“Jasmine, I never stopped loving you; I swear it…I…You never got back to my messages…you…I…”
“So you thought you would be the only girl in the world for me, and I am here writing this to prove you wrong. I don’t miss you one bit, not for your worthless smile, or your cranky laugh, not even for your miserable antics in bed. I found another who is ever so better than you right here, right now, in bed with me. Ah, I can hear her snore softly. Remember how we used to do it everywhere like a pack of rabbits? Well, this chick does things you were always against, and you know what? I’m happier now than I ever was with you. I honestly don’t care if you move on or wallow in pity for the rest of your life. I am good, if not fantastic. Deal.”
“Why…what are you saying Jasmine?” he asks, wiping away at the betrayal he never thought would catch up with him.
“Oh so now you remember, huh? Yeah, I mastered every single word of that email Spencer. Every word of it. I keep replaying it over and over and over again until I fall asleep. And you want to know what really killed me? Do you really want to know what took me apart, limb from limb until my heart couldn’t take it anymore? Till I considered taking my own life and gambling hell over this?”
“Jasmine, I…”
“Deal. How that shattered me, you will never understand.”
Chapter 15 - Spencer
This makes no sense.
She is the one who had sent me an email, telling me to break up. I mastered it too, word for word till it got its own space in my memory palace, like yesterday’s petricor.
“You left me. That’s the only way you know it hurts. You left me for your life to deal with all this by myself. In a way, you redeemed me from you. Hard of course, but now I am better than fine and so much better off without you.
Leave me alone.”
I never sent anything in comparison to what she’s spewing. All this time, we’ve been apart because of miscommunication? Of all the things to break people apart…this? It still doesn’t make any sense. I try to sift it all through, trying to keep my face square as I think through how this could have happened to us, all those years back, but in the face of Jazz shouting and ranting at me, I can’t.
Jasmine stopped talking to me. That I am sure of. It’s the one thing that kept my balls intact all this time, and now here she is saying she got an email from me? How am I supposed to make that plausible? Even so, she called me to make sure I got the message that she was getting married, right? But then…
Maybe she doesn’t know that. Come to think of it, how else would she not mention her trying to call me on the day she was trying out her wedding dress? I try to reason it out before saying anything…but nothing comes to pass. I spoke to Harvey that day. I remember distinctly as he shoved it in my face that I was never good enough for Jazz, and even rubbed it further in by letting me know in his ever so subtle way that she looks good in a certain wedding dress.
Oh fuck, he must have deleted the call history. It’s the one and only way Jasmine wouldn’t have known that I had tried to make contact with her. Shit. Then that must mean…
I shouldn’t mention any of this at all to her. Her heart is broken, and there would be no more need to make her hate a dead man more than she does. Being here after all this time is doing the opposite of what I had imagined. I thought…that we would get mad at each other of course, but not to the point of her showing me how terrible a decision it was for me to go to college. If I hadn’t gone, she would never have gotten married to that asshole, and Harvey would have rested either way. As much as I hated the guy, I wish he was around to stick up for her. Now, seeing how much her face reddens and eyes run bleak, my wishes are futile.
All I want to do is hold her. Just that; to hold her and let her know how much I have missed her. To yell into her ear to shut up and just run to me, as I run to her. To trust again, to try and see me for who I’ve become, to…let go.
“Deal. How that shattered me you will never understand…”
Billions of light years away, a star is born. Even farther away, its core burns bright, hitter than any eyes shall ever see of fathom. It collides with the tiny atoms within it to birth a new world, a new form of life. All this happens in the fraction of a kiss. Our lips meet to synchronize the story Time has told of us, of two long lost lovers who scattered like the wind before their time came to pass, and the story has lived on for an infinity, an eternity that, to us, has existed for eight years. The longest time of my life, without the touch, the breath, the taste of a woman, all split into billions of fragments never to be seen, or heard or thought of ever again.
She is surprised, by the taste of the wind between us. Her skin shudders, and I can feel all that pent up rage and boiling anger melt away into the falling night. The room around us is silent, and I wouldn’t care less if we were in a disco.
There are moments in life that happen, and with the best intention of fucking up your sense of reality. This is one of those moments. You think you never want to see or hear from a person who wronged you so deeply, but the light that beams on you when you see them burns bright, and all of that burden, all that weight is lifted and burned.
“Jasmine, I never sent you that email. I promised you once, and I’ve never broken that oath. You’re the only woman I’ve known and will ever know, and I would never break your heart. It’s actually quite insulting remembering that slap back at the station…”
Her eyes are closed, and her lips in embrace with each other. I would say she’s licking them, but that would be too rash to think, no?
“You ass-hat. Then why did you never reply to my calls or messages? Eight fucking years Spencer, not even a single word of text. You deserved that slap,” she adds, smirking and curling her upper lip.
“Okay, fair enough. I could have used any other phone to call you, and then have your father receive it, huh?” Snarky ‘tude is one of my most redeemable qualities, or so I’m told.
Jasmine ponders a bit, enjoying every bit of our embrace, “You might be right. But why didn’t Serena ever visit? Or you? You. Never. Came. Home.” With each word she pinched my arm harder and harder, till I got the message.
“Ow! Okay, alright, it’s fair enough to both say we’re sorry, alright? It just…your dad was one of the hardest pricks I’ve ever met, and known. I guess we can both say without a doubt that we know who played us into this little game, right?”
It’s sad, but undoubted. Harvey Turner made us break up. He, the father of hate and boiling treachery, split the one beautiful thing I ever had.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but he must have found a way to take my phone from my jacket the last day I saw you before leaving. It’s the only reasonable explanation. I thought I had packed it, but by the time I unpacked in my dorm room, I couldn’t find it. I got a new one the next day, but you never answered. He must have known…Oh Jazz, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, please. I’m here now…”
Her face falls into my chest, and she wails. It’s a release; I can feel it from her sobs down to the way she clutches onto my coat. Jasmine, my Jasmine, is holding on to dear sanity, and the one thing I can do properly after all this time is to stand strong and never let go.
“Spencer, oh…Spencer; you have no idea how hard it’s been. The bruises, the slapping, the humiliation, the pain…I endured it all thinking you left me for dead thinking that one day I would finally meet you and make you pay, at least. But now, seeing you here in front of me…I look back and want to take it all away, I want you to make it…make all the times he hit me with bare metal, or kicked me in my womb, or spat on my face…or…or called me a whore in front of his friends…please…Spencer…”
She turns up, and for a first, we look into each other and finally see. We finally see the souls of bondage that we’ve been. We see how far the past can thread, being arrested by it, taken into its arms and held hostage by it. I see, just as she does, the silver on our legs and chains binding our hands fall off.
“Make the pain go away
,” she whispers.
And I do, the only way we know how to, the one way we’ve grown knowing to ease and soothe each other. My hand I hers, I hoist her up onto my waist and carry her to the bed. My lips and hers are one. Finally, and the chocolaty feel of love, passion, lust and fire brazen the room with fairy lights. My teeth lash onto her bra, taking it apart and savoring the warm feel of her areolas. She moans, whispering into the darkness becoming of the room. She grabs onto my coat and takes it off, slowly. Same thing goes for my trousers.
We’ve earned this…we’ve earned this…
Over and over again, with her body warming, my feet naked and her anguish falling apart with every stroke of my finger on her skin, those words replay in my head. I look into the only light that screams in the room, her eyes, and kiss her with a smile on her face.
“Spencer…oh…just…mmmh…”
“I’ve missed you Jazz…ungh…oh…”
We take our time. Eight years; finally back together as one. I was hard the moment I saw her on the porch in the morning, and I won’t deny it. I can’t. Inside her, the heat silkiness of her tender pouch flows with the rhythm of the stars, of the wind, and the mountains as she screams towards them for redemption, for peace. I moan into her, clamping my palms on her breasts and squeezing the delight of a lifetime. Her teeth are soft and tasty, sucking away at the pain that lives inside my flaming spear, waiting for her to return the small favor. I come, and love her more. She squirms and squirts, harder and softer than I remember. I ride her, and she climbs up top and takes me for a spin.
My fingers are on her clit, rubbing the color I see and taste on her skin, the flame burning in intensity so fiery her body is scalding. In that fiery moment of passion, of something that is not love, but its becoming, we explode together, moaning our names sky high for the world to hear.
In that miracle of a climax, we sleep, my body inside of hers, making another promise; never to let go.
The morning turns too swiftly for lovers of the twilight. She lies in my arms, breathing softly, like no time could ever have passed. Naked and warm, we cuddle, sighing into each other. Man, eight fucking years it’s been. Talk about spewing all night.
“Where…where you going?” she whispers, barely audible from her hoarse and creaky voice. We both needed this, and her screaming the ceiling off was enough validation.
I clamber around the floor, searching for my pants. It’s light already. Been a while since I slept in this late. “Work, love. I have to get to work.” Ah, there they are, lying on the floor close to the draped bathrobes on the golden hanger. We must have ripped apart lots of our dress; her bra is on the door in part, and the other half, the cups, is where my left shoe is. I can’t seem to spot its partner.
“You don’t have to go, you know…just, stay…we could sleep in and order room service. Maybe even watch some TV. Please…”
Her pouty face is just like one of those fantasies every dude, who has any sense in his dick, has when thinking of the perfect finish to a day, or a perfectly synchronized blowjob. It depends on how freaky the two of you can be. With my Jasmine…it’s definitely both. Ha…would you look at that. My…
“Jazz, I’m your arresting officer and chief escort. Don’t you think it’s going to be extra weird when I don’t turn up and my partner finds me in the same room as the woman who allegedly murdered her own husband last night?”
I know that came off as brutal, but it just had to be said. She rises from the sheet covering her bare cheeks, slowly, deliberately. It falls. She doesn’t. Her legs, one foot after the other, tip to my toe; and her hands skim the edge of my bulging trousers. She knows this is what she used to do all those years back, just to get me back in the sack. If memory serves me right, we fucked all day and night with no breaks till my cock chaffed. Pleasant but cringing memories those are…
“Jasmine…”
“I know what you’re gonna say. So don’t,” she whispers, nibbling the nape of my neck and lightly licking my collar bone.
“Jazz…this is just…too sudden,” I grab her hands and flip her to face me. Her breasts, hanging loose, mesh with my bare chest. Fuck.
“We need to talk first, fuck later, okay? There’s just so much going on and we need to find our ground first…oh, don’t you go there Miss Handsy…” the obvious culprit is her thumb down my front trousers. And she’s doing what hasn’t been done in a…but I digress.
“I know…I’m in a jam,” she confides, licking some modest pre-cum off her fingers.
“A big one at that. I know you didn’t kill that guy Jazz…but I’ll need to find the person who did. You get me?”
She slumps back onto the bed, and resigns her fate to the soft sheets. It must suck to be her right now, loads more reveling in the sweet and savory pact we renewed last night. In all this, however, my heart’s question bleeds for answers, and messing around after eight years of who-knows-what having happened in her life, and mine…some speed must be put in place.
In her eyes there’s more than she’s obviously letting on. I know there will be a reckoning soon, and my ass on the receiving end. Why? For letting her survive Harvey Turner all these years without a single act of my steely balls to come and at least affirm our break up. But…
“Jasmine…we have lots to say to each other. You know that right?”
She smashes her thighs tightly together and longs at me. “I know Spencer. And there will be a time for it, right?”
“Right…”
I find my shirt ripped in two, and the half that has my collar is under the bed. The hell were we on last night?
“If you’re wondering how that shirt ripped Spencer, you should know you kinda became my bitch for a few,” she winks. Ha…her bitch…
“Just take my top. I won’t need it anyway.”
It’s loose and snug…way too snug. I fold it through my head, mumbling an incoherent ‘thanks’ and head for the door. I pause. This is nostalgia. And just like last time, I’m leaving.
“You know I’ll be back for you…”
“I know Spencer,” she smiles, hugging her bare and bruised shoulders and perking her head to the pillows. “I know.”
The lift can’t get down any faster. I need to get home ASAP. If I don’t talk to someone now I’ll implode. The valet is prompt, and I dash him a $50 dollar tip. His braces couldn’t have been a better reward.
I unlock my door and walk past the twin Calico cats Mrs. Robinson keeps hushing. I think she believes they are a reincarnation of her past husbands, and in one way or the other I’ve always believed that she killed them. No evidence suggests anything of course, but the way she just smiles at the windows as she cleans them…
His number is speed dial number 3, right after Nicole’s and mom’s. They’re the only three people who never bug me with their bullshit unless it’s sharing day, and when we do catch up to open up and share what’s grinding our gears, cases of beer and food get empty pretty fast.
“Buddiiieee! It’s been a while man! How you doing?” The old melodramatic vibe of Bryce, my old college roommate always springs me back to life. He sounds cheery on the other line, and I think his dick is getting a proper suck off – judging by the sloppy sounds.
“Umm, Bryce…can she leave the room for a bit? I need to talk to you,” I calmly say, setting my ass down on the recliner mum got me for my birthday three years ago. It was dad’s, but it’s the thought that counts right?
“Oh, you can hear that? My bad bro…gimme a sec…” he rumbles off, and I lower the earpiece. He’s speed fucking her – one of the many traits he tried to teach me while I studied and he pounded. We never got to an armistice.
“Okay…I’m done. She’s asleep,” he spews.
“Need some time to catch your breath, old boy?”
“Ha-ha, since when Spencer. It’s been a long time and a long week for me. Lots of practice with little time to go see the kids. It’s the only way to get the steam off, ya know?”
“Oh I get it.
You’re good though, yeah? The kids are great?”
“Hell yeah man. You’ll be coming to the next game I hope…two weeks from the next.”
“Court side?” I ask, fingers crossed.
“Where else Spencer?” His smug smirk is edible through the air waves.
“Epic…”
“I get the feeling this is more of an ‘I’ve got news’ kinda call…am I right?”
“Nothing gets past you Bryce… I saw Jasmine yesterday,” I breathe, after a pause of silence to mince the thought. The one thing I’ve always loved about Chapman, the Bryster himself, is how uncondescending he can be when the situation needs it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, but as much a dick as I’ve been to him all through the years moping my sorry butt around, he’s always been the brother I never had. Even now as I hear his shallow then heavy breathing across the line, I know what’s coming next should be a series of q’s then followed by a big bro to small bro kinda talk.
“After all this time…you saw her and jizzed didn’t you?”
“Ha-ha – what? Why would you even have that as a mental image? Dude…”
“Hey! You know how fluid I am when it comes to my sexuality…but seriously though, how was it like? What happened in that instance?”
“You have the time?”
“For your rants? Bring it…”
And so for half an hour I go all in, pushing the limits on my phone bill but mentally noting a ‘fuck it’ as I spew it all out. From the moment I got the case on my desk to the moment our eyes met, all down to every detail on how last night drained me. Well, not every detail, but he gets the gist.
“You see? There was no way she would have broken up with me at all. Even the email had been her dad’s idea. Told ya he was a son from hell. I hope she never hears this, but I wish down under they’re using his blood as lotion.”
“Whoa, calm down demon spawn. He got what he deserved, and even so, he can’t defend himself from the grave,’ he says calmly.
Triple Pass: An MFMM Reverse Harem Romance Page 48
