Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(47)

“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 f*ck 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 *. 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 *, 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 * 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 f*cking 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.

“Please,” she murmured. “I can’t…I need—”

Sarge cut her off with his mouth, his own focus wavering at the taste of her. God. Had it been years or minutes since he kissed her? Getting enough wasn’t a possibility. Never. Not with his mouth or his body. Groaning at the way her * flexed around him as their mouths wrestled for a good taste, Sarge gripped Jasmine beneath the knees and spread her legs, lifting and propping them on his hips.