The Yearning

by Tina Donahue

  The reality of it should have made him feel differently about her, only it didn’t. Like a lovesick adolescent, he still desired what she obviously would never be able to give. Suppressing a sigh, he asked, “You said you don’t know where Desiree is. You went to where she did live?”

  Her fingers circled his knee. “Where the Wanderers lived. They left the Keys months ago. I thought she did too, she’s one of them, but I couldn’t locate her in Louisiana where they relocated. The papers called the group modern-day nomads. There were numerous articles about them a few years back. Violet and Lily remembered the pieces and made the connection to Desiree after I told them what happened.”

  Mike put the computer on his lap, moving his knee away in the process. Jasmine’s hand fell to the mattress. He stopped himself before he laced his fingers through hers, an unconscious attempt to console, and concentrated instead on the screen. It showed one folder titled Desiree. He clicked it open and read the file tags. Three bore the names of area newspapers. Others sounded like ordinary places of business: Tatiana’s Speedy Alterations, Nick’s 24-Hour Plumbing, Susanna’s Home Care. “They operate scams?”

  “They don’t have to.” She went to her knees. Her robe fell open as she crawled to his side.

  Ben’s stony silence evidenced his disapproval. Mike wasn’t willing to chance a look at the younger man’s face. “What do you mean they don’t have to?”

  She reached across him to touch his tattoo. Her proximity brought a trace of her still-soapy scent, just as intoxicating as he recalled. He didn’t allow himself to inhale too deeply.

  “Not in the ordinary sense,” she said. “Though the newspaper articles never quite say it, what makes the Wanderers such a success is their skill in the occult.” Her fingers followed the eagle’s outline. The muscle beneath it flicked repeatedly. He tensed his arm to stop it.

  Jasmine continued, “Some of their customers can’t explain why they willingly paid far more for the services than what had been agreed upon. A few didn’t remember calling or visiting the establishments, yet they freely gave large sums of cash to these people, verified by their receipts and the photos of them smiling as they stood next to the Wanderer who’d done the work.” As she moved closer, her nipple dragged from his arm to his pec.

  Mike squeezed his fist to keep himself from touching her and setting Ben off.

  Her fingers moved to his biceps, her stroke tender and seductive. She kissed his collarbone.

  He inhaled more sharply than he wanted.

  Her lips lingered, damping her words. “Those customers who were foolish enough to complain fell ill with a variety of mysterious ailments. One woman said the alternations on her husband’s suits were so shoddy even he could see it. Two weeks later, the man went blind. The doctors couldn’t find a brain tumor or other disease. Idiopathic, they called it, of unknown origin. The wife knew otherwise. She stopped complaining.” Jasmine’s hand crept beneath the sheet, heading for his groin.

  “Jas,” Ben said suddenly, his voice beseeching. “You need to sleep.”

  Heedless of his comment, she wrapped her fingers around Mike’s cock. Her fingers burned with energy and heat. His erection blossomed. Shortened breaths pumped his chest. “Jasmine, listen to him. You should rest.”

  “No.” A whisper spoken against his lips. Grasping the computer with her other hand, she flung it across the mattress and yanked down the sheet to straddle his lap, her robe floating around them.

  To ward off Ben’s jealousy and his own response to her enticing warmth, Mike talked fast. “Jasmine, if you want this to be over, listen to me. I can help.”

  “Yeah sure,” Ben challenged. “How?”

  Mike held her face in his free hand, praying she’d hear him out and believe. Both sisters said she was dying. What if it was true? What if the curse kept escalating until it took her life? Fuck. He couldn’t stand by and let it happen. “I have friends in the government, one in particular, a woman I trust completely. Erica still works with the service. With her help, we can find Desiree. The government has resources you couldn’t begin to imagine. No one can hide from them. Once we locate her, we’ll deal with this.”

  Jasmine’s eyes widened in hope, which faded quickly. Brows drawn together, she whispered, “You can’t help. No one can.”

  “I will, if you’ll let me.”

  “You want to be free.”

  “I know you don’t trust me, so let me tell you how to protect yourself. Get me a disposable cell phone. It can’t be traced when I contact Erica. Listen in on the call. Monitor every word I say.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “I can’t let you go.”

  “Honey, it’s not about letting me go. It’s about freeing and saving you.”

  Head shaking, she ran the pad of her thumb over his brows and lower. Against all reason, her sweet, gentle touch persuaded his lids to close. Her other hand returned to his shaft, her hard pulls forging it into a rigid column. In danger of losing his self-control, Mike said the only thing he could. “Ben, if you don’t leave now, you’re not going to like what you see.”

  The boy breathed fast.

  Mike hissed, “Forget your damned pride.”

  Jasmine stroked the head of his cock, using his pre-come to lubricate it.

  He held back a moan. It took all he had to continue. “If you kill me, the only thing it will change is you going to prison.”

  Jasmine rubbed the back of the head, the area with the most feeling. Tingles dashed from Mike’s groin to his chest to his scalp.

  Ben moved slightly, making the floor groan.

  Mike forced out his words. “If your shot misses me and harms her, I’ll fucking tear you apart.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ben cried. “I’d never harm Jas! Shit! Do what you have to! Help her!”

  Mike couldn’t comment as her lips crushed his. She pierced his mouth with her tongue at the same moment she guided his crown into her cunt. Currents of arousal clutched him. His hips jerked, demanding she take him fully.

  Her body slunk down his rod, caging him in her depths. She gripped his hair to keep his head to hers. Pushing her tongue aside, he took control of her mouth and the kiss. His lips vibrated with her moan. The four-poster shimmied, making music to match his savage thrusts and her pumps. In the distance, thunder rolled meekly. Rain dripped from the roof to the windows, its patter keeping time with his heart’s brisk drumming.

  Jasmine freed her mouth. Chin lifted to the ceiling, her lips pulled away from her teeth. A carnal sob, soul deep, rose from her and filled the room.

  Mike suckled her throat. Her fragrance and driving warmth on his shaft pushed him past all resistance. His lips found hers again, bruising them, his tongue demanding. His body invaded hers as it hadn’t during their most ardent lovemaking. She seemed to want to crawl inside of him. He knew he wanted to do the same with her. Unlike their other times, neither of them could delay their lust nor curb it in order to draw out the pleasure. This release became their sole purpose for being, the animal part of their natures absolute.

  Limbs entwined, bodies joined to each other, they worked as one. There were no missteps. His cock plundered, her cunt accepted, sucking him as deep as a man could go. His groin smacked hers. Her vaginal lips left traces of moisture on his flesh and pubic hair.

  She cried out and he gave her even more, all he could manage.

  On the heels of her climax, his shattered. She might as well have infected him with her curse, his response was that pronounced, the sounds coming from him as crude and fierce as hers.

  Sweaty and sated, they clung to each other, gasping.

  Mike kissed her damp temple, the curve of her ear. She turned her face into his neck, her breath tickling it.

  He smiled and continued to drop gentle kisses on her cheek, eyebrow and hair. Only after his heart and breathing began to settle down did he remember Ben. The boy hadn’t left. Mike could hear his rough breathing, captivated and envious. He felt him watching, the same
as last night.

  Opening his eyes, he concentrated on what mattered most—Jasmine. Her robe flared out on either side, concealing their bodies. Slumped against his chest, she continued to breathe in shallow pants, matching his.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw Ben suddenly lifting the gun’s muzzle, aiming it at them.

  Mike’s weariness dissolved. His arm tightened around her protectively, shielding her body with his. “What are you doing?”

  Desire and despair charged the boy’s voice. “Put her down on the bed.”

  “No.”

  “Do it,” Ben said.

  Mike cradled her weight to him, turning away from the boy to protect her further. “Think about what you’re doing, Ben. It’s not going to solve anything.”

  “Fuck that and you. I told you I wouldn’t harm Jas, and I won’t.” His voice trembled with hurt and rage. “She’s going to wake up in a few minutes, wanting more. If I carry her to another bedroom, she may sleep for a couple of hours.”

  Mike glanced at the boy. “Whose room exactly?”

  The prominent bulge behind the younger man’s shorts deflated with the question. “I love Jas. I’d never touch her while she’s asleep.”

  His wilting erection convinced Mike. The boy’s artless behavior reminded him of Tommy. His partner had been younger than him by two years and so unsophisticated, in spite of their jobs, Mike always felt he had to watch over the guy. Maybe that’s why Tommy was the one who’d ended up dead. He’d put his faith in the wrong man.

  Mike frowned at the memory, determined to do better by Jasmine. “See that you don’t. Before I do anything, get rid of the Glock.”

  Ben lifted his hand in surrender and put the pistol in the hallway. Unarmed, he returned to the bed.

  Mike toyed with the idea of using his power to pin the boy against the wall and decided against it, not wanting to wake and frighten Jasmine or bring her sisters in here. He’d let Ben take her out of the room. Alone, he’d get free. His cell phone was probably still downstairs. Once he reached it or a landline, he’d have a chance to call Erica and get her started on finding Desiree. “Put one arm around her waist and the other under her legs. It’ll be easier to lift her from me than the bed.”

  “No.” He stayed clear of Mike’s reach. “Lower her to the mattress. I can get her from there.”

  “Do it my way or she stays right where she is.”

  Ben’s upper lip curled. “Fine, I’ll do it, but don’t try anything funny. Even if you get me in a headlock and threaten to break my neck, Lily and Violet will not let you leave, nor will they give you your gun.”

  “Sounds like you’re the odd man out in this group.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Curbing his urge to smile, Mike removed his arm from Jasmine and leaned forward. She sagged from him into Ben’s chest. He tucked the robe around her, then lifted her from man and bed.

  Her head fell back. Both arms dangled limply as he carried her to the doorway.

  In the hall, someone gasped.

  “Oh my God,” Violet said. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” Jasmine’s weight sapped Ben’s voice. “She’s asleep. I thought I’d bring her into another bedroom so she won’t be disturbed or tempted.”

  “Take her to mine,” Lily said. “Come on.”

  Footfalls moved down the hallway.

  Mike heard a brief, hurried discussion, the details of which he couldn’t catch. No more than a second later, bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor, padding to this room. One of the sister’s hands grabbed the knob and closed the door on him and what they thought was his prison.

  Chapter Eight

  Violet whispered, “Wait a sec. Let me pull down the comforter.”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Lily informed as she entered the room. “Ben, you should go back and guard Mike.”

  “What for?” His words scraped as if he had a hard time getting them out. “He’s handcuffed to the bed. He’s not going anywhere. I’ll stay here with her.”

  Jasmine’s shoulders and back sank into the mattress. The pillow puffed around her head, surrounding her with the melon-and-mint cologne Lily liked. Arms released her. Mike’s? No. Lily said Ben should be guarding him. With the gun?

  “Ben.” Jasmine couldn’t open her lids, they were too heavy. Blindly, her hand flailed, trying to find him. “Ben!”

  “I’m right here.” He curled his fingers around hers, bringing her hand to his mouth. His breath warmed her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “The gun.” She thrashed her head, her voice shrill. “Get rid of it! Don’t hurt Mike! He’s a good man!”

  “We know.” Violet’s voice, conciliatory and soothing. She smoothed Jasmine’s hair. “No one will hurt him. I swear. Now, please, just relax. Get some sleep.”

  How could she with Mike to worry about? She pulled her hand from Ben and flung out her arm to keep Violet back. “Lily.”

  “Yeah, I’m right here.” Gently, she squeezed her shoulder.

  Jasmine clamped her hand on her younger sister’s wrist, holding it with all of her strength.

  “Hey.” Lily tugged, her voice grumbling. “Let go.”

  Jasmine didn’t. Her baby sister could be a handful. She didn’t want her giving Mike any grief. “Help Violet make breakfast for him. Lots of ham. He enjoyed it last night. He never had any cinnamon cake. He gave me his slice. I want him to have the rest. If none’s left, then make more. Give him whatever he wants. Let him shower and shave. I don’t want him to lack for anything.”

  “We’ll take good care of him,” Violet promised.

  Jasmine’s face scrunched. She fought tears. “Tell him I’m sorry. I really like him.”

  “Of course you do.” Lily spat out her words, twisting her wrist free. “It’s the curse.”

  “No.” Jasmine’s hand fell to the mattress. “It’s more than that.”

  None of them commented.

  A cry caught in Jasmine’s throat. She wanted them to understand that she’d never believed she would meet a man like Mike, commanding and compassionate, a man she felt safe with. He reminded her of their dad. She wanted to repeat what he’d said, and ask if they thought he could really help. She wanted them to keep looking for Desiree, to check out the newest information she’d found.

  The words wouldn’t come. Sleep, so elusive till now, claimed her.

  Sweat rolled down Mike’s forehead, running into his eyes. He blinked repeatedly at its sting, swiping the back of his free hand across his face to dry it.

  The damned cuff wouldn’t open. He’d been concentrating on the lock for ten minutes, willing it to turn. The metal shivered slightly and stopped. For all he knew, the cuff moved because of his clenching fist, not because of his gift. He sagged against the pillows, trying to catch his breath and calm down.

  Impossible. His mind flew in several directions at once, none of them good. He hadn’t called on his power for nearly two years. Had it wasted away like an unused muscle? How could it in such a short period, given its previous strength? Hell, he first noticed his talent when he’d been three and amused himself by making his Fruit Loops dance above his cereal bowl. For him, the action had been as effortless as having his cells divide. All he needed to do was look at something, not even think about the object, and there’d be a whirring buzz, like a too-close bee, followed by the thing moving. His only problem, in the early days, had been with control. More than once, he’d sent his blocks and puzzles sailing from his bedroom into his parents’ instead of the toy chest where they belonged.

  Over the years, he’d kept his gift a secret, not wanting the government to research it or have himself exposed to the public as a freak. He’d never seen any practical use for it other than to amuse himself. And he had, mastering his telekinesis until he could move a fly like a remote-controlled airplane. He’d lift the insect above his kitchen table, watching its wings beating violently, then bring it down for a landing. After it made contact wi
th the wood, he’d lift it again, landing it on the counter, the stove, the fridge, taking the poor thing on the ride of its brief life.

  His power couldn’t have disappeared.

  He glared at the cuff, his mind picturing the lock turning, opening, the metal falling away from him.

  The pulse in his wrist thumped too fast, with it being the sole movement. The only sound was the thudding of his heart. No buzz.

  Mike ran his hand down his face, thinking about his promise at Tommy’s grave never to use his gift again. His loathing for it and himself hadn’t waned. Was guilt blocking him?

  “Fuck.” He tried for another five minutes. His thoughts went bleary. White-hot pain ran the length of his shoulders and arms. Rolling off the bed, he opened the nightstand drawers slowly, so as not to make any unnecessary noise. The first drawer held the string of condoms they hadn’t used. The middle drawer held a variety of sex toys: a dong, dildo, vibrator, lubricants. Stacks of women’s socks crowded the third drawer. There wasn’t a handcuff key beneath them, or even a hairpin he could use to pick the lock.

  He closed the drawer and studied her figurines. Without a strip of metal beneath the ceramic, they were of no use. Wait. What about her body jewelry? He turned it over in his palm, noted its ineffectiveness and dropped it back on the wood. His watch caught his eye. If he pulled out the stem with his teeth, he might be able to get it into the lock. Would the thin column of metal be long enough?

  Hell no. Hannibal Lecter couldn’t have used it to get free. These cuffs boasted a double lock, not impossible to pick, but harder than the single-lock variety. His gaze scoured the room for something he could use, while his mind told him it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to reach it.

  His ass hit the bed, shifting the mattress. Something tapped the footboard. He looked over and spotted the laptop, his window to the Internet and Erica’s email. A grin broke across his lips.

  He pulled on the comforter to bring the computer close.

  It didn’t cooperate, bumping into the wood as it slid over the fabric and stayed away. He figured the same would happen if he yanked on the sheets.