to lift her head. “That’s a start.”

  She licks her lips and gives a faint smile. “It’s a long path to redemption. At least this one is pleasurable.” She reaches up and cups my chin briefly. “I truly am sorry, Jasmine.” She rises and walks out of the room, and this time she doesn’t come back.

  I crawl into Jafar’s lap and he obliges me by holding me close. “I’ll forgive her eventually.”

  “I know.”

  “Does that make me weak?” She betrayed me. I should be ready to go after her with everything I can bring to the fore. Instead, I’m just tired. There are plenty of fights left in my future. If I can let this go…

  I will. Not today. But eventually.

  I lift my face and kiss Jafar. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll always give you what you need, baby girl. Always.”

  This short originally appeared as the July 2019 short for my Patreon. Each month, patrons nominate their favorite couples and characters, vote on one, and I write a brand new short featuring the winner. For more bonus stories, please consider joining my Patreon.

  2

  Jasmine’s Winter Solstice

  Jasmine

  I never imagined I’d love the politics that go with running my own territory. The power? Yes, of course I want that. I’ve had a taste, and I’ll never go back to being the girl who was more pawn than human.

  But there’s something about communicating in dual meanings that appeals to me. A statement that seems benign, but holds a multitude of threats beneath the surface. A compliment that’s actually anything but. I thrive in this constant battle with words and edged smiles and body language.

  Tonight is one such occasion.

  I look around the ballroom. My generals and their partners mingle with Jafar’s men. Even after nearly a year, the tension is thick enough to drown in. They don’t trust each other, and I haven’t bothered to change that. More than half of these people supported Jafar’s coup against my father. They are not my friends, and they are not to be trusted. They are, however, incredibly useful now that I’ve unlocked the key.

  Still, after hours of this song and dance, weariness weighs me down. I want eight hours of sleep, a bath, and Jafar; not necessarily in that order.

  As if my thoughts summon the man himself, he emerges from a cluster of men in suits and stalks in my direction. I let myself look my fill. He’s putting on this show for me, after all. And it’s quite the show, even if it might not appear to be from the outside. Even after months and months together, this man still takes my breath away. He wears a charcoal suit with a dark purple shirt that sets off his medium-brown skin to perfection. Each movement is full of promise of things to come. A promise echoed in his dark eyes.

  He reaches me and turns easily to take up his position at my right shoulder, nearly close enough to touch. His low voice reaches me easily despite the relative din of conversation filling the room. “You’ve done well.”

  The praise warms me, but I keep my expression cool. “I know.”

  A small smile touches his lips. “Meet me in the gazebo in an hour. This lot will have cleared out by then.”

  That’s an ambitious timeline. It’s barely eleven, and the last time I threw a party like this, nearly every person stayed until the sun rose the next day. Not all of them were conscious at that point, but they were bodily present. “You may be waiting in the gazebo a long time.”

  He just smiles and walks away. His smugness is irritating in the extreme, as is his ability to move freely around during these events. I’m stuck in what’s essentially a throne, surveying my kingdom. Most of the time I enjoy these little power plays, the way I can use my position within a room to illustrate that I’m the one to answer to.

  Not tonight.

  Tonight, my exhaustion goes bone deep.

  It would be an unforgivable reach to call my late father a sentimental man. He barely made time to be my jailer, let alone an actual father. I hated him as much as I loved him—more, even. But, every winter solstice, we would walk the gardens together. First the greenhouses, then the ones outside that went dormant with the turning of the year. A way of remembering my mother, though sometimes I wonder if my memories are true or just figments of my yearning for something else.

  I never thought to miss him. I certainly never considered that his loss would compound my lack of mother. Grief works in strange ways, I suppose. My father was a terrible man. He locked me in a cage, had fully intended to barter me for his own personal gain, neglected and abused me in turn. I hate that I miss him at times. Just a little, a flicker of loss in an otherwise wonderful life.

  Tonight, on the winter solstice, the flicker is stronger than it’s ever been.

  The exodus to the entrance starts so slowly, I barely notice it at first. But as my generals approach me, one by one, to say their goodbyes, and I realize Jafar must be responsible for this. My chest warms the tiniest bit. He and I haven’t spoken about what this time of year means to me, but obviously he sensed my disquiet as the day approached.

  Exactly fifty minutes after Jafar gave his order, the room is clear but for his people. I slip out the door and head for the back entrance of the house that leads into the gardens and the massive maze that stretches over several acres. My sanctuary for so many years.

  It started snowing sometime after sunset, and a light layer of white coats the path and dusts the slumbering plants. I tilt my head back and take my first true breath in hours, letting the frigid air coat my lungs and clear my thoughts.

  My feet know the path, even if I haven’t been out here much since I gained leadership of this territory. It took six months to stabilize things after the coup and subsequent second coup. Even now, when things are mostly running smoothly, there’s no time. My days are filled with numbers and negotiations and politics.

  I love it. I truly do. Tomorrow, I’ll love it even more.

  Tonight, I’m simply tired.

  The gazebo is tucked back in the maze. Not the center, but in one of the four courtyards scattered throughout the bending paths. I’ve spent nearly as many hours in this maze as I have in the house itself. It’s child’s play to craft my route, and I don’t make a single wrong turn.

  I step into the courtyard at exactly the hour mark and stop short. I’m not certain what I expected, but the gazebo is swathed in darkness. A thrill of fear goes through me and I savor it the same way I savored the expensive wine I drank earlier. “Jafar?”

  A whisper of sound behind me. I barely have a moment to brace before he catches my hips and hauls me back against his body. “Tell me your safe word, baby girl.”

  My answer is immediate and breathy. “Rajah.”

  “I’m feeling generous tonight, so I’ll let you tell me what you need.” He drags his mouth down my neck. “We can go into the gazebo, and I can take care of you nice and slow.” He grins against my skin. “Or I can chase you through the maze.”

  I lean back against him, seeking the strength of his solidness. “Do you fancy yourself the Minotaur, Daddy?”

  “I’m going to do significantly more than eat you when I catch you.”

  I shiver. “Chase me.”

  I expect him to give me a little push, to send me on my way with a count ringing in my ears. I should know better by now. Jafar turns me around and goes easily to his knees before me. “Brace yourself on my shoulders.”

  Before I can ask him what the hell he’s doing, he takes my ankle and unbuckles the little strap holding my heel in place. Cold bites at my bare foot as he repeats the process with the other.

  He answers my unspoken question without looking up. “I’m not having this night end with you twisting an ankle.”


  I don’t bother to argue that I could run a 5k in heels if I so chose. These paths are slippery and the snow makes it impossible to gauge the dips and unevenness of the ground. “Just a little frostbite, then?”

  “You won’t evade me long enough to get frostbite, baby girl.” The heavy threat in his voice has my entire body responding. We haven’t played like this in a long time. The house is never empty, and a quick chase around the bedroom isn’t anything compared to what he’s offering me tonight.

  What he offered me the first time we were together.

  I can’t quite remove the shakiness from my voice when I say, “You’ll never catch me.”

  “Would you like to bet on that?” He rises easily to his feet. The moon is barely a crescent in the sky, and the darkness hides his expression from me, turning him into something dangerous and forbidden. “If you make it to the maze entrance—”

  “I want to watch you fuck Alaric.” Since our initial trip to the Underworld, I’ve become quite familiar with Hades’s staff. Alaric is a switch who’s pretty enough to turn even me into a fumbling mess. I got over that reaction quickly, and now I can see him without making a fool of myself. Mostly.

  Jafar’s grip tightens on my hips ever so slightly. “You’ve been ruminating on that fantasy for quite some time if you’re able to rattle it off without hesitation.”

  There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”

  “Very well. If you make it to the maze entrance, I will put on a show for you with Alaric.” He grins, a flash of teeth in the meager moonlight. “And if you don’t make it, you’ll take a week off.”

  I blink. Of all the things I expected him to say, this didn’t number among them. “What?”

  “An entire week. Seven days. We will go somewhere that isn’t Carver City, and you will not take any communication for the duration.”

  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.

  He shifts his grip, sliding his hand from my hip to my clit. The shock of cold from his fingers makes me gasp. “Now, my little slut.” He does something with his hips that change the angle, until he’s grinding against my G-stop as he circles my clit. “Scream my name when you come so everyone knows it’s my cock you crave.”

  “Fuck you,” I gasp, even as I know I’ll do exactly that. He makes me feel so dirty and so protected, all at the same time. I love it. I love him.

  And then there’s no more space for fighting. My body takes over and I’m coming. I dig my fingers into the cold earth and scream Jafar’s name as my orgasm rolls through me with the strength of a tidal wave. Through it all, he keeps fucking me, keeps drawing the waves higher and higher until my arms give out and it’s only his hold that keeps me off the ground.

  I’m vaguely aware of Jafar lifting me into his arms and carrying me through the maze back to the courtyard with the gazebo. I expect him to take me back to the house, but he moves into the gazebo itself. Warmth licks my bare skin and I lift my head enough to see that there’s a space heater and a pile of blankets. “What’s this?”

  “Shhh.” He lowers us to the floor and strips me out of the remains of my dress. Even with the space heater, it’s chilly, so I’m grateful when he wraps one of the blankets around my body and shifts me to straddle him.

  I’m already reaching for the front of his pants and withdrawing his still-hard cock. Even with desire buzzing in my veins, I feel clear-headed for the first time in days. “Thank you.”

  His hands settle on my hips as I sink onto his cock. �
�I’ll always give you what you need, baby girl.” His voice goes a little rough. “And if you wanted to watch me fuck Alaric, all you had to do is ask.”

  “I want to watch you fuck Alaric, Daddy.” I rock my hips, taking him deeper, even as I spill this fantasy into the darkness between us. “I like that you let others play with me. A lot. But I want to watch him suck your cock, and then I want to watch you fuck his ass.”

  “Mmm.” He nips my bottom lip. “You’ll sit there with your hand up your short little skirt and finger yourself while I do.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” I wrap the blanket around his shoulders too, encasing us in a cozy warmth. In our own little world. I ride his cock in slow strokes, drawing out the dreamlike quality this night has taken. This is the come-down from the chase, the slow ascension of pleasure, the feeling of him so close to me in every way that counts. There are times when I love being naked while he’s clothed, but I suddenly need skin to skin.

  I reach for his buttons with trembling fingers, but he anticipates me, brushing my hands away so he can make quick work of them. Jafar hooks an arm around my waist and rolls us. Some creative disrobing and then he’s as naked as I am. I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his back.

  This. This right here is what I need. Different from before, but no less valued for it.

  I want this to last forever, but all too soon my body takes the choice from me. I press my face to his shoulder as I come, clinging to him. This time, Jafar follows me over the edge.

  He rolls slightly to the side and drags a blanket over us. I rest my head on his chest, holding him tightly as our hearts slow and the sweat cools on our bodies. Finally, I lift my head and frown at him. “A vacation? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  I wait, but he doesn’t seem interested in offering more explanation. “But why?”

  “As I said before, time and time again.” He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. “I’ll always give you what you need. Even if you fight me every step of the way.”