Open mouth moving through her hair, his harsh breaths heated her scalp. “I’m going to show you convenient. When we’re done, you’ll think convenient means well-fucked by Sarge.” He lifted Jasmine with an arm around the waist to remove her jeans fully, kicking them aside and setting her back down. His casual show of strength sent her belly into a series of backflips, releasing a flow of warmth between her thighs. She pressed her bottom back into his lap, silk thong against hard flesh, purring when he reached around to fondle her.
Jasmine planted her hands on the metal rack and looked back at Sarge, watching his eyes glaze over at the way she moved, swaying and popping her hips like a private dancer. “Can I have you like this, mi rey?”
“I’m your king again, am I? No. You can’t have it yet.” He fit his erection into the valley of her bottom and bucked. Hard. “Not until you need a pump of my dick so bad, you’re clawing at my ass like a trapped wildcat.”
Jasmine was still moaning at the imagery of that when Sarge turned her again, already applying the condom to his arousal. She pitched right on unsteady legs, but Sarge caught her elbow, dragging her into the heat of his body. The desperation radiating from him was so thick, she moved without conscious thought, lifting his T-shirt to lick his abdomen, his pectorals. “Please, I want you.”
“Good, baby. You’re about to take me.” His promise still hung in the air when Sarge scooped Jasmine off the ground, one arm banded around the small of her back. The move dragged her body up his arousal, stopping when it met the apex of her legs, its weight settling against the inside of her thigh. Anticipation blinded Jasmine, but she could feel his touch slide down her buttocks, felt him guiding his erection right where she welcomed it with damp heat. His chest absorbed Jasmine’s throaty scream as he filled her in one savage upward jerk of his hips.
Craving leverage, craving movement, Jasmine expected Sarge to back her up into the buffet and give it to her hard. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent his knees just slightly, making it possible to stand on her barest tiptoes. Gone was every ounce of sweetness from Sarge, replaced with dirty, wicked lust. A hint of menace.
She tried to wrap her legs around him, climb up, seeking some kind of anchor that would give her the freedom to chase release. Satisfy them both. But Sarge shook his head, brushing their panting mouths together. “You were the first woman I ever stroked off thinking about, Jasmine. Again. And again. Until I couldn’t even hear your name without locking myself in the closest room.” His callused hands massaged her bottom with punishing force. “Turns out I got it right that first time, though. Didn’t I? This babysitter’s pussy tastes just like sugar.” A savoring noise ripped from his throat. “Tight enough to strangle a man.”
Jasmine’s legs turned to liquid, making her slip and impale herself more fully on Sarge’s length. Broken Spanish fell from her mouth. She tried once more unsuccessfully to climb Sarge’s body, but he slapped her bottom for making the effort.
“Time to return the favor, Jasmine.” He angled his upper half away, his heated gaze tracking down to where their bodies connected. “Stroke yourself off to me now. While I watch.” Another rough spank of her backside, the sound so delicious they both had to close their eyes. “I won’t move. But you better. Starting now. Now, Jasmine.”
Chapter Thirteen
Sarge felt control slipping through his fingers. Jasmine didn’t deserve to be punished for his obsession. Didn’t deserve to be denied the swiftest route to climax. But frustration had built inside him, snowballing from the time they’d walked into the Third Shift. How could he act normal, carry on conversations, when his hands were shaking with the need to be on Jasmine? Not just so he could hold her down and give pleasure. No. He’d wanted to walk in holding her hand. Wanted to look every man in the eye and let them know their chances with Jasmine had been knocked down to zero percent.
Being denied that right had started the bomb ticking in his stomach. But hearing the flippant way she dismissed their relationship had caused the explosion. There was a lurking sense of dread, too, but it felt too good being angry, so he ignored the warning voice calling for him to slow down. Telling him he couldn’t allow shrapnel from the bomb blast to ruin the progress he’d made. Listening meant stopping, though, and it felt too good giving Jasmine a taste of what he’d endured.
“Please,” she sobbed, pushing up on her toes. “I can’t get high enough.”
As far as Sarge was concerned, she was doing goddamn perfect. His cock was lodged in tightness; Jasmine was making these sexy whining noises every time he disallowed her legs from gaining leverage around his hips. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, but every time she tried to pull herself up, Sarge shook her grip loose. His light hold on her bottom kept her from falling, but it wasn’t enough to seat her at a satisfying angle. And God help him, watching her struggle to get on top of his dick had him turned on to the point of pain. Good pain, though. Pain that distracted him from the one she’d created in his chest.
“Come on, baby.” Sarge bent his knees just long enough for Jasmine to ride him hard for a few seconds, before straightening again, his movement dragging her back onto tiptoes. “It feels good when I’m deep, doesn’t it? When you’re stretching to get all of me in?”
“Yes,” Jasmine moaned. “Please. I need more.”
“You need more? Work for it. I can feel your clit…all wet and swollen. Rub her on me. Let her feel my tip.” Sarge gave a shallow thrust of his hips. “You’ve made my cock hard for years, now you’re going to fuck yourself on it, Jasmine. When it starts to hurt, think of me waiting until everyone was asleep on the tour bus before jerking off to a memory. Stroking so hard I couldn’t breathe, thinking of that peek I got of your pussy. That’s what hurt looks like. When you can only get off on something you’ve never had.”
Sarge bit back a roar when Jasmine’s fingers dug into the flesh of his ass, yanking him forward as she rolled her hips. The move inched him further into her snug pussy, while still keeping him only partially sheathed. They were locked in the dirtiest dance of all time, Jasmine working her clit against the head of his dick, her slender thighs sliding up and down his hairy, more muscular ones. “Yes, yes, yes…”
Fuck. He was losing his own battle now. Watching, hearing, feeling Jasmine’s frantic use of his erection to masturbate herself was the hottest sight Sarge had witnessed in his life. Every few seconds, she managed to push high enough on her toes to take another inch of him. But each time, her thighs immediately shot up to get more and he’d block their progress with resolute hands. Then…Lord. She started sinking her teeth into his shoulders and chest for denying her. Started pouting in a way that made him feel like a dirty man doing bad things, making him even harder. Making his balls draw high and heavy. She started bucking like an unbroken pony, forehead digging into his chest as she moaned.
The slick slide of her pussy up and down the top third of his cock, her desperate clawing at his ass—the way she jerked him forward—grew to be too much. Jasmine might have put him through hell—most of the time without realizing it—but denying the down and dirty fucking they both required was punishing him in the process. Just a little longer…just a little so he wouldn’t forget how gorgeous she looked, forget how bad she wanted him tonight.
And then she sobbed. A shuddering sound full of misery, and his heart rebelled, sinking straight down to his stomach. His hands sank into her hair, smoothing the strands and tilting her head back. When Sarge glimpsed her face, he stopped breathing. If he could see through Jasmine’s eyes at that moment, he knew their surroundings would be blurry. She seemed unable to focus, her head falling back as if unhinged from her neck. There was a row of teeth marks on her bottom lip that appeared on the verge of bleeding. And the pain in her eyes…pain he’d caused. No no no.