Page 54 of Once Upon A Sale

“Okay, understood.” Jarrett hangs up the phone, no goodbyes or “I love you Daddy-O” for him.

“You think you own me?” I raise a brow just as I finish my question, curious how he’s going to present this shit to me. There is no world where a man working for a sex trafficking ring could possibly believe he owns me. Not happening.

“Yeah, Kitten. I own you. I own your pussy and your arse. I own your mouth and your tits.” I’m so shocked by his words thatI don’t even notice him moving until his mouth is just barely touching mine. “I own your orgasms.” His lips crash to mine, his tongue barreling between them without asking for entry.

We kiss for what seems like a lifetime. It’s hot and intimate, like his entire body is speaking to mine. It feels like…home. Which is really fucking strange since I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Until now. Must be his magical dick, I’ll get over it.

“And, Kitten?” He trails a path of soft kisses right up my jaw until he reaches my ear, then tells me exactly what he thinks. “I own your heart, even if you’re not ready to admit it.”

I did not swoon. That would be ridiculous. Plus, my heart is a dead organ thanks to daddy dearest. But my sex drive is alive and kicking.

“And do I own anything in this scenario?”

“Silly Kitten.” With agility only found in top-notch athletes, Jarrett lifts me up and over his shoulder before he rises to his full height. “You own every inch, nook, and cranny of me. I gave you my soul up in that cabin. What you choose to do with it, that’s on you.” Then, this motherfucker who has decided to leave the ball of romantic declarations in my camp, slaps my ass right beneath the hem of his shirt. The sting does exactly what he plans.

It makes me wetter than a waterfall at spring time. Still, what would be the fun in fully submitting to him? So I kick my legs out and punch the hard cheeks of his ass all the while loving this neanderthal side of him. Sue me, I love a man who takes charge. As long as we’re on the same page.

“Time to pack your bags, pretty kitty. We’re going to Dallas.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jarrett

“You need to eat something, Kitten.” I place a fresh cup of coffee beside Ophelia’s breakfast plate on the small table in our hotel suite.

“Oh, girl, I need to get me one of these.” Tabatha fans herself, giggling as she nudges Ophelia’s shoulder.

My woman decided she needed her girls for this trip because, in her words, “There’s no way I’m meeting your dad in Dallas without getting my girls involved and doing the research.”

“You can have him, Tabs. All yours.” Ophelia gives me a brief smirk before returning her eyes to her phone screen, scanning through information Caliope keeps whizzing over to her.

“Sorry, Tabatha, but I’m taken.” I chuckle, making Ophelia squeal when I scoop her out of the chair then take her seat for myself, placing her on my lap. “Now eat.” Picking up the fork, I stab into a pancake and bring it to her lips.

“I’m too anxious to eat. I need to know everything.”

“Why not just ask me? I am, ya know, his son.” I press the pancake against her lips again, encouraging her to open up, which she does with a sigh.

“No offense, but I doubt you’d be able to give us what we need. Unless you know who owns the restaurant you’re meeting him at this evening? Or the specific members of security and their skill sets that are going with him? Or—”

“Okay, fair point, Caliope.” I shrug, picking up another piece of pancake for Ophelia. She continues to take the bites as she scrolls through her phone.

“The information you already gave us was great though.” Caliope looks up from her laptop screen and flashes a bright smile before lowering her head again.

I chuckle, because these girls together are really something. No fucks are given. If anyone else spoke to me the way Caliope just did, as though they’re trying to appease a needy child, I’d have their nutsack in a vice quicker than they could blink.

Gotta admit, sitting around the table like this is taking my mind off my own worries about today’s meeting with Dad. He insisted on the phone that I bring her to meet him, that it’d ease his mind if he could see for himself how pliable she is.

It’s gonna go one of two ways: Ophelia will be obedient and submissive, confirming what I told Dad, or Dad will take the fucking piss and somehow make my woman lose her shit, therefore making the whole meal turn to shit.

I’m hoping for the former, but also planning for the latter. I’ve been able to evade Caliope’s hunt for me for long enough, and she’s damn good, so I know for sure I’ll be able to evade The Firm for as long as I need to. As long asweneed to. Because it’s not just about me anymore.

Ophelia refuses to hide away from the world, though. Her desire to continue being a silent partner for the tech companyshe inherited from her dad and raise money for various charities may be slight hindrances to my overall plan, but it’s doable.

I just need to convince my dad that she’s not a threat so he calls off the DOGs.

Fuck it, my mind is back and forth with all the possible outcomes and I’m beginning to annoy myself.

It’ll be fine.

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