His Captive Mortal

by Renee Rose

  “Well, I guess you’ll be learning that along with magic. You’ll have to study hard and prove to me you can handle working that job and still achieve the level of competency I need from you.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a yawn marred the gesture. She looked at the clock—three in the morning.

  “You may go on to bed,” he said in his authoritative tone.

  “Are you in charge of my bedtime, too?”

  “Little girl, you may lose every last privilege, from wearing clothes, to walking on your feet, to sitting comfortably before the night is through. Do you really want to make me question why I never gave you that spanking earlier?”

  Her bottom clenched in response to his threat and the memory of his previous punishments ignited a heat in her entire being. Tendrils of something shivery snaked in her belly. Did she like when he spanked her? Unable to make an intelligent response, she turned and walked into her bedroom.

  Chapter Three

  He flashed into her room, materializing on the edge of her bed in a casual, observer’s pose, one leg crossed over the opposite knee. He would watch her undress, just to remind her who was in charge.

  Sasha had her back to him, her shirt off, revealing the ropy muscles of her slender back. She unbuttoned her pants and shucked them, tossing them in the hamper. She had simple gray cotton panties on, but they couldn’t look more erotic to him, clinging to her muscular ass, showing enough cheek to thicken his cock.

  She turned and shrieked when she saw him, clutching her pajama top to her chest. “W-what are you doing here?”

  He gave a lazy shrug. “Watching the show.” He expected fury. He craved it, really.

  Instead she stood stock still, and rubbed her lips together, her breastbone lifting and lowering at a rapid pace. Oh Lord. She was turned on. “Get out,” she said, but her voice held no conviction. She might have said, “Take me to bed.”

  “You don’t need to put that on,” he said, indicating the pajama top. “I don’t mind sleeping with you that way.”

  “You...” she spat. “You aren’t sleeping with me.” She blinked at him. “I don’t want you in here,” she said petulantly.

  “Your scent tells me differently.”

  She snapped her eyes to his. “What?”

  “Admit it, Sasha. Your naughty parts are tingling right now.”

  A flush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. “What do you want from me?” she demanded.

  “Come here,” he said softly, holding his breath. Her feet began to move and he celebrated the tiny victory. When she drew close enough, he snatched her top from her hands, dropping it on the floor.

  She jerked in surprise and covered her breasts with her forearms.

  He gripped her wrists and pulled her arms away from her chest, pinning them down by her sides. “You have a lovely pair of breasts,” he said, his fangs lengthening.

  He smelled the fresh bloom of her arousal and wondered if it came from his words, the physical restraint or the sight of his fangs growing long for her.

  “Please,” she managed to say, her voice cracking.

  He lifted his eyes from his study of her breasts to her face.

  “Please, Charlie…”

  He tugged her closer. “Please what?”

  “Please don’t do this,” she pleaded. “Please let me go.”

  “I like it when you beg,” he said softly.

  The scent of desire grew stronger. “Please.”

  He released her wrists and yanked her panties to her knees. “Go stand in the corner with your hands clasped above your head.”

  Her thighs twitched together, and he watched in fascination as a droplet of moisture trickled from her pussy.

  He brought his hand across her ass with a sharp slap, making her jump. “Now, Sasha,” he ordered. He had no idea if she would obey. If she did, it would be out of desire, rather than fear.

  When she shuffled to the corner, with her panties around her knees and stood there, interlacing her fingers over her head, his cock throbbed. She wanted him. Or rather, she wanted this.

  He made an approving rumble in his throat. He traced behind her and ran his palm over her ass. Then he smacked her hard on one cheek.

  “Ow!”

  He slapped the other cheek. She shivered, her breath short.

  “You like being spanked by me,” he observed.

  She dropped her arms and tried to whirl around, but he caught her wrists and pinned them against the wall with one hand.

  He delivered another stinging slap to each cheek, then began to pick up tempo, until she danced under the steady barrage of slaps raining down. He sensed her willingness to endure the pain waning and he stopped, rubbing her heated flesh. “You look good in pink,” he said.

  “Why,” she panted, “why do you do this?”

  He softened his touch, making it more like a caress now, soothing the sting away. “To teach you to obey.” She stiffened, but he pressed his body against hers and murmured in her ear. “You surrendered to me. Why?”

  “You made me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “No, Sasha,” he breathed in her ear. “I think you were curious. You want to know what happens next, don’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question, with a sharper tone. “Don’t you?”

  She still didn’t answer.

  He slapped her ass.

  “Yes,” she gasped.

  Her admission flooded his chest with the warmth of success. He caressed her backside, his fingers trailing up her inner thighs. She stiffened in shock when they brushed her swollen sex. She clamped her legs together as if to keep him out.

  “Come, Sasha. You and I both know you aren’t serious about that.”

  He slid his fingers between her legs again, wiggling to get through her tightened thighs until the tip of one finger touched her slick entrance. She pressed her lips together and balled her fingers into fists, looking toward the ceiling.

  “Your little pussy wants me,” he murmured, his voice sounding thick.

  She made a sound of protest.

  He managed to slide his fingers inside her and she wriggled against him, wanting more.

  “Ask me for it,” he said.

  “No.”

  “No?” He removed his fingers.

  “Wait—”

  “Ah,” he said with satisfaction. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back. “What are you more afraid of, Sasha? Enjoying it or giving in to me?”

  She whimpered at the tension on her scalp.

  “You just can’t let go of that last vestige of pride, can you? Even though we both know who’s in charge around here.”

  “Please—”

  He released her hair. “Please what? Please let go, or please get me off?”

  “I don’t know!” she whined.

  He delivered a sharp slap to her rosy bottom.

  “Ouch!”

  “You do know, but you’re too afraid to admit your desire.”

  “No,” she insisted, sounding stubborn.

  “No?”

  “No,” she repeated firmly.

  He released her wrists and dematerialized.

  She whirled, but he had already gone.

  Damn. She hadn’t wanted him to leave.

  It took her a moment to regain her normal breathing pattern and to gather herself. She walked to the bed on wobbly legs, her sex pulsing in time with her backside. Mechanically, she pulled up her panties and found her pajamas, putting them on with trembling hands.

  Where had he gone? Was he somewhere in her place still? Where did he go when he disappeared? Why had she told him no? She had wanted him, she did need to know what came next. What had kept her from admitting it?

  She walked to her full length mirror and stared at her face in it, thinking she hardly resembled herself. Her eyes were wide and glassy, as if in some kind of stupor. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair rumpled. She turned around, pulling down her pajama pants and panties to l
ook at her ass in the mirror. The red marks already appeared to be fading, which disappointed her for some reason. Her bottom still stung considerably, but instead of feeling angry about it, she only experienced disappointment in her own decision.

  Had it been out of pride?

  Her pussy gave another pulse. Dear God, she’d bet her last pair of panties he would rock her world in bed. Any man—or...vampire—who got her that wet just by sliding his finger between her legs would have to know how to make her scream in pleasure. It had to be a far cry from Wilson, her ex-boyfriend who’d never lasted more than two minutes.

  She lay down on her belly with one hand between her legs, her fingers pressing into her sex, rubbing her clit as she remembered Charlie’s fingers seeking her swollen folds. She imagined herself still standing in the corner with her panties down and his hardened cock pressing against her low back.

  She pushed her mound against the heel of her hand, her fingers undulating over her sex, some hitting her clit, some slipping in and out. She imagined Charlie banging her from behind, balls-deep, punishing her with his cock. He’d hold her hips firmly, shoving in and out of her roughly, dominating her until she exploded, her release sending her hips bucking as she pressed all five fingers over her convulsing sex.

  She wondered if Charlie would ever jack off, thinking of her. The idea made her feel strangely possessive—the idea of him thinking of anyone or anything else annoying her.

  He traced to Congress street. The bars closed at two, so things were quiet, even in the heart of downtown. His cock literally throbbed, putting him in a foul mood. But he’d done it to himself. Even if his little fairy had let him go on, there was no relief for the wicked. No coming for the carnivorous. No rest for the rabid. Not until Sasha lifted the damn curse. And when she did, he would fuck that girl so hard her teeth would rattle.

  But no.

  Even though he wanted her quite desperately at this point, he wouldn’t take her against her will—not even if he were capable of getting off. He wanted her to want him. Actually, he wanted her to need him with the same lust burning under his skin. Hell, he wanted her to beg him for it. He wanted to make her come so hard she screamed his name and raked her nails down his back. He wanted her willing. He wanted to win not just her obedience, but her submission, her desire...her heart.

  He stopped walking. Her heart? Did he really just think that? Since when did that become a project? No. Seducing, yes, but love could not be part of the agenda. He just needed to remember how well it had worked out for him last time. He’d ended up with a century-long curse.

  He continued along, stopping to see the people gathered in the all-night diner. He needed to feed, and yet the thought of taking blood from a random girl turned his stomach. But that was stupid—why was he acting like a mated vampire who would only take blood from his lover? He had no chance of Sasha giving him nourishment consensually, and he wouldn’t trick or force her.

  Still, he found himself tracing back to her apartment and crawling into bed beside her, staring at the youthful glow of her skin in the lamplight. He brushed her shimmery hair away from her face, studying the bone structure. She had a heart-shaped face, with high cheekbones and a small nose. Delicate, but not fragile. Beautiful in a healthy, outdoorsy way.

  Her brows furrowed and her legs twitched like she was running. A nightmare, perhaps. She made a whimpering cry and he pulled her into his arms without thinking.

  “Shh, love. It’s just a dream,” he murmured.

  She stirred, her eyes blinking open. “Charlie,” she sighed. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re always here when I need you.” Her eyes closed again and her breath deepened.

  He had no idea what she’d meant, but he doubted she would remember any of it in the morning. Even though she slept peacefully now, he did not release her, reluctant to put any distance between their bodies. Her soft form nestled so sweetly against his, her smell soothing to him. She did make him feel lighter. Fae were special creatures.

  He drifted into sleep, but instead of dreaming of his sweet mortal, he found himself on the streets of Paris, on errand for Anka. He killed a man, draining him, and returned to his lover’s bordello for his reward.

  “Sweet vampire,” she said, stroking his face. “I can always count on you, can’t I?” She let down her thick Romani hair, the dark mass falling from the curls pinned on the crown of her head. She allowed her robe to drop, displaying her magnificent body, clad only in a corset and stockings.

  He made a growling sound in his throat and flashed to his knees before her, releasing the garters and peeling down the silk. She ran her fingers through his hair, guiding his mouth to her sex. “I save it only for you,” she told him. Yet even in the dream, part of him knew it to be a lie. But he didn’t want to heed his instinct.

  He brought her to climax, then lifted her to stand, his mouth still at her cunt. Carrying her to the bed, he disrobed and plunged into her warmth, stroking her pussy deeply with his cock as his fangs sought her neck.

  “Charlie,” she moaned.

  She writhed under his body.

  “Charlie...Charlie! Char-lie!”

  He woke to find Sasha struggling beneath him, screaming in terror. His fangs were at her neck and she was pushing his face away with the heel of her hand. The gyrations of her hips were not sexual, but panicked.

  He jerked back, lifting his weight onto his hands to blink his eyes into focus.

  “Oh thank God,” she cried, nearly in tears. She pushed at his shoulders, trying to scramble out from under him.

  His cock lay between her legs—they were both clothed, unfortunately—but he realized he’d been grinding against her, about to take her vein. “Sasha,” he muttered, clearing his head.

  Damn. He’d scared the hell out of her after promising himself and her he wouldn’t bite without permission. He shouldn’t be sleeping next to a mortal when so blood-starved.

  “Who is Anka?” she demanded.

  Did he detect a trace of jealousy? The thought cheered him.

  “She’s the witch who cursed me,” he said.

  “Oh.” She studied him. He enjoyed being the subject of her scrutiny, her golden eyes so full of intelligence and light.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” he offered.

  “You were really going to bite me,” she sulked. “I couldn’t wake you up. What if you drained me before you knew it?”

  “Sasha,” he reasoned, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, “I was dry-humping you. Do you think the bite would’ve been vicious?”

  Her cheeks colored and he couldn’t resist nudging his cock against her mound again. Before she could start to wrestle, he lowered to the same position, his mouth close to her ear, hips rolling against hers. The peaked tips of her nipples pressed against his bare chest. “I can’t help it if I find you irresistible while I sleep. You just feel so...delicious,” he murmured.

  Her pelvis tilted to meet his and she panted, even as she gripped his shoulders to push him off.

  “I just want to taste you. I’ll make it feel good, I promise,” he purred, running the tips of his fangs lightly across her skin.

  “No,” she cried in alarm, pushing with real effort.

  “Shh. There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweet Sasha. It’s just a little prick and then orgasmic ecstasy. I won’t take too much blood and I’ll hardly leave a mark. It heals within a couple days.”

  Her struggles had slowed, but she refused to look at him, turning her head to the side. “Please,” she whimpered. “Please let me up.” A tear slid out of the corner of her eye, traveling across her nose.

  He experienced a pang in his unbeating heart. Another surprise—her genuine distress bothered him. He rolled off immediately and helped her to sit, then lifted her to her feet beside the bed.

  “Thank you,” she muttered, looking down, obviously trying to hide her watering eyes. When she lifted her gaze, she looked vulnerable and his heart twisted once more. “May I please go outside?”
<
br />   He loved the way she asked, as if she’d finally admitted he ran the show. He stood and reached for her, cupping her face and tilting it up to catch her eyes. He erased the hypnotic suggestion that she might only open the door during daylight if she’d first made certain he was safe. She swayed under his hands and he stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones.

  “Did you undo it?”

  He nodded. “What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “Be back by two.”

  To his shock, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you.”

  He sank back into the bed, closing his eyes and wondering what had brought about the change in her—genuine fear? Realization of how helpless she really was? But no, she’d known it before and still railed against him. Newly won trust, then?

  He found himself hoping for trust.

  Sasha seriously needed to masturbate again. She cursed herself for not just letting the vampire go to town on her. She’d been freaked out beyond belief at first, but having one hundred eighty pounds of muscled vampire grinding over her had flipped her switch pretty quickly. And the way he’d murmured in her ear...

  She climbed in the shower and leaned her forehead against the wall, pressing her fingers over her sex.

  He truly had been a gentleman. They both knew he could’ve done anything he wanted to her. He could out-power her if he liked it that way, or hypnotize her if he wanted her willing, but he’d done neither. The moment he’d seen her tears, he’d released her.

  She wasn’t even sure what had made her cry. Probably just the need to let go after the terror of thinking he would drain her. But he’d made sense—the way he’d been going after her hadn’t been angry or violent, it had been sexual. So presumably, that meant he wouldn’t have killed her.

  She wondered if he’d ordered any books on vampires when he sent for the magic ones. Probably not. She continued to work her fingers over her clit, remembering the feel of his hardened bulge between her legs, the tickle of his fangs at her neck. She came in a short, unsatisfying orgasm and had to sit down on the edge of the tub, dizzy from the hot water and the blood rushing...away from her head.