JASMINE

My elbows caught my weight as I pushed myself up slightly to look down at him, tears of overwhelming sensation blurring the edges of my vision.

I watched him work between my legs, my lips parted, my brain turned to total mush. I couldn't form a single coherent thought if my life depended on it.

Then he looked up at me and smiled. It was an actual, genuine smile—slow, devastating, and full of confidence, like he already knew every single secret way to undo me.

His fingers began to slide in and out of my tight core, setting a rhythmic, agonizingly good pace. "You're so wet," he murmured in...