Page 44 of First Snow
“If I tell you that I know someone, what will you do?”
“I’ll make sure they won’t recognize you.”
“How?”
The grip against Arttu’s neck tightens, and Jareth leans forward to pull Arttu’s face against his chest. The position is surprisingly comfortable, given that they’re separated by the car’s center console.
“I can make sure they don’t get to see your face,” Jareth growls, his breath ghosting over Arttu’s ear, making him shudder. “I’ll discreetly get you somewhere private where we can discuss what to do. Does that sound agreeable to you?”
“Yes, sir,” Arttu says. He doesn’t even have to think about adding the honorific. It just slips out. It feels natural. He’s in so much trouble. But Arttu can’t bring himself to care, not when Jareth’s protectiveness makes warmth bloom in his chest that spreads through his limbs and makes him feel all fuzzy and content.
“Good boy,” Jareth purrs. “Let’s go, then.”
Arttu stands at the floor-to-ceiling windows and looks out into the twirling snow. Lord Briar’s hunting resort is a large, wooden house sitting on top of a hill, overlooking deep woods and a stream flowing through the valley below. Oulanka National Park is just a stone’s throw away. Arttu used to go hiking here when he was younger, sometimes with Pekka and Sofia, sometimes alone. It irked his father immensely that Arttu spent his vacations philandering with his friends and sleeping in the free cabins along the trail, instead of being productive and attending summer school.
Jareth steps up behind him and puts his arms around Arttu’s waist. He presses soft kisses against Arttu’s neck. With horror, Arttu realizes that he has missed Jareth’s touch even more than he thought.
“We can take a break or leave the party whenever you want, understood?” Jareth says.
“Yes, sir,” Arttu mumbles, melting into the warmth of Jareth’s body. If he wants to play his role convincingly, Arttu had better put himself into a submissive mindset.
“There’re a few more things we need to discuss before getting dressed up.”
Arttu nods, nuzzling against Jareth’s chest. He just hopes that he can meet Jareth’s demands without jeopardizing his cover.
“What is it?”
“Now, here are the rules you will follow: You will stay by my side at all times. You will be expected to follow my orders immediately. I love your sass, but tonight it’s uncalled for. You will speak only when directly asked. And you will only obeymyorders. Everyone else is of no importance. They have no say when it comes to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jareth’s orders are making heat pool in Arttu’s stomach. He hates how affected he is by a few simple words.
“If you see someone you know, just take my hand like this.” Jareth intertwines their fingers and squeezes gently. “If you do this, I’ll take you somewhere private immediately. You can trust me to do it discreetly. If your hands are tied, say yellow.”
“Okay, sir. We’re using the traffic light system tonight?”
Jareth presses an adoring kiss against his temple. “Clever boy. But no, you’ll only use the traffic light system to alert me if someone is making you uncomfortable and you want to get away. Your safeword tonight isBlackrose. But don’t worry, if you get confused you can still use the traffic light system.”
Arttu chuckles. “Blackrose? You’re ridiculous.”
Jareth bites his neck gently. “Don’t be so cheeky if you don’t want me to punish you in front of everyone.”
“Sorry,Lord Blackrose.” Arttu can’t help but taunt him a little more. It’s what the girl called Jareth, after all, and Arttu wants to see how he reacts. To his surprise, Jareth freezes at his words, his breath feels hot against Arttu’s ear.
Jareth is suddenly in motion. He spins Arttu around and pushes him backward, pinning him roughly against the wall next to the window. Arttu opens his mouth to complain, but before he can form a coherent sentence he’s kissed within an inch of his life. Jareth sucks the air right from his lungs. Arttu moans at the rough treatment, all coherence leaving him.
“Don’t call me that,” Jareth finally growls. “Not unless you’re really in trouble; or unless you really want to get into trouble.”
Jareth’s body is pressed against him from head to toe. Arttu can feel he’s hard.
“Okay,” Arttu says, surprised by the breathlessness of his own voice. “Sorry, sir.”
Jareth kisses him again, deeply and languidly. He presses a knee between Arttu’s legs, and Arttu completely relaxes, trusting Jareth to hold him upright.
Arttu awakens as if from a blissful daze when Jareth finally breaks the kiss. He makes a soft noise of protest, already mourning the loss of Jareth’s warm, soft lips.
“I’d love to ravish you right here, sweetheart, but I promised you a party, didn’t I?”