Jasmine’s inner walls clenched around his finger with so much power, her head slammed back against the seat. “Oh…oh no. Sarge, this is—”
“So bad it’s good. So good it’s bad.” His voice was sharp-edged and sexy beside her ear. “Stop overthinking it, baby, and open your legs to get fingered.”
It was easy to do what he said, because he didn’t speak like the Sarge of her recollection. This man, this brutal, uncompromising man, was a naughty fantasy come to life, even though compared to the treatment he was inflicting on her body and senses, her fantasies prior to now had been watered-down garbage. She’d never been this hot in her life, never felt the tide between her hips rise so high. If she wasn’t careful, it would immerse her…but caution was a presence inside her breastbone, preventing her complete downfall. So yes, yes, she opened her legs and felt his thick finger slip deeper, felt the heel of his hand fondle her clit.
“Good,” Sarge growled. “Now I’m going to tell you how long you’ve tortured me with this pretty daydream between your thighs.”
He reached across her body and yanked open her hastily thrown-on jacket, before lifting the hem of her T-shirt to expose the puckered breasts straining inside her bra. Jasmine’s eyes were closed, but she could practically feel his expression shift into one of awe, but that image messed with her head, so she pictured lust instead.
One abrasive palm skated slowly across her cleavage. “I saw you. Changing for bed one night when you probably thought no one was home besides you and my sister.” The thrusting of his fingers between her legs picked up speed, as if compelled by whatever his memory was projecting. In deep, out shallow, in deep…again. Again. “I was just walking down the hallway, saw you through a crack in the door. You had on tight purple underwear and no shirt…on your knees going through your overnight bag.” She heard him swallow hard. “They were tugged to the side, just a little, so I could see some of your pussy, baby. But it was enough to know I’d never—ever—stop thinking about getting inside of it.”
No. No, she couldn’t be getting increasingly hotter the more he revealed. It was just his hand, just his touch. His wide thumb replaced the grinding heel of his hand, giving her the concentrated pressure she needed to zoom closer to release. “Please, right there. Keep going.”
“You think I could stop? I’d sell my fucking soul to watch you come.” Jasmine’s mouth fell open on a moan when his lips traced over the edge of her bra, his tongue dipping inside and running the length of the material. His breath floated over her, hot and sultry, inspiring goose bumps straight down her body. “Yeah, you were twenty-three when I saw you in those little purple mindfucks.” He sucked her nipple through the cotton bra with a lusty sound before releasing it with a quick lick. “You’ve got some damn nerve being twice as hot now, Jas.”
That statement alone made the breath pause in her throat, tempted her to finally open her eyes and look at Sarge. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—look at him while her body reached such an unbelievable peak, or she’d be an addict for life. She was at the base of the mountain now, climbing, climbing, racing toward the top, a white-hot clench dropping lower until her hands were clawing at the car door and Sarge’s shoulder to keep her corporeal self on the vinyl seat, while the inner being that existed for pleasure alone lifted and bumped along the car’s ceiling.
Sarge added a second finger inside Jasmine, and her answering whimper sounded like a different woman. Not her. It couldn’t be her. But it was. In that moment, she was a woman who let a man pleasure her inside a car, out in public, and didn’t give a thought to the consequences. The only responsibility resting on her shoulders was to herself. The cataclysmic need funneling around her, inside her, an undeniable force of nature. And God, Jasmine wanted to come for Sarge. Wanted to fulfill his fantasy. Create a new one. Right now, inside this car, it didn’t feel wrong.
Later, it would, but—
Sarge planted the back of his wrist on the inside of her jeans, wedging his hand and holding his fingers at a slant. “Fuck yourself on my fingers. When you’re sliding, riding and bouncing up and down on my dick later, I want to know how those hips look from the side.”
With those heated words driving her higher, Jasmine chanced cracking an eyelid to see Sarge’s head tilt to the right, to get a better view from the side, licking his upper lip as he looked. His gaze was glassy, fevered, that square jaw tighter than she’d ever seen anyone’s. Forcing her eyes back closed before she never wanted to close them again, Jasmine gripped the steering wheel, tweaked her hips back and slid down onto Sarge’s large fingers once again. “Shit,” she breathed. “Feels so good.”
“More,” he demanded, his tone dark and rocky. “More. Take more, but know that I can fill you so much more with what I’ve got in my pants.”
“Y-yes,” she said on a stuttered exhale. “I know…I saw.”
Jesus, had she really said that out loud? It ceased to matter amid their mutual heavy breathing, the sound of her backside sliding on the seat as she worked up and down his fingers.
Something told her the noises falling from Sarge’s mouth would ring in her head for days. Broken, desperate growls, interrupted by rushed pulls of air. Like he was drowning, just like her. “You did see it, didn’t you, baby? Saw me all fat and dying to come? I spent the night listening to your tight body roll around on that creaky bed. You’ve never heard it creak the way it will if I convince you to fuck me.” His thumb went into overdrive on her clit, fast and relentless. “But don’t worry, baby. I promise no one will hear it over you screaming to get me deeper.”
Her bucking hips twisted on his final word, sending a multitude of sensations firing through her blood, seizing her muscles in a locked position to let the pleasure dance on the mountaintop. She wanted to get away, she wanted to get closer, her body didn’t know what to do, how to handle the shaking relief. There was even a hint of frustration that she’d only ever been halfway to completion until now, never having been propelled to such a level of fulfilled lust, but it drifted away when she started to come down. It didn’t happen all at once, but in softening degrees.
When an iota of mental consciousness became possible, Jasmine heard her own voice repeating “yes, yes, yes,” on a throaty loop. Felt Sarge’s tongue raking up and down the side of her neck, his teeth taking small bites from her shoulder.
Jasmine no longer kept her eyes closed as a defense mechanism, but because she didn’t have the strength to lift her lids. Something jabbed in her throat when she felt Sarge—now kissing across her shoulder—tug her panties back into place and zip her jeans.
“I’m not going to sit here waiting for some big talk to fuck everything up,” he gritted out, arousal thick in his tone. “I’m going to go back inside. I’m going to use the same hand that just made you come to jerk myself off. So damn hard. And later? Later, I’m going to hope you come home wanting the real thing from me.” He took her hand and squeezed it around what could only be his denim-covered erection. “Baby, we both know the real thing is what I’ve got.”
“You’re so arrogant now,” she whispered on a huffed breath, unable to put the required exasperation in her voice.
“No, I’m not. I’m overcompensating for the fear that you’re going to take one orgasm and run.” He sounded almost angry. “You should know I’m going to make doing that really hard for you.”
God, why wouldn’t her heart stop slamming against her ribs? “Somehow I already knew that.”
“Good. Maybe you’re finally paying attention where I’m concerned.” When his mouth settled at the corner of Jasmine’s mouth, she startled, and Sarge sighed. “Be safe at work, will you?”
“Okay,” she murmured as he left the car, the door closing with a firm click behind his retreating form.
Holy shit. Something told her safety wasn’t a concern at work this week. The hazards started and ended with the big compelling man crashing out in her home.