Chapter Twelve
You’re not getting rid of me that easily.
Had it only been this morning Sarge had issued that warning in her kitchen? Apparently he’d been serious as a heart attack, because he wouldn’t budge. Worse, despite her attempt to create distance, the idea of Sarge budging made her stomach plummet. But just look at what his attention was doing to her.
As they walked side by side through the mall, toward their final stop to buy a toy, Jasmine felt a confidence that had been absent for years. Instead of her usual impulse to twist her hair up into a bun, it was hanging loose around her shoulders in messy waves. She’d applied lipstick before leaving the dressing room and couldn’t remember ever having been so aware of her mouth because of the way Sarge continued to stare down at it, as if imagining its various erotic uses. There was a new lightness twisting and turning through her limbs, making her want to dance. Or climb Sarge’s body, knowing—knowing—his reaction would be fuck yes, no matter where they were or who was watching.
So. Deep breath. It wasn’t just confidence in herself. It was confidence in Sarge. That’s what had spooked her back in the clothing store. That’s what allowed the doubt bubble to inflate and pop in the form of verbal sabotage. This experience with Sarge had started as physical but in a short space of time had turned…serious. There had been no formal discussion—hell, she’d just reminded him they were only “friends”—but lip service didn’t stop the pull between them from strengthening.
If he left tomorrow, there would be a gap. A big, funny, sweet, dirty gap where Sarge had made his presence known. She would turn thirty the day after Christmas and he would be back in Los Angeles, surrounded by better, more successful…younger options. So this was where Jasmine had to make a decision. And really, there was only one decision to make, because Sarge would leave. Little by little, she needed to insert tiny air pockets between them until he stopped being so reachable. So Sarge.
As if he knew her exact thoughts, Sarge sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her into the toy store. Pop stars shrieked from the speakers, putting their own spin on classic Christmas songs. Unlike the rest of the mall, this store was packed full of parents making purchases for the big day. They were putting the Santa hat–clad employees through their paces, sending them into the back room looking for toys that couldn’t be found on the floor.
Sarge tugged Jasmine into the warmth of his body to avoid robots demonstrating their skills in front of a colorful display. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him of the cell phone cameras documenting their every move from just outside the store, but Sarge released her before she got the chance.
“All right.” He circled the robot display. “Marcy was disappointed I wasn’t small enough to hold in a blanket. Think maybe she’d like baby dolls?”
“Dolls…plural? How many were you planning on buying her?”
Sarge propped both hands on his hips to survey the store and nodded once. “All of them.”
It took Jasmine a moment to speak around the insistent tug in her chest. “Let’s look a little more. Marcy has quite a few dolls.” Jasmine could feel Sarge following close behind her as they wound through a busy aisle. She missed his arm around her shoulders so much, she felt chilled. “Um. Marcy loves dinosaurs.” Jasmine picked up a Jurassic World figurine set, complete with buildings to destroy. “This could be fun. It even has the T. rex—that’s her favorite.”
Sarge rubbed his chin. “You sure it won’t scare her?”
Jasmine thought of the spunky three-year-old hurling herself off River’s couch onto a pillow fort. “She doesn’t scare easily.”
“Okay.” Sarge stepped back, eyeing the shelves. “Let’s get them all.”
Her laughter turned heads, so she ducked behind his big frame. “You can’t just show up with hundreds of boxes,” she whispered. “Your sister will kill you. And me by association.”
His throat muscles slid up and down. “I wasn’t in Hook for Marcy’s first three Christmases. I have to make up for it somehow, right?”
At once, she couldn’t breathe. Sarge was doing his best to hide the guilt, but it was there in the set of his jaw, the heaviness behind his eyes. It took every molecule of her willpower not to throw herself into his arms and cling. Cling for dear life. Because who could ever top this man? He was everything at once. Good, strong, thoughtful…bad when he needed to be. More, he was harboring pain. Keeping it close so it wouldn’t touch anyone else.
“Sarge. You’ll make up for it without the toys. Just being here now is enough…” Even as she reassured him, an idea occurred. “Actually, hold on.”
Jasmine dodged two children having a sword fight and ducked into an unoccupied aisle, two away from where they’d discovered the dinosaurs. Sarge joined her there a moment later, curiosity painting his expression. “What is it?”
Surprised he hadn’t seen the child-sized guitars yet, Jasmine realized it was due to his total focus on her. His gaze moved over her face, lighting on her cheeks, hair, lips. Tapping into her reserve of strength, Jasmine tore her attention from Sarge, went up on her toes, and unhooked the guitar from its hanging place. “I was thinking you could teach Marcy to play.” Brow furrowed, he took the offered guitar, but didn’t say anything. Jasmine immediately wanted to recall the suggestion. With it, she’d called attention to the four-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. That Sarge would most likely be accepting the new contract. And leaving. “Even when you’re on the road, there are webcams. Skype. People learn to play instruments through the internet all the time now. I just thought—”
“It’s perfect, Jas.” He reached out and cupped a hand over her mouth. “It’s perfect, and no more talking about me leaving. Deal? Nothing else is worth thinking about when I’ve got you standing in front of me.”
When Jasmine felt her legs bump the shelves, she realized his words had literally made her stagger. But she couldn’t respond because his hand covered her mouth. Her body, however, responded quite readily when he crowded closer, pulse whirring, tummy tightening, toes stretching inside her shoes. Some vestige of consciousness had her saying his name, but it came out muffled in his palm.
“I changed my mind,” he murmured. “We’re going to talk right now because who knows when I’ll get another chance. And no matter how this conversation goes, it’s going to end with me kissing the hell out of you in this toy store. You with me?”
No idea what was coming, but positive it would be a major, mother-effing game changer, Jasmine started to shake her head—
“Um. Excuse me… Sarge Purcell from Old News, right?”
As if he’d heard the same question four million times, Sarge nodded without even looking at their intruder. His head tipped forward on an exhale that ruffled her hair, remaining that way for long moments. When he finally straightened, Jasmine saw a different side of Sarge. The rock band front man. His smile was just the right amount of cocky, sprinkled with a hint of self-deprecation. With an apologetic look intended solely for her, he turned to greet the newcomer—and drew up short.
Curious, Jasmine followed his line of sight to find Sarge’s snowballing group of admirers climbing over each other to get a look at them. They moved farther and farther into the store, jamming into every corner with the slightest bit of room, speaking in excited tones. Sarge moved in front of Jasmine, wedging her back against the toy shelf. “Hey, guys.” A flash went off. “Happy holidays. Do you mind—”
“Play something!”
Sarge shifted, reaching back to brush a thumb over her hand. A reassurance. “I don’t have my guitar. But if someone has a pen, I can—”
He broke off when everyone laughed. “You’re holding a guitar,” a man toward the front pointed out. “Come on. It’s Christmas.”
“Right.” Sarge threw her a glance over his shoulder as everyone started to clap, slow at first, then picking up speed. Jasmine expected him to make another excuse or play the crowd something quick, but what he said next completely took her off guard. “I’ll play something if my…friend here agrees to sing with me.”
“Sarge. No,” Jasmine whispered against his back, heaviness crowding in her throat. “They’re not asking to hear me sing.”
“They’ll change their minds once you start,” he returned, with total conviction. “You’re one of the best singers I’ve ever heard, Jas.”
Drawing air grew almost impossible. How had this trip to the mall turned into a tour of her insecurities? “I haven’t sung in so long. I’m not sure I even can anymore.”
Sarge held up a finger to the onlookers and faced her. When one large hand started to reach for her hip, but dropped on the trip over, she realized what an effort he made not to touch her while others were looking. A restriction she’d placed on him.
“Sarge.”
“Hey.” The importance behind that single word held her in thrall. “I started playing my guitar because of you, Jasmine. That day you sang in the blue dress? I had to make music after that because you made it sound so good. Made it look like a necessity.”
The floor disappeared beneath her feet, leaving her hovering over nothing. “You never told me that.”
A twinkle replaced the seriousness in his gaze. “Maybe I was waiting for us to be standing in a mall toy store full of strangers.” His eyebrows dipped, head tilting in the most persuasive manner she’d ever witnessed. “Sing with me.”
She studied the anxious group beyond his shoulder, wondering if she’d lost her damn mind. Any other Friday, she would still be working in the factory. Getting ready for a nowhere date or making plans to do happy hour at the Third Shift. How had she gotten here? “Okay,” she breathed before she could stop to question to decision.
One corner of Sarge’s mouth lifted, his pride drawing her forward so they could face their makeshift audience side by side. Much like the day she’d sung at the Feast of San Gennaro, her stomach pinched with tightening knots…but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was anticipation. And when Sarge strummed the first few chords of “Joyful, Joyful,” she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.
Jasmine threw the car into park a couple blocks from the Third Shift, her vision beginning to blur with mirthful tears.
“Did you see the disappointment on that woman’s face when I wasn’t Jon Bon Jovi?” Sarge’s imitation of the crestfallen woman sent Jasmine back into a fit of laughter. “She actually wanted me dead. She already purchased a Sarge Purcell voodoo doll and covered it in pins.”
“You can’t really blame her,” Jasmine said, wiping her eyes. “We were only a few minutes from Bon Jovi’s house. He probably draws a crowd when he goes out.”
He lunged across the console to tickle her ribs. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side. Some singing partner you turned out to be.”
“I’m sorry!” she squealed.
“Sorry about what?”
Jasmine twisted, trying to get away from his torturous fingers and failing. “I’m going solo. Sorry you had to find out this way.”
Sarge’s gaze narrowed. “Oh, baby. Now you’re going to get it.” His big hands planted on her denim-clad thighs, squeezing the most ticklish spot on her body. Jasmine shot up with a yelp, legs shooting apart to dislodge his hand to no avail. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact second his touch went from playful to downright sexual, but instead of tickling, Sarge began massaging the insides of her thighs. Pushed close to kiss a path over her ear.
“One hour, Jas,” he rasped. “One hour at this party before I take you home.”
“What happens at home?” Jasmine breathed, knowing full well she played a dangerous game. He’d made his intentions for the evening abundantly clear every chance he’d gotten since leaving the toy store. Backing her into alcoves, kissing her against the driver’s side door so long she’d been panting when he finished. This thing between her and Sarge was flat-out insane. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t seem to stop turning up the volume on their attraction. Even as common sense told her to back off, her body—and God, maybe even her heart—had gone deaf to her protests.
“What happens at home?” Sarge’s bulk loomed closer, cornering her in the driver’s side seat, as his fingers yanked down her jeans zipper. When he reached inside to cup the apex of her thighs, Jasmine whimpered and allowed her legs to fall wider. “When we get home I’ve got this edge to take off. Soon as I make sure you’re wet enough, your feet won’t be touching the floor again for a goddamn while.” Sarge’s fist ground down on her center, same time as his teeth clamped on the flesh of her shoulder. He growled, biting down just enough, before drawing back with a soothing lick. “You will get off, because that’s a huge part of what gets me off. But, baby, it’s going to feel like I’m just using your little body. Using the fuck out of it.”
Oh God, she could come just this way. His rasping voice in her ear, his rough palm dragging back and forth over her clit. “Yes, I want that. I want you to use me.”
His uneven exhale heated her cleavage. “That right? You want a desperate man riding your pussy from the back, so hot to come he forgets he’s a lot stronger than you? Forgets what gentle means?”
Jasmine’s most sensitive flesh clenched like a fist. A prolonged, devastating squeeze. “Oh my God, yes.”
“Good.” With a clear effort, Sarge zipped her pants back up, heaving himself back into the passenger seat. “One hour,” he said, wiping sweat from his upper lip as Jasmine tried to regain some semblance of control on the driver’s side.
She opened the door a crack, allowing cool air to infiltrate the steamy car. Still, it took long minutes for her temperature to lower, her breathing to calm. “I want to leave with you tonight, Sarge. You didn’t have to guarantee it like that.”
“No?” Sarge’s jaw flexed, his closed fist tapping the passenger door. “I have to walk into the Third Shift and behave like we’re just friends. Things might not look the same an hour from now.”
Although his explanation was vague, Jasmine discerned his meaning. The Third Shift had a way of moving pawns around on the Hook chessboard, as if the dingy establishment had some mystical quality. She and Sarge had gotten along fine until now under the restrictions she’d placed on their relationship, because they hadn’t been around anyone who knew them, apart from River. Once they walked through the barroom door, their temporary hiatus from acknowledging the pitfalls of their relationship would be over.
Sarge exited the car and rounded the front bumper, pulling Jasmine’s door open fully and offering her a hand. “Will you let me buy your drinks?” He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Give me something, baby.”
It felt a little like signing over her independence, which she didn’t like, but it seemed a small price to pay to put him at ease. Not to mention, you could drink all night in the Third Shift and fail to rack up a bill higher than forty dollars. “Okay.”
She allowed Sarge to help her from the car, meeting his eyes when he didn’t immediately let go of her hand. He didn’t say anything, simply looking down at her, his brow furrowed. When he released Jasmine from his grip, he immediately tried to take it back, but she moved out of his reach toward the bar. Every step she took felt unsteady, blood ticking in her temples. Had someone knit a bowling ball into her stomach lining? Feeling Sarge at her back, Jasmine swallowed her nerves and walked into the Third Shift, already feeling the distance between them. Hating it, but knowing it was necessary all the same.
One step inside and already she wanted to dive back out into the freezing night. Into Sarge’s hold. And he would hold her, take her home, kiss away all the doubt. A cheer went up when the regulars spotted the local hero in their midst and that was it. They were separated by the shifting crowd. Someone took her coat and threw it on the usual huge pile over the waitress station. Hands patted her shoulders, familiar faces kissed her cheeks in greeting, as if they hadn’t seen each other at work that afternoon. She twisted in the crowd to find Sarge. How had so many people managed to get between them already? His height made him visible in the sea of partygoers and his gaze remained steady on her, distracting her from the conversation she’d been thrust into without preamble.
River popped up to her right, nursing what Jasmine knew to be a Diet Coke. “Hey! You disappeared on me earlier. I had to fend off this rowdy pack of pizza scavengers on my own.”
“I know. I’m sorry, I…” A lie sat poised on Jasmine’s tongue, but she choked it down. They were always honest with each other. That wouldn’t stop now. “I was with Sarge, but I didn’t expect to just leave like that. I should have called you.”
One of the bartenders ambled between them, a bucket of ice balanced on his head, but Jasmine could feel her best friend weighing what she’d said. “You were with Sarge.” River sipped through her straw until she reached the bottom of her drink. “You know, my brother was responsible for the early dismissal today.”
“I pieced it together,” Jasmine said, spying the man in question across the bar. His stunt that afternoon had clearly earned him new admirers. Men still dressed in their factory finest were slapping him on the back, shoving icy bottles of Budweiser into his hand. There were women, too. Young women asking to take pictures with him, tossing their hair around the way people wave flags. A worm of jealousy crawled inside Jasmine, but she ordered it to get lost. On some faraway planet, where Sarge could become her boyfriend, he would be faithful. Unlike the men she’d dated before, her belief in his honesty was unshakable. How odd to have that kind of conviction in a man so young. But character didn’t evolve over time, did it? Sarge’s had always been there, always been intact.
“Everyone was asking me why he didn’t show up to his own party. I thought he was just being Sarge. You know, doing good things and not taking credit,” River continued, following Jasmine’s gaze. “Now I’m wondering if he pulled that whole thing off just to spend time with you.”
Dios, Jasmine wished for a drink so she’d have something to do with her hands. “No, he didn’t. That’s crazy.”
River’s regard didn’t waver. “How serious is it, Jas?”
The crowd seemed to get louder around her, elbows bumping, raucous laughter grating along her senses. “We just went to the mall,” she answered lamely, in the understatement of the year. “He…I sang. We sang for people at the mall.”
Her friend’s expression fell, as if Jasmine had imparted news of a major catastrophe. “Sarge got you to sing?”
Jasmine’s nod was jerky. She’d put on blinders to the importance of what took place in the toy store that afternoon, but having some breathing room from Sarge forced the pretense to drop. River knew too well that Jasmine hadn’t sung in years. Her voice had faded along with hope, a little more with every rejection. Sarge might not even realize what he’d done today, but he’d empowered Jasmine to take back what she’d allowed nameless faces to steal. God, she’d never felt more like herself than she had since Sarge came back to Hook. Maybe Jasmine should have been thrilled with the resurgence of confidence, but she wasn’t. Not when the man who’d held up a mirror and forced her to look at herself would be gone in a matter of days.
“Hey,” River prompted, worry plain on her face. “Is this…are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah. Yes.” Someone pressed a drink into Jasmine’s hand, and she took it partly on reflex, but mostly out of gratefulness to have a distraction from her best friend’s scrutiny. “He’s leaving, right? It’ll take care of itself.”
When River’s blue eyes squeezed shut, Jasmine knew in her bones that Sarge stood behind her. Had been the one to bring her a drink. Jasmine wanted to sprint for the ladies’ room, but remained rooted to the ground. Sarge drew up beside her—not touching—and leaned over to kiss River’s cheek. “Hey, Riv.” His voice was strained. “Marcy with the sitter?”
“Yes.” River split a look between them before checking her watch. “My time is almost up, though. Fifteen minutes more and I’ll turn into a pumpkin.”
“You sure you’re heading home?” Sarge asked, his usual smile looking forced.
Jasmine watched with curiosity as her friend’s shoulders drooped. “W-where else would I be going?”
Sarge gave a slow headshake. “Nowhere. Let me get you a cab.”
“Already called one. See you both tomorrow.” River gave them both a hurried peck on the cheek, waving over her shoulder as the crowd swallowed her up.
“What was that about?” Jasmine asked, wondering what the hell she’d been missing. Had she been so caught up in the force that was Sarge, she’d let her best friend duties fall by the wayside? Unacceptable. “Sarge?”
He tipped back his Budweiser, throat working as he swallowed the hearty sip. “I stopped by the church today to see Adeline. She told me River has been working night shifts at some club.”
“What?”
“I take it you didn’t know, either.” He cast a glance toward the door where River exited. “Did you know Vaughn isn’t even aware of Marcy? River is doing all of this on her own and there might not be a need for it. He could help.”
Jasmine’s pulse slowed. “That was your sister’s decision, Sarge. You need to speak with her about it. Unless…it’s too late and you’ve already done something you can’t take back.”
Blue eyes bored into hers. “I had to. Not everything takes care of itself.”
The bowling ball tugging on Jasmine’s stomach lining gained around ten pounds when Sarge repeated the words she’d just said to River. About him. Somehow since walking into the bar, she’d disappointed two people who mattered like hell to her. “I’m sorry you heard that, but you’re taking it the wrong way.”
His laughter was devoid of humor. “There’s only one way to take it, Jas. This arrangement works for you because I’m getting gone. No muss, no fuss. No one in town the wiser.” He set his empty beer bottle down on one of the wobbly bar tables, exerting enough force to turn a couple heads. “That was the deal up front, though, wasn’t it? Nothing changed along the way.”
The way he said it suggested everything had changed. He knew it. He knew Jasmine knew it, too. Knew it deep in her gut that orange flickers had flamed into a fire. Instead of admitting the facts, though, self-preservation rose up and snatched the opportunity to protect her. “I was convenient for you, too.” She whispered for his ears alone. “It went both ways.”
“Convenient.” The word came out sounding choked. He took a step away from her, as if ending their conversation, but he came right back, eyes shooting sparks. She expected him to stop closing in, but he didn’t. Just kept coming until his breath was pelting her forehead. “You know, I actually thought I could get you out of my blood with a few nights in bed. But it was a goddamn fool’s mission. I’m the fool. I’ll admit that. Nothing will ever work—because you’re in me. And there’s nothing convenient about it.”
“Sarge—”
“I saw this coming. We’re in this fucking place ten minutes and you’re already talking about us in the past tense. What happened?”
She needed to step back before Sarge overwhelmed her. A voice in her head urged her toward him. Just leap. Just leap. Even in a bar full of people who would judge her, laugh at her for preying on a younger man. A man who’d earned all the glory she’d been so vocal about and confident she would obtain. Who cared, though, as long as he walked out beside her?
Those were dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that would lead her down a path to heartbreak. She’d be the only one left behind to field the fallout. “I need to use the bathroom,” she managed, backing away, a little surprised when Sarge let her go. With his determined face fresh and unfading in her mind, Jasmine leaned over the bathroom sink, the bass from the bar stereo matching her pumping heartbeat. There was a sense of impending doom in the atmosphere, and she couldn’t swim free of it. She just needed a night to sleep it off and face the Sarge situation with fresh eyes in the morning. Resolved to give Sarge her apartment keys, then call a cab to River’s—alone—Jasmine took a deep breath and left the bathroom.
Sarge was waiting in the dimness of the hallway. For a split second, Jasmine considered staying the course, walking the opposite direction toward the bar, instead of toward the bar’s back party room where Sarge stood. Waiting. His jaw was carved from granite, chest rising and falling with fast breaths. Dammit, he was pulling her in, beckoning her closer without even moving or speaking. But the need in his eyes spoke volumes. Sarge was as desperate as Jasmine was for oblivion, and it would only require taking a few steps to achieve it.
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 fuck you, baby. Don’t you know how bad I need to fuck 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-fucked 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 pussy 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.
“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.”