Chapter 102: Jasmines Anger
The frangipani scent in Lena’s room felt heavier than usual, thick with the musk of sweat and sex still radiating from their skin. Bruce lay sprawled across the massive, low bed, a mountain of exhausted muscle, barely conscious. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths, his swirling green-blue-gold eyes closed, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. Lena knelt beside him, gently wiping his brow with a damp cloth, her gaze soft, possessive. Jasmine stood near the open balcony doors, the lush Balinese landscape a vibrant backdrop to the tension coiling in the room. She watched Lena’s tender ministrations, the possessive curve of Lena’s hand against Bruce’s cheek, and the simmering frustration of finding him utterly spent again finally boiled over.
"Lena," Jasmine said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut through the humid air. "We need to talk. Now."
Lena glanced up, her dark eyes wide, momentarily startled. "Jaz? What's wrong?"
"Outside," Jasmine jerked her head towards the balcony, her expression unyielding.
Lena hesitated, her hand lingering on Bruce’s shoulder. He didn’t stir. Reluctantly, she rose, following Jasmine out into the warm twilight. The scent of night-blooming jasmine joined the frangipani, a sweeter counterpoint to the storm brewing. Jasmine paced the teak decking, her bare feet silent, her green eyes flashing in the dim light filtering from the room.
"Okay, Jaz, you’re freaking me out," Lena said, crossing her arms over her small, perky breasts. "What is it?"
Jasmine stopped pacing, turning to face Lena directly. The hurt and anger were raw in her gaze. "Listen, Lena," she started, her voice tight. "I know you and Bruce are close. Closer than anyone. I get it. The way he looks at you? The way you are with him? That's real. And I don’t want to interfere with that. At all." She took a step closer. "But you gotta save some of him for the rest of us."
Lena blinked. "What are you—"
"By the time I even saw him today?" Jasmine cut her off, her voice rising slightly. "You’d fucked him four times. Four. Times. Before lunch!" She gestured back towards the bedroom. "Look at him! He's fucking comatose, Lena! He’s got six wives other than you. Six. Think about us sometimes. Think about him! He’s not a fucking machine!"
Lena flinched, color rising in her cheeks. Her fierce defensiveness warred with dawning realization. She remembered the urgency on the deck after the tub, her almost frantic need for Bruce again after Jasmine had revived him. How he’d groaned, half-conscious, as she’d climbed over him in her room, demanding his mouth while Jasmine rode him. "Shit, Jaz," she breathed, her voice losing its usual bravado. "I… I’m sorry. I didn’t… I mean, I know, but…"
"But what?" Jasmine pressed, though the harshness softened slightly seeing Lena’s genuine discomfort. "What happened? In there?" She nodded towards the room. "What was that?"
Lena ran a hand through her damp hair, looking genuinely ashamed. "After the deck… you… after you sucked him hard again and rode him… God, Jaz, watching you take him like that… it just… it lit me up. Seeing his cock slide into you… how wet you were… how hard you fucked yourself down on him…" Lena's voice dropped, husky with remembered lust. "I needed him. Right then. I needed to feel him too. So I just… climbed on his face. Told him to lick me while you fucked him. 'Lick me while she fucks you, papi. Lick my ass.'" Lena mimicked her own command, her voice dropping to a possessive purr, then shook her head. "And he did. He was practically out of it, but he fucking did. Tongue right in my asshole while you bounced on his cock." She shivered. "It was… intense."
Jasmine remembered the feel of Bruce inside her, the muffled groans vibrating through his body as Lena ground down on his face, the unmistakable wet sounds of his tongue working her ass. She remembered her own furious climax, fueled by anger and possession. "It was," Jasmine conceded, the heat of the memory momentarily displacing her anger. "But Lena… look at the cost. Look at him."
"I know," Lena whispered, her gaze dropping. "I’m always with him because I want to be. Because he wants me to be. He tells me that. He loves my ass, my body… he loves me being close." She looked up, her eyes pleading. "But then… I just get carried away. The need hits… it’s like a fucking fever. Seeing him… smelling him… feeling how hard he gets for me… especially after Sophia’s workouts, when he’s all pumped and sweaty… I just lose control. I want him. All the time. Everywhere." She hugged herself. "It’s selfish. I know it is. Shit, Jaz, I’m sorry. Truly."
The raw honesty, the admission of that addictive, consuming need, disarmed Jasmine. She saw it in Lena’s eyes – the same fierce loyalty, the same deep love for Bruce, twisted into a voracious hunger that temporarily blinded her to everything else. Jasmine sighed, the remaining anger dissipating like steam. She stepped forward and pulled Lena into a sudden, fierce hug. Lena stiffened for a second, then melted into the embrace, burying her face in Jasmine’s neck.
"Hey," Jasmine murmured, rubbing Lena’s back. "I get carried away too. We all do. That’s kind of the fucking point of this life, isn’t it?" She pulled back slightly, holding Lena by the shoulders. "But we gotta watch out for him. And for each other. He’s ours. All of ours. But he’s one man. A phenomenal, tireless fuck, but still flesh and blood." She tapped Lena’s nose gently. "So maybe… maybe next time that fever hits? Take a cold plunge first. Or find me. Or Camille. Or hell, drag Sophia into the weights room for a distraction. Just… give the man a minute to catch his damn breath before you mount his face." A small, wry smile touched Jasmine’s lips.
Lena managed a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes."Yeah. Okay. Point taken. No more face-mounting the half-dead." She looked past Jasmine, into the room where Bruce still lay deeply asleep. "He’s really out, huh?"
"Like a fucking log," Jasmine confirmed. "He gave us everything. Again." She looped her arm through Lena’s. "Come on. Let him sleep. We’ll raid the kitchen. I need carbs. And you," she nudged Lena, "need to tell me exactly what Sophia’s doing to make Bruce lose his mind over your ass even more. That shit is legendary."
Lena’s smile returned, wider now, tinged with relief and shared conspiracy. "Deal. But only if you tell me how the hell you got him that hard again after he’d already blown twice." She squeezed Jasmine’s arm as they walked back inside, leaving Bruce to the deep, restorative quiet of the frangipani-scented night. The tension eased, replaced by the familiar hum of their shared world, the unspoken promise to navigate its complex, demanding currents together. Through the open balcony door, the distant pulse of the Balinese night underscored the fragile, necessary balance they’d just begun to reforge.
Through the open balcony door, the distant pulse of the Balinese night underscored the fragile, necessary balance they’d just begun to reforge. Jasmine’s stomach growled, a loud, insistent rumble breaking the humid silence as they stood just inside Lena’s room, watching Bruce’s deep, even breathing. "See?" she muttered, nudging Lena towards the hallway. "Carbs. Now. Before I start gnawing on that teak dresser." Lena chuckled softly, casting one last, lingering look at Bruce’s slumbering form before following Jasmine out into the villa’s cooler, dimly lit corridors. The scent of frangipani faded, replaced by the lingering aroma of spices from earlier meals and the faint chlorine tang from the pool deck where Bruce had first tried to cool down.
Their bare feet whispered against the polished stone floors as they navigated the sprawling compound towards the main kitchen. Jasmine flicked on low lights, illuminating the vast space of marble counters and gleaming appliances. "Right," she declared, yanking open a heavy refrigerator door, the cold light spilling out. "Leftover nasi goreng? Or fuck it, just bread and that insane coconut jam?" She pulled out a crusty baguette and the jar of jam. Lena leaned against the counter, watching Jasmine’s sharp, efficient movements. The earlier tension hadn’t vanished entirely; it hummed beneath the surface, a low current Jasmine intended to redirect. "Sophia’s ass secrets first, Jaz," Lena reminded her, reaching for two small plates. "You promised."
Jasmine slammed the jam jar onto the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. "Fine. But it’s not magic," she said, tearing off a chunk of bread. "It’s fucking work." She slathered jam thickly onto the bread. "Hard fucking work. Squats so deep my thighs scream. Lunges that make me want to cry. Glute bridges with that monster fucking barbell until I feel my ass muscles shredding." She took a savage bite, chewing fiercely. "And core. Always core. Sophia says it’s the foundation. Like Bruce is our foundation." She paused, swallowing. "She makes me hold positions, shaking, sweat pouring, telling me to picture his hands on me. To feel him wanting it." Lena’s breath hitched slightly, her own piece of bread forgotten. "Does it... does he?"
"Fuck yes, he does," Jasmine spat, her green eyes flashing in the low light. "He watches me train sometimes. Sees the sweat, the strain. Sees the fucking results." Her voice dropped, rough and low. "Remember last Tuesday? When I walked into the gym fresh from a session? Sweats low on my hips? That fucker was supposed to be spotting Sophia. His eyes? Swirled gold and green, pure fucking hunger. Couldn’t look away." She took another vicious bite. "He pinned me against the weight rack before Sophia even finished her set. Hands on my ass, digging in, telling me how round it looked. How fucking edible. Called it a masterpiece." Lena’s fingers tightened on her plate, a flush creeping up her neck. Seeing Bruce react like that to Jasmine was a primal trigger she couldn’t deny. "He said that?"
"Uh huh," Jasmine murmured, licking jam off her thumb. "Said my ass was sculpted just for his hands. His mouth." She leaned closer across the counter, the air thickening between them. "Your turn, hermanita. How the fuck did you get him hard again after Ketut and Sophia drained him in the shower and I sucked him off on the deck?" Lena’s dark eyes glittered, her earlier shame momentarily eclipsed by raw, remembered lust. She glanced towards the hallway, ensuring they were truly alone. "It’s his cock," she breathed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Seeing it… even soft… even after he’s blown. Especially then." She put her plate down. "It’s heavy. Thick. That vein…" She traced a line down her own inner arm. "I just… I can’t not touch it." She moved around the counter, closing the distance to Jasmine. "On the deck… he was leaning back, eyes closed, spent. But his cock was lying there, still big. Fat." Her hand drifted down, hovering near Jasmine’s hip. "I just wrapped my hand around the base, felt that heat, that soft skin over all that hardness underneath." Jasmine’s breath caught as Lena’s fingers brushed her hip bone. "He groaned," Lena continued, her own voice husky. "Just a little sound. I squeezed. Then I licked the head. Just once. Slow. Tasted me… tasted you… tasted him." Jasmine shuddered, a jolt of heat going straight to her core. Lena’s other hand came up, cupping Jasmine’s jaw, forcing their eyes to lock. "He pulsed in my hand, Jaz. Just a little. Then I took the whole head in my mouth. Sucked it soft and wet. Swirled my tongue right under that ridge." Her thumb stroked Jasmine’s cheekbone. "Felt it start to swell. Felt the blood rush back. Felt it get thick in my mouth."
"Jesus, Lena," Jasmine gasped, her own hand flying down to grip Lena’s wrist, not to push her away, but to hold her there. Lena’s confession, the raw imagery, the possessive heat in her eyes – it was erasing the distance, replacing frustration with a different, equally powerful hunger. Lena leaned in, her lips brushing Jasmine’s ear. "I sucked him until he was hard as fucking stone again," she breathed, her warm breath sending shivers down Jasmine’s spine. "Until he was leaking onto my tongue. Until his hips were jerking. Then I climbed on his face and told him to eat my ass while you rode him." She pulled back slightly, her dark eyes challenging, inviting. "That’s how. Want a demonstration?" The question hung in the spice-laden air, charged and dangerous. Jasmine looked at Lena – the fierce loyalty, the insatiable appetite, the plump lips still slightly swollen from Bruce’s kisses. The frustration dissolved completely, replaced by a surge of pure, uncomplicated desire. Lena wasn't just Bruce's shadow; she was fire.
"Fuck yes," Jasmine growled, abandoning the bread. She grabbed Lena’s hand, pulling her away from the counter, not back towards the bedrooms, but towards the deep shadows near the pantry. "Show me." She backed Lena against the cool stone wall beside the pantry door, the space narrow and intimate. Lena’s eyes widened, then darkened with pure lust. "Right here?" she breathed, a challenge and a thrill in her voice. "You sure, Jaz?"
"Shut up and show me," Jasmine demanded, her own need a live wire. She slid her hands down Lena’s sides, gripping the firm swell of her hips, pulling her flush. Lena’s hands tangled in Jasmine’s braids, pulling her face close. "Watch," Lena commanded, her voice dropping to a low purr. With deliberate slowness, she pushed Jasmine back just enough to sink down onto her knees. The cool stone bit into Jasmine’s bare calves as Lena knelt before her, looking up with those dark, hungry eyes. Jasmine’s breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs. Lena’s hands slid up Jasmine’s bare thighs, fingers tracing the sensitive skin just below the hem of her tiny shorts. "Bruce loves this part," Lena murmured, her fingers hooking under the elastic waistband. "Loves watching my mouth open..." She tugged the shorts down Jasmine’s legs in one smooth movement, discarding them carelessly. "...loves seeing how wet I get just looking at a hard cock." Jasmine stood trembling, exposed from the waist down in the dim kitchen light. Lena’s gaze locked onto the dark triangle of curls between Jasmine’s thighs. A low hum escaped her lips. "Fuck, Jaz," she breathed, leaning in so close Jasmine could feel her warm breath on her swollen pussy lips. "You’re soaked. Just from talking about sucking his cock?" Lena didn’t wait for an answer. Her tongue darted out, a hot, wet stripe through Jasmine’s slick folds. Jasmine gasped, her head thudding back against the stone wall. "Oh god!"
Lena moaned, the vibration against Jasmine’s clit sending sparks behind her eyes. "Tastes like him," Lena murmured, nuzzling deeper. "Tastes like you. Tastes like us." Her tongue flattened, broad and demanding, lapping up Jasmine’s arousal with greedy strokes. Jasmine’s hands flew to Lena’s head, fingers tangling in her dark hair, holding her close. "Fuck! Lena!" Lena’s response was to push Jasmine’s thighs wider apart, her tongue plunging deeper, fucking her with hard, insistent strokes. Jasmine could feel the rough texture of Lena’s tongue, the suction as she latched onto her clit, pulling it into her hot mouth. "Yes! Just like that! Suck it! Suck my fucking clit!" Lena obeyed, humming around the sensitive bud, her fingers digging into Jasmine’s ass cheeks, spreading her wider. She slid two fingers effortlessly into Jasmine’s drenched cunt, curling them upwards. Jasmine cried out, bucking against the wall, the cool stone scraping her shoulder blades. Lena’s fingers pumped relentlessly inside her, matching the rhythm of her sucking mouth. The dual assault was brutal, focused, driving Jasmine towards the edge with terrifying speed. "Gonna... fuck... Lena! I'm gonna come!" Lena sucked harder, her fingers hooking sharply against that spongy spot inside. Jasmine shattered, a raw, guttural scream tearing from her throat as her orgasm ripped through her, violent and all-consuming. Her vision whited out, her legs buckling. Lena held her up, her mouth still working, her fingers still driving, drawing out every last tremor, every pulse of pleasure until Jasmine was gasping, limp against the wall. "Christ," Jasmine panted, her voice ragged. Lena slowly withdrew her fingers, slick and glistening, and raised herself up on her knees. She looked up at Jasmine, her chin wet, her eyes dark with satisfaction and a hunger of her own. "See?" she whispered, her lips brushing Jasmine’s trembling stomach. "That’s how you wake a sleeping giant." She licked her lips slowly. "Your turn." Jasmine stared down at her, breathless, wrecked, and utterly captivated. The complex dance of their shared life had just taken a sharp, unexpected turn into the shadows of the pantry. The night pulsed on outside, but inside, a new rhythm had begun. Jasmine’s hand, still trembling slightly, reached down to trace the curve of Lena’s jaw. "Get up," she rasped, her voice thick with promise and lingering aftershocks. "I want to show you exactly what Sophia taught me." She needed Bruce to see this next part. To watch. To know exactly what his fire unleashed.