Epilogue
Reggie was better at it than her, for a little while, but even he couldn't play it cool for long. As for Jasmine, she was too giddy to ever really pull it off.
Of course Bailey was the first to notice the ring and playing it casual with her was not an option. The redhead screeched, jumped up and down, kept demanding that Jasmine show it to her again.
After the fourth time getting her hand yanked for renewed inspection, Jasmine realized she had tears streaming down her face as she laughed along with Bailey. She'd really just never been happier.
Bailey refused to believe there was not a wedding in the works, and was convinced Jasmine was merely being coy with the details. By the time she left, Jasmine was a little convinced, too.
For a while.
Nothing had changed. Except everything that had changed.
She was still sleeping in his bed. But now
all
her stuff was at his house.
Her
house, as Reggie was wont to correct her when she marveled aloud at this fact.
Jasmine didn't have to stress over rent anymore; that was probably the biggest change in her mental landscape, and she had yet to adjust. Her photography gig fizzling out didn't seem so dire anymore.
For the first time in a long time, she was able to
think
. Of what she
wanted
to do for a living, of going back to school, of dedicating all her time to her online 3D art commissions until she made up her mind.
This last is what kept her occupied these days, to her vast satisfaction. It was actually enjoyable
and
it paid reasonably well - and now she had the time to really work on each of them as carefully as she liked. She took a chance and raised her rates; she actually got more commissions as a result. She found she could take on multiple ones and queue them up, because finally she had the time to do just that.
Reggie was insufferable these days. Everybody seemed to be saying so, even when he was quietly minding his own beeswax. Apparently, he had a smirk on his face all the damn time now. After a while, he just stopped trying to deny it.
He'd won her.
His triumph was hard to miss. It didn't surprise him that everyone he knew was constantly ragging on him for it. He couldn't help it and he couldn't care less. He was the luckiest bastard alive.
Oh, to remember the days when she had insisted she loved Teddy. His friends would have raised hell if they saw him then, how his smirk turned into a feral grin.
Jasmine looked at him with adoration in her lovely eyes now. And the things she told him, Good Lord... She might've been a poet in a past life. Or an accomplished seductress. Either way, the lady had bars and those slick lines of hers caught him all the way off guard every time.
Mostly because she didn't even
need
to say too much to get him on her: a lot of nights all it took from her was a look. And he knew she loved, adored him.
But Jasmine
wanted
to talk that talk and she loved that he never anticipated any of it. That his girl could talk the hind leg off a donkey was, of course, not news. But it was just so fucking nice that she was just as verbal when she was feeling romantic, or sexy or even sometimes, braggadocious about her quality man!
Life with Jasmine was bejeweled with these instances when she just poured her heart out, often in the calm, serious voice of a bride reciting her vows. She couldn't or wouldn't confine her words to a ceremony which came by once and was gone. And he cherished every single one of those moments.
By the same token, when she couldn't wait for him to come home, she just had to call him in the middle of the act and tell him she was flicking the bean. When she fancied it was a crime he hadn't passed on his (apparently "gorgeous") eyes to a child by now, he learned of it shortly thereafter. Commenting on losing her virginity at twenty-three, she quipped that it was only because she'd never met any men before then.
Naturally, she told him
why
she loved each and every sexual position they found themselves in.
"I'm not even sure I have a favorite," Jasmine told him unevenly as he steadily entered her from behind. "Every... I mean... Um..."
Good dick did strange things to a girl's brain, Reggie thought in amusement.
"Every position is my favorite when we're in it," she managed at last when he was still. "And this one's definitely my favorite right now."
Her body simmered as she stared at their reflection. Night had fallen but the soft light from the bedside lamp showed him everything. The closet door had been flung open, exposing the full-length mirror in it, and their own entwined images. They were perched on the edge of the bed, Reggie right behind her.
Reggie stared at her, too, from her dewy brow to her flushed cheekbones to the long exposed line of her throat as she eased her head back. He saw his hands gently rolling her tits in his palm, ogled the sensuous sheen on her flat belly and the flare of her hips.
The second his eyes fell on the neat little triangle of strawberry-blond curls, his hand immediately dived to gently grab and tease the tempting mound.
"I ain't gotta tell you why
I
like it," he muttered, kissing her shoulder. "You're all I see. I'm barely there."
"You are definitely there," Jasmine muttered, stirring her hips as her inner muscles clenched around him. "And I like looking at your face. Seeing how much you love fucking me."
He dragged his gaze up to her face to find her smirking at him even as she panted with excitement. She closed her eyes and moaned in soft complaint when he pulled slowly back, preparing to thrust again.
"Oh, I
adore
fucking you," Reggie whispered. "You sit right there, sugar. I'll show you."