The Yearning (4 page)

“Will you bring your tongue?”

Laughing, he hugged her until she squealed like a little girl. “Where do you live?”

With her head nestled on his shoulder, her breath warmed his neck. “A few blocks from here. We can walk.”

“We’ll take my bike. It’s right over there.”

She didn’t bother to look. Her hands returned to his ass. She resumed squeezing. “Whatever you say.”

Exactly what every man longed to hear.

He insisted she put on his helmet. “I want you safe.”

Completing a full circle around his Harley, a customized V-Rod Muscle, she ran her fingertips over the black leather seat. “What will you wear?”

“You.” He tossed her his helmet, which she thankfully caught, straddled his bike, and patted the space behind himself. “Hop on, put your arms around my middle and press the insides of your thighs against mine.”

She turned the helmet in her palms while staring at his legs. “Shouldn’t we wait to do that until we get to my place?”

Head down, he hid his smile and faked a growl. “Come on, woman. You’re making me wait.”

“Sorry.” With more care than he thought necessary, she tucked her thick hair into the sides of his helmet, secured the strap and lifted her foot, stopping short of swinging her leg over the bike.

Suddenly, he remembered she wasn’t wearing panties, just her amazing body jewelry. He got so hard he winced inwardly and it showed in his unsteady voice. “Ah, if you pull the back of your dress between your legs you can…” His words trailed off as she did as he suggested, her succulent ass resting on cloth rather than his seat.

Blood pounded in his ears at the way she wrapped her arms around him, leaving one palm on his belly and the other on his fly. God help him if he took a corner too fast and she grabbed his shaft and balls to hang on.

“How’s this?” she asked.

Surrounded by her fragrance and heat, distracted by her rigid nipples poking his back, he lowered his head and forced himself to take a calming breath. “It’s great. Precisely what I wanted.” He looked past his shoulder at her.

Indecency sparkled in her eyes. Her forefinger stroked his balls.

His ears rang. He’d never experienced a moment quite like this, not even in high school or college where he fucked as much as he possibly could. It killed him to break the mood, but he couldn’t think of a way around it. “We’ll have to stop at a drugstore first for protection. There’s one two streets over, unless you have condoms at your place.”

Her finger found the head of his cock and traced its outline. He bit back a moan. She reduced her voice to just above a whisper as though someone might overhear. “I have an IUD. There’s a slight chance you may feel the strings when you’re inside me. Is that okay?”

Was she joking? He nodded quickly and guided her hand to his waist, placing it on top of her other one. Once his heart began to beat normally again, he heeled the kickstand. “Hang on.”

They roared out of the alley and entered the street, weaving around a slow-moving vehicle to zip past a continuous flow of cars. A teenaged boy in the passenger seat of a red Honda Civic hung out his window and waved with both arms as they approached. “Hey man,” he shouted, “I love your bike!”

Head turned to the boy, Mike grinned to acknowledge his thanks.

Jasmine nuzzled the back of his neck, adrift in his potent masculinity. The thought of his powerful thighs separating her legs and his cock buried deep dulled her earlier distress.

He’d given her an opportunity to retreat when he’d seen Violet and Lily beneath the gas lamp, asking if she knew them. For a moment, she’d vacillated, and then the curse took over, pushing her to have him at all costs, allowing her to look confused at his question and to lie so easily.

She knew her sisters followed. When he’d stopped at the end of the alley and regarded the passing traffic, she’d peeked to the right. Violet and Lily sat in her blue Saturn, parked at the curb. She’d given them time to head for the vehicle while she fooled with his helmet and her skirt. Her nod let them know everything was going as planned. Within minutes, she’d be home with him. They wouldn’t enter the house for an hour, time enough for her to get him into her bedroom, so he’d believe she lived alone.

Her lids slid down, shame mingling with accelerating delight. Cheek pressed to his shoulder, she savored his tee’s fresh scent, his glossy hair whipped by the wind, his torso tensing with each movement, the way their bodies dipped to the right, the left as he expertly maneuvered his bike around street corners.

On the fourth turn, he slowed and stopped at the address she’d provided. Opening her eyes, Jasmine looked at her childhood home, a two-story Victorian with white wrought-iron columns and porches draped in crimson bougainvillea. The petals fluttered in the midnight breeze, delivering their perfume. Moss-draped cypress trees and gigantic banyans flanked the structure, along with squat palms and ferns. Stately and inviting, the house didn’t look like a place where she would imprison a man.

He eased toward the curb.

“No,” she said, her voice just a shade too loud.

He turned to her. His eyes glistened in the moonlight. “No what?”

If he parked out here, the neighbors would see his Harley. Not a problem, if he left in the morning. If she couldn’t allow it… Not knowing what to do, or what she might be capable of, she said, “There’s a detached garage in back. Your bike will be safer there.”

“You rent a room here?”

Her throat constricted at his simple question, one she should have known he’d ask. She shook her head, not able to lie this time. He knew her real name and should he leave in the morning, there were too many public records to confirm ownership. “It’s mine.”

His dark brows lifted. “You don’t seem too happy about that. Is the bank giving you grief? They’re getting ready to foreclose?”

“Actually, the place is free and clear, an inheritance from my parents.”

His head turned to the house, taking it in. “Can I ask you something?”

She wished he wouldn’t. “I guess.”

He glanced over at the uncertainty in her voice. “I know this is none of my business. If you want, just tell me to shut up, but did they die recently?”

His question brought relief and sorrow. “No. I lost them when I was eighteen.” Her belly cramped at the memory. “They’d gone to the store that day and didn’t return when they said they would. The police department called. An officer said a group of kids was tossing rocks off an overpass, thinking it’d be fun to smash some windshields. My dad lost control of the car. It rolled over several times, killing him and Mom instantly. A stupid, senseless accident.” The loss still angered and pained her, though she shouldn’t be talking about it. If she wasn’t careful, she’d tell him everything: how she’d raised her younger sisters. How she’d crossed paths with a mad woman. How Desiree’s jealousy had altered her life. Tears burned her eyes.

His expression softened. “I’m sorry. It must have been tough. Do you have any siblings or relatives?”

She shook her head, not wanting to involve Violet and Lily in this, hoping her next lie would sound like the truth. “I’m pretty much it.” Running her finger beneath her nose, she turned her head to the right. “There’s the drive, you can take it to the garage.”

Once he’d parked his bike next to Violet’s black VW, which he surely thought belonged to her, she placed his helmet on the seat and ran her fingers through his hair, easing it from his ear. He offered a gentle smile and gathered her into his arms. His embrace nearly defeated Jasmine. New tears threatened. She hated deceiving him but didn’t know what else to do. Without his warmth and touch, she’d go crazy.

He whispered, “You okay?”

She nodded.

He ran his hand up her back. She sagged into him, loving his solid support. “Ready to go inside?”

“Depends.” He kissed the top of her head. “What do you have in mind?”

Jasmine pushed to her toes and suckled his throat while cupping his sac with her free hand, feeling the shape and weight of his balls through the rough denim.

Air hissed through his teeth. “How about we stay here? I’ve always wanted to have sex in a garage. We could even try to do it on my Harley.”

Her grin released several tears. “Inside’s better. Follow me.”

With her fingers laced through his, she led him past the gazebo, a lacy white structure ringed by fat bushes and towering palms. White wicker rockers graced the back porch. Silvery light streamed through the tall kitchen windows, illuminating the snowy cabinets and gleaming hardwood floor. The fragrant cinnamon cake Violet prepared for tonight’s dessert sweetened the space.

Jasmine hung her purse on Lily’s chair at the glass-topped kitchen table. A prearranged signal to let her sisters know she’d chosen a safe man. He wouldn’t harm her.

She eased her hand from his and backed up several steps toward the hall.

He finished looking around the airy room. Shadows and light played across his features, giving him a mysterious, formidable appearance. He moved closer. Her body throbbed, hurting for his.

“I can’t believe you live here alone,” he said.

The back of her neck prickled. She warned herself not to break and blurt the truth. In addition to Violet and Lily, Ben Bishop, their border, rented a room upstairs. Ben waited for her now, determined to protect her if the man she chose became threatening. Heart racing, she offered a promising smile. “Most of the time I like the solitude, though not tonight.” To distract him from the subject, she lifted her hands and unfastened her halter.

Mike followed the ends of the cloth as they slid over her breasts to pool at her waist. Eyes riveted to her partial nudity, he pulled his tee out of his jeans.

“No—don’t.”

His gaze jumped from her tight nipples to her eyes. “Don’t? Why?”

If worry caused Violet and Lily to arrive before she got him out of the kitchen, he’d see them coming up the porch. “I want to undress you. Please.”

He flung out his arms, his resonant voice even huskier. “Have at it.”

Jasmine smiled, liking him so much desire rose swift and pitiless, worse than the times with the other men. The room pressed in and the air became suffocating. Tension magnified every sound: crickets chirped boisterously, something in the wall popped as the house settled. Her heart skipped a beat while she battled for composure. No matter his impatience to sink inside of her, if she allowed him to witness the heartless depth of her passion, she’d spook him and he’d leave.

She’d have no way to satisfy herself through tonight’s grueling hours, not even if she went to Ben. He’d argued for them to become intimate, not understanding the curse. Desiree didn’t want her to crave just any male. That would be too easy. She could hire escorts. The man had to be one she felt in her core with a connection so strong he seemed to be a part of her, whether he was vicious like Travis or as seemingly honorable as Mike. Only then would the sex gratify, though never for long. She’d still want unendingly. Finding her voice, she tried to make it as light and tantalizing as possible. “Not here. Upstairs.”

Mike’s arms fell to his sides. He arched one brow. “What’s upstairs?”

“My bedroom.” She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “You do want to see it, don’t you?”

“Eventually.” His amused smile grew mischievous as he inclined his head. “Right now, though, that table has your name on it. Once you’ve stripped me, I definitely see you bending over it, lifting your ass and spreading your legs.”

Her pussy thumped, indelicate, shameless beats at the picture he’d created, her body displayed for his use, vaginally and anally. She strained for control. “I was saving that for breakfast.” Her voice trembled. She cleared it. “By the way, I’m quite the chef. I cook in the nude.” She unzipped the back of her dress and nudged it past her hips.

Mike watched the flimsy fabric float to her feet. She stepped out of it and slipped off her slides. Excited and embarrassed at being naked, she didn’t move, allowing his scrutiny. Her breasts felt heavy and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze. Chilled air from the cooling system drifted down, glancing against her hard nipples and the building moisture between her legs. With each breath, the belly chain rolled over her stomach. She knew the dangling diamonds shimmered in the ashy light.

Transfixed, his attention roamed from the jewels to her shaved mound, exactly as she wanted. When she brought him through the house, she couldn’t risk him noticing anything other than her. A necessary precaution to keep him from asking too many questions. And, if she couldn’t bring herself to keep him captive, the only way she could allow him to leave in the morning.

Hand outstretched, she coaxed, “Let’s go upstairs.”

Chapter Three

Mike knew seduction when he saw it, though he couldn’t figure out why Jasmine considered it necessary, given his obvious attraction to her. If his interest went up another notch, he’d be drooling.

Maybe being alone in this house gave her lots of time to read romance novels and dream about heroes who didn’t take meth or beat up on women.

He followed her into the hall. Ornate nightlights—one a fairy, another a stylized sun, the next a hummingbird—created circles of colored light on the shiny hardwood floor.

Her feet slapped the wood. He slowed his pace, watching her ass bounce with each step. The dainty dimples above her cheeks baited him shamelessly, as they would any sane man. His testosterone spiked to a dangerous level, sending his heart rate into triple overdrive. Not willing to risk a stroke, he pulled her toward him, facing him, then backed her into the rose-colored wall, imprisoning her with his body.

“Not upstairs. Here. Now,” he insisted.

“But—”

He kissed her objections away, his hands roughly fondling her luscious breasts chilled from the air-conditioning. As he warmed them with his palms, his fingers tugged her long nipples, sensing she’d like it.

She did. Smothered moans punctuated her heightened breathing. Knee lifted to his groin, she prodded his balls and cock.

Arousal surged through him. Every hair on his body seemed to stand on end. He responded with an indulgent grunt and kept her pinned to the wall with his kiss as his hands went to his belt.