Page 40 of Once Upon A Sale

Holding out my hand for him to take, I step out of the tub and allow him to dry me off. Kneeling at my feet, for once, he presents the towel in his hands for me to step into. I have to hold on to the sink so I don’t fall on my face since my legs feel a lot like noodles after this weekend. With one foot in his hold, he dries up my ankle, my calf, my knee, before gently placing my foot back onto the rug and tapping the inside of my left ankle and starting the process all over again.

We don’t speak for a while as I watch him concentrate on his task. It’s like he’s memorizing me, every line and every pore of my legs.

“Some of them are in rough shape, Ophelia.” I blink at the sudden way he’s volunteering information but, for once, I shut my mouth and let him talk. “A few of them I’ve had to take to a rehab facility where they were taken care of for months at a time. Two, I’ve driven back to their families because I could tell within five minutes of meeting them that they would be too broken to survive a week as a slave. Mostly, though, I refuse to take them in when it’s clear as day I can’t do fuck all to train them.”

Pausing like he’s debating whether or not he wants to continue giving me information, he dries my thighs and my ass, passing over my mound like it’s not there. Ignoring the one thing he couldn’t get enough of this whole weekend.

“A lot of them came from abusive homes and every single one of them, I trained to perfection. I made sure they were exactly what the buyer wanted so they would be safe. And, Ophelia…”Jarrett stands now, the towel over my breasts and collar bone as he searches my face for…understanding, maybe? Acceptance? I hope it’s not forgiveness because that’s not happening. Not yet and maybe not ever. “Their lives as slaves, for most, was better than where they came from.”

Jarrett nods like he’s trying to convince himself of what he’s telling me.

Bringing a hand to his jaw, I pull him close to my face and speak as clearly as I can.

“It doesn’t matter where they came from. It doesn’t matter how much luxury they ended up in, Jarrett. Your firm took away their choices. You forced them into submission without their consent.” Then it hits me and the disgust must be written all over my face.

“Did you…?” I don’t want to say the word because I will hate myself for even being here.

“No. Fuck, no, Ophelia. Did I fuck them? Yes. But only once trust was established and consent was given. Hell, most of the time, the buyers want virgins so it’s a moot point. I’m a Dom, not a complete wanker.” The relief I feel is minimal because, as much as I'm glad he didn’t hurt them in the most intimate ways, I’m still disappointed and frankly pissed off that he’s a cog in the machine that ultimately hurts women. With or without consent, those women are not there of their own free will.

By the time he’s finished drying me off, it feels like time has skipped ahead in the blink of an eye.

“We need to get ready. We can’t be late.” I nod at his instructions and when I look up at the clock on the wall, I realize we’ve only got forty minutes before we need to leave.

“Hey.” Clasping my wrist, he pulls me into him before I have time to walk out of the bathroom. “I can’t change my past, Ophelia.”

“No, I guess you can’t. But I can’t change my mission, Jarrett.”

We’re at a standoff, a modern-day western where there are no solutions. Only obstacles.

“I’m supposed to kill you. You get that, right?” His tone is harsher all of a sudden, likeI’mthe one being unreasonable.

“And I’m supposed to killyou, what’s your point?” We’re so close I can hear his breaths and see the tight rise and fall of his chest.

“The point is…” He pauses, his glare now traveling all over my face before he growls and buries his fingers in my wet hair. “I’m not done with you.”

When our mouths collide, we’re all teeth and lips and tongues dueling for control. It’s not about fucking, to be honest, it’s about getting that last taste, the final feel of him. All too quickly, we jump apart, panting and confused.

“I need to get ready.” It’s not a lie, I do need the time to dress appropriately.

“This isn’t over, Ophelia.”

“It is for now.”

“Maybe for this weekend, but I refuse to give you up forever. You’re just gonna have to deal with that.” There isn’t an ounce of doubt in his voice. In fact, he sounds as if the mere act of throwing that information into the universe will magically make it happen.

“You can’t give up something you never had, Jarrett. I can’t be with someone who participates in exactly what killed my mother. I won’t.” We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before he lets me go with a cocky smirk planted firmly on his lips.

Less than an hour later, we’re in the helicopter heading for the airport where a car is ready to take us back to the warehouse.

We arrive with fifteen minutes to spare before the clock strikes midnight and we both turn back into the people we were beforewe arrived. A quarter of an hour before the bubble of our weekend explodes and reality sets in.

Outside the window of the car, the two beefy guys from Friday night are there, watching me and probably wondering if I need any kind of assistance. I don’t, not really. But I do need to put my big girl panties on and say goodbye to Jarrett, knowing damn well that once I leave this car, all bets are off.

“This isn’t over.” He tells me this like it’s a foregone conclusion and I have no say in the matter.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Jarett.”

Opening the door to the car, I leave him behind and register my safe arrival.

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