Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(38)

He turned Jasmine toward the wall and pressed forward, forcing her hands up to stabilize her. A breathless moment passed wherein she could feel him forming intentions with a sweep of his gaze. Jasmine found herself arching her back, offering her bottom up for his perusal. “Did you like that, mi rey?”

“What did you call me?” Sarge’s chest was flush with her back in a split second, his mouth messing up her hair, fingers fumbling with the zipper of her jeans. “Call me that again while my fingers are in your *.”

Fragments of light shot through Jasmine’s vision when Sarge’s touch delved into her panties and thrust home with two fingers. “Mi rey. Don’t stop, my king.”

“Fuck. Your king? I won’t stop, baby. You know I won’t.” His free hand dragged her jeans down, leaving the denim bunched beneath her backside. Working his fingers in and out of her already-clenching center, he kneaded her bottom hard, stroking in between light slaps. “Feel how sweet you are on both ends? Goddamn. Don’t even get me started on your mouth. My imagination wasn’t doing you justice.”

A rush began at the tops of her thighs, swirling higher, unnamed muscles beginning to spasm. “Almost, almost. Please keep going.”

He spanked her bottom harder than before. “You think I would let you pull those jeans back up over an unsatisfied *?” His teeth raked up and down the side of her neck, his voice dropping as he started to sing in a tone made of gravel. Just hearing the song he’d written for her sent Jasmine’s system into a tailspin. Oh God, she couldn’t breathe. “I need tending, never ending. Want that, need that, girl in blue,” he sang. His warm breath blew into Jasmine’s hair, and her neck lost its ability to function, letting her head drop forward. “Grip those hips…” Slap. “Up into you.”

Her core pulled tight, tight around his fingers. “Oh, oh…Sarge—”

Slap. “Once not enough.” His thumb dragged over her clit, back again, and she climaxed. “Flipped over…round two.”

Sarge caught Jasmine around the waist as her knees gave out. The sweating palms of her hands slid down the wall as she struggled to inhale. So much. So much. She could actually pinpoint the exact spot beneath her belly button that twisted, twisted, with such wicked precision, it blinded her in its perfection. Sarge was muttering husky words against the back of her neck, his body solid and reassuring behind her, keeping her anchored to reality. Although being in the darkness with a dynamic man wasn’t reality for her. Never had been. Might only stick around for a short while.

Could she just enjoy it while it lasted? Without questioning it?

She wanted to so bad. When would she get this chance again?

“You with me, Jas?”

“Yeah.” She managed a half smile as Sarge turned her around in his arms, those blue eyes analyzing her face like a hot, mussed-up mad scientist. “Yeah, I’m just…yeah.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, forming a dimple in his right cheek. “You like me singing to you, baby?”

Oh damn. Who was this sexy and adorable at the same time? Jasmine went ahead and let her knees give out again. Just so Sarge could catch her. Which he did, looking more than a little startled. It was a silly thing to do—and she didn’t care. It felt really freaking good.

“Jasmine.” His alarm eased when he saw her smile. “I’m not even going to ask because it got me holding you again.”

After a long moment of scary hesitation, Jasmine gave in to the urge to put her arms around his neck, inhale his scent. “Yeah, I like you singing to me.”

Sarge jerked her up against him so hard, her feet almost left the ground. “We have some time before that retirement party tonight.” A beat passed. “Hang out with me for a while?”

Jasmine didn’t look. She simply leaped, along with her heart. “Okay.”





Chapter Eleven


Sarge rested his hand on the small of Jasmine’s back, wanting to sing “We Are the Champions” when she didn’t pull away.

It couldn’t have been this easy, right? He orders some pizzas and pays everyone’s factory salary for a couple hours—and in return, Jasmine agrees to spend time with him? For now, she appeared to have set aside her reservations and given them an afternoon free of the million-dollar question. What happens now? If Sarge thought his answer wouldn’t dissolve the beautiful smile from Jasmine’s face and replace it with censure, he would have told her. Straight up.

What happens now? Now he fought for her.

Sarge held no illusions that everything had been solved last night. Or back in the factory’s dark machine room. Nor was he arrogant enough to believe sex would eventually change her mind for good. But he could see a crack of jagged daylight in Jasmine’s wall. No longer did she have that worry in her eyes, telling Sarge exactly what she was thinking. That they were wrong together. Their age difference was too much. That people in Hook wouldn’t approve. The deeply etched line between the two of them had been brushed away for now—and Sarge intended to take the crack of light in Jasmine’s resolve and break it wide open.

Step one involved getting her out of Hook for a while, eliminating the worry of being seen together. Proving their relationship could be more than sweaty encounters behind locked doors. At the mall two towns over in the middle of a workday, hopefully they’d be in the clear. Notoriety was a strange thing. Some days, he could walk for hours without being recognized. Other days, not so much.