Read Online The Yearning by Tina Donahue - Free Book Online

“I couldn’t stay away even if I tried.”
    He liked the way she talked.
    She brought him to the top of the stairs and flipped a switch. Quaint overhead lights shaped like tulips in full bloom ran the length of the spacious hall and offered puddles of illumination. Brass vases dotted the walls. Philodendrons dangled over the shiny metal rims, their waxy green leaves creeping halfway to the floor. In between the vegetation were a variety of elegantly designed antique mirrors and a few accent tables, along with two doors on the left, two on the right and one straight ahead.
    A man could get lightheaded with this bounty. “Are all of those bedrooms?”
    “Four are. One’s a hallway bath. Only my bedroom’s in use,” she added quickly, as though she’d guessed his intent in asking. “Materials for my business take up the other rooms, including the one behind us.” She held his hand in both of hers and backed down the hall, stopping beneath one of the tulip light fixtures, which shone over the largest mirror. “There.” She gestured to it with her head.
    He allowed himself a moment to appreciate her nudity and jewelry. The diamonds swayed beneath her navel, pointing the way to heaven. In a sec, he told himself, soon as he rested a bit. Glancing over, he took in the mirror—a heavy-looking sucker with a partially naked woman on the right side, her arms arranged as if she were holding it. Her bare breasts tilted upward. The lavender cloth draping her hips flowed past her legs. “Nice. But you’re definitely better looking.”
    Jasmine pushed her shoulder into his and laughed, a delightfully youthful sound, so different from her former gloom.
    “Don’t look at the nymph,” she said. “Look at you.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “You’re awesome, just like I said.”
    Brows lifted, he glimpsed at his tangled hair, beard-shadowed cheeks, and barely opened eyes. He’d seen more attractive cadaver shots. “Damn. You’re absolutely right.” He blew himself a kiss.
    She laughed recklessly and backed up even faster, pulling him to the end of the hall.
    The door opened on a large, high-ceilinged room. Her bed, a queen-sized four-poster in a dark wood, possibly cherry, was dressed in frilly white linens and bathed in moonlight. Three windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Each wore gauzy white tie-back curtains. On either side of the bed were nightstands with no end of figurines, comparable to the mirror nymph, and brass lamps with shades constructed of pink seashells. To the left stood a large cheval mirror, positioned so it captured what went on in the bed. To the right, a bulky dresser dominated, presumably another antique like the bed and the downstairs desk. Larger figurines stood atop it. Hanging from the second handle, on a padded hangar, was an old-fashioned corset. The moon revealed its blue-green brocade and silvery laces.
    Jasmine released his hand and went to the dresser, her fingers moving down the garment’s crisscrossed front. “I’ll wear it for you when I come back.” She smiled seductively and crooked her forefinger, gesturing him closer.
    He approached slowly, and not only because of his two-orgasm exhaustion. She’d given him far too much to look at. His attention seesawed between her breasts, mound, her incredible body jewelry and the decadent corset. He imagined her lush body confined by it, her full breasts plumped and threatening to spill over the top, the cloth kissing the flare of her hips, the front dipping to her cleft. “Put it on now.”
    “After your nap.” She settled her palm on the side of his face, offering a month’s worth of comfort with the simple endearment. His lids sank. She ran her thumb over his lashes, ruffling them. Her throaty voice enchanted. “You can lace me into it. We’ll pretend I’m your sex slave, obedient to your will. At your command, I’ll feed you. When you’re full, you’ll take me as a master should, using every part of my body for