Tonight was about flaunting Han’s victory, and it was working. This was the time to twist the dagger to keep on dancing with her in front of him until he couldn’t take it anymore and left like a child denied the toy he most wanted while his men laughed behind his back—more than they already were.
But when the song ended, Han was the one who couldn’t take it anymore.
Jasmine made a surprised little sound when he turned her around and drew her in, so that his rival could no longer see her.
“Do you like that?” he asked, tipping up her chin. “Making him crazy with lust? Do you know what he’d give to fuck you right now?”
He was talking about Kuang Jr., but somehow it didn’t feel like he was talking about Kuang Jr.
Maybe she was having trouble following his meaning too. She didn’t answer, just stared up at him, her eyes glazed over as if she’d lost track of reality and forgotten where they were. Or maybe that was just Han projecting his feelings onto her.
It didn’t matter. A new song was playing, but he couldn’t hear it. Her ocean and soap scent filled his nose, making his head pulse at the same beat as his cock. Which he needed to bury inside of her. Right now.
Unable to let her go, he peeled just enough of himself away to grab the phone from his inside pocket and sent Yaron a text message.
Yaron met them outside, where the car was parked near the valet stand. His smart driver paid extra for them to keep it close, and less than a minute later, they were speeding down the highway toward the Gold Coast.
But it still wasn’t fast enough.
Unable to wait, he dragged Jasmine across the seat and into his lap, uncaring of seatbelt laws or whether Yaron could see them in the rearview.
His fingers once again found their way to the soft skin of her inner thighs.
And this time, they explored further, slipping underneath the short hem of her dress.
She was wet…soaking. So ready for him, his fingers slid right in. She moaned at his touch, her folds squeezing around the digits he’d pushed inside of her, and he cursed himself for not packing a condom in his wallet.
Did Han think he was hard before? That was nothing compared to the concrete inside his pants now, so hard, the pulsing had become a painful ache.
He could make out the outline of her breasts in the car’s dim light. A ravenous hunger overtook him, and the next thing he knew, he was sucking them through the dress’s silky material. Giving her nipples the attention they deserved until they turned into hardened peaks. Then tearing the dress at the front out of sheer frustration. He wanted them bare like that night in the champagne room. He wanted to taste them, devour them now like he hadn’t allowed himself to back then.
She whimpered and arched into his mouth and clamped around his fingers below. And suddenly, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t bury himself inside of her as he wanted. He couldn’t stop. All he wanted was to see her come.
He released her breasts to command her in Cantonese, “Ride my hand.” He was so far gone, he forgot the English he’d worked so hard to acquire over the last ten years. “Show me how good you’d ride me if we were at home with a whole box of condoms.”
Then he took her mouth, fucking it with his tongue the way he wished he could take her below.
And she must have understood what he wanted. She ground the back of her pussy into the concrete underneath his zipper as she rode his hand, moaning against his lips.
One minute of this, maybe two, and she was falling apart, just as uncaring as him of Yaron in the front seat.
Han pulled away from the kiss, just to watch her in the moments before the fall.
The look that came over her face as she climaxed for him…it was even better than he expected. Full of shock and awe as if these moments were the most glorious thing that had ever happened to her.
Did she know what that did to him? How powerful she made him feel when she looked at him like that?
The urge to tell her itched at the back of his throat. But then, just like that night in the Champagne room, an encroaching shame shadowed over her glory.
She blinked, then glanced at Yaron in the front seat, and just like that, her awe disappeared.
She pushed at his shoulders and scrambled off his lap. In a millisecond, she’d escaped to her own seat, and she pulled the seatbelt across her chest like a shield against him.
Her timing was ironic. They arrived at the apartment building just a few moments later.
