Needs And Desires.

Chapter 9.

The moment Jasmine got into the room, she shut the door fast.

Her back pressed against the door, hands against her chest as she let out uneven breaths. Panting.

Her pussy tinged, dripping from want and desire.

She pressed her thighs together, breath heavy against her lungs as she tried to suppress the burning ache but goodness… Her pussy would not stop burning, throbbing, and worst of it all, desiring his hand.

Her body was spiraling, caught between frustration and a wild, unquenched hunger that scratched beneath her skin like an animal trying to claw its way out.

She could still feel the phantom touch of him on her ass as he eased the sting from every spank and the residue of his voice lingering in her head like a sensual curse she couldn’t shake. Every part of her felt alive and on edge, yet painfully empty.

Once the sharpness of her breath sufficed, she let out a gentle exhale, keyed the door then walked closer to the bed.

She should be able to do something about the state her body was in at the moment.

Something had to be done.

Yes.

She walked to the bed and got under the duvet, hands moved slow against her thighs as she tried to envision something.

The sheets brushed her skin like whispers—too soft to satisfy, yet too intimate to ignore. Her hips shifted slightly beneath the fabric as her fingers dragged up slowly, nervously, across her skin, searching for a flicker of relief.

Anything erotica to get her to orgasm, but as she dragged her hands backward, the only image that filled her head was that of Jerald’s hand smacking her ass to obedience.

A sting, a command, a pleasure wrapped in pain. That was what he gave her. That was what her body remembered even more than her mind did. The image replayed, playing her like a dangerous lullaby, leaving goosebumps along her flesh and heat pooling in her core.

Her eyes fluttered open, frustration lodging in her chest.

She tossed slightly, groaning lowly.

Her body was still, numb from the desire to have him.

“Oh goodness.” She growled, tossing her head sideways against the pillow.

That bastard, so he had the nerves to spank her, touch her and even fuck her mouth only to leave her yearning and discovering this alone!

A soft hem slipped past her lips as she cleared her throat.

There must be something else to think of.

But the ache in her bones said otherwise. The desire clawed at her insides with a hunger that felt too real to suppress. She blinked slowly, trying to refocus, to grab hold of her thoughts before they tumbled straight back to him.

If she desires him now, then it would be because she just had a section with him. Not because she liked him.

Yes.

That was it.

Jasmine was a step toward believing that, when suddenly, the image of his face filled her head again.

His jaw clenched, eyes dark, teeth gritted, veins stretreching!!! Urge he looked like the perfect blend of sin.

She moved her hands to her core, nose scrunching from the image in her vision.

But she didn’t give up, perhaps because she couldn't. So she rubbed gently on her clit, stimulating her sensitive clit a little longer, while convincing herself that his thoughts would be out of her head soon.

The pressure built slowly, teasingly, but her mind kept tripping.

As the moment grew her fingers on her clit worked softer, her body tensing slightly at every rub, but nothing was compared to the heat that burned through her.

Still, she kept going. As if reaching that high, might silence him from her thoughts. As if touching herself hard enough might erase the feel of his touch.

She shut her eyes, trying to chase an orgasm that wasn’t forthcoming, yet the only thing that hovered around her thoughts was his fingers.

Those hot adroit fingers that gripped her hair hard while ramming hot into her mouth. Oh, fucking heavens!

Those fingers will do well, they would do well around her pussy.

Her thighs trembled at the memory, and a low sound escaped her throat—a whimper, barely there. She bit down on her bottom lip, nails digging into the sheets as her hips arched just slightly against her hand.

The thought of his fingers sent a low heat coiling against the pit of Jasmine’s belly, only to be disrupted by the loud buzz of her phone.

Her body jolted, the sound crashing into the sensual bubble she’d tried to wrap herself in.

Jasmine’s fingers stopped against her clit.

A frustrating sigh slipped past her lips.

The orgasm that had barely started retreated into shadows, leaving only tension behind. She cursed low under her breath as she reached to the edge of the bed where her phone was resting, ready to silence it, but the name of the caller on the screen had her jumping into a sitting position.

Beatrice Morroti.

Her breath hitched.

Pulse ticking loudly against her ear.

Her fingers curled around the phone, hesitation trembling through her fingers.

Her mind scrambled, her body still pulsing from the heat of moments ago, now colliding head-on with a reality check she hadn’t been ready for.

Beatrice Morotti was her only existing relative. Not because she was the only one alive, but because she was the only one who left her entire life just so she doesn't fell the absence of her parent. And yes. She owed her aunt more than being just a niece.

A soft exhale slipped past her lips as she glared at the phone in her hand.

Her aunt would be pissed if she ever found out about this job of survival.

Bracing herself up, Jasmine let in a deep breath, sliding her fingers against the phone screen.

“Aunty…” she greeted in a warm tone the moment she took the phone to her ear,

“Min….” Her aunt called in the usual nickname she often called Jasmine, her voice laced with excitement.

“Good evening Aunt…”

“Why are you sounding so Formal, Min? Did you think I was going to scold you for nothing going to bed early?”

Jasmin’s hands moved to the back of her head where she scratched gently from lack of response.

“Well… you are right. I was going to scold you for still staying awake till this time.”

Jasmine heard the sound of the coffee machine as it hummed from a mile away.

Her lips stretched into a gentle smile.

“Says an aunt whose coffee machine is currently brewing coffee…”

“You brat…” Aunt Beatrice teased between gritted teeth, her voice laced with feigned anger.

“I am already old you know. For me I have to make money and look healthy. But if you keep going this way you might develop insomnia.”

Beatrice Morroti had knacks for work and everyone called her workaholic, including her children who flew outside the country because they couldn’t stand the pressure from their mother.

The warmth in her aunt’s voice settled over her like a blanket. Jasmine’s cheeks stretched into a gentle smile. Weird, but speaking with her aunt elevated her mood and kind of helped her escape the weight of desire.

Speaking of work. They was more than enough waiting for her. Stolen money, lost deal… right!! She couldn’t involve her aunt in any of it. At least, not for now.

“I was about to go to bed aunt. Besides it I had slept early, how would I have picked your call?”

“Such sharp mouth. You better not fall ill okay?”

Jasmine cheeks stretched into a gentle smile. Her head fell into a gentle nod as though her aunt could see her.

“Thank you for checking in, Aunt. I will be sure to stay healthy and sleep well.”

“Good girl. Go to bed early and wake up healthy. Okay?”

“Okay, Aunt. Bye-bye.”

The call ended and Jasmine’s back immediately hit the bed.

Her eyes held the ceiling and she glared at the light between the POP, her mind straying…. to the thoughts of her family, her surgery and how long it would take for her to get better to pursue this whole revenge.

Revenge.

It had once burned hotter than anything. But now? It felt distant—blurred by the desire for peace, for touch, for healing. Her chest rose and fell with an ache that wasn’t just physical anymore.

As this thoughts clouded her mind, the desire to be touched suddenly vanished, leaving just a body and a heart that seeked, healthiness and justice.

She exhaled deeply, a weight falling from her shoulders as though her aunt’s voice had drawn her back from the edge of something too consuming.

With her still mumbling legs, She picked herself up, walking into the bathroom, and ran a shower.

Steam clouded the mirror, and the hiss of hot water masked the tiny sob that caught in her throat. She needed more than just relief. She needed clarity. Strength.

As Jasmine returned to the room, she swept under the duvet, hugging her pillow tightly to the warmth of it and the warmth of the voice in her head.

“Come back tomorrow for more.”

His voice echoed, cocky and certain, like he already knew she would.

But tonight, she clung tighter to the pillow, trying to remember who she was—beyond the heat, beyond the ache.

Beyond the thought of a stranger who in just two days was already cripping its way through her. Uninvited. Unwelcomed.