His Captive Mortal (10 page)

“Oh my God, it’s too much. Oh Charlie, take it out, oh...oh,” she moaned. If her voice didn’t sound so completely wanton, he might have believed her ruse that she’d had too much.

A knock came at the door and they both froze.

“Sasha?”

She recognized the voice of Wilson, her ex-boyfriend. Shit.

“Sasha?” he yelled again, repeating the knock.

Before she could even think of anything to say, she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and Wilson walked in.

“What the fuck?” he gasped, taking in her position. She imagined how she looked—naked, wrists bound together with a leather belt, legs spread wide, a vampire with lengthened fangs standing in front of her, looking furious at the intrusion. And to top it off, the ginger in her ass had begun to burn, making her shift from leg to leg with discomfort.

Before any sound came out of her throat, Charlie had pinned Wilson against the wall with one hand around his throat, holding him up off the ground.

“Charlie, stop,” she screamed.

He looked over his shoulder at her, his long fangs and the gleam in his eye looking deadly. “Who is this?” he hissed.

She twisted about, trying to reach the doorknob to free herself, feeling completely helpless. “Wilson. He’s a friend.”

“A friend?” Charlie thundered, pulling Wilson from the wall and then banging him back up against it.

She wasn’t sure what had made her vampire go demonic—whether he’d felt threatened by the invasion or was jealous that a man had a key to her place. “Just a friend,” she said quickly. “An ex. He still has a key, but he shouldn’t. You should take it away from him.”

Charlie turned back, examining Wilson, whose face had turned a frightening shade of red. She didn’t doubt he would kill him if he wanted.

“Please, Charlie,” she begged. “Please let him go. He’s harmless, I swear. Please don’t hurt him.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he looked back at her and then to his prey.

“Please don’t kill him. Please, Charlie.”

How long had his air been cut off? She was sure Wilson would die, but at long last, Charlie eased his grip on her ex’s throat.

Wilson gasped for breath, doubling over.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie demanded.

When Wilson didn’t answer, he wrapped a fist in his shirt and hauled him off his feet again. “I said, what are you doing here?”

She shivered, oddly turned on by his masculine display of aggression. Somehow it made his gentleness with her all the more apparent. Or maybe it was just the ginger in her ass, heating her naughty parts until she couldn’t think straight.

Wilson stared at Charlie with wild eyes, presumably freaked out by the fangs and having almost been choked to death. Oh and probably also from seeing her trussed up naked like a slave.

“What are you doing here, Wilson?” she asked, hoping he might answer her, if not the vampire.

His eyes darted from Charlie’s face to hers. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“I’m asking the questions,” Charlie snarled.

“Answer him, Wilson,” she warned. She might believe she was safe enough with the vampire, but she doubted Wilson had immunity from being drained.

“I just...thought I’d stop by. You know, I missed you. And then I saw the windows all boarded up and I got worried, so I used my key.”

“Okay, listen. We’re over. You don’t get to stop by, and you don’t get to keep the key. Give it to Charlie,” she snapped, not feeling nearly as badass as she hoped she sounded. It was hard to sound authoritative when strung up naked in one’s living room.

Wilson fumbled for the keys, dropping them on the floor. Charlie released him with a shove in their direction and he bent to pick them up, his hands shaking as he pulled the key off. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m trying to get laid, now get out!” she snapped, trying to sound as bitchy as possible. The last thing she needed was Wilson deciding to play hero and rescue her from Charlie, because he’d probably end up dead.

Charlie looked cooler now and when he took the key, Wilson’s eyes lost focus and he walked out without another word, clearly hypnotized.

She expected they would have words, but in the next moment, Charlie had materialized at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her gently to release her from the door. He unlooped the belt from her wrists and threaded it through his belt loops without a word.

She winced at the sensation of the blood running back into her arms, causing pins and needles. The ginger root still burned in her ass, making her pussy weep with readiness. She danced around, shaking her arms, squeezing her cheeks together and whimpering.

Charlie caught her wrists and rubbed the place where the buckle had left a red mark on her skin.

“What did you do to him?”

“I made him forget what he saw and told him not to come around anymore.” He took hold of her hair and pulled her head back, causing her to suck in her breath.

Was he angry with her? What would he do now? She tried to think of the right words to calm him, but he only whispered in her ear, “I really, really liked it when you begged like that.”

Something inside her melted into molten syrup. She became aware of the pulse in her pussy, already so swollen from his whipping and the heat of the ginger.

He picked her up by the waist and lifted her toward the ceiling, until his arms locked. Then he tipped his head back and lowered her pelvis so her pussy met his mouth.  Flicking his tongue over her clit, he activated every screaming nerve ending that hungered for his touch.

“Oh my God,” she shrieked, stunned by both the sensation and the impressive position.

He carried her that way, bending low to fit through the door, into her bedroom, where he laid her on the bed, the ginger burrowing deeper within her. Crawling up between her legs, he held her thighs open to continue his expert assault on her clit. He pushed the ginger finger in and out of her burning anus and she clawed at his shoulders, the sensations overloading her system.

“Charlie,” she cried out hoarsely. “Charlie?”

He lifted his head, still wiggling the ginger.

Her pussy practically soaked the bed, the warmth of the ginger making it positively wanton for sex. “Please...I want you.”

He smiled but his eyes looked sad. “Want me, how?”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Inside me.”

He shoved a finger inside her. “Like this?” he teased, moving it in and out.

“No,” she whined. “I want your cock inside me.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she said crudely.

He pinched her clit and she gasped. Picking her up behind the knees, he lifted her pelvis off the bed and dragged her down, flipping her over when he reached the edge of the bed, so she stood bent over the side. He shoved the ginger in and out some more and she stamped her feet, dizzy with need.

“Oh, it burns so bad...Charlie, please.”

She heard the jingle of his belt and turned to see his cock spring free from his boxers. As she’d suspected from the size of the bulge in his pants, it was impressive, jutting straight out, long and proud.

She moaned, excited to feel him in her. “I have a condom—in there,” she pointed toward her bedside table.

“Vampires don’t need condoms,” he said. “No STDs, no chance of pregnancy. We get to go bareback.” He impaled her with one deep stroke, his pelvis shoving the ginger deeper inside her ass.

“Oh yes!” she cried, already one stroke away from orgasm.

“Not yet,” he ordered. “You don’t finish until I say you can come. Understand?”

“Charlie, I can’t wait!” she moaned, taking a mouthful of bedspread in her teeth and biting down, hard.

“Don’t. Come.”

He sounded so forbidding, she couldn’t disobey, just held herself open to him, trying not to scream in ecstasy as he plowed in and out with long, pounding strokes. She heard his breathing quicken, the sound of his panting winding her coil even tighter.

He made a choking sound and then barked, “Now!”

She contracted every muscle from her waist down, her legs going stick-straight, her butt clenching, her vaginal walls gripping his cock so tightly she thought she pulled it even deeper. The seconds ticked on and on as her release continued, shudders rolling through her body. When they slowed and then stopped, she lay collapsed, a gooey mess.

Charlie eased out and removed the ginger plug as well.

She turned to look at him and caught a grimace on his face, as if he were in physical pain. She noticed his cock still stuck out straight, as if he’d never come.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he muttered, turning away from her.

She scrambled off the bed, her muscles having difficulty obeying the command from her brain. “Wait, Charlie?”

He did not turn around, continuing toward her bathroom.

She followed. “Charlie?”

He stopped and whirled, looking annoyed. “What?”

She drew back and swallowed. “Charlie,” she said, her voice soft and coaxing. “Why didn’t you finish?”

His face turned to stone. “Go back to your studying,” he snapped, pointing toward the living room.

“No, wait—” she touched his arm.

He dematerialized and she screamed his name in frustration, “Charlie!”

A flicker of his image appeared before her and he returned, staring at her with some deep, unrecognizable emotion.

“Is—is that the curse?”

He gave a single nod.

Abruptly, she burst into tears.

He frowned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, not even knowing why she wept. “How terrible,” she cried.

He appeared bewildered, his customary arrogance gone.

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m going to fix it for you, I promise,” she said, although she had no idea how. “You shouldn’t have to live like this. I’m sorry.”

He grasped the back of her neck and brought his lips to her ear, his fang running lightly over the edges of it. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her back to the bed and laid her down, stretching out beside her with his head propped in his hand and an arm around her back. “Sasha,” he murmured, sounding choked with emotion. “So sweet,” he said, kissing her temple. “So much fire…” He kissed her eyelids “...so much heart. I’m humbled by your example.”

She ran her hand over his chest, then sat up and tugged at the hem of his shirt. She wanted to see him naked, even if he couldn’t have sex.

He sat up and allowed her to remove the shirt.

She tossed it on the floor and pushed him back down, running her fingernails through his golden chest hair, admiring the lines of his sculpted torso. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured.

He looked tired, his face still drawn as if in pain. His cock had relaxed slightly, but still remained engorged.

“Would ice help?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t fuss over me. Just keep to your studies, little mortal. I believe in you.”

Her eyes smarted again. She truly hoped she could release the spell.

She formed a tiny bubble of soft pink light and sent it floating toward him.

He smiled, watching it gently glide toward him. “What is that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she lied.

It was love. It had poured out of her heart and into her fingers as she formed it for him.

“Is it for me? It’s beautiful.” He ducked his head to dodge it and touched it with his finger, yanking it away quickly as if burned. “I can’t have it. Can you tone it down a little?”

She considered, looking from him to the ball, then simply imagined its light dimmer, its color lighter and softer, so it became almost translucent, like the bubble a child blows through a plastic ring.

He smiled, watching, as if fascinated, then cupped the ball and ushered it to his chest, where it melted into his heart.

Had he known?

He held his hand over his heart for a long moment, looking at her with feeling. “Thank you,” he said as if touched beyond words.

She shivered, a sense of déjà vu running through her.

Telling Sasha the secret he’d kept to himself for over one hundred years eased some terrible fissure within him, but it also made the pain of it resurface. It was as if he had encapsulated the wound with a protective coating, and now that he’d shared it, the original pain returned full force.

The pink bubble she’d sent seemed to go right to the source of his pain, deep within his unbeating heart. It moved him, that she would give her gift so freely, without any coercion or bargain, without any promise of return. It had been so long since he’d trusted anyone. Maybe not since Anka, and that had been a mistake.

“Why did you scream when I dematerialized?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“I hate when you disappear every time you feel emotionally challenged,” she said, snuggling against him, throwing one leg over his.

He snaked an arm behind her and held her against his side. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Anytime things get too difficult to handle, you’re gone. It’s your way of not dealing with the present situation.”

“Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

She snorted.

“Where do you go, anyway?” she asked, running her hand across his chest.

“Downtown, usually. Where I first met you. I like to prowl the streets or hang out at The Black Cat.”

She rose up to her elbow. “The Black Cat? You have to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“I always knew there was something different about that place.”

He laughed. “Because you’re magic.”

“Can you go anywhere in the world?”

“Anywhere I have already been.”

“Do you ever go back to England?”

He smiled. “How do you know I’ve been to England?”

“I hear your accent at times. What about France?”

“What about it?”

“Have you been there?”

“Yes,” he said, finding his unbeating heart inexplicably tightening. It was as if she was drawn to his secret, knowing all the right questions to ask. But perhaps it was important for her to know the details in order to reverse it. He drew a breath. “I lived in Paris a long, long time ago. I had a lover there, named Anka.”