Reggie's Girl Ch. 01

"Like that idea, do you?" he murmured, studying her expressive face.

"No!" she snapped, her brows drawing together in a forbidding scowl.

"Alright, baby." McComb's expression was once again cool and distant. "But you're obviously still a little shaken. Maybe all you need is to feel a strong pair of arms holding you tonight, and nothing else."

His fingers stroked her cheek again, his voice becoming gentle. "You can get that too, sweetheart. You wanna talk, or just wanna cry, you come to me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Jasmine answered, her frown deepening with her befuddlement.

"Alright, then."

McComb lifted himself off her and pulled her upright. She took care to move away from him in as natural, unrushed movements as she could manage so it didn't seem like she was recoiling from him. The rest of the ride passed in almost companionable silence.

When they arrived at his town house, Jasmine took no time to admire its artsy, modern accents.

"Could you show me to my room, please?" she asked McComb as soon as he'd locked up the front door, leaving the chauffeur outside. It looked like Tiny didn't sleep in here.

"You won't have a coffee?" His brow lifted in mild surprise as he turned to her. "I was just about to make us some."

"No, I'm wiped out." She tempered her refusal with a polite smile.

"Suit yourself." He pointed to a staircase at the end of the living room. "Upstairs, to your far left. Feel free to use the shower."

Jasmine nodded, already hurrying to the stairs. "Thanks. Good night."

But there was always an unwelcoming quality to a strange bed, which delayed or prevented sleep altogether. Jasmine fell prey to it now, and with it, all the worries that had haunted her earlier.

She tried calling Ted again, gave up on the nineteenth try. Wherever he was, his phone wasn't with him. Either that, or-

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut and thrust the thought away incomplete. She had to hope for the best. It was all that was keeping her together. Besides, hadn't McComb said he'd find Ted?

Lord deliver her, Reggie McComb, of all people, was where her hopes lay. But it couldn't be denied that if she hadn't accepted his olive branch, she'd be a bleeding mess right now. Feeling useless, begging the even more useless police not to wait before starting a search.

The hours crawled by. With still no prospect of sleep beckoning, Jasmine got up at last. She took a brisk shower in the en suite bathroom, toweled off and slipped back into the teddy McComb had bought her.

She frowned as she finger-combed her hair. That man was a puzzle. He was being so obliging.

But then, he was a notorious criminal. He probably wasn't running on common decency; it was almost certain he had an angle. That he was being so nice to her could signify that he took her job in the "media" seriously enough to try and win her over.

So be it. That was the one card she had, and its expiration was fast approaching. She would have to play it now before he discovered she was of no consequence.

A dark blue robe hung on a hook on the bathroom door and Jasmine plucked it down and pulled it on, nearly drowning in the oversize garment. Thus dressed for business, she left her room.

Her hunch that the master bedroom was the last door on the corridor turned out to be correct. The door was wide open, too.

But looking into the huge bed in the center of the room, she could not make out a sleeping form. The black silk sheets were disturbed, and farther beyond was a desk and chair, similarly unoccupied, illuminated by a small lamp.

Where was he? Jasmine tapped her fingers against the doorjamb, not knowing whether to wait for him or return to her room.

"Sleep walking, sugar?"

She whirled around to find McComb sipping from a steaming cup of coffee. He awaited her response with a lazy, knowing smile.

"I just got here," Jasmine mumbled, forcing herself to look away from his shirtless torso. All he had on was a pair of sweats.

He stepped around her and crossed the threshhold into his shadowy bedroom.

"You wanted something?" he asked, walking to his desk. He bent and riffled through a sheaf of papers there, making the muscles glide and ripple across his back.

"I wanted to thank you for dinner and everything," Jasmine began, squelching the innocent feminine fascination he commanded. "I realize you were trying to make me feel better. I appreciate that."

She discovered she meant it; her gratitude was wholly sincere, to her surprise.

"Don't mention it." McComb kept his attention on his desk. "Is that all?"

"Um... no." She moved from the doorway to come stand before him. "I wanted to ask you, sir: why are you looking for Ted?"

"Ah," he exclaimed, then glanced her way with an apologetic wince. "I'm afraid, that's strictly between Ted and I."

Taking courage from his continued civility, she pressed, "Don't you think I have a right to know? I mean, in light of our relationship?"

He started to laugh. "Let me get this right. You're saying this epic romance between you two is so profound that I, a total stranger, should be the one to fill you in about your soulmate?" He chuckled and shook his head at the notion. "Swear to God I'd still be married if I had half this kid's game."

Jasmine narrowed her eyes, sensing an unpleasant insinuation beneath the sarcasm. "Are you saying Ted has something to hide?"

McComb finally turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nah, forget what I'm saying," he dismissed. "What's Mr. Ripley got to say? His talented ass called you yet?"

Her gaze darted to the floor as a sudden inexplicable embarrassment swamped her. "No," she admitted gruffly. "But that means nothing, he might have left his phone at home, or- or lost it, or..."

Jasmine slapped a hand to her chest as a staggering possibility suddenly occurred to her. "He could've gone to my place," she gasped. "Oh my God, he did, he came looking for me! Why didn't I think of that?"

Her frantic eyes met his. "You're looking for him! Why didn't you-"

McComb's lips curved in bland amusement. "Let him wonder where you are. That oughta bring him out of hiding faster than anything else."

She gaped at him, speechless for a second, then erupted, "You've been using me to manipulate him?! And you didn't even tell me? Who does that?"

"It might have been you, if you hadn't been so wrapped up in your own problems" he mocked. "By the way, not to take away from your Worst Night Ever or anything, but your car's spending the night at my nephew's body shop, all four tires replaced. Nonetheless, feel free to harbor hysterical fantasies about yours truly."

Jasmine glowered at him, feeling more and more deflated as he spoke. "I must apologize," she sniffed in disdain. "I'm afraid some of us haven't been involved in enough disappearances to handle this one like a pro."

It was possible that the barb was uncalled for. Certainly, it was uncharacteristic: attitude just wasn't her thing. But for God's sake, the raging sociopath didn't get to throw her comparatively minor failings in her face!

McComb seemed thoroughly unimpressed with her lip. He stepped closer, towering over her in a way that had her shrinking back. "Oh, so you know I'm a pro?" he queried, a deceptive lightness to his tone. "You know how I got to be one, Jasmine? I'll show you."

Jasmine flinched as he wrenched her wrists from her sides. He slapped her damp palms over his hips and left them there. She didn't dare speak again, just looked up at him in dread.

"Your move, Jasmine. Pat me down."

"I- what?"

His voice still mild, he repeated, "Check me for a weapon."

She didn't move, uncertain of what to make of his request. "Now!"

At once, her hands fluttered over his lean hips and the tops of his thighs. "You're clean," she announced, not knowing what else to say.

"Nope! That's not how you do it," McComb criticized.

"I'm s-"

"Don't apologize non-ironically, it's an eat-or-be-eaten situation when you're frisking a man, you gotta show him who's boss. Give him a damn good reason to keep his hands in the air or those motherfuckers won't stay there, understand?"

Jasmine gave an indinstinct nod, trying keep up with his mile-a-minute conjurer's patter.

"You want his fear, his respect, so you gotta bring on the humiliation. You know how you do that? No? For starters, you can't be afraid to put your hands on a dude. Rough groping, blatant ass-grabbing, hell, 'accidentally' take it out while you're at it. Make it clear that you can do all kinds of gratuitous shit that he's helpless to stop."

As he spoke, a recurrent twitch began to work her lips. "Take it out?" Jasmine echoed, struggling to keep a straight face. "Really?"

A beat passed as McComb surveyed her face, his own deadpan. "I assume from that blush that's the only part you heard?"

"Oh, I also got the part about grabbing ass."

He chuckled then, and Jasmine released her inward giggle. When she looked up again, she was instantly captivated by his eyes. In the soft glow of the lamp, she could see, not soulless craters, but warm brown irises, flecked with gold.

Some half-despairing instinct warned her that she had misjudged the danger Reggie McComb posed, that she should look away right now. But her photographer's mind prevailed and she drank in every last detail of those rare eyes.

"You can't be soft," McComb lectured, his palm alighting on the small of her back. "You see an advantage, you take it. No apologies."

"And it's to my advantage to have you... exposed?" The heat in her cheeks, and elsewhere, intensified at the forbidden image.

"That is the most vulnerable part of me, right?"

"Right," Jasmine concurred in a strangled voice.

"And if I happened to have a hard-on thanks to all your mauling, that'd complicate matters for me exponentially, don't you think?" he put to her. His softly spoken logic was flawless but distracting. Devastating.

"I guess." Her breathing was shallow enough to disrupt her already halting speech. "But then... I mean, since you're not... hard-"

"Before you go jumping to conclusions," McComb paused and Jasmine, waiting for him to finish with bated breath, unthinkingly returned his light kiss, "why don't you check your sources, hm?"

Their gazes locked for an eternity. It occurred to her then that a hysterical retreat at this point was exactly what he was expecting. All evening she'd been trying to tell him to leave her alone. Each time he had responded by forcing her, with obvious relish, into greater contact with him.

Demon that he was, he fed off her fears, derived his pleasure from terrorizing her. He'd probably been looking forward all night to a bestial rape scene, filled with all the screaming, fighting and begging she could supply.

But what if she stopped running? That would end the chase of course; he might lose interest in easy prey. Then again, he might accept her surrender as reward for his efforts.

And if it came to that, he wouldn't bother inciting her aberrant sexual response. He may even be more sadistic than if she fought him.

McComb had a faint smile on his lips, reflected in his eyes. Jasmine had the sudden sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking. But he still stood waiting for her to move. He did not try to influence her in any way; his body language was neither cajoling nor threatening. His arms hung at his sides and if anything, he seemed oddly submissive.

Her hand then, slowly, came up from her side and very lightly palmed the bulge between his legs. The fabric seemed to vanish on contact. He was so warm.

Jasmine frowned in confusion. While his general size was far from modest, he was not quite rock-hard. But how come?

"Don't look so disappointed, baby," he said with a low laugh. "The good news is it's not me, it's you. Yeah, you heard right, and don't even try to pout. You know you're being lazy. Just 'cause I'm at your mercy doesn't mean you don't have to work f-"

Jasmine stood on tiptoe and kissed him then, as much to shut him up as to rise to the challenge. He made a muffled sound between a gasp and a laugh then wrapped his buff arms around her. She found he tasted of very sweet coffee and perhaps a hint of fine tobacco, as though he'd smoked earlier in the night.

But even had they not been thus spiced, his kisses would still prove more delectable than she'd remembered. Indeed, it took some effort to remember her motives. She sucked on his tongue in slow, suggestive repetition. In perfect rhythm with her mouth's suction, she grasped his dick and tugged gently, again and again.

She made a gloating sound in her throat as, despite the barrier of cloth, she felt him harden in her palm. McComb chuckled in response and cupped her cheek, but let her remain in charge of the kiss.

Jasmine let her other hand go round his waist and dip beneath his waistband. His naked ass in her palm just about begged to have its firmness squeezed. She did; it felt incredible.

With a sigh, she squeezed his cock as well, now massaging the hot, stiff flesh. McComb growled against her lips, and in the slightest of movements, his hips swayed forward, humping her hand. He was just starting to lose his self-control and it drove her to the limits of hers.

Breathless, Jasmine tore her lips away and looked as she tugged his sweats down around his thighs. His cock sprung free, startling her. It had expanded to unnerving proportions. It pointed straight at her now, as though singling her out for itself.

McComb bent his head, blocking her view as he sucked on the side of her neck. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jasmine gave in to her need and touched his naked cock; it almost burned her fingers. Its veins were so prominent and pulsed so hard, she could trace them even without looking. The tip of his erection was beginning to moisten too, leaving a small wet smear on her palm.

All of a sudden, the enormity of what they were doing, of what they were about to do, the enormity of him hit her like a ton of bricks. What on earth was she doing? Did she imagine this could end well?!

"That's nice, baby. Real nice, but you better relax," McComb cautioned, dropping a kiss to her shoulder. "Ol' Henry can smell fear."

In spite of herself, Jasmine smiled against his throat. "You call it Henry?" she asked, starting to jack his dick up and down.

"Well... he really wanted an authentic African name. But we agreed the girls were freaked out by him as it is, so..." He let her bubbling giggles abate before he continued with a distinct note of approval in his voice. "Well, you obviously know better than to show fear in front of a hostage. So tell me. What do you plan on doing to me?"

She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. "I think I'm way beyond anything I ever planned, sir," she confessed.

"Don't give me that, you gotta put me in my place. Now, where that might be is up to you. Maybe it's flat on my back in bed, you on top riding me. Maybe it's down on my knees right now, giving you head. Think about it."

Jasmine couldn't believe how turned on she was. Even he wasn't nearly as affected as she was, when it was he being masturbated. She'd never been this wet for anyone. McComb leaned his forehead against hers, his beautiful eyes closer than ever.

"Remember, Jasmine, eat or be eaten. You really think I wouldn't exploit you if you were my hostage?" he whispered.

"You wouldn't," Jasmine whispered back.

"I damn well would, and you know it."

McComb looked her straight in the eye and she knew then, without a doubt, that he wasn't lying. And as she felt herself seduced by his bluntness, she knew one thing more: she was not going back to her room.

Jasmine stilled, exhaled, then pulled her hands off his hard body. With a slight smile she looked up at him, undid her fluffy belt and shrugged off the robe. In matter of seconds, her teddy also lay discarded around her feet.

McComb moved closer again with an approving smile as he caught her hands and brought them up around his neck. He bent his head while his hands fell to her waist. She eased her head back and parted her lips for him.

It wasn't a fluke, what had happened in the car; one kiss from this man and Jasmine forgot everything. What he was, who she was trying to be, what self-preservation meant. All she knew was that she couldn't let him stop again.

"Permission to carry you to bed," McComb murmured against her hungry lips.

"Permission granted," she sighed, though she knew he was being facetious. He could have his little laugh at her expense. She would determine how she felt about it when he'd dealt with the lust racking her body.

His lips left hers. He bent slightly, Jasmine felt a hand behind her knees, then she was scooped up as if she weighed nothing. He walked over to the large bed and with no ceremony at all threw her on it.

"Sorry." His grin didn't bear out the sentiment but then he his weight upon her and she couldn't have cared less. "I'm just so anxious to please you."

Her startled daze subsided and she succumbed to his nonsense. "Mm, I like them eager," Jasmine murmured with an impish grin. She ran her hand over his hair as she met his eyes. "I also like when they suck my tits for ages."

"I'm on it."

McComb immediately moved down her body with becoming docility and took her nipple between his lips. He played with it at first, licking then blowing the taut nub until she squirmed.

Then he began to suck, long and slow, and Jasmine found herself hyperventilating. It felt so good, the wet grainy texture of his tongue on her sensitive flesh, she couldn't regulate her breathing, though her breasts shuddered from the effort.

She arched into his mouth, and he cupped her other breast. His thumb plucked the rigid nipple, nice and slow.

"Oh yeah, just like that," she cooed. "Now use your teeth, just a little-"

Jasmine emitted a sudden cry when his teeth nipped her screaming nipple.

"Too much?" McComb enquired against her skin.

"Yes too much, but that doesn't mean you stop! Keep doing it!"

She saw the corners of his lips flicker. "Yes, ma'am."

He went on sucking and grazing her nipple with his teeth for the longest time until he moved on to the other one at her directive. When both peaks were rose-red and sore, Jasmine requested yet "more" and kept tilting up her hips.

McComb gave no indication he understood her delicate phrasing. His tongue remained at her navel, stabbing the tiny hollow until she groaned in agony.

Spreading her thighs wider, Jasmine lifted her hips again. "I need... please sir... more ..."

Her hints went ignored. Regardless, her body inched closer to orgasm. His busy tongue allowed her no respite, but offered no relief either. It wandered to the edge of her pubic hair then made a wet outline of the fine-haired triangle.

"For God's sake eat me out," Jasmine sobbed at last, abandoning all modesty. "Just do it, eat my little pussy, it's yours. It's yours."

This time, it was McComb who angled her hips upward with his big hands. Then he kissed her lower lips as though he were kissing a long-lost lover, with a devouring, impatient passion.

If there had been a time she'd felt more vulnerable than now, Jasmine couldn't remember it, with a strange ceiling swimming before her eyes and a far-from-perfect stranger giving her the best oral sex she'd ever had. It was, perhaps, only his total lack of inhibition that kept her own shame at bay.

But there was also something to be said for the deft precision with which McComb wielded his tongue. As he swirled it round and round her cunt, mopping up her surging wetness as it occurred, Jasmine had the feverish impression that perhaps his tongue was more flexible than was natural.

McComb started to fuck her with it and she knew he was indeed blessed with an extraordinary mouth. It felt like being teased, but being forcefully fucked at the same time. So much so she put her legs around his neck and bucked in rhythm with his thrusts.