Chapter 8
It turned into another weekend spent in close quarters with Reggie. Jasmine was glad she still had clothes in the guest room closet because Reggie wouldn't hear of her leaving. Plus, she really didn't want to go anyway.
Not that she had much to do here. Unless visitors stopped by, he was happy to laze in bed for hours at a time. So long as she kept him company, he seemed genuinely content. If he had been tense and introspective the previous weekend, he was in fairly good spirits now.
This did not seem all that surprising to most of his guests, who never stayed very long. Some even matched his mood, like the four men who arrived with a bottle of Krug '90, and two of Jack Daniel's. Her presence, however, seemed to put a damper on whatever they'd had planned for Reggie. She strongly suspected they hadn't intended to pass that Saturday afternoon playing poker.
But Vinny, Hal, Byron and Rico followed their host's lead and submitted to a relatively uneventful visit. They seemed more curious than resigned, especially since Reggie had taken the time to introduce her to each of them, yet to them he only said of her, "And this here is my girl, Jasmine Fleet."
Mysterious yet definite. Casual but possessive, as was his general manner with her whether they were alone or not. And to everyone who showed up, it quickly became clear that their host rather considered Jasmine his counterpart, and not merely a guest.
Jasmine kept catching herself giving weight to this particular impression without meaning to. Yet what else was she to do with his guests but help make them comfortable? Reggie had had no intention of discreetly leaving her in his bedroom while he attended to them.
"Your friends are hilarious," she murmured as she reclined next to him on the sofa. They were alone once more.
He tilted his head to look into her face. "Pretty big drinkers, too."
"You're one to talk."
"You didn't think they were overly... rambunctious? Loud and rude?"
"They're funny. So their sense of humor is just a little coarse, but they were obviously trying to rein it in for my sake. I thought that was sweet. And please
, you're
the rudest of the bunch, and I tolerate you well enough."
"I'm glad you like 'em," Reggie admitted quietly as he eased his head back on the armrest. "They're pretty close to me, those guys. My best friends in fact."
"I figured that when I saw the gifts they came bearing," she remarked, rubbing his chest a little. "They knew about your relationship with your father, didn't they? They knew the way his death would affect you."
Knew he would be ready to pop bottles for the occasion. Hence the Krug. Not only did they understand that Reggie wasn't in mourning, they were ready to celebrate right along with him.
"There's damn little they don't know about me, and that's the way I like it," he replied.
She hesitated then asked, "Do you think they liked me?"
"Please." So absurd was her query, he didn't even bother to reply.
"I'm glad you have them," Jasmine said sincerely after a thoughtful silence. "People like that, who have your back unconditionally."
"You're talking about 'people' like you ain't part of the gang now," Reggie noted with amusement.
"Well, it would be nice to think that I am, but-"
"Then you are." He'd said something similar to his mom and it had made her emotional at the time. Moved, but also embarrassed because she couldn't see how it was true.
"Am I? These guys are part of your support system, Reggie. They've known you for years whereas I'm just-"
"Necessary."
She looked up at him. He looked back at her. He was resolutely prepared to counter whatever argument she offered. But she found she didn't want to argue. Not really.
"I really hope to be convinced of that," Jasmine commented. "Someday."
He said simply, "Then you will be. One way or another."
Reggie was so sure, she was halfway convinced now. In this moment it seemed he could do anything.
Letting him have the last word, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her lips instead, twisting her hair around his fist to keep her there.
Sunday dawned gray and cold. An exhausted Jasmine silently thanked the weather gods as she snuggled into the abandoned warmth of Reggie's spot. If it continued like this, the endless parade of visitors might stay away today - or they might just come by tomorrow when she was no longer here.
Of course she would also miss this exceedingly charming domestic mood that Reggie was in. This morning, he served her breakfast in bed. He actually remembered to make her eggs scrambled and slightly runny just the way she liked, and his bacon was perfection. His coffee was where she encountered the only difficulty.
Though you could never tell from that killer smile, the man had a hell of a sweet tooth. Anything he was left to sugar to taste invariably
died,
decimated to something syrupy beyond recognition. His coffee was no exception.
Perhaps to avoid that, this morning he simply served mimosas instead.
"I see you found a use for that Krug," she murmured as she sipped her frighteningly expensive mimosa. It had been stashed unopened in the refrigerator, but she had no doubt it would have been used for many a profane toast had she not been there.
"As good a use for it as any," Reggie answered easily, taking his place beside her.
She gazed at him as he helped himself to a cube of papaya from a small bowl of chopped fruit. "It would be just the thing if you had some heavy-duty celebrating to do."
"And so I do."
"Then you should've opened it yesterday," she said seriously, "with all your friends around you. I wouldn't have gotten in your way."
"It was a gift, Jasmine, to do with as I please."
"Somehow I don't believe this is how they envisioned you serving it."
"Oh, I'll bet they didn't," he smirked. "Tell me how you're liking your breakfast."
"Where do I start?" She went with the subject change. "It's beautiful. Ambrosial. Feast for the gods."
Reggie chuckled softly and brushed his mouth against the shell of her ear. "You finish on up. I'll show you where the real feast for the gods be."
As it turned out,
she
ended up showing it to
him
by the simple expedient of sitting on his face.
For some reason she couldn't comprehend, Reggie really liked the sight of her hair wet. So with that in mind, she paid him back afterwards in the shower.
Oh, her man
loved
a good show. On her knees, his dick in her mouth and her hair a streaming wet mass of autumn-gold around her face and shoulders, she gave him one.
Jasmine moaned as she sucked him deep into her throat. "I like it too, baby," Reggie panted.
She cupped and fondled his nuts, then pulled her palm back to give them the lightest of smacks. A jolt ran through his entire body. She did it again and he groaned.
Rubbing her balls to soothe them, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the scent and sensation and taste of Reggie. The water beat down on her like endless warm rain, making her think of tropical storms and the wild elements and her own undeniable physical drives.
She felt like she could go on like this forever. It felt not only possible, but desirable. She didn't have or want any other purpose in this hour but his sexual fulfillment, which in turn guaranteed her own.
Jasmine knew Reggie was just as caught up as she was. He encouraged her with growled praise, deep moans and soft curses. He couldn't keep quiet.
He stayed stubbornly hard, long after his thighs and knees started to quiver. Her cheeks ached and her lips were numb. Even when his restraint finally crumbled under the relentless flick of her tongue, his orgasm only arrived against his will. "No... Wait..."
She looked in his eyes as he exploded in her mouth and his belly fluttered. Before he was even done, it pleased him to withdraw and aim the last spurts at her swollen lips. She slowly licked her lips then swallowed. Then she licked his softening organ clean.
