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 fucking 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.
Sinking down onto him—finally—she screamed into his mouth.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you hurt. Going to fuck it better, baby. Going to pump until you come.” He walked them backward so he could reach past her hip, propping one hand on the metal buffet, supporting her ass with the other. Already she was starting to ride his cock, clinging to his upper body while grinding down on him like a goddess. “Give me a twist on the way back up—ahhh fuck. That’s it, you tight little thing. Working my dick like a goddamn stripper pole, aren’t you? You have any idea how hard I’m going to come?”
Her breath released in a hot gust at his ear. “Me first.”
Sarge’s laugh transformed into a deep grunt as her pace changed, grew more erratic. Jasmine’s thighs were spread so wide, she was doing the splits on his lap, that fine-as-hell backside undulating on his pressing forearm. Sarge matched her fevered pace, driving himself up and into her squeezing heat, his thrusts so savage he worried he might hurt her. But she only bit his neck and whimpered for more. Not enough, though. It wasn’t enough. He needed her secured somewhere so he could slam into her willing * and forget his own fucking name.
As if she could read his mind, she gripped his hair, leaned back and moaned. “Yes. Harder. More.”
“Never stop saying that to me.” Sarge pinned Jasmine’s ass to the metal buffet’s edge and hooked both arms beneath her knees. He took a moment to savor how she looked, breathless and begging for his assault, before ramming home. Even as she gasped his name, her body remained stationary, finally allowing his cock deep as possible. “Feel how I belong here, baby? Feel how we fit together?” Sarge rolled his hips back and rocked forward, pushing, pushing until his balls strained at her entrance. “It’s never felt right before now—and you know it. No way this is wrong. No way I wasn’t meant to own this part of you. Every fucking part.”
“Yes.” Jasmine breathed the word, head falling back as Sarge started to thrust. He jarred her body with each collision of their bodies, bouncing her tits inside her shirt. “Oh my God. So good, so good, so good.”
Sarge’s spine began to tingle, growing tight at the base. He gave an irritated headshake, pissed that his need for Jasmine continued to end their encounters too soon, although he suspected any amount of time would be too soon with her. Trying to conjure a distasteful image that might delay his oncoming climax didn’t work, either. There was nothing but Jasmine in his universe. Nothing.
Craving her gorgeous brown eyes on him, needing to go over the edge together, Sarge leaned in and kissed her mouth. He drew back as the kiss’s fervor increased, bringing her with him, before pulling away. Holding her attention, Sarge propped her right leg over his shoulder to free his hand. Then he licked his thumb and stroked it over her clit, holding her steady when she jerked.
“Ah God, Jasmine. You look so good with my cock sliding in and out between those legs. You know your knees shake every time I hit your limit?” He thumbed her clit, sliding back and forth over the tight nub, his hips starting to piston out of pure necessity. “That’s right. Every time I find the back of your *, you vibrate like I hit a button.”