"It's not emotional, it's physical. It's a natural response, like chemistry. Nothing to get all worked up about," she insisted, draining her glass.
"So, you have no feelings for me whatsoever?"
"Well, I sort of like you, some of the time. When you're not being bossy and overbearing," she drawled, holding up her glass. He ignored her request for more wine.
"Just to make sure I understand you correctly, you're saying this is strictly a business arrangement? You have no intention of marrying me or furthering our relationship to anything more meaningful than me as procurer of goods, said goods being the use of your body?"
Clementine could see he was truly upset, but there was no point in complicating things. Maybe after she accomplished what she now thought of as her mission in life, finding her father's murderer, she may reconsider, but for now it was best to keep things on a professional level.
"You are correct on both points. I have no intention of marrying you," she replied crisply.
"I see." Very calmly he rose, took her wrist and pulled her to her feet. Striding to the stairs he pulled her after him.
"Wait," she called, stumbling. Jasper stopped and swept her up into his arms, climbing toward the much darker gallery.
"What is it?" he snapped.
"I wanted more wine," she pouted.
"This isn't about what you want," he stated. "It's about what I want, and I intend to collect my money's worth. After all, you're a very expensive whore."
Before she could stop herself, her hand snaked out and slapped his cheek, the sound echoing through the cavernous house.
"That's going to cost you, my dear."
***
Jasper strode through the door of his room and tossed Clem onto his bed.
"Don't move," he snarled. Moving around the room, he lit several lamps while keeping an eye on her. Pulling off his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt but left it on, hanging open. Clem gasped when he unbuckled his leather belt, whisked it from his trousers and tossed in on the bed. He smiled.
From his armoire he removed an assortment of silken ropes, a string of beads and a bottle. It amused him when Clem tried to read the writing on the label. It was in Arabic.
"What are those things for?" she asked, biting her lip but not moving from where she'd landed.
"For my pleasure," he answered, approaching the bed. "Remember, tonight is about me," he whispered. Leaning closer, he gently brushed the golden hair from her cheek. "If you're a good girl, you may enjoy it yourself. If you're naughty… well, let's just say you won't be comfortable lying on your back for another man for quite some time. Get up."
He didn't help her, just watched her scoot to the edge of the huge bed and slide off the side to the floor. She trembled. It only made him more determined and he smiled darkly as his cock lengthened. She thought she was a whore, the silly girl. Thought she had what it took to please a man, many men. In reality, she was as innocent as a babe in the woods. Come morning she'd know the difference.
"Bend over the bed," he commanded harshly.
Clementine turned away from him and slowly bent forward. She wasn't tall enough so he grasped her hips and lifted her into the position he wanted, her legs dangling off the side of the bed. With one hand planted firmly between her shoulders he lifted her skirts.
Her drawers were already ripped from his inquisitive fingers on their ride from town, and with a quick yank, they shredded and fell away from her. She was gorgeous; her snow white bottom was framed by the underside of the red petticoat and the black stockings clinging to her thighs. Almost gleefully he swatted her behind, hard, and watched his handprint appear.
It brought him pleasure to mark her, even in this small temporary way. He slapped her again thinking of the sting on his cheek as he'd carried her upstairs and again as he remembered his anger as she walked downstairs arm in arm with that old man.
Sitting on the bed, he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to his hip, spanking her again and again. To her credit she didn't cry out until he lost count of the handprints staining her cheeks.
"Jasper, please," she sobbed out.
"What do you want?" he asked, pausing.
"Um… I'm sorry," she cried, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He doubted his expression was reassuring.
"For what?" he demanded. "What are you sorry for, Crystal?" He drawled her Gem name out as though it were a foul word.
"I-I don't know, for whatever I've done to make you so angry," she sniffed.
"You'll have to be more specific," he snapped, slapping her again.
"I can't," she yelled. "I don't know what I've done. It wasn't a secret," she screamed at him as tears ran down her cheeks. "You knew what I was, what I am. You knew I was going to take men to my room and why! What did you expect?" she sobbed, her shoulders shaking as she collapsed on the bed.