Once Upon a Time...

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I slowly drag my fingertips across his knee as I stride past him. Locking eyes with the Joker, I sink down into the other sofa. Jay scowls as he notices how I deliberately avoid sitting next to him. "What's the matter, baby?" he purrs, leaning over. "Don't wanna sit over here and snuggle with me?" I shake my head. "Not tonight, Jay." The Joker smiles at me like an amused cat smiles at a struggling mouse. "Not even if I promise to be a good boy?" he coos. I throw back my head and laugh. "As if you could ever keep that promise." He frowns at me. "I've kept every promise I ever made to you, Olivia," he says coldly.

Suddenly his bright blue eyes flick towards the entrance to the lounge and he quickly sits up. He smiles slowly at the leggy blonde wrapped in a form-fitting black pencil skirt and vest top who saunters into the lounge carrying a tray laden with a liquor bottle, a pair lowball glasses, and small bowl of sliced, fresh pineapple. I watch his face as he watches her step in front of him and set the bottle, glasses, and bowl onto the coffee table. His eyes lock on the swell of her breasts as she leans forward, displaying her tanned cleavage in her low-cut top. Jay lifts a hand and I see a folded hundred dollar bill clutched between his index and middle fingers like he just plucked it from thin air.

The Joker leans partly across the coffee table, his red lips parted and his face slack. He winks at her and slips the cash into her cleavage, making sure his fingertips brush across her bare skin. "Thanks, doll," he purrs. She grins at him before slowly straightening up and turning around. With a toss of her thick, platinum hair, she swishes from the room. Jay shifts in his seat and rise and fall of his tattooed chest quickens as he leers at her. She pauses at the entrance to throw a glance back over her shoulder. I scowl so hard I can feel it in my feet. The Joker must sense it because he whips his head in my direction and a wide grin breaks across his face. "Jealous?" he taunts, eyeing me smugly.

I give him a quick, sarcastic eye roll. "No," I reply unconvincingly, crossing my arms. Jay raises the empty spaces where his eyebrows should be. "Princess, I know you well enough to know when you're lying," he says smugly. I glare at him. "Don't call me 'princess,'" I grumble. Jay shrugs one shoulder. He leans forward and lifts the liquor bottle. His movements are deliberate and slow as he unscrews the cap, pours three fingers of bourbon into each glass, recaps the bottle, and sets it down. Jay settles back into the sofa and halfway holds out a glass to me. His bent arm is so close to his body that I have to lean forward and reach out to take it from his hand. Jay's eyes flick down to my chest as I lean towards him. He grins at me and takes a sip of bourbon.

"Much better than the waitress," he hums, pulling his lower lip through his front teeth. I sit back and purse my lips at him. "Charming," I huff, setting my glass down on the little table parked in the corner made by the sofas. The glass thunks onto the wood a little too loudly. Jay jumps to his feet, comes over to my sofa, and drops down onto the cushions beside me. He places a hand on my knee and slides it up my thigh towards my hip. "We both know I am," he murmurs, leaning close and drawing his fingers through my hair. I can feel his breath on my neck as draws nearer. His musky cologne has a hint of vanilla and citrus. The smug bastard has been like heroine to me since the night we met and he knows it.

The Joker's favorite hobby is torturing people and his favorite method of torture is to dangle someone's deepest desire in front of their face, only to yank it away at the very last second. He gets off on watching the hope drain from a person's eyes almost as much as he gets off from sex and, just like with sex, he wants to be completely in control. One of my favorite hobbies has always been testing the limits with him, pushing back just enough to frustrate him without pissing him off. Toying with the Joker is a dangerous game, but the power struggle between us never failed to lead to unbelievably amazing sex.

Leaning away from him, I grab his glass off the coffee table and shove it into his chest. "Just one drink, Mis-tah Jay," I say quietly, drawing out his moniker. The Joker stiffens and draws back slightly. He clasps a hand around mine and pulls the glass from my grip. "Well then, Miss Dallas," he croons, reaching across me to lift my glass from the side table. He presses the second glass into my palm then clinks his against mine. "Here's to us."

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