The Yearning Read Online Free PDF

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