His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

“You’re staring at me,” he says in his sexy British accent, without turning to look.

“What are we doing today, Master?”

He turns, his lips stretching into a broad smile, teeth gleaming. “You’ve finally accepted me as your one true god.”

I don’t mean to grin like an idiot, but I’ve felt all warm and gushy toward him, ever since our interlude this morning. The compassion he showed when I lost it and teared up proved it was all a game to him. He may actually expect me to remove the curse, but he wouldn’t hurt me And he wants me. And now that I know he won’t take my life, I find the vampire irresistible. It’s not like me to fall hard for a guy—in fact, I never have before. But this one...he does something undeniable to me, turning my insides to hot liquid with a single flick of his eyebrow. I’d have to work hard to keep up the resistance toward him, or he’d have me crawling on my knees for him without any pride at all.

To that order, I ball a napkin and hurl it at him.

He catches it easily, his hand moving so fast I miss the motion. “That’s another thing...I require tidier surroundings.”

I look around. My place isn’t dirty, but I have a fair amount of clutter lying on coffee tables and counters. “I can’t cook, clean and study to do magic. Maybe you could try doing something useful during all those night hours when I’m asleep.”

He throws the napkin back at me, hitting me in the face. The sound of the doorbell makes him dematerialize, and this time I see it happen. Like he pixelated out, breaking into millions of tiny atoms before they vanished. He reappears in the doorway to my bedroom, where he shuts the door.

I answer the bell to find the mailman has left a bundle too big to fit in my mailbox. The books! I bend to pick up the package and letters and shut the door.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I call.

Charlie materializes directly behind me, one hand cupping my breast and the other between my legs. He pulls me against him as I scream and try to leap away. “Did your package come?”

I jerk at the feel of his firm fingers against my sensitive cleft, pleasure running down my inner thighs and making them tremble. But I’m not about to let him know how badly I want it. “Get away from me, vampire,” I cry, wrestling free and staggering back, feigning indignation as my pussy thrums, hungry for more.

Charlie

The scent of Aurelia’s arousal fills the room. She may want to pretend she doesn’t want it, but we both know the truth.

I love flustering her, watching color splash across her cheeks, the way her eyes flash. She’s adorable.

I choose to ignore her snit. “Open it.” I lift my chin toward the package.

She seems happy to change focus, eagerly picking up the box and carrying it to the kitchen, where she slices it open with a knife. “Wait…” She holds up a plastic bag containing a black corset/panty set and package of thigh-high stockings. “What are these?”

I smirk. “I happen to be fond of old-fashioned underwear.”

She throws me a condemning look. “I hope these are for you to wear.”

I make a show of sweeping my gaze up and down her tight little body. “They’re for me, but I won’t be wearing them. But don’t worry—I won’t force,” I promise, making my tone smooth like honey. “You’ll put them on because you want to please me.”

She tosses them at me. “Fat chance!”

I catch the hurled items and open the bag containing the corset, holding it up in her direction with a critical eye.

“Stop it.”

I love seeing her blush. I blur to stand behind her, trailing my fingertips lightly across her shoulder. “Come, Tinkerbell, you know you want to try them on.”

Heat comes off her in waves, a heady sensation on my cool skin. My fangs elongate, and I have to close my eyes, willing myself to think of something besides tying her up and making her come until she weeps.

Instead of pulling away, she turns to face me, inching closer, as if magnetically pulled to my body. She lifts her face. I can hardly deny what she’s asking for. I wrap my hand around the back of her head and kiss her, my lips twisting over hers, my tongue licking into her mouth.

I catch myself before moaning her name, desire mounting at the taste of her, the sensuous pleasure of contact. I reach for the hem of her shirt and slowly pull it up. She lets me for a moment but seems to remember herself and flinches away.

“Stop,” she says, breathless. “I...I’m not ready for that.”

I don’t remind her I already saw her magnificent tits yesterday. She’s right to stop me—what the hell am I attempting? Do I think tumbling her will alleviate my unquenchable lust? It would only make it worse, and then I’d be blood-starved and blue-balled, which would equal one extremely crabby vampire. And we have real work to do here.