The Yearning

by Tina Donahue

  Obediently and willingly, she stripped and left Ben for the second time to join Mike. Despite his cuffed wrist, his position allowed him to push her down to the mattress. His body covered hers. His shaft lay hot, inflexible, imposing against her thigh. “Bend your legs. I want to feel your cunt.”

  Her breasts tapped his chest with each jagged breath. From the side, Ben watched, his loose tee shifting with his elevated breathing. She bent her knees, planting her feet on the comforter, spreading her legs.

  Mike’s penis slid to her juicy slit. Grabbing her hair with his cuffed hand, he pulled her head back, his mouth heading for her throat. She mewled in anticipation, hungering for this. Mike did not disappoint. His tongue swirled over her neck at the same moment his free hand guided his rod inside. He entered in one thrust and thumbed her clit in an economy of motion.

  But he didn’t rush.

  He obliged her to experience the act second by second—the mounting pressure in her groin from his width and size, the extreme sensitivity of her nub, the perfect warmth of his breath and tongue.

  She braved his uniform strokes, holding off as he did, biting her bottom lip as he stopped so neither of them would know immediate joy. When she tried to bury her face in his hair, he wouldn’t have it. He kissed her urgently, like a man who knew their time was ending and his best intentions couldn’t change a thing.

  Held captive by his tongue and cock, she relinquished everything to him, her body, heart, mind and soul. Downstairs, the grandfather clock tolled the time. For the better part of the next ten minutes he remained inside, pumping and pausing, his actions methodical, meant to drive them wild.

  A glaze of sweat dampened her chest and his. They stank of sex, animal passion, each other.

  His eyes pinned her as his pumps increased, demanding she hold his gaze so he could see the power he had over her, convinced she’d do anything he desired. Her hips rose to meet his, her pussy tilting to allow him the most depth.

  Mike accepted, using her as he willed, as she required. Just as his size and thrusts became more than she could withstand, they came as one, their sounds carnal and indistinguishable.

  Gulping air, unable to move or to think, she expected him to pull out. He didn’t. His hold on her tightened.

  The bed frame rattled with Ben’s movements. Mike heard the younger man zipping his shorts, the sound of concession. Ben knew it would be a long time before he got another chance with Jasmine.

  Possessive, Mike kissed her at his leisure while remaining inside to prove he was the man to whom she now belonged. Ben’s presence didn’t discourage him. In this bed, only he and Jasmine existed. Their fragrance perfumed the sheets. The pillows and mattress molded to their contours.

  He tended to her cravings with his mouth, kissing her deeply, unmindful of his languor as he waited for his body to recover.

  Fifteen minutes later, his cock stiffened within its prison. Her body accepted it, welcomed it. He took her again, his lovemaking painstaking and dogged. To please her? To show off for Ben? To prove something to himself? Probably all three.

  He didn’t stop until he drew the last weary cry from her.

  Sated, though hardly finished, he pulled out and slumped against the headboard. “Come here,” he said, his heavy breathing interrupting his words. “Sit between my legs.”

  Compliant, she crawled to him, allowing him to position her body, her head lolling on his shoulder. With his feet, he pulled her legs apart, baring her naked cunt. The cheval mirror caught its damp mouth and their reflections perfectly, just as it had hours earlier. Lips to her ear, he said now what he had then, “Watch.”

  Through slitted eyes, she saw him stroking her puffy folds. He viewed her elegant features. They crumpled with displeasure as he teased her clit too briefly. Her writhing told him to hurry and finish it. In direct defiance, he fingered the golden leaves dangling from her navel and those on her earlobes. The precious metal winked back. He smiled. Jasmine whimpered, her hips lifting, begging.

  Rooted to the moment, Ben’s eyes rounded, taking in the scene. He slid his right knee over the linens but didn’t come closer.

  Good choice, Mike knew. This act belonged to him and Jasmine. He massaged the inviting area between her legs—fleshy, wet, his.

  Unknowingly, she clawed his cuffed hand. Her skull hit his collarbone with her desperate attempt to move her body into his fingers. He gave in at last and touched her, concentrating on her nub. She gasped and moaned, finally settling on a weak cry.

  He worked her until she climaxed again. Her hand loosened on his wrist and fell from his. It didn’t take long for her breathing to slow. Shortly thereafter, her head slumped forward.

  Mike kissed her cheek and met Ben’s eyes. In them, he saw a mess of jealousy, hurt and admiration, none of which he had the energy or time to address. He spoke as quietly as he could. “She’s asleep. I want her to stay that way until morning.”

  Apparently confused, Ben crawled off the bed, shooting a glance at Jasmine to see if he’d disturbed her. She didn’t move. He went to Mike’s side and whispered, “How are we supposed to accomplish that?”

  “Doesn’t anyone here have over-the-counter sleep aids? When she wakes up, put them in her food or in a drink.”

  “We tried that and sedatives from a doctor after Travis almost hurt her. It didn’t work then. It’s not going to work now.”

  Mike countered. “Isn’t she more exhausted now than she was then?”

  “Well, yeah. She gets worse every day.”

  “Then the pills may work this time. Try them. I want her to stay asleep. And I expect you to send that email. If you’re worried about someone tracking you down, use a computer at a damned Internet café or the library. Just go.”

  “I will. Should I bring her to Lily’s room first?”

  “She’s not going to stay asleep long in this bed, is she?”

  “Okay, okay.” His blush ran all the way to his fair hairline. “I’ll take care of it.” He gathered Jasmine into his arms, struggling with her slack body.

  Mike spoke softly. “When you get her settled, come back here with a pen and a piece of paper. I’ll give you what you need to get into my email account, along with Erica’s address and what I want you to send.”

  Chapter Ten

  Twenty minutes later, Ben read what Mike wrote and frowned. “Why are you so interested in Connor?”

  “He’s the key to this crap. Without him, it’s going to be pissing hard for us to find Desiree.”

  For once, doubting Ben took what he said on faith. He closed the notepad and shoved it into his back pocket. “There’s an Internet café on the other side of town. How long should I wait for Erica’s answer?”

  Mike tried hard not to smile. “Once you send the message you can come back here to wait. Opening my account on your computer isn’t going to bring anyone to this house. It’s unlikely the Feds have this place under surveillance.”

  “You think I’m a real ass, don’t you?”

  He thought Ben loved Jasmine as only a kid in his twenties could. With a lot of romantic crap that had nothing to do with reality. She appreciated Ben’s protection. She may have even loved him as a friend, but he could never give her what she most required, even without the curse.

  And you can? his thoughts ridiculed. He wasn’t here because they’d met under ordinary circumstances. He recalled Jasmine’s previous words, how the curse drew her to guys completely different from Connor, men she would have never chosen in the past. His heart sank a little more. “I think you’d do anything, legal or otherwise, to help Jasmine. What’s your connection with her anyway?” He knew he sounded like a drooling, pimply adolescent, and didn’t care. “Are you renting one of the bedrooms?”

  Ben’s surprise showed in his arched brows. “Did Violet or Lily tell you that?”

  “I guessed. You’re always here. Don’t you ever work?”

  “All the time.” His previous admiration vanished. “I illustrate the catalogues f
or the sisters’ business.”

  “Jasmine hired you?”

  “Why? Jealous?”

  Maybe. “Lily seems to be the one bossing you around. You work for her? If you do, you might want to think about telling her no every now and then.”

  He picked up the gun and the tray. “I’ll send that message now.”

  “I don’t advise you to take my pistol out of the house.”

  “I won’t, but I’m not leaving it up here, either.”

  For Jasmine to find and give to her hostage? “Ben.”

  The boy stopped at the door.

  “Thanks,” Mike said. “And please tell Violet and Lily about putting something in Jasmine’s food to keep her asleep.”

  He nodded and left, closing the door behind himself.

  Mike held his breath, listening to Ben move down the hall. He counted off a minute, then two. The silence held. No one came this way. His eyes darted to the bath. He reminded himself that someone could enter from it. He had to be careful. Taking a moment to prepare himself, he regarded the room. Long shadows flowed from the cheval mirror and dresser, tracking the sun’s descent. Clouds from earlier had evaporated or scattered, leaving a slice of Wedgewood-blue sky just below the filmy curtain.

  He cautioned himself to start small. His sprinting pulse said no, bad idea. Jasmine’s condition deteriorated by the second. Ben wanted to play it too safe, wasting precious time to go to an Internet café, which added another delay. And there was Violet and Lily. Who knew when they’d come into the room to check up on or feed him? What if they saw his power before he could free himself?

  What if his gift didn’t return?

  The cuff hung heavy on his wrist, deriding him.

  He stared at the figurines on the nightstand. Their empty gazes also taunted, saying his mind wouldn’t be able to move or lift them. The curse would consume Jasmine. She’d seek relief until she collapsed and died.

  No. Stop it. He ran his tongue over his lips and looked for the smallest figurine, the easiest for him to manipulate. In front of it lay the belly chain Jasmine wore their first night. He studied the links, his attention catching on the dangling diamonds.

  Estimating their weight, his scrutiny went to the shortest strand. He centered his thoughts on it. Nothing happened. He tried harder. A muscle in his neck pinched, sending a burst of agony down his arm. Teeth gritted, he endured it while willing the diamonds to move. They didn’t. The sounds of his labored breathing, the outside breeze and the air-conditioning distracted him further. He held his breath. His lungs started to burn. The corners of his vision faded until he saw only the jewelry, the gems’ glint and cut, their clarity, the mountings.

  The sibilant buzz, familiar and welcome, surrounded him. His scalp tingled, the hairs on his forearms rose.

  His power hadn’t vanished.

  Neither had Tommy. The man’s face loomed before him, bewildered and terrified. In his mind, Mike saw the bloody froth at the corners of Tommy’s mouth, the spreading stain on his shirt, his hollow gaze.

  The buzz faltered, drifting away. Other noises intruded, a bird’s chirp, the steady drip of water.

  Gut clenching, he heard Jasmine’s earlier words. “You have to forgive yourself.” Tears stung his eyes. What if he couldn’t? Shit. If anything more happened to her, how could he forgive himself then? Hadn’t she suffered enough for a supposed crime she hadn’t even committed?

  He saw her as she’d been when he’d come into the bath, her palms pressed to the tile, body wilted, head lowered. He recalled her limbs dangling inertly over Ben’s arms as he carried her from the room. He heard her saying the words she’d come to believe. “I want time I don’t have.”

  He blinked repeatedly, but his eyes kept filling, making the diamonds shimmy. He swiped at the tears to clear his vision. The jewels moved again.

  His heart snagged on the next beat. He stared. Had the movement been in his sight only or had the diamonds actually shifted over the wood?

  Scared to trust what he hoped he’d seen, he fixed his attention on the strand, while more images unwound in his mind. Jasmine approaching him in the bar, a smile on her face, terror in her eyes. Her distress in the alley when he’d asked if someone had raped her. Lust flaring in her eyes as he awakened to see her watching him. Hair stuck to her cheeks in the shower, her eyes slitted, her body too weary.

  The buzz returned, its intensity vacillating like a car radio trying to regain its signal.

  He didn’t move, refused to breathe. The last diamond in the strand shifted to the right and ascended, mimicking a cobra’s move as the serpent’s about to strike. The rest of the diamonds followed. They hovered above the wood, creating a faint reflection on the polished surface before dropping back down.

  His head fell forward. A savage headache spread across the back of his skull. Spasms gripped his neck and shoulders, the same as those times he’d worked out in the gym too long. He felt like shit and couldn’t stop smiling. His power had returned.

  It was far from useful. He didn’t have weeks to get it back into shape to turn the handcuff’s lock or failing that, pull the metal rings apart. He might not even have days to exercise it.

  Still winded, he disregarded his body’s complaints and looked at the hour hand on his watch, determined to move it, to perfect his talent, to welcome it for the first time and grow strong.

  Violet closed the refrigerator door and backed up double-time. Her shoulder bumped the appliance. “Oh my God. What are you doing down here?”

  Jasmine filled a glass at the sink and drank all the water in one long gulp. She ran the back of her hand over her mouth to dry it. “I was thirsty.”

  Her sister didn’t ask why she hadn’t used the faucets upstairs.

  She’d wanted to and tried the door leading into her bath, finding it locked, the door to her bedroom closed. More agitated than an addict, she’d burned to rejoin Mike. His need to rest was the only thing protecting him from her. She’d come down here to put as must distance between them as possible. “Do you have any flan left?”

  “Sure. I’ll get it and an enchilada for you. Go on, sit down.”

  The backs of her legs bounced on the chair. She wrapped her robe tightly around her thighs. “Where’s Lil and Ben?”

  “We had some deliveries to make, so Lil said she’d go.”

  Jasmine drummed her nails on the table’s glass top. Violet’s hand paused on the Tupperware, her voice shaky. “Is it getting bad again?”

  Far more than in times past. Lust used to dominate. Her growing love for Mike exacerbated it. She could only presume this was how Desiree felt about Connor. A rapturous hell Jasmine couldn’t bear much longer. “Where’s the Ambien?”

  “Why?”

  Elbows on the table, she held her head in her hands. “Maybe it will help me sleep this time. Isn’t that what we all want?”

  “Not that way. It made you nauseous and gave you a terrible headache. Why don’t you try some wine first?”

  Jasmine laughed without meaning to. “I think I need something a little stronger than wine or even my prescription. Know anyone who could hook me up with the anesthesia Michael Jackson had?”

  In an instant, Violet was behind her, massaging her shoulders. “Don’t talk that way. Ben’s taking care of this.”

  Ben? Heat flooded Jasmine as she recalled what had happened between them. Worry over seeing him again gripped her. She dropped her hands. “How? I thought you said he and Lil were on a delivery.”

  “She is. Hold on, Ben’s not bothering Mike.” Violet put a lot of her weight on Jasmine’s shoulders to keep her in the chair. “He went to The Ocean’s Brink.”

  “Why did he go to an Internet café?”

  “He’s sending an email to Mike’s government friend, so she can help us find Desiree.”

  Blood drained from Jasmine’s face.

  “Mike told him exactly what to write,” Violet continued. “This is going to be over before you know it—Jas, what’s the matter?
Don’t you believe me?”

  Sobs racked her body, restricting her speech.

  Violet rubbed her arms. “Are you crying because you’re relieved?”

  “No!” She blurted, “I love him. He’ll leave. I’ll never see him again.”

  Violet’s massage slowed. She used their mother’s firm voice, the one Jasmine tried to imitate when she’d raised her and Lily. “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I do.” She ran the robe’s sash beneath her eyes and nose. “You think he’s going to want to see me after this?”

  “I meant you don’t know that you love him. How could you?”

  She pushed Violet’s hands off her, rage peaking so fast it heated her face and chest. For the first time since they’d reached adulthood, she wanted to slap her sister’s face. “Because he’s Native American?”

  “What? No! Believe me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more attractive man. A guy you met less than two days ago. One who isn’t at all like the type you dated before. You know I hate to ever agree with Lily, but I think what you’re saying is the curse talking, not you. Being attracted to him, liking him, even trusting him is one thing. Loving him is quite another.”

  It made sense intellectually, but in a part of her soul unaffected by the curse, Jasmine knew better. For too many years, she’d longed to have what her parents experienced, a sense of completion and rightness about being with another person. A man she respected, admired, craved and wanted to keep safe. Until Mike, no man had evoked that from her. She pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes, squeezing them to stave off more tears.

  Violet rubbed her back. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

  “Do you know where Lily put the Ambien or even the Sominex?”

  “I’ll find one or the other for you, if that’s what you really want.”

  “I do. And hurry. Please.” She trusted herself even less now than she had these past months. At the prospect of losing Mike, Jasmine wasn’t certain what she might be capable of doing.