Geomancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 5)

Thinking on her feet, Asia said, “Not at all, except that the spa room is air conditioned.”

Tammy, a brunette with fake eyelashes, rushed up to them. “Oh, Asia, look.” She held up a hand. “I broke a nail. Can you fix it?”

“Of course,” Asia said. “My kit is in the spa. I’ll go get it.”

“No need.” Juan held out his arm. “I’ll escort you ladies there.”

Tammy giggled, took his arm, and batted her eyelashes. “You’re such a gentleman, Juanito.”

Jeanne narrowed her eyes on her husband’s back. Sean looked like he was about to explode. Not wanting the situation to unravel further, Asia hopped from her seat and followed in Juan and Tammy’s footsteps. Admittedly, she could be hardheaded, but she wasn’t a fool. She could say no to a drink, but denying a drug lord a work-related order was unwise.

On the way to the spa room, Juan and Tammy made small talk, acting oblivious to her presence. Inside, Juan leaned on the massage bed while Asia seated Tammy in front of the desk. In a couple of minutes, the nail had been repaired and the French manicure fixed.

“There,” Asia said, inspecting her work. “As good as new.”

As she made to get up, Juan straightened.

“Not yet,” he said in a lazy tone. “Tammy, come here.”

Tammy obeyed without hesitation. He pulled the brunette’s back against his chest, holding her in place with one arm circled around her waist while he dipped his free hand under the hem of her short dress.

Asia pushed to her feet. “I’ll just—”

“You’ll sit down,” he said.

Asia fell back in her chair, her heart thumping in her chest. What was Juan playing at?

He bunched the fabric of Tammy’s dress up over her hips, exposing her naked sex. It shouldn’t have shocked Asia that the girl didn’t wear underwear. Tammy rested her head against Juan’s shoulder as he parted her waxed folds. Moisture glistened where his fingers played. He gathered her wetness and slipped a finger inside her, inviting a moan from Tammy.

Asia turned away from the sight, but Tammy’s sharp gasp made her look back involuntary. Juan gripped the girl’s hair and pushed three fingers inside her with force.

“You watch,” he said, “or I’ll make it hurt for her.”

Asia swallowed. Her palms turned sticky. She wiped them on her thighs and tried not to see, even if she was watching, as Juan finger-fucked Tammy.

“Oh God, Juan, yes,” Tammy panted. “Harder.”

He pushed his knee between her legs from behind, spreading her wide and, with his fingers still inside her, stroked her clit with his thumb until she went on tiptoes.

“Juan! Yes! I’m coming.”

Tammy didn’t hold back her scream as her body convulsed and her thighs clamped down on Juan’s hand. Her orgasm carried on for long seconds. When she finally went limp, he pulled out and locked his gaze on Asia’s as he ran his fingers down the inside of Tammy’s leg, leaving a wet trail.

Turning Tammy around, he adjusted her dress before giving her a tender peck on the lips and a hard smack on the backside. “Off you go, back to the party.”

She sighed and kissed his cheek. “You give the best surprises.” She waved at Asia. “Thanks for the fix, honey.” With a wink, she left.

Only when the door closed behind Tammy did Asia come to her senses. Shit, she was alone with Juan. Fear made her heart pump as he closed the distance between them and took her hand. She tried to pull free from his grasp, but he held fast.

“Tammy is an insatiable little thing,” he said, unfazed by her struggle to free herself. His smile was warm, but he tightened his grip to the point of pain. “Do you think she enjoyed that?”

“We shouldn’t—”

“Answer me. Did she enjoy the orgasm?”

She swallowed. “I—I think so.”

“She did what she was told, and I made it good for her.”

He picked up a treatment brochure and studied it absent-mindedly. What the hell was he up to?

“Juan, let go of—”

The rest of her sentence was cut short when he lifted her forefinger and drew the edge of the glossy paper over the tip. She gasped, as much in surprise as pain, as the paper cut her skin.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “That hurts, mm?”

She tried in vain to pry free her fingers. Holding her tightly, he reached for the bottle of acetone with his free hand.

“What are you—?” she asked as he flipped open the lid.

Tipping the bottle, he drenched the cut with acetone. She sucked in a breath. Ouch. That burned like a bitch.

“You see?” he asked. “Fighting only causes pain because bad behavior must be punished.” He released her hand and stroked her hair. “All punishment lovingly given makes the hurt better. Do you understand?”

“N–no,” she stammered. Was he for freaking real?

“At first, when I poured the acetone on your finger, it burned worse, but it stopped quicker, because the acetone seals the cut. More importantly, it acts as a disinfectant. If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have given you the cure, would I? I would have left your finger to bleed. Does that help you to understand better?”