The Yearning (28 page)

“Hey,” Lily complained, “stop it.”

Violet didn’t back down. “Quit being such a problem. Tell Jas it’s okay for Mike to move in here. Go on or I’ll really slug you. And don’t think I can’t,” she interrupted her sister.

The girl’s light brown eyes narrowed on Violet then him. “I’m warning you, you better never hurt Jas.”

“Even if I do so unwittingly, you can brain me with your skillet.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” she grumbled, though her lips turned up in a slight smile. “Yeah, okay.” She straightened and slumped back in her chair. “I’m cool with it.”

Jasmine went behind Lily, throwing her arms around her. “Thank you.”

The girl gripped Jasmine’s wrists and whispered so the others couldn’t hear. “You wouldn’t ever really leave me, right?”

Aw, Lil.
Fighting tears, Jasmine hugged her hard. “Never,” she whispered. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“You better be.”

Jasmine gave her youngest sister a hard kiss on her cheek and a few more moments before she straightened and offered Mike her hand.

“Night,” Violet said first. Ben and Lily nodded.

Jasmine led Mike down the hall and to the stairway. There, he stopped her. “What?” she asked, turning to him.

He studied her eyes, her mouth, her hair. “Tell me about you.”

Her smile couldn’t have been more pleased. The question didn’t scare her any longer. She wanted him to know everything, and she had to learn all she could about him, his smallest dislikes, his greatest joys. “All right. To begin with, I wasn’t always as fascinating as I am now.”

He settled his forehead on hers. “I don’t believe it. You’re lying.”

“Nope. My date for the freshman dance knew I was a real dud. That’s why he stood me up.”

“What?” He pulled back, genuinely surprised. “Really? What a prick.”

“Oh hey, I couldn’t blame him. It was a fix-up from one of my friends. I still wore braces and had zits.”

He struggled not to smile. “Impossible.”

“I have proof. My dad took a bunch of pictures before we figured the guy wasn’t going to show.”

“I want to see them.”

“Tomorrow. Along with all of the photos that used to go there.” She gestured to the wall and went up a step.

He followed. “Go on. Tell me more.”

“Okay. Let’s see. Elementary school is pretty much a blur, except for the second grade Christmas pageant when I was cast as one of the ornaments on this huge tree and then third grade when I broke my arm.”

“Shit. You were hurt?”

“A fourth-grade boy wanted his turn on the swings and pushed me off. Lucky for me I fell on my elbows and not my head.”

He smiled. “True. What else?”

She took another step, and so did he. “Well, although I hate to admit it and haven’t till now, it took me two tries to get my driver’s license. The first time I tried to parallel park, I forgot to take the car out of reverse and accelerated. My dad’s Chrysler jumped the curb and almost ran down two cops.”

Mike’s shoulders shook with laughter.

She continued climbing the stairs. Again, he followed. “I won a math award in middle school. In high school I was school treasurer senior year—not because I was particularly popular—nobody else wanted the job.”

“They were too stupid, huh?”

Her laughter floated down the stairway. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.” They reached the landing. “Pink and blue-green are my favorite colors. I absolutely loathe yogurt. Really, I don’t know what other women see in it. The manufacturers can add all the chocolate and sugar they want, it’s still yogurt. If I wouldn’t gain a ton, I’d eat Cheez-Its and Dove bars all day. I have been known to buy new underwear so I don’t have to do laundry. And I was an absolute failure at Girl Scouts. I just couldn’t get into earning those badges. Now enough about me for the time being. Tell me about you.”

He led her down the hall to their bedroom. “I’m thinking about going back into the service.”

“Oh, Mike.” She gave him a fierce hug, causing him to stagger back. “You should. You loved it. I saw it in your eyes.”

“That may be, but I don’t want to fail.”

“You won’t. You saved me, didn’t you?”

“Not from me.” Arm around her waist, he opened the door and led her inside. The room was more inviting than she recalled, scented with freshly washed linens and furniture polish. Violet and Lily had probably cleaned while she’d been gone. Anything to keep busy while they awaited her fate.

Mike locked the door, sealing her future. She belonged to him.

Teasing, she asked, “Are you going to spin me around like you did with Lily?”

“Nope. I’d rather use my concentration for something else.” He took the handcuffs from the nightstand drawer, suspending them from his little finger. “I haven’t used these on you as yet.”

No, he had not. Jasmine needed no further prompting. She kicked off her sandals. The dress fell to her feet. She put her hands behind her.

Mike secured the cuffs and came around to her front. His gaze raked her defenseless body; one hand went to her cleft and the other roamed her breasts. “When your sisters and Ben are asleep, we’re going back to the kitchen.”

For him to take her as he’d said at Haney’s Hut. A promise she’d make certain he kept.

Her breath caught. She asked, “Until then?”

Passion greater than any curse flamed in his eyes. “I’m going to get to know you.”

“It may take some time.”

His smile said he hoped it would be forever.

About the Author

Tina Donahue is a multi-published novelist in contemporary, historical and erotic romance
. Booklist
,
Publisher’s Weekly
,
Romantic Times
and numerous online sites have praised her work. She has reached finals and/or placed in numerous RWA-sponsored contests. She was the editor of an award-winning Midwestern newspaper, worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company, and is currently the Managing Editor for a global business document concern.

Email:
[email protected]

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www.tinadonahue.com

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Separated in time. United by forbidden passion…

The Concubine’s Tale

© 2010 Jennifer Colgan

When an ancient papyrus scroll comes up for auction, gallery curator Cait Lang draws the distasteful task of notifying her boss’s favorite client, Grant Pierson. The rare art and antiquities collector’s arrogance grates on her nerves, but most of all she resents her own weakness for his athletic body and deep brown eyes.

It’s the hieroglyphic scroll that draws Grant to a private, after-hours showing at the gallery. But the lovely Cait’s narration of the erotically charged story captures his interest. Determined to hear the rest of the tale—and spend more time in Cait’s company—he convinces her to join him for dinner.

The intricate, sensual tale transports Cait and Grant’s imaginations into the past. And the depictions of sexually charged temple rituals inspire them to explore their own hidden passions—in Grant’s apartment.

Even as Grant succumbs to Cait’s charms, the drive to own the scroll hums in the back of his mind. If he isn’t careful, though, he’ll not only lose the chance to hear the end of the story, he’ll lose something more precious. The missing piece of his own life—Cait.

Warning: This title contains explicit, forbidden sex, ritual sex, a sex god, and naughty hieroglyphics.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Concubine’s Tale:

Cait looked up from her dessert, a decadent chocolate confection laced with liquor-soaked fruit. She felt Nayari’s anticipation and her fear, wondering if her master would come for her and see that she was properly blessed by the fertility god, and at the same time entertaining forbidden thoughts about the dark warrior.

Grant filled her wine glass and studied her intently. His gaze was languid and warm. “What was the warrior doing while she waited in her little temple room?”

Gaining control over her emotions, Cait smiled wickedly and took another succulent bite of dessert. “He was thinking about her and trying not to betray the trust Ammonptah had put in him.”

“He wanted her.”

Cait nodded. “The sultry atmosphere of the temple didn’t help. The rites of Min were thought to be quite explicit.”

Grant leaned closer again, and Cait floated on the heady scent of his cologne. She smiled when he loosened his tie and wondered if the rest of her tale would have a greater effect on him.

“The warrior took up his post outside of Nayari’s room as he’d been instructed. Only a woven screen covered the doorway, so he could hear what went on inside. The women returned to bathe her, and his imagination ran wild. By the time he encountered Nayari again, he was half out of his mind with desire.”

When the female acolytes returned, they brought a bowl of perfumed water, cloths to bathe her, and a tray of bread and roasted meat.

Nayari helped herself to some of the food while the women unlaced her sandals and removed her belt. She sighed as they bathed her feet and legs, and the glorious scent of jasmine enveloped her and calmed her rattled nerves. She lay back against one woman while the other opened the top of her dress and rubbed a fine cloth over her arms and her breasts.

“Ammonptah will be pleased,” Nayari murmured, trying to keep her thoughts centered on her master. It was difficult, with the sensual feel of the cool cloth riding over her skin, to think of her master’s touch. His hurried movements during the times she’d been called to his service always made her wonder if he truly enjoyed coupling, or if it was more of a chore for him, as it often was for her.

If Ammonptah had ever touched her like this, bathed her, smoothed her hair, she might long for him now, not as the man who owned her and had the power to send her back home where she belonged, but the man she loved and wanted. Once again, unbidden, her thoughts turned to the warrior. His hands were twice the size of Ammonptah’s, rough from hard work and dark from days spent under the sun. Together his hands could span her waist, and she had no doubt his arms could lift her without effort to settle her over his cock. He could hold her hips in his hands, his long fingers inching between her buttocks as she rode him—

“You’re trembling,” one of the women said with a light laugh. “And look, Min calls to you.”

Nayari’s face burned when she realized her nipples stood hard and erect. She hastily pulled her dress up around her. “Leave me. I’ll await Ammonptah alone.”

“Of course.” The women bowed and left with knowing smiles. They took the bathing water with them, but left the remains of the food. Nayari stared at it and willed herself to take another bite, but her appetite had fled.

Perhaps someone else might want the food. It would only attract flies if left in her room all night. Carefully, she lifted the heavy tray and padded barefoot across the floor. She turned and let herself out of the room, backside first to push the reed mat out of the way. When she collided with a warm body, she nearly dropped the tray.

She whirled around and glared up into the face of the warrior. He gave her a curious shrug. “The food isn’t to your liking?” he asked.

“I…was going to give it to the oxen.” She raised her head in defiance of his tone, but then shifted her arms to cover her chest, aware that her strange excitement still showed in the hard peaks of her nipples that raised the thin fabric of her dress. A cool current of air stirred the hem of her skirt, and a tingle raced up her legs to her inner thighs.

“The oxen have plenty of food,” he said. His voice rumbled in his chest, and he stared over her head as if he wished to avoid looking at her.

“Then perhaps you would like it.”

“The priests have brought me food.”

Nayari sighed. “Then take it away before it rots.”

Now his gaze dropped to hers, and she held herself still under his blazing scrutiny. “I am not a maidservant,” he said.

“Neither am I.”

Their gazes held, battled for a moment, and Nayari swore a faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. “I’ll alert the acolytes. Go inside and wait for them to return.”

Nayari wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. She leaned back against the cold stone wall and looked up at him. With his arms crossed over his chest and his brows lowered over those onyx-colored eyes, he looked far more imposing than a god. She should have cowered in fear, but instead he made her feel strong and defiant. She had absolute certainty he would never harm her, even if she provoked him.

“Where is Ammonptah? Please tell me.”

“I do not know.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I don’t. He merely—”

Nayari stepped forward, craning her neck to meet his gaze. “He what?”

“Gave me instructions to follow, and that’s what I will do. That and nothing more.”

“Tell me your name.”

“No.”

Annoyed beyond reason, Nayari whirled around and flung herself back into her room. She plunked the tray onto the shelf and fell into the bed, which creaked under her meager weight. The musty odor of it crawled into her nose, pushing aside the sweet smell of flowers that had lingered on her skin since her bath. How would that do? she thought. To smell of mold when Ammonptah came to claim her would be unseemly. He would be angry with the priests and acolytes for not taking proper care of his property.

And that last word echoed in her mind.
Property. I belong to Ammonptah, and I’m bound to do as he wishes.
She fell asleep with that thought battling with visions of the warrior, naked, his skin hot and sweaty, holding his thick, hard cock in his hand and writhing to the beat of the ceremonial drums.

Love. Is it providence, or just a lump on the head?

Turbulent Passions

© 2008 Anne Rainey

Sapphire Demas and her twin brother have a secret. Since the awful day their parents were killed, they've been in hiding, fearful the same fate will befall them. Now she’s grown tired of living a half-life, tired of lying. She wants something just for herself. When she stumbles across an unconscious man while hiking through the woods and brings him home to heal, she knows she’s found it. Even if he’s a dangerous outsider.