The Sex Room.

Chapter 6.

Jasmine sat on the king-size bed under the dim glow of the chandelier light that cast a gentle shadow across the room.

The lighting from her screen illuminated her face, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

Jasmine had been doing everything—everything but taking a rest.

She needed something stronger. A force that could pull her from the thoughts that had clouded her mind since last night.

The gentle sound of the keyboard echoed through the room, yet it wasn’t loud enough to distract her from the weight that pressed heavily against her shoulders.

Jasmine had not been able to see herself past a lady so desperately in need of money. One who ignored her dignity just to get revenge.

And the thoughts of him.

Jerald De Luca. The imposing 6’4, devastatingly handsome man who always found ways to slip into every thought.

He was handsome—not even a fact to negotiate. But what was not handsome was how dominating he was, and she… Jasmine was a woman who didn’t have submission to offer.

Her fingers moved against the keyboard, and a soft exhale slipped past her lips.

Her hands moved to her face, and she brushed her hair backward.

Soon, a gentle knock came on the door, temporarily pulling Jasmine out of her trance.

She tilted her head slightly, raising her tired gaze to the door, her delicate fingers rubbing against her forehead.

“Come in,” she ordered in a calm tone.

The door opened, and a slender lady in a white blouse tucked into blue pants stepped in.

From the haze of tiredness, Jasmine’s eyes darted to the lady’s hand.

The breath in her throat hitched at the sight of the expensive nightwear, but she remained still, glaring at the lady.

“Miss… Miss.” The staff took a step forward, bowing her head gently.

“Boss asked me to deliver this to you. He asked that you be with him in an hour after you change into this.” She nudged slightly at the outfit in her hand, and Jasmine signaled for her to drop it on the bed.

The lady bowed, dropped the outfit on the bed, and left afterward.

Jasmine swallowed, her eyes fixed on the red lingerie.

Nervousness clawed at the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t need to be told.

She didn’t need to be informed about what the dress meant.

If she was going to meet up with him dressed in this red lingerie, of course, she would be going down with him.

The image of his hand against his knife slipped through her thoughts. Her walls tightened at the image of what those adroit fingers would do to her pussy.

Her stomach churned at the thought, sending an eerily sweet sensation across her spine.

Jasmine blinked immediately, trying to clear the thoughts in her head.

No. She was not here for the pleasure.

She was here to make money. To make money for her surgery. Not for the pleasure.

She shut her laptop and slipped out of bed, stepping into the bathroom.

She needed to do something else—anything in the world as long as it kept his thoughts away from her head.

Jasmine stood in front of the mirror, glaring back at her own reflection.

Her hair flowed down her back, resting against her waist.

Her eyes darted to the soft red lace lingerie that hugged her delicate features like a second skin.

Her C-cup boobs sat gracefully in the cups of the lingerie bra—just enough to attract.

Her eyes moved to her navel, and the idea to get a piercing when she was healed from all of this trauma struck a nerve.

The strap of the pants sat along her waistline, teasing her curves.

Her hand moved to the sheer laced jacket, and she adjusted it to sit perfectly on her shoulder, watching it flow down her fairy-like arms.

Jasmine’s gaze lingered on her reflection for a moment longer.

The thoughts of Jerald slipped into her head.

What was he doing at the moment? Was he somewhere in his room with a belt or a rope in his hand?

The breath in her lungs hitched, and the thoughts of his callused hand fondling her boobs to orgasm slipped into her brain.

Jasmine gagged as the sensation prickled her skin, her legs turning to jelly from that one thought.

Her throat bobbed, and she suppressed a lump.

No. This wasn’t about pleasure. This was about money. About the money she needed for her surgery.

Jasmine braced her shoulders up, lifting her chin slightly, trying to steady the unwanted thoughts of him.

There should be something—there must be something she could do to keep his thoughts out of her head.

Thoughts like—

His words slipped into her head.

“As my submissive, the first thing you learn is… to lower your gaze, copper hair.”

That’s it. That was enough to dislike him—because he was authoritative and needed her to be submissive. But somehow, his husky voice tangled through her thoughts, and she was back to thinking about the name.

Copper head.

A knock came at the door.

Jasmine let out a soft exhale. Finally, something to keep her away from the nagging thoughts.

“Come in,” she mumbled breathlessly, and the door slid open.

“Miss…” The lady bowed—different from the previous one who had delivered the lingerie to her.

“Master asks that we bring you to him.”

Jasmine gave a soft nod, and with that, she followed the lady out of the room.

As they walked through the empty hallways, now cleared of all standing guards, Jasmine’s heart thumped gently against her chest.

She was going to do this for the first time. Sex with a man she didn’t share feelings with.

A feeling curled low across her stomach. Strangely, it wasn’t fear. It was anticipation—about what today would be like.

As they drew closer to the entrance of his room, Jasmine adjusted her posture, taking every step with quiet sophistication.

She couldn’t allow herself to be seen quivering. The only garment she meant to wear today was seduction—not nervousness.

As they got to the front of the door, the staff bowed, stretching her arms forward to the door.

Jasmine gave her a brief nod, watching the lady as she walked away.

She turned to the door and placed a gentle knock on it.

Silence stepped in, and a second passed, but no response came.

When she raised her hand to knock again, his husky voice rendered a command:

“Come in.”

His voice was low and hoarse, yet charged with a possession that made her stomach churn.

Her hand twitched instinctively as she reached for the doorknob, trying to recover from the sensation his voice spilled into her.

This is not you, Jas. You are not intimidated, she mentally reminded herself, then flung her hair backward, letting her courage lead.

Without further hesitation, she twisted the handle of the door.

The door cracked open, and she took a step in—into the world where desire met surrender. A place of deadly fantasies.

The air in the dimly lit room was thick—charged with something dark, lethal, and possessive.

Her pussy tingled slightly, anticipation nudging silently at her.

She took a step forward, feeling the subtle air of domination curl around her skin.

Jasmine breathed in the scent of possession that reeked strongly alongside the air of fantasies.

Her fingers twitched gently as she stared around the gloomy red room, eyes quietly searching for the man whose palm held her fate.

Against a black leather couch, Jerald sat like a king—shirtless against the couch.

His shoulders stretched wider than life itself, back rested against the couch, legs spread apart, muscled arms holding onto the armrest.

His gaze flickered in her direction, and the breath in his throat hitched as he took in the perfect seduction that stood before him.

At 5’7”, she was everything no other lady ever was. Slim and thick, with curves enough to entice.

His eyes roamed across her body, and a muscle in his jaw tightened.

A flicker of jealousy flashed through his eyes as they ran across her body, taking in the sight of her boobs—the perfect C-cup boobs fitted perfectly into the bra taking shelter in the first thing he would rip apart.

A vein in his temple twitched, his eyes darkened as he drank her in, palm curled tightly around the armrest, itching to cup those tits into his mouth—the oy place they truly ever belonged.