It didn't take long.
The moment her touch became bolder, Ross let out a low growl against her lips, his hips shifting slightly toward her hand.
She felt it then—the twitch, the pulse—followed by the rapid swell of hardness.
In seconds, the monster in his pants surged awake, growing bigger, harder, until it was straining against the confines of his jeans like a wild animal desperate to break free.
Jasmine broke the kiss for air, gasping softly as she looked down and saw the outline pressing against his pants.
Her lips parted in awe, her cheeks flushed crimson.
"God... Ross," she whispered, voice trembling with need.
Fifteen inches. Thick, throbbing, and impossibly hard.
Just the sight of it had her thighs clenching, heat pooling between her legs.
She swallowed hard, her fingers tracing the rigid length as if to confirm it was real.
Ross smirked at her reaction, his eyes dark with lust and dominance.
"What's wrong, Jasmine? Surprised?" he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety purr that sent shivers racing down her spine.
Her answer was a shaky laugh, breathless and tinged with desperation. "Every damn time..."
"Good," Ross murmured, his lips curling into that devilish smile that always made Jasmine weak.
His voice was low, smooth, and full of certainty as he leaned closer, letting his breath tease her ear.
"I live to make you happy, after all."
Before she could even react, his hands began their journey, gliding over her body with the kind of confidence that came from knowing every curve, every weakness.
He started at her chest, his palms cupping the soft swell of her breasts through the thin fabric of her blouse.
The heat of his touch burned through the material as he squeezed gently, then firmly, making her nipples pebble beneath the cloth.
A sharp gasp tore from her throat.
"Ahhh..." Jasmine moaned, her voice trembling with unrestrained pleasure.
The sound was dangerously loud, and Ross silenced it the only way he knew how—his lips crashed onto hers in a deep, possessive kiss.
His tongue invaded her mouth with relentless hunger, tangling with hers, stealing every shaky breath she had left.
His hands didn't stop moving.
They kneaded and teased her breasts until she was arching against him, desperate for more.
Then, slowly—deliberately—he began his descent.
His fingertips traced the curve of her waist, the softness of her belly, before sliding lower.
Every brush of his fingers left goosebumps in their wake, every second of waiting winding her tighter and tighter like a coil about to snap.
By the time his hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, Jasmine was trembling.
Her thighs tensed, parting instinctively to welcome him in.
Ross's fingers stroked the silken skin of her inner thighs, slow and teasing, inching closer to where she needed him most.
Each touch was torture, fanning the flames of her desire without quenching a single spark.
Finally, he reached the heat between her legs.
His hand cupped her through the thin layer of her panties, and the wetness there made his smirk widen.
"God, Jasmine," he whispered against her lips, his voice husky with hunger.
"You're already soaked for me."
Jasmine's breath hitched, her face flushed crimson.
She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as if to anchor herself in the storm of sensation.
"Ross... please..." she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea, but he wasn't finished teasing her yet.
Instead of giving her what she wanted, Ross began to toy with her, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her clit through the soaked fabric.
The friction was maddening, just enough to make her gasp, not enough to give her the release she craved.
Jasmine's hips moved instinctively, grinding against his hand, but Ross held her in place, controlling every inch of this game.
Each second stretched like an eternity.
Her breathing grew shallow, her moans slipping out between frantic kisses as the fire inside her burned hotter and hotter.
She wanted him—no, needed him—so badly that her entire body ached with it.
But Ross was merciless.
He continued his slow torment, fingers dancing over her most sensitive spot without ever moving the fabric aside.
His patience was infuriating, intoxicating, and it drove her to the edge of madness.
Jasmine clutched at his shirt, nails clawing at the fabric as if she could tear it off with sheer desperation.
Her lips trailed along his jaw, kissing, biting, begging in the only way she knew how.
"Ross... please... I can't..." she whispered, her voice breaking as another wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Ross chuckled darkly, his lips brushing her ear as his hand pressed harder against her soaked panties, making her cry out softly.
"Not yet, baby," he murmured, his tone commanding, dangerous, and laced with promise.
"I want you trembling. I want you begging for more than this."
And God help her, she already was.
Ross didn't stop his teasing until Jasmine was practically shaking, her moans vibrating against his lips with each stroke of his fingers.
He had her perfectly tuned, her body arching and hips grinding for more, every nerve ending on fire.
In less than five minutes, she was dangling at the edge of release, her clit throbbing, her panties soaked through.
"Ross!" she gasped, breaking the kiss, her voice filled with desperation as her head fell back against the seat.
Her hips moved instinctively toward his hand, aching for that last push that would send her over the edge.
But then... he stopped.
The sudden emptiness made her whimper, her breath catching in disbelief.
She opened her eyes, meeting the smug curve of his lips, and bit hers in frustration.
"You're mean," she hissed softly, still panting, her hips shifting desperately as if trying to coax him back.
"So damn mean..."
Ross simply smirked, his eyes dark and commanding.
He let his fingertips linger near her soaked panties, brushing lightly just to torment her before pulling away completely.
His voice came low and dangerous, the kind of tone that made her shiver all over.