Jasmine spread open her legs for Nico, who let his jeans fall to the floor of their bedroom, and he slipped his dick into her pussy and started to fuck her harder than he had ever fucked her. Nico was also the only guy who hit Jasmine’s G-spot in such an intense way that it made her squirt. Over the next hour and a half Jasmine would squirt a total of three times, and each time she did, she became more and more like Silly Putty in Nico’s hands.
Forty-One
While Jasmine was in the shower, she started to get a little paranoid and wondered had Nico really come home to kill her or to make sure someone carried out a hit on her. She started to think he probably just wanted to fuck her real good one last time before deading her.
Jasmine quickly dried off and applied lotion to her body and she got dressed and started to gather the shoes and the outfits she wanted to take back with her to SoHo.
“Where the fuck you going with all that?” Nico asked after coming back into the bedroom with just his boxers on and drinking a small glass of Hennessy with no ice.
Jasmine looked at him and finished stuffing brand-new outfits into a laundry bag. “I’m going out with Simone,” she said and started to make her way toward the door so she could leave, but Nico held out his hand and stopped her.
Jasmine moved his arm. “Excuse me, babe. I have to hurry up.”
“Nah, chill for a minute.” Nico sipped on his Hennessy. “What the hell is that tattoo about? And what’s this shit I’m hearing about you and Homicide at a Knicks game?”
Jasmine tried to push past Nico. “The tattoo is what I was feeling, and the Homicide rumors is just that—rumors.”
Nico grabbed Jasmine’s arm, but she pulled away from his grip and walked down the steps to the living room.
“You want all these answers after fuckin’ me like I’m your whore. I don’t think so, Nico.”
“I wasn’t fuckin’ you like a whore.”
“Well, how about what the fuck was you doing in Las Vegas with Mia?”
Jasmine was starting to get angry. She wondered why she didn’t feel this way when he was fucking her half an hour ago.
Nico heard what the streets had been saying about Jasmine being Suicide Pussy, and it was on the tip of his tongue to bring it up. But he didn’t want to play bitch games with Jasmine because, to him, it wasn’t a game. Shit was serious for him, and he needed to get to the root of why his empire was falling apart. He was back in New York to put his trademark back on the drug game that he had mastered.
“Back to that quiet shit again, huh?” Jasmine made her way to the front door of the house.
Nico finished the glass of Hennessy he was drinking. “Jasmine, I ain’t fighting you.”
“And I ain’t fighting you either. I came for some clothes and I got that. You got some pussy from me, so everything is good. I’m going out with Simone, and I’ll see you real late tonight or in the morning.”
Nico didn’t say anything in response, and Jasmine made her way out to her truck, jumped in, and drove off. Jasmine’s confidence and her brashness, mixed with her bipolar ways, was making Nico think she was more of a liability than an asset to him.
Forty-Two
When Jasmine walked into her SoHo loft, she saw Homicide doing push-ups bareback in the living room.
“Hey,” Jasmine said.
Never did Jasmine think she would get so close to Homicide so quickly that she would feel like she had cheated on him, but that’s exactly how she was feeling.
“Just knocking out some sets.” Homicide stood up from the floor. He could sense something was up with Jasmine’s mood, but he didn’t say anything.
Jasmine walked over to a coffee table and placed her clothes and shoes on top of it. “Nico’s back,” she blurted out.
Homicide scratched his forehead, and then he went back down to the floor and continued doing push-ups.
“I’m just glad he wasn’t there last night when we were there.”
“Why’s that?” Homicide asked, while doing push-ups.
Jasmine didn’t answer him because she wasn’t sure what to say.
Homicide finished another set of twenty-five push-ups, and then he stood up still waiting for an answer, breathing a little heavy from the push-ups.