Yeah, it turned him on knowing she’d be pressing play on these moments again later. He thought of her coming home from a long day of work and sagging back against the front door. Pulling out her phone and sliding her hand inside her jeans, legs slipping wide. He didn’t expect the spark of jealousy to flicker in his chest. Maybe he didn’t want her touching herself. It should be him.

It should always be him.

“Stop filming,” Sarge ground out. “I’ll do this for you any time you need it. You call me and I’ll come. My tongue belongs right here.”

“N-no. No.” Her stomach shuddered down, forming a sexy hollow. “This was your idea. And I want it…want to remember…oh.”

He attacked her with his mouth, out of heat, out of frustration he didn’t quite know how to define. The possibility of living without this place between her thighs made him fucking crazed. Made him want to cause destruction. She liked having her clit sucked, so he executed the roll of his tongue, followed by prolonged suction until she finally dropped the phone with a muffled scream, fingers turning to fists in his hair.

“Sarge. Ay que rico. Don’t stop. So close. So close.”

Hearing his name coated with lust straight from Jasmine’s mouth sent a fresh bolt of need to his cock, thickening the neglected part where it snaked out from his unzipped fly. He needed to fist himself and pump until come shot from the tip, but she needed his fingers more, so he fucked himself against the bed’s edge instead, groaning against her pussy as he thrust. Her thighs were starting to lift again, probably with the intention of locking around his head, but he wasn’t having that. With rough hands, he shoved Jasmine’s legs open and gave her one final chance to orgasm before he climbed up the bed and fucked her into delirium.

His middle finger and tongue wedged inside her entrance at the same time, rotating positions once, and that was all it took. Jasmine strained beneath him on the bed, hips lifting, thighs quaking, straight out of his dirtiest dreams. Her heels shoved against his shoulders, voice cracking, but he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop dragging his tongue over her clit, tasting what he’d done.

Only when her ankles finished their crusade to push him away did he allow himself to let up. Sarge prowled over her body, nudging her knees apart with his own. She still wore the blue dress, but it was beginning to wilt from the sweat he’d worked her into. Above the bodice, moisture dotted the swell of her bouncy tits. The ones he’d been thinking about since his body identified that his attraction and need belonged to one single person. One single woman.

“Gold. You taste like the color gold.” Sarge dropped to his elbows, making a quick grab for the condom he’d placed within reach on the bedspread. No sooner had he covered his dick with latex than he pressed their bodies together, groaning as their lower bodies made first contact. “Warm. A little bit like cinnamon. Perfect.” She whimpered as he jerked open a handful of the dress’s buttons, exposing dusky-pink-tipped tits, pointing right at his mouth. “Made a fucking mess of this dress, didn’t I?”

Sarge twisted his hips once and drove home, shouting a curse into the space above her head. Oh God, I’m inside Jasmine and I’m so screwed she’s perfect, perfect. Narrow and dripping and perfect. She was climaxing around him already, struggling beneath him under the swiftness of her body’s reaction, which didn’t bode well for his plan to make this last. Making sure she found her peak was no longer a problem, so what was to prevent him from tossing her trembling legs over his shoulders and ending his own torment?

But she whimpered his name and everything inside him seized. Jasmine. God, she was the most beautiful creature on the planet, and he wouldn’t turn tonight into merely a fuck session.

“Baby.” Sarge locked his arms beside her head, reared his hips back and rolled forward slowly, grinding down when he bottomed out. “Listened to my songs at work today, huh?”

“Yeah.” Out of breath, she dug her nails into his ass and jerked him forward, into the squeeze of her body, even though he couldn’t go any deeper. “Yeah, I listened.”

He kissed her earlobe, used his lips to tug it, his tongue to play. “Did you make it to the last track?” He took her by surprise with a swift backward jerk of his hips and a teeth-chattering drive forward. “The one called ‘Girl in Blue’?”

At that, Jasmine’s eyes cleared a little, but Sarge didn’t hold back. He’d bring her back to the brink, and he’d do it his way. But she wouldn’t walk away from tonight with the notion she’d been laid. More needed to take place here. He couldn’t hold back everything clawing at his insides, dying to break free.

“Did you wonder who that song was about?”

He hooked an arm beneath her knee and drew it up, up, until she moaned. “No…I-I didn’t think—”

Sarge cut her off with a hot, openmouthed kiss. He didn’t want to hear how oblivious she was to him. Didn’t want to know the meaning of the song had been lost. Five seconds into their tongues sliding together in a seduction dance, and Jasmine’s nails were biting into the flesh of his ass again, her hips tilting for another thrust of his cock. So he gave it to her good. He gave her another. And another, followed by the slap of his balls on her tight backside, until they were two desperate, groping pleasure slaves trying to rub the right spots that would just please end the pain.

“You feel that part of me smacking you? They’ve been full and hot all fucking day, needing to empty between these legs of yours. Does that make you hot, baby?” His pace was out of control, aggressive and unrelenting. “The way you lap-danced me like a stripper last night made me this way. I could barely think of you today without coming in my jeans again—and I thought of you all day.”

All my life.

The pressure rising, rising in him was undeniable. His breath was coming in quick, dizzying pants, his precipice all the higher for knowing whose body would receive him. Jasmine. God, he’d never prepared for the possessiveness that hooked around his neck with a permanence that didn’t scare him. Not at all. He’d known. Always know she was the ending for him.

Pouty lips parted, Jasmine’s head tossed side to side on the bed. “Oh God, Sarge. This is bad. This is—” Her pussy clenched on a broken moan. “So bad.”

Bad. What did she mean? He knew her body was satisfied, because he could still taste her pleasure. Could feel more on the way. Did she mean bad…because of who he was? Were they back to that? “What’s bad, baby?” he murmured at her throat, taunting, licking the salt from her pulse. “Getting it from a younger man? One who was off-limits to you? Bad girl.”

Her legs were wrapped around his hips like a python, hips lifting to meet his punishing rhythm, but her mouth whispered, “Stop…don’t say those things.”

“Do you mean that? Stop?” No answer, just an exposing of her throat, a biting of her lip, as she twisted beneath him. Jesus, he needed to release soon. Needed it more than food or oxygen. He was ramming his dick into Jasmine’s slick entrance—slap, slap, slap—his body hovering over the promise of relief. It was right there. Right there. But the lines between him and Jasmine were so blurry and needed to be defined, or it would cheapen them. He didn’t want her to see their being together as bad. Needed her to want him again when it was over.

Gritting his teeth on a tortured groan, Sarge fisted the base of his dick and drew it out of her heat. With the most substantial pain in his memory hanging between his thighs, he rolled Jasmine onto her stomach, slid his cock up the crevice of her bottom, then pushed home inside her pussy once again, shaking with the power of being back where he belonged.