Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(30)

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 f*ck 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 f*cking 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 * 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 * once again, shaking with the power of being back where he belonged.

“Is this what you need, Jasmine?” Sarge pumped, his sweaty body meeting the underside of her curved ass. Licking perspiration from his lips, he shook out his right hand and accompanied his drives with a slap of her backside. A second and third. “You don’t hand out the punishments anymore, babysitter, in your short, teasing skirts. It’s my turn now.” So close. It hurt. So close. No more waiting, the come was shooting up his cock, gripping his body with near-paralyzing bliss. Sarge fell flush with her body, his hips pistoning out of control, f*cking, f*cking, f*cking. About to explode, he dropped his mouth into her hair. “I might be younger, but I’m not young. I’m a man and I’m f*cking you blind. I’m your man. Say it.”

“You’re my man,” Jasmine sobbed, her inner walls gripping him as he shot off all his pent-up need into the sweetest spot on earth, reveling in her climaxing for a third time. It went on forever, her milking body leaching him of seed, his hoarse shouts ricocheting off the walls and ceiling. His hands were all over her, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her ass, as the pleasure spiraled through him, rearranging everything in its path. Changing him for good.

Finally spent, he slipped free of her body and fell to the bed, pulling her backward into an unbreakable hold before his worst fear happened and she tried to get away, close herself in the bathroom or somewhere he couldn’t see or touch or talk to her. He wouldn’t deal well with that. At all. Not after what they’d done. Not after she’d engraved her name on his soul. He thought the inscription had already been there, but it was so much more prominent now.