His Captive Mortal (A Vampire Romance)

He grips my left hip, spanking with his right, his hand both punishing and pleasuring with each firm whap.

“Oh...Oh, God!” I cry. “Oh please?”

He seems to understand because he spanks me even harder, faster until by the fourth stinging slap I crest the peak, my sex gripping and releasing as I nearly fall forward. Charlie catches me, his left arm circling my waist, as he continues to spank through the orgasm.

Charlie

I hold Aurelia up as her legs buckle, and she pitches into a beautiful climax. If orgasming was an Olympic sport, I’d bet anything on Aurelia taking the gold. Truly, to be able to give herself over to such powerful pleasure is a special talent—no, an art.

When it passes, I stop spanking and admire her lovely form draped limply over my arm. Her hair falls like a shimmering curtain around her face, her fingertips stretching for the floor, but not quite reaching.

I lift her upright and gently turn her to face me, pulling her close.

She loops her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek against my chest, her entire body trembling.

I kiss the top of her head. “Sweet little mortal,” I murmur endearingly. I love you. I don’t allow myself to say the words aloud, but they’re true. How had she so thoroughly captured my heart in such a short amount of time?

I sense waves of bliss roll off her and realize with surprise that her pleasure’s enough. I don’t need my own release. Even if she never manages to lift the curse, I could be content with this. Not even the ache in my balls sours the moment. In fact, I accept the throb, almost relishing it, perhaps the way my sweet mortal likes her spankings.

I lift her face from my shirt and kiss her deeply, trying to express the emotion I feel for her.

She stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me back.

“Go put on something pretty, I’m taking you to dinner,” I say when we break apart. I have the urge to spoil her a little, or show off, like some crazy caveman who just dragged a woman home and wants to show he’s a good provider.

Her eyes light up. “Really? That sounds great. I’ll be right back.” She heads for the bedroom.

A few minutes later she pokes her head back out. “Would you say you’re more of a skirt man, being from the nineteenth century?”

I grin, the idea of her dressing to please me turns my chest warm. “Well, if you went by that, it would be full skirts to the floor, so no. I prefer to see your curves.” I make an hourglass shape with my hands.

She laughs. “Got it.” She disappears again.

“Aurelia?” I call out.

“Yes, master?” she sings sweetly.

“I’m going home to change. I don’t want you flipping out about me disappearing or anything.”

She emerges and throws a flip flop at me.

I laugh. As much as I adore her submission, I like her feisty, too. Dematerializing home, I shower and change then return to Aurelia’s living room.

When she comes out of her bedroom thirty-five minutes later, I catch my breath. She put on the bustier I bought her over a sheer long-sleeved shirt that hugs her body. A pair of skinny jeans shows off her shapely legs and tight little ass, and high-heeled sandals dress it up. Even with the sexy bustier, she makes the outfit look classy, so I could take her to the finest restaurant in the world without her feeling uncomfortable.

She took special pains with her makeup, mascara making her eyes appear bigger and a dusting of rouge accenting her cheekbones. She curled her hair and pinned most of it up on the back of her head, mimicking the Georgian styles of my day.

I almost turn and run. Trace away just to gather myself. She was right about that—I do disappear when my emotions rise. So wise for her years. I find my voice, forcing myself to speak when her smile fades, and she begins to look uncertain.

“I-I can change if you want. I wasn’t sure where we were going.”

I collect myself. “You look incredible.” I hold out my hands.

She walks forward, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and I take her fingers and kiss her cheek, not wanting to smear her fresh lipstick. She wore some kind of perfume, but not the synthetic, chemical smell of most scents, not the kind that gives me a headache. Something sweet and earthy. Perfect for my nature-loving fairy.

“You are the light that shines.”

She giggles nervously, fingering the corset. “Is it okay?”

I close my hand over her fidgeting one. “Yes, love,” I murmur in her ear. “It’s perfect. It pleases me that you wore it.”

A smile lights her face, and it hits me again that my pleasure was her goal. My still heart swells, almost paining me with the emotion.