Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(46)

He tilted his head, pain evident in his voice. “Baby.”

No stopping it. She couldn’t even think past getting to him, jogging down the dark corridor and being caught up against his sturdy body. Before their mouths even met, one male hand tangled in her hair, drawing her in. Her legs twined around his waist because they couldn’t not. Without that intimacy between their bodies, she would capsize, sink, bottom out.

Sarge took a few uneven steps backward as their mouths feasted, bumping against the push-bar leading to the party room. And then they were in the unoccupied space, strewn with chairs and banquet tables. He unraveled her hair from his fist long enough to shove a metal chair under the door handle, barring anyone entrance. “Won’t leave with me, huh?” His palm slapped down on her bottom, making Jasmine break the kiss on a gasp, even as her legs tightened around his hips. “Did you think that would stop me, Jas?”

Jasmine was suffocating without his kiss, but he only nipped at her mouth, pulling back before she could get the real thing. “Sarge.”

“Answer me. Did you think I would rest until we got here tonight?” Another tug of her bottom lip with his teeth. “Wasn’t even sure I could get through an hour without our skin touching. Then all those hands on you, eyes on you. Goddammit. I have to f*ck you, baby. Don’t you know how bad I need to f*ck you? Answer me.”

He dropped her backside onto something cold and metal. She could only remove her focus from him long enough to find herself propped on the tray rest of an empty buffet station. “Yes. I know.”

“You can’t know.” He slid his hands up her thighs, shoved them apart with a growl. Snapping blue eyes focused on her core, his big, blunt-fingered hands unzipping his jeans, pulling the zipper lower, lower…to reveal his ready male flesh. Jasmine’s breath caught as Sarge shoved down the hindering denim and took the almost cumbersome erection in his hand with a groan. “All for one woman. She can do this to me just by breathing. Putting on lip balm. Laughing. Singing. Pulling her hair back. Does that sound convenient to you?”

Jasmine was trembling head to toe, but managed to shake her head. That response didn’t satisfy Sarge—or this amped-up version of Sarge, rather, that loomed above her, stroking his flesh and looking her over. Hungry, so hungry, to feel his most private pulse beating in her palm, she reached out to replace his hand. Before she could satisfy the urge, Sarge gripped Jasmine’s hips and hauled her off the buffet, spinning her around a second later to wrench the jeans down her body.

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-f*cked 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 * 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.