His Captive Mortal (15 page)

She bent at the waist, but found the balance with her hands on her head too difficult and one knee buckled.

Charlie caught her around the waist with strong, sure hands. “You may place your hands on your knees,” he said, as if granting her a great boon.

“Thank you, master,” she said, trying for sarcasm, but falling short. She sounded like a true submissive, trembling for her dominant’s touch, whether it be in pain or in pleasure.

He clapped his hand over her pussy from the back, his forearm spanking her anus a split second before his fingers smacked down over her clit.

“Ahh!” she cried out in surprise.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he said, spanking her pussy with each word, sending her eyes rolling back in her head as a dizzying wave of lust overcame her.

“Remember when I spanked you until you came, Sasha?”

She couldn’t speak at first, his continued assault on both holes fogging her brain with lust. After a moment, she realized he’d spoken. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“This spanking won’t stop until you orgasm, either. But this time you don’t get to use your own fingers.”

She gave a sob of emotion, her pent-up passion on the brink of release.

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

“Oh...Oh, God!” she cried. “Oh please?”

He seemed to understand because he spanked her even harder, faster until by the fourth stinging slap she crested the peak, her sex gripping and releasing as she nearly fell forward. Charlie caught her, his left arm circling her waist, even as he continued to spank her through the orgasm.

Charlie held Sasha up as her legs buckled and she gave herself over to her beautiful climax. If orgasming was an Olympic sport, he’d bet anything on Sasha taking the gold. Truly, to be able to give herself over to such powerful pleasure was a special talent—no, an art.

When her bottom had stopped jerking, he ceased spanking and admired her lovely form draped limply over his arm. Her hair fell like a shimmering curtain around her face; her little hands reached for the floor, but didn’t quite touch.

He lifted her upright and gently turned her to face him, pulling her close.

She looped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest, her entire body trembling.

He kissed the top of her head. “Sweet little mortal,” he murmured endearingly. I love you. He wouldn’t allow himself to say the words, but he thought them. How had she so thoroughly captured his heart in such a short amount of time?

He felt waves of bliss rolling off her and he realized with surprise, that her pleasure was enough. He didn’t need his own release. Even if she never managed to lift the curse, he could be content with this. Even the ache in his balls did not sour the moment. In fact, he accepted the throb, almost relishing it, perhaps the way his little mortal liked her spankings.

He lifted her face from his shirt and kissed her deeply, trying to express the emotion he felt for her.

She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

“Go put on something pretty, I’m taking you to dinner,” he said when they broke apart. He had 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 lit up. “Really? That sounds great. I’ll be right back,” she said, heading for the bedroom.

“Take your time, we can’t leave till after sundown.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” she said, stopping in the doorway. “Okay. I’ll take my time then.” She gave him a mysterious wink. A few minutes later she poked her head back out. “Would you say you’re more of a skirt man, being from the nineteenth century?”

He grinned, the idea of her dressing to please him, turning his chest warm. “Well, if you went by that, it would be full skirts to the floor, so no. I prefer to see your curves,” he said, making the hourglass shape with his hands.

She laughed. “Got it,” she said, disappearing again.

“Sasha?” he called out.

“Yes, master?” she sang sweetly.

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

She emerged and threw a flip flop at him.

He laughed. As much as he loved her submission, he liked her feisty, too. Flashing home, he showered and changed, then returned to Sasha’s living room.

When she came out of her bedroom thirty-five minutes later, he had to catch his breath. She’d put on the bustier he’d bought her over a sheer long-sleeved shirt that hugged her body. A pair of skinny jeans showed off her shapely legs and tight little ass and high-heeled sandals dressed it up. Even with the sexy bustier, she’d made the outfit look classy, so he could take her to the finest restaurant in town without her feeling uncomfortable.

She’d taken special pains with her makeup, mascara making her eyes appear bigger and a dusting of rouge accenting her cheekbones. She’d curled her hair and pinned most of it up on the back of her head, mimicking the post-Regency styles of his day.

He almost turned and ran. Traced away just to gather himself. Noticing the urge, he realized his young mortal had been right about that. So wise for her years. He managed to find his voice, forcing himself to speak when her smile faded and she began to look uncertain.

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

He collected himself. “You look incredible,” he said, holding out his hands.

She walked forward, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor and he took her fingers and kissed 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 gave him a headache. Something sweet and earthy. Perfect for his nature-loving fairy.

“You are the light that shines.”

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

He closed his hand over her fidgeting one. “Yes, love,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s perfect. It pleases me that you wore it.”

A smile lit her face and it hit him again that his pleasure had been her goal. His still heart swelled, almost paining him with the emotion. He checked his watch. “I think we’re safe to go, if I wear my sunglasses.”

He wrapped an arm around her and led her to the door.

She opened it just a crack and peeped out, then swung it wider. The sun had set, but darkness had not fallen yet and he jerked back instinctively, the light warm on his skin. “It’s fine,” he said, sensing Sasha’s worry for him. He led her to the car and put on a pair of sunglasses.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said with a smile. He’d made reservations at an expensive restaurant with nouvelle cuisine up in the foothills. He started the car and dropped a hand onto her knee, caressing it as he drove.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” she said when they arrived, looking around. Nestled against the base of the mountains, the restaurant featured both desert and city views and welcomed them with manicured gardens and water fountains.

Sensing a wave of anxiety from Sasha, he took her hand. “Why are you nervous?”

Her eyes shot to his in surprise and then she flushed. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t really go to fancy restaurants often, so I get nervous about eating with the right fork and stuff.”

He laughed. “Come on. You’re in Tucson, not Victorian England. And you’re the customer. Everyone here,” he said, circling a finger in the air, “works for you. Got it?”

She smiled and relaxed. Peering up at him, she said, “It’s a little disconcerting to have you sensing my emotions.”

He winked. “I have all kinds of powers over you, little girl. That’s why vampires are higher on the food chain.”

She elbowed him in the ribs and he gave her ass a smack as she walked through the door he held open for her.

“Char-lie,” she hissed, giving him a warning look.

He smiled a crocodile grin.

The maître d seated them at a corner table where two walls of windows met, giving them the best views in the house.

Sasha looked at the menu, nibbling her lip. He sensed the undercurrent of anxiety rising up again.

“Sasha.”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

She lifted her eyes, her brow wrinkling in concern.

“I want you to order whatever you want. Don’t get nervous about what you think is the right thing to order or that something is too expensive or whatever it is that’s running through your mind.”

She colored and hid her face behind the menu. “This is embarrassing.”

“Get used to it.”

The waiter showed up and when Sasha seemed stumped about what to drink, he quizzed her.

“Wine or cocktail?”

“Um, cocktail?”

“Sweet and fruity?”

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

He ordered a prickly pear margarita for her and a glass of wine for himself. When the waiter left, he gazed across the table at Sasha, who had fallen back to poring over the menu as if studying to make the most important choice of her life.

He marveled at her innocence, nerved up over a fancy dinner. The same woman who had not hesitated to defend herself against him with a sharpened stake. She had heart. So different from himself. She lived with great courage and compassion, giving herself to the children at her work, giving herself to him. Demanding he give more of himself to her.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she said, peeking up from her menu.

“Like what?”

She looked shyly down at her napkin in her lap. “Like you think I’m beautiful.”

He smiled. “So beautiful it makes me ache.”

Chapter Eight

Sasha continued working on pulling out the spell every time Charlie slept. She tried dreaming in Anka again, but the gypsy witch did not surface. By the end of a week of effort, she resolved to try the one thing she had been avoiding—attempting to be Anka.

She sat cross-legged at the foot of her bed, watching Charlie sleep. His blond hair stood out as if he’d run his fingers through it, tousled in that sexy casual look he embodied so well.

She closed her eyes and tried to place herself in the dream again, experiencing the emotions of lost love, of fury.

You will never take pleasure with another woman, so long as you live.

Her eyes flew open. Perhaps that was the loophole. Perhaps, to break the spell, he needed to have sex with her. With Anka.

The thought terrified her. Could she somehow become Anka while making love to Charlie? And if so, would he notice?

She looked over and started.

Charlie’s eyes were open and he lay watching her. “What are you doing, love?” he asked softly.

She drew a breath. The closer she came to the truth, the better, especially considering the way he read her feelings. “I want to try something.”

He waited for her to go on.

“I want to try to pull the curse while we’re making love.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I may not seem like myself—will you just go on, no matter what happens?”

He leaned up on his elbows. “What does that mean?”

“I guess I mean…” she hesitated. “You’re an extremely attentive lover. But maybe this time you could sort of ignore me so I can do my thing?”

He laughed. “I see. I will not pay you any attention at all,” he said, crawling over to her. He seized her arms with vampire speed and threw her onto her back, climbing over her. “But I am allowed to get you ready for my plunder,” he said, yanking down her pants.

She lifted her butt to let him pull them off, already warming at the way he handled her so easily, his vampire strength a turn-on.

He pulled her shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra, tossing it to the floor. “Spread your knees for me,” he ordered.

She drew her knees up, opening for him.

He settled between her legs, gripping a thigh in each hand as he bent his head and licked into her. He swirled his tongue around her clit, then sucked the sensitive nub.

She gasped, her body jerking and coming alive as he played it like a musical instrument.

He penetrated her with his tongue, nipped at her labia with his teeth, teased and tortured her into a frenzy.

“Please, Charlie,” she gasped, tugging his hair with her fingers. “If you don’t stop, I’ll lose all my concentration. You have to stop.”

He lifted his head and grinned. “All right, love.” Lifting himself over her, he released his cock from his boxer briefs. “Okay, so I’ll just do my thing and you’ll do yours, is that the plan?” he asked with a wink.

She blinked, finding it difficult to recall what they were doing after her near-orgasm. “Oh. Yeah,” she croaked. But just then he plowed into her and she arched in pleasure, forgetting her purpose once more.

“Get busy, fairy,” he murmured to remind her, his expression soft with affection.

Her heart twisted. She didn’t want to lose him—he’d become her whole world in such a short time. She squeezed her eyes closed and brought herself to the dream in which she, as Anka, had been making love to Charlie—no, she had called him Charles. She tried to become Anka. Searched in her own consciousness for the memories she might have.

A flicker of something came in—she saw the boudoir again, the floor strewn with the items she had flung from her dressing table. She experienced the rage.

Then, she—as Sasha—reached out to her past life self.

Anka, Charles is here. He came back to you.

The rage grew, thrashing about in her chest.

Punish him. He hurt me. He will do it again.

No—forgive him. You have punished him enough.

No!

The depth of Anka’s blackness frightened her and she pulled back. But then, she realized, it was that very intensity she sought. That had been the power behind the curse, as frightening as the darkness may be. She remembered one of the books had discussed connecting with spirit guides or one’s higher self. Presumably, if she had a higher self, it governed Anka as well.