Reggie's Girl Ch. 08

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.

"Fuck," Reggie rasped, leaning his palm against the wall to steady himself.

He breathed heavily as he watched her face, brushing a blond tendril off her cheek. Then he snapped, grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet. His mouth fell on hers, slanting, claiming, consuming. He pulled away just as suddenly.

"Nobody," he vowed unsteadily, framing her face in his hands, "nobody makes me come like you do."

Jasmine stared helplessly back at him. There was no need to tell him that it was the same for her. He knew.

He looked long into her eyes, surveyed her expression with a slow, somewhat ominous grin. Then he kissed her again, this time with unexpected tenderness.

The strange feeling of vulnerability didn't leave her even after they were dressed. If anything, it grew. At this point, it seemed retreat was the wisest course.

"Reggie, be reasonable," she said through an unwilling smile as their argument progressed into the foyer, "I've been here since yesterday- no, Friday morning. It's past time I went home! Tomorrow's a working day-"

"You work weekends. I run an investment portfolio and am good enough at it that you can get all my attention for all of today. Stay, sweet love, come on - you know you want to. Help me finish that Krug."

"I'm already tipsy," Jasmine objected truthfully. "Get your friends back here and do that thing justice - as originally intended."

"My friends wouldn't dream of setting foot here now they know you're here. Lookit, just serve it to me. Alright?" He tugged her unresisting back into his arms. "Using any part of your body you please."

"No, Reggie, just tell your friends I've left-"

"And let 'em think I fucked it up and drove you away? Girl, they'd just bust a gut laughing until I threw 'em out."

"Then I'll write you a note-"

"Now I know you're mocking me."

A guilty chortle escaped her. He took advantage of her head falling back and pressed a kiss to the base of her throat. "I don't want you to go," he muttered against her skin. "What're you trying to do, girl? Make me beg? I will, you know."

She pushed at his shoulders and gave him an amused look. "I know. You'll say just about anything, in fact." She reached for the doorknob.

"Nothing I don't mean." His hand covered, stilled hers. "For instance: you do know I love you, right?"

Jasmine blinked, taken aback. "I... You've said that before, yes."

"That's not what I asked." His gaze burned into hers, the gold flecks flashing like sparks. "Do you believe I love you?"

She hesitated then gave a shallow nod. "Of course. Yes."

She had never been a great liar. What he wanted to hear felt too absurd and unbelievable to say. Why would she have his love? She had not earned it.

His hand squeezed hers over the doorknob, drawing her out of her thoughts. Her gaze flew to his. He was frustrated but he had his temper in hand.

"I love you, Jasmine."

Jasmine nodded again with slightly more conviction. "I know you do, Reggie." At least, she believed that he believed what he was saying was true. He felt he was in love with her... even though he shouldn't be.

Quickly, before she could let herself think about it, she turned the doorknob. The door opened a crack. Then to her surprise, it was pushed open wider from outside.

"Well, well," a deep, unfamiliar voice drawled behind her, "Service here is good for a change."

Jasmine turned instinctively at the same time that Reggie's arm tightened abruptly about her, crushing the air out of her lungs. But his voice was cool, conversational, almost pleasant.

"Darryl. So strange to see you in New York. How can I help you?"

"Help?" An affronted huff. "I don't need no help from you, thanks. I saw how you did your daddy." He had a lazy southern accent that only thickened with the strain of suppressed anger.

The two men were nearly the same height but this Darryl was clearly trying to crowd Reggie's space. Jasmine in between them made that a little awkward but the attempted intimidation was obvious, if clumsy. In her swift assessment her eyes fell on something else: a discreet bulge, a shiny sliver of chrome.

She quickly glanced at Reggie, needing to communicate somehow that this strange hostile man was packing. But Reggie wasn't even looking at her: for once forgoing introductions, he seemed to forget her existence as he regarded Darryl with bored insolence.

"Something you wanna get off your chest, cuz?"

"Oh, you remember we're cousins? That's funny because from where I'm standing? It looked like you'd completely forgotten the meaning of family."

"Really? You looked at the house I bought my mama and you thought that?"

"Cut the cute shit," the other man sneered, leaning even closer to Jasmine. It felt all the stranger being so near to him yet he hadn't once acknowledged her presence by word or glance. "You know damn well what this about! You had a duty, fam! You had a biblical responsibility to the man who gave you fucking life! Love him or hate him, you supposed to honor your father."

"Well, at least we've given up the pretence that this was ever about family," Reggie scoffed. "It's always the same with you people: family's just your way of saying my daddy's convenience. And you always put that above my mother and myself, his actual family."

"Yeah, so he wasn't perfect - boo fucking hoo!"

"You must have me confused with your brothers, Darryl - ain't nobody crying over him in this house," Reggie said, then his voice got slightly incredulous, "And I gotta say, this is so on-brand for y'all. You really ran all this way to lecture me how this man ejaculated so I owe him my eternal applause."

"Your loyalty-"

"Which he still doesn't earn, right? No, of course not. Why would he?"

"He earned that by being the head of the house!"

"My mother was the only head I recognized. But of course, you're referring to the rights of the male head of the house. Right? His prerogatives, to beat on his wife and child, decimate the neighborhood and retire to wealth and comfort and the reverence of others. Shit, I mean it's quite a dream, Darryl. One I can tell you right now we'll never share."

Darryl retreated into resigned scorn and finally took a backward step. "You know what? I can see you're doing your best to not get it. So I'm not gonna keep wasting my time."

His eyes narrowed and his mouth curled into a thin smile. "But you understand, alright. Deep down, you know you did him dirty and it's eating you up inside. Oh, and it won't get better neither. Nah. This shit's stuck in your craw. This'll haunt you all your days."

"Always a pleasure, fam," Reggie returned with withering indifference before softly closing the door in his face. He stared at the red oak for a second then rolled his eyes and shepherded Jasmine back into the living room.

"Can you imagine," he put to her gravely, "what would've happened if you hadn't been here to protect me?"

Jasmine didn't join in his teasing. "Who was he?" she asked anxiously.

"His father and my mother are siblings."

"You mean he's a cousin on your mother's side?" She was no expert on large families but surely they were as averse to wife-beaters as all right-thinking people?

"That's the kind of loyalty my mother could count on from her own family, yes. But never mind that. Really. There were other aunties and uncles and one down-ass neighbor lady who were all really supportive."

"But still-"

"I know." Reggie gave her a speaking look. "I know, sweetheart. It's fucked up."

Poor Renée if those were the kind of sermons she was forced to listen to while trying to raise her son under a household terrorist. It must've been excruciatingly difficult for her. Harmful, even.

"It really would've been worse if I hadn't been standing right between you two," Jasmine ventured softly. "Wouldn't it?"

Reggie looked ready to spout some flippant remark then he caught her expression. He sighed and led her to the chaise longue by the window and sat her down. Then he squatted in front of her.

"People like Darryl," he said, "have this strong dislike, you might even call it a phobia, of airing laundry out on Front Street. That is the cardinal sin, embarrassing my dead father, which is why I'm the bad guy here. He doesn't know you so yes, he's very careful what he lets you hear and that's probably why he fell back. But Jasmine..."

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You don't have to feel sorry for me or my mother. They can't hurt us now. Matterfact, I'm looking forward to going back to being snubbed by that nest of hypocrites."

"It's them that made your mom cry when you were little, aren't they?" Jasmine called to mind something he'd told her on Friday. "The ones she called Job's Comforters and never spoke to again?"

"And she never looked back."

"Well-"

"So you don't have to either. And I won't have him killing your buzz."

He pressed a soft sweet kiss on her lips. "How about it, love? One more round of mimosas for the road?"

She placed her hands on his shoulders and shook her head as she leaned closer. "No," she whispered. "Not mimosas..."

Jasmine woke up in the pre-dawn chill to the sound of soft rain pattering on the roof and windows. She grew aware of a hard stomach at her back and a long, hairy leg extended between her own. She sighed. She hadn't gone home after all.

But Monday morning had arrived in all its drizzly dreariness. It was time to get back to her own life. She stirred and the back of her thigh brushed his morning wood, sending an irrational stab of excitement deep in her belly.

Of course he was hard, she told herself. It was five a.m. thereabouts, and he was a healthy man.

If anything, it was this preoccupation with him which was unhealthy. She had obligations, bills, interviews, commissions - the things that had taken up all her attention before Reggie had taken off his size thirteens in her life and made himself at home.

She was being an idiot. Even worse she was being irresponsible. She waited for the prick to her conscience to come. Not too long ago, that word had been enough to send her scurrying to finish whatever task was waiting, however unpleasant.

But that just seemed overdramatic now. She was hardly lazy. Even here, she took hours at a time working on her laptop in the guest room. Reggie didn't demand every second of her time. He actually used these periods spent apart the same as she did, on business of his own. He wasn't as bad for her productivity as one might imagine.

Sighing again, Jasmine watched the tiny rivulets snake down the windowpane in the ghostly light of the street lamps below. Reggie, she thought, wasn't bad, period. It was time to properly acknowledge that.

He could be snide, harsh and spiteful (just never towards her) but he'd never presented himself as a saint. Until the façade crumbled, he'd actually cast himself in the blackest light possible. But even so, he was no human enigma; as stuck on his sleeve as it was, anyone could see all twenty-four karats of the gold his heart was made of.

And what was she? A university dropout. A cutter. A broke gig worker. A twitchy mass of nerves. Ugh.

She was a hot fucking mess, that's what! It's why it was so disorienting when he said he loved her - there was damn little to love that she could see. Unlike Reggie who had so much that she... admired about him.

She liked his ribald friends. She admired his mom. She sensed she could be really good friends with Charis. Other than Darryl, the relatives who'd dropped in seemed perfectly decent. And she was at the point where any people he couldn't stand, she had no problem holding a ferocious second-hand grudge against.