The Yearning by Tina Donahue

satisfaction. The orgasm lasted longer than all the others, wringing everything from her body and mind.
    Her hard gasps competed with the music’s volume. An interminable amount of time seemed to pass before her heart settled down, though movement remained impossible. She lay sprawled on the bed, limp and glowing with cherished calm.
    Mike watched. “You okay?”
    She swallowed and nodded.
    He winked then rubbed the napkin over his face, cleaning off the sauce.
    Finding her voice, Jasmine whispered, “That was wonderful.” He’d given her an instant of true peace. A gift she hadn’t experienced since angering Desiree. “Thank you.”
    He offered a devilish grin. “My pleasure. Now turn over.”
    Her gaze trickled down his body to his weighty sex. His balls had drawn snug to his body. Blood engorged his shaft. He was so hard the crown hovered above the linens, pointing at her.
    Enjoying a quiet moment no longer seemed important and not only because of the curse. The real Jasmine wanted them joined. She, more than the woman she’d become, wanted him to fuck her senseless.
    He’d left enough slack in the binding so she could roll to her belly and push to her knees.
    Given her limbs’ lingering heaviness, it took her two tries. Certain her legs were widely apart and her ass lifted, she lowered her head to the mattress and turned her face to the mirror.
    Her hair, tangled and damp, clung to her neck. At some point, her left nipple had popped from its prison. Tight and just perfect for his mouth, it skimmed the top of her corset. The angle of her ass invited. When he mounted her, the mirror would provide a flawless view. She wanted to see all of it. “Is this all right?”
    He mumbled, “Fuck yeah,” and crawled between her legs. His sac and rod, both ready for action, hardly swung with his efforts. On his knees, he brought his hands to her cheeks, gripping their meatiness, spreading them so he could see each entrance.
    She imagined him mounting her vaginally then anally, taking what he willed, behaving exactly as she craved. Her insides fluttered at the thought, thickening her voice. “I have condoms.”
    His head jumped up. He leaned over to see her face.
    She explained what she would have once found shocking. “For when you take me anally.”
    His coppery cheeks flushed.
    “Unless you don’t want to,” she added quickly, surprised by his reaction. “I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”
    “Actually, I’d like it very much.” He looked bewildered, then frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t have any condoms.”
    “I said I have an IUD, and I do.” Since Desiree cursed her, she’d had to make certain she used every protection. “Is that all right?”
    “Oh, honey.” His shoulders shook with giddy laughter. “It’s so all right, it’s fucking great.”
    “Then please don’t make me wait any longer.”
    His smile caught and faded. Head turned to the mirror, he regarded her reflection as his fingers skimmed her vaginal lips, so dilated they easily pulled away from her cleft, allowing clear entry into the wet passage. He made certain she could see him transferring her moisture to his sex, paying particular attention to the cap.
    The rounded knob was darker than the rest of him, the skin pulled so tight she imagined the slit at the top opening like a tiny mouth.
    She shuddered the moment it made contact with her body. He prodded her vagina, while his other fingers teased her clit. Her bound hands clawed the linen, fisting around it. The head of his cock moved inside slowly.
    Her inner muscles tightened at his drawn-out entry, his size and pace stretching her beyond endurance. He made her accept it, welcome it, long for it as he pushed a bit and paused, stroked for a second then stopped, repeating the actions over endless seconds, his shaft still not fully within, her nub aching.
    Another song ended. A new one began, its cords plaintive, mirroring her torment.
    He increased it. His hand left