His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

The oven timer buzzes. What is it the mortals say? Saved by the bell. I have no wish to continue expressing any of the odd feelings banging around in my chest.

I pat my Tinkerbell’s delectable bottom. “Let’s eat.”

Aurelia

Sitting down with the plug in my ass sends rivulets of heat pulsing through my body. Discomfort, need, desire all jumble together. Charlie serves the dinner, surprising me with his modern-man ease in the kitchen and with our roles. Odd for a nineteenth century man, but I’m growing used to his unpredictability.

I wolf down my food, eager to move on to other matters. When I lay down my fork, I see he’s finished as well. I jump up and collect our plates, washing them in the sink as my anus contracts around the foreign object in my ass.

“I can smell your arousal,” Charlie murmurs in my ear, appearing directly behind me.

My pussy clenches, wanting more of his attention.

He wraps his arms around me from behind, and my stomach drops as a terrible whooshing sensation yanks me back. Every atom of my body splits apart and comes whole again. I blink. My home has disappeared. We’re in totally different surroundings.

“You wanted to see my place,” Charlie murmurs in my ear, nuzzling my neck.

My mouth drops open.

Charlie’s bedroom looks much like the boudoir from my dream. Rich fabrics in silk and velvet drape the walls and cover the bed. The furniture appears to be antique—great pieces of beautiful wood carved with intricate details. The colors are burgundy and red and gold.

I can’t believe he brought me here. He was so cagey about it, and it makes sense. He’s spent centuries keeping his secrets.

“Where is this place?”

“A bunker. We’re at the base of Sombrero Peak.”

I twist in his hold. “Why did you bring me here?” Is it possible he’s opening up to me?

“So I can fuck you in my bed, of course.” His smirk gives away nothing, but I know better. He’s brought me to his secret lair. He can deflect all he wants, but this means something.

“On your knees, slave,” my vampire master orders.

Excitement bubbles in my low belly. I lower myself to kneel at his feet and reach for the button on his jeans.

He makes a censuring sound. “Did you ask permission?”

“Please, master, may I suck your cock?”

He smiles. “Yes, you may.”

I open his jeans and allow his engorged cock to spring free. Before I can touch it, he grips it in his fist and uses it to slap my face, first one side then the other. As always with the vampire, the degradation of it raises my hackles, but of course that’s why he did it. He’s testing me. And deep down, don’t I like surrendering to him? I’ve never known such satisfaction.

So I close my eyes and hold out my tongue, so his cock swipes across it as he dick-whips my face.

“Mmm, good slave,” he murmurs, gripping the back of my head and holding me in place. “Open wider.”

I relax my jaw, and he pushes into my mouth, filling it beyond capacity, pulling out just when I start to gag. He moves in and out, controlling the movement, fucking my face. The vulnerability of the position doesn’t escape me—one thrust too deep, and he could cut off my airway, stuff his cock in the back of my throat and strangle me with it. My basic survival instinct screams at me to pull away, free myself from the degrading position, and yet for some inexplicable reason, I want to please him. Because his torture always ends in reward.

“Stand up and turn around, Aurelia,” Charlie orders, his voice thick. His hand catches under my arm to help, and I remember scoffing at the idea of him being chivalrous. I was wrong. He turns me around and guides me to the end of his bed, where he pushes my torso down. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

“Yes, master,” I breathe. My sex tingles, electrified and waiting for his touch. I groan when he presses the head of his cock at my entrance, the mixture of soft and hard something no fingers or dildo could ever replicate.

He slides into me, my natural lubricant so plentiful I hardly feel the stretch. Or maybe it’s the distraction of the toy in my ass. All I know is I want it all and more. I want to be fucked hard, used, wholly taken by him.

“Please,” I whimper when he moves too slow.

He chuckles. “I set the pace, little girl. And you don’t come until I let you. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

Despite his words, he does pick up the pace, stroking in and out, caressing my pussy with his cock, pushing his pelvis against the handle of the butt plug every time he plunges in.

I tremble, my legs scarcely holding me, need growing to a fever pitch. I lose track of our surroundings, everything shrinking to the feel of his length moving inside me, the way my very cells seem like they would explode if I don’t find release.