23. Vines of Passion

In a desperate bid to reclaim her life and love, Jasmine embarks on a perilous journey to confront her past, setting the stage for an act she may never be forgiven for.

JASMINE

“Ride this fucking dick, Jasmine! Ride this muthafucka!” Xion's voice was a guttural growl as I pushed myself to move with the desperate intensity of a jockey in a life-or-death race.

Times had changed.

It had been weeks—no, months—since we last came together like this. Back during our affair, it was a frenzied dance of bodies, relentless and raw, happening anywhere and everywhere, contorted into every position Xion’s imagination could conjure. But lately, between the grind of work, the constant chaos of little feet and voices at home, and my growing disinterest in Xion, our encounters had dwindled to almost nothing.

Yet, tonight demanded action, no room for hesitation or second-guessing. With my plans in shambles before they even drew breath, I couldn't afford Xion's lectures or his scathing critiques.

That damned woman had betrayed me to Caleb. Did she really know him that well? Or had he swayed her so completely against me? Why didn’t she believe me? I had scars, texts! Texts I made up that I sent from my work cell to my personal and saved under “Caleb”. But still, I brought her proof.

She was supposed to believe me that he was a bad man.

She was supposed to be scared, supposed to recoil from Caleb and run. Instead, there I was, backed into a corner as Caleb and Xion, united in their disdain, presented me to my father as some unhinged femme fatale. I played into their narrative to expedite the ordeal, but the truth gnawed at me—Caleb still harbored feelings for me. It was obvious. The raw fury in the way he defended me, it all pointed to unresolved passion. He had thrown punches for me, his words in the aftermath a balm even as they were spoken in the sterile confines of a hospital recovery room.

Yes, Caleb still loved me, though he couldn't voice such truths, not in the presence of Xion and my father.

And yes, I had fabricated that elaborate story about him—it was a desperate ploy, I’ll admit it. If only his girlfriend had left as planned, Caleb might have swooped in to save me, my knight against Xion’s dark tirade. But life, as it turned out, refused to follow my script.

So there I was, leveraging the perfect distraction as my mother kept the kids overnight, supposedly to give Xion and me a chance to have a heart-to-heart that my father had insisted upon—as he too, unhelpfully, informed her about our so-called dire need for it. My mother’s look of disappointment in me as they told her everything was a new sting, but frankly, nothing could top the humiliation of Caleb coldly asserting that there was no scenario under which we could ever reconcile. His words might have been a lie, but they cut deep all the same just to hear them.

Xion was gearing up to lay down the law, but before he could utter a word, I acted. As soon as we entered our hotel room, I dropped to my knees, freed him from the constraints of his sweats, and took him into my mouth with such force that I almost choked, eliciting a gasp of shock from him. No matter the urgency of our supposed conversation, I was determined to make him forget it, at least for a moment. He wasn’t going to refuse me—not tonight.

“I’m gonna fill you up, and get yo ass pregnant again,” Xion moaned, his eyes fluttering in blissful ignorance of how deeply his words repulsed me.

If I had a dick, his statement would have instantly made me go limp. The very idea of bearing another one of his children, continuing our complicated, chaotic life together—why would he think that was enticing?

As I continued, my mind drifted unwillingly to Caleb, using the memory of what we once had to shield myself from the crude reality of Xion’s words, fighting desperately to maintain my composure and not go dry from his touch.

“You like that? You love how this pussy feels?”, I asked putting on a performance.

“Yes baby!”, Xion said gripping my waist tighter, “I love when you’re a whore for Daddy. I love when you put this pussy on me…”, he breathed.

Ew.

“Uuuhhhh, I’m gonna cum!”, I screamed in a lie.

Xion bit down on his lower lip, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that tightened his grip on me. Unsettled by the depth of his stare, I closed my eyes, seeking refuge in the darkness.

“Come for Daddy…come on this dick, Jas!”, he commanded.

“Uhhhhh! Uhhhhhh!”, I yelled throwing my head back in the performance of my life as I pretended to orgasm. “Oh my God, I’m coming! I’m coming on your big dick!”

I contorted my body, riding the Xion like a wild stallion on the verge of bucking me off. When I finished and opened my eyes, I looked down to find him staring up at me as if he would kill me if he could.

"You must think I'm fucking stupid," Xion spat out, his voice laced with anger and disbelief.

"What?"

"You think I don't know what you look like when you cum? Or feel the way your body reacts when you lose control?" His words sliced through the charged atmosphere, each syllable weighted with accusation. "Four months of nothing, and now you're playing games? Is that where we're at now?"

Ugh!

In that moment, Xion's frustration was palpable. His dick deflated inside me, his movements slowing as he eased me off him. Without another word, he got up and retreated to the bathroom.

Well, this plan isn’t working out either, I thought, left to ponder my next move in the sudden quiet of the room.

Why won’t the universe just cooperate with me?

Returning to my hometown made one thing painfully clear: I yearned for my old life back. I longed to return to California, to the life I had before—where family warmth and the love Caleb provided were my everyday norm. I missed my friends and the way I felt in my own skin before the toll of motherhood changed me. I yearned to revert to the times when everything seemed perfect, and yet everyone around me seemed to think it was irrational of me to want this. Didn’t they remember how wonderful my life used to be before Xion came into it, seducing me into this chaos? My strategies to reclaim that life were dwindling, and with them, my hope was fading too.

I clutched the comforter, pulling it up to my chin as I curled into a fetal position, tears streaming unchecked. The sound of the bathroom door creaking open cut through the silence, and soon I could hear Xion’s footsteps approaching. Before I knew it, he was there, his naked body towering over me briefly before sinking to his knees beside the bed.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Xion murmured, his voice soft yet laden with an unspoken weight. “Jasmine, this is not normal.”

My tears doubled. I was just so sick of this shit. Why couldn’t he leave me alone?

“I talked to your Pops,” he continued, and my heart sank further. “We think it would be good if you checked into a treatment center, take a little break. He said he’ll pay for it and everything.”

They thought I was crazy?

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Xion,” I protested through sobs, my voice muffled by the comforter.

“Yes, there is!” he snapped, the harshness in his voice making me flinch. He immediately sighed, his next words coming out more gently as he composed himself. “God damn it, Jas, I’m just trying to help here…”

“I’m not going to some place where they’re probably gonna stick me with needles, shove pills down my throat and be away from my kids while someone tries to get all in my head,” I retorted, my fear and frustration boiling over.

“It ain’t that kind of place, Jas. It’s just yoga and fresh cold-pressed juices and shit. Hold hands and sing Kumbaya and shit, nah mean?”

“No.”

“You need a fucking break, Jas,” he insisted, his frustration mirroring my own, a stark reminder of how far apart we had grown, how different our solutions seemed to be.

"I'm fine," I insisted again, my voice choked with tears that belied my words. “What have I done that warrants me to go to a treatment facility?”

"You told your ex-husband's girlfriend that he was abusing you. And for what? To clear the path back to him while you've got a partner and children at home. People who are fine don't do shit like that, Jas."

I rolled my eyes, a gesture of defiance, but it only served to release another wave of tears. I was love sick, not crazy.

"I'm out here getting into fights at almost 40 because of your lies," he continued, his frustration evident. "You keep embarrassing me, and I'm still here, still trying to make sure you're okay. You're the mother of my children; I need you to be alright, and this? This ain't it."

His words, sharp and laden with exasperation, cut through the fog of my emotions, highlighting the chaos my actions had wrought not just on my life but on his too.

"Look, I slipped up. But don't mistake that for who I am. At home, I'm solid, consistent, you know that," I pushed back.

"You haven't been you for a while now. You’ve been pretending and I’ve been in denial, but the truth's staring me in the face. This ain't about being crazy, it's about hitting pause, giving yourself the space to breathe, away from the chaos of work, me, and the kids."

I rolled onto my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. This couldn’t be my life. My thoughts raced back to Caleb. I needed a way back, a way to reset everything. I didn’t need a break. I needed him.

“Do it for the kids, Jas,” Xion pleaded, gently taking my left hand in his.

I turned to look at him, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. He seemed on the verge of tears. Weird.

“If you don’t go,” he continued, his voice thick with urgency, “your parents... they’ll file for custody. Your dad is a powerful man, and you know he’ll take them from us. He’ll claim you’re crazy, unfit, something.”

His words ignited a fury within me, my breathing turned erratic, and a scowl formed on my face. The very thought of losing my children due to these machinations was too much. Without another word, I hopped out of bed and stormed into the bathroom. I needed to wash away the remnants of this fucked up day, to cleanse myself of his touch and his words.

Under the relentless stream of the shower, the bathroom door groaned on its hinges as Xion stepped in, dick swinging. His entrance was a silent claim, the air shifting to accommodate the sudden presence of another body. The glass door clacked shut behind him with an air of finality, echoing slightly in the tiled space once he entered.

Without a word, he joined me under the steaming cascade, and the initial coolness of his skin quickly gave way to warmth from the water’s touch. I remained facing away, my gaze fixed on the patterns the droplets made as they collided with the marble. His hands settled on my shoulders with a gentleness that belied the tension of our earlier words, kneading the stress and tightness with practiced fingers.

The silence between us was heavy, loaded with things unsaid and apologies not yet formed. “Let’s just forget everything for a minute,” Xion murmured, his voice rough like gravel washed in a gentle stream. His hands moved with a careful deliberation, tracing paths down my arms, drawing lines of warmth on my wet skin.

He encircled me from behind, his body aligning with mine, enveloping me in the humid air that mixed with the scent of soap and his cologne—a familiar fragrance that spoke of nights less fraught than this. His fingers, slick and sure, traced the contours of my body, mapping the familiar yet distant terrain as if rediscovering a road once well-traveled.

“Jas,” he said, his voice a low hum against the back of my neck. He kissed me there, right where my tension held court, his lips pressing soft apologies into my skin. The water around us was a curtain, the outside world muted, the steam blurring the edges of reality.

In this removed reality, his touch rekindled dormant fires, his proximity a reminder of intertwined pasts and tangled futures. The room filled with the sound of our mingled breaths and the relentless drumming of water against stone.

“Bend over for me, Jas. Let me make it right,” he whispered, his words a blend of plea and command, wrapped in the huskiness of raw need. His hands guided me, gentle yet insistent, his body a solid presence at my back as I did what he said.

He shattered the illusion then of me pretending he wasn’t him, because what he was about to do, Caleb never did. It wasn’t his thing.

Xion sank to his knees, his hands rough as they roamed, exploring with an urgency that bordered on reverence. He planted feverish kisses across my backside, each spank punctuated with a growl that vibrated against my skin, igniting something primal within me. Then, with a daring that was all too familiar, he spread me apart and his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along my crack, venturing boldly into territories Caleb had always avoided.

"Xion," I moaned genuinely, lost in the raw intensity of the moment.

"Mmmmhhhmmm," he hummed, the sound muffled as he delved deeper, his enthusiasm unmistakable as he made out with my behind.

This was how Xion had reclaimed me in the past. Ass play. He unlocked a wild, untamed part of me that Caleb had never touched—a side of myself I hadn’t fully understood or embraced until Xion coaxed it out. Xion scratched an itch that was both literal and metaphorical. Our relationship wasn’t just about the physical though; it was built on a foundation of deep friendship, effortless conversations, and shared secrets. One night, after dropping Caleb at the airport, what started as wine and idle chatter on the couch spiraled into an intense encounter that reawakened desires long dormant since my college days.

While my physical relationship with Caleb was fulfilling in its own right, there was a depth—a certain rawness with Xion that was absent with Caleb. Whenever Caleb left, a void opened that only Xion seemed capable of filling. It was an arrangement born of necessity, a clandestine rhythm to our madness, where Xion provided what Caleb could or would not.

For a fleeting moment, it was like stepping back in time to the early, uninhibited days with Xion. His moans filled the steamy air, unabashed sounds of pleasure that reverberated against the tile, pulling responses from deep within me. I found myself moaning too, genuinely lost in the sensation, overwhelmed by a pleasure I hadn't truly felt from Xion in too long. Earlier, I had to imagine it was Caleb to get through our encounter, but now, it was undeniably Xion drawing this pleasure from me. I had almost forgotten how intensely he could make me feel.

Photo by Jennifer Lim-Tamkican on Unsplash

As he slipped two fingers inside me, continuing his intimate explorations, I clung to the slick wall for support, my legs trembling under the force of the building ecstasy.

"There she is," Xion groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction, fully aware that he had me right where he wanted.

There was no pretense here, no performance—just raw, undeniable reality. He did know me, possibly even better than Caleb did, and that deep familiarity was precisely how we had ended up here.

While Caleb was often away, it was Xion who filled those everyday gaps that life threw my way. If I suddenly needed tampons, he was there, making a late-night store run without hesitation. When the expansive, often empty house felt too daunting in the silence of the night, it was Xion who would come over to watch movies and share laughs, easing the loneliness. He was always ready to bounce ideas back and forth when Caleb was tied up in different time zones or locked in back-to-back meetings. When contractors came to fix something in the house, Caleb would send Xion to oversee the work, ensuring I wasn’t left alone—a protector, a placeholder, maybe even, as fate would have it, a replacement.

In these small, seemingly insignificant ways, Caleb had inadvertently prepared the ground for Xion to step in, not just as a friend or a handy helper, but as something more—a constant, a confidant, an integral part of my daily life. And as we stood there in the shower, with Xion drawing deep, undisguised reactions from me, the irony of it all was not lost on me. Caleb, in his attempts to ensure I was never alone, had unknowingly facilitated a bond that went far beyond what he had intended.

“I’m coming, Daddy! I’m coming!”, I cried hoping to God that Xion wouldn’t let me slip because this orgasm was going to take everything out of me.

“Mmmmmhhmmmm.”, he moaned with a hard smack on my ass.

In that charged moment, my release surged through me like a storm breaking over the sea. My cries echoed off the bathroom walls, a wild and raw testament to the depths of my pleasure. Stars burst behind my eyes for the first time in months, each one a brilliant point of light against the dark backdrop of my closed lids. My body trembled uncontrollably, a vessel caught in the throes of a powerful current.

I called out for help—Jesus, Mary, Joseph, anybody—yet no one came to save me. My back arched, straining against the intensity, pushing into the pain until it transformed into pure ecstasy while Xion made sure I was drained of every drop.

Finally, I was left empty, a husk wrung out by the overwhelming force of my own climax, my breaths coming in heaving gasps as I slowly descended back to earth, the remnants of our storm settling around us in the quiet aftermath.

My knees gave way, legs turning to rubber as I sagged to the floor into Xion's arms, gasping for air after the earth-shattering release.

"Now that's what the fuck I'm talking about," Xion said, his arms steadying me as I nearly crumpled from the intensity. "Can't fake that," he added with a grin as I looked back at him panting, pride lacing his voice.

I managed a weak chuckle, still dazed, as if I were floating somewhere in orbit, gradually descending back to Earth.

“That’s what you needed, right?” Xion's voice was a soft whisper against the dampness of my neck as he kissed me there while moving my hair out the way, his arm encircling my waist to hold me steady, the other now gently holding my neck.

“Yes,” I managed to whisper back, my body still quivering with aftershocks that coursed through me like aftershocks following an intense quake. I blinked away tears, trying to clear the blur from my eyes.

“It’s yours, anytime, any place, you know that,” he murmured, his lips moving to my shoulder, planting soft kisses that felt both comforting and possessive. “I love you, Jas. I love you so much. I just want to be with you and make you feel good. Can you let me do that?”

His words, so full of genuine emotion, struck a different chord this time. Tears welled up for a new reason—not from the overwhelming physical sensation, but from the emotional weight of his words. Xion did love me. There was no doubt about it. And while I cared for him deeply, it wasn't the all-consuming love I felt—or had felt—for Caleb.

“Ok,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. I was caught off-guard, unsure of how to respond without hurting him, yet unable to give myself fully to the moment as he so clearly did.

“Who makes you feel the way I do, Jasmine?” Xion asked, his voice needing that extra affirmation, seeking the cherry on top of his ego boost after my earlier performance.

“Nobody,” I breathed out, hoping he was referencing the specific kind of pleasure we'd just explored—because then, at least, I wasn't lying.

“I wish we had some toys here or something. We never get nights like this anymore,” he murmured, his lips trailing kisses along my neck and back, his words mingling with his caresses. “No interruptions, we could really go all out.”

“I know,” I grinned, feeling a spark of our old spontaneity. “But let’s not waste this.”

Turning around, I kissed him deeply as we stayed kneeled on the shower floor, our bodies slick with water. It was hard to recall the last time we had kissed like this. His hands gripped my hips tightly, his touch filled with a mixture of surprise and fervor, as if he too was marveling at the normalcy, the rightness of the moment.

“Let’s go to the bed so I can get there,” Xion moaned into my mouth, his hands playfully slapping my ass.

A giggle escaped me, lighter and more carefree than I’d felt in ages. Standing up together, Xion wrapped a towel around me, drying me off with gentle, attentive motions before leading me to the bedroom. He bent me over the bed, and his intensity transformed him. He was insatiable, driving us both toward a frenzy. I clawed at the sheets, the intensity mounting with every move he made. Each time I tried to pull away, he followed, relentless, until it felt like I was nearly climbing the walls.

And then, in a rare alignment that felt almost miraculous, something that hadn’t happened in ages—we found our climax together, a shared peak that seemed to wash away the complexities of our relationship, if only for a moment. It was a reminder of the raw, undeniable connection that had always existed between us, a testament to the physical harmony that could still bring us together even amidst our tumultuous emotions.

About two hours later, I watched Xion as he lay there, lost in a deep slumber induced by the sheer release of tension he’d been hauling around for months. He snored with a ferocity that suggested he was catching up on sleep he'd missed for ages, a peacefulness to his features that I hadn't seen in a long while.

Perfect.

This was precisely the state I'd aimed to induce earlier—him, unconscious in a blissful oblivion, though it turned out he needed a different kind of release than I’d calculated - ass, not pussy. Still, the effect was the same. Weakened. Drained. Most crucially, he might believe that the Jasmine he knew and loved was back. He’d brought me to climax twice—surely, that meant we were syncing up again, right?

Wrong.

I carefully extracted myself from the bed, tiptoeing around the room to gather my gear without a sound. Pulling on some underwear from an open suitcase, I spotted a black sweat suit in his luggage earlier that I reached for. It was too large, but it would serve its purpose. Slipping it on, I skipped the bra and undershirt—it wasn't necessary tonight.

The most crucial item was still to come. I approached my purse quietly and pulled out something I’d lifted from my father’s study while he was rambling to my mom earlier about the lies I told on Caleb—a .38 Special. I examined the gun in the dim light, its weight familiar and somewhat comforting in my hand, before tucking it back into my purse, a small crossbody bag just big enough for the essentials.

Glancing back at Xion, sprawled out across the bed, a heavy sigh escaped me. I knew two things for sure: I wasn’t going to any asylum they had in mind for me, and if I couldn't have Caleb back, then that bitch, Naomi—that was her name, wasn’t it?—she wouldn’t have him either.

With resolve steeling my nerves, I pulled the hoodie over my head and slipped out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind me, I made my way down the elevator and then out the exit, the cool night air hit my face, sharp and invigorating. The world outside was quiet, the streets hushed and expectant as if holding its breath. I pulled the hood further over my head, the fabric a shroud that concealed my identity and intentions.

In my purse, the weight of the .38 felt like a promise—a promise of control, of retribution, of reclaiming a destiny that was being wrested away from me by the very people who claimed to love me.

They thought they could predict my moves, contain my actions within the safe predictability of their plans. They were wrong.

Tonight, the game changed. Tonight, I was writing my own rules.

As the darkness embraced me, a sly grin spread across my face as I drove in the direction of Caleb’s childhood home where I learned he was living again.

I’m coming for everything that was owed to me. I was ready.