tiptoes and gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you.”
He sank back into the bed, closing his eyes and wondering what had brought about the change in her—genuine fear? Realization of how helpless she really was? But no, she’d known it before and still railed against him. Newly won trust, then?
He found himself hoping for trust.
Sasha seriously needed to masturbate again. She cursed herself for not just letting the vampire go to town on her. She’d been freaked out beyond belief at first, but having one hundred eighty pounds of muscled vampire grinding over her had flipped her switch pretty quickly. And the way he’d murmured in her ear...
She climbed in the shower and leaned her forehead against the wall, pressing her fingers over her sex.
He truly had been a gentleman. They both knew he could’ve done anything he wanted to her. He could out-power her if he liked it that way, or hypnotize her if he wanted her willing, but he’d done neither. The moment he’d seen her tears, he’d released her.
She wasn’t even sure what had made her cry. Probably just the need to let go after the terror of thinking he would drain her. But he’d made sense—the way he’d been going after her hadn’t been angry or violent, it had been sexual. So presumably, that meant he wouldn’t have killed her.
She wondered if he’d ordered any books on vampires when he sent for the magic ones. Probably not. She continued to work her fingers over her clit, remembering the feel of his hardened bulge between her legs, the tickle of his fangs at her neck. She came in a short, unsatisfying orgasm and had to sit down on the edge of the tub, dizzy from the hot water and the blood rushing...away from her head.
She didn’t feel as shy this time walking into her room dressed only in the towel. Charlie had fallen back into a deep sleep, judging from the sounds of his breathing. She looked at him, a wave of déjà vu coming over her, as if she’d known him forever, but had just forgotten until now. She shrugged it off and changed.
In the kitchen, she took out the eighteen-pack of cage-free eggs, nitrate-free bacon and organic spinach and made herself an omelet. Breakfast was the one meal she knew how to cook. It was her favorite meal of the day. She made one for Charlie, and then decided to make pancakes, as well, since she found he’d bought real maple syrup. She even beat homemade whipped cream to go on top, and placed berries around the edge of the plate. She covered both plates with plastic wrap—he’d bought the new expensive kind with sticky sides to guarantee it stayed on—and placed them in the fridge.
She left a note in case he was up before she returned home.
Charlie—
I didn’t know what you’d like for breakfast, so I made you an omelet and pancakes. They’re both in the fridge.
XXOO,
Your slave-fairy
She smiled, titillated by the idea of being his slave-fairy. In play, that is. And she was beginning to understand that it was just a game to him. They were flirting. He threatened. She sassed. The consequences were mild. Otherwise he already would have hurt her or forced her to do things she didn’t want to. So far, she found his form of punishment as arousing as he did, even though the humiliation of it infuriated her in the moment.
And she’d liked the way he told her to be home by two. Like a Daddy who set her curfew. And she liked the way he pulled down her panties to spank her. Oh God, she was wet again.
She put on a floppy hat and grabbed her gardening gloves. Carefully closing her bedroom door completely to block it from the light, she opened the front door only enough to slip through, closing it tightly behind her.
She returned to the familiar peace she always found when working with nature. Even in the heat of the Tucson fall, she craved the smell of the earth, the feel of the plants between her fingers.
Her fig tree had dozens of small fruit buds and the basil had
He sank back into the bed, closing his eyes and wondering what had brought about the change in her—genuine fear? Realization of how helpless she really was? But no, she’d known it before and still railed against him. Newly won trust, then?
He found himself hoping for trust.
Sasha seriously needed to masturbate again. She cursed herself for not just letting the vampire go to town on her. She’d been freaked out beyond belief at first, but having one hundred eighty pounds of muscled vampire grinding over her had flipped her switch pretty quickly. And the way he’d murmured in her ear...
She climbed in the shower and leaned her forehead against the wall, pressing her fingers over her sex.
He truly had been a gentleman. They both knew he could’ve done anything he wanted to her. He could out-power her if he liked it that way, or hypnotize her if he wanted her willing, but he’d done neither. The moment he’d seen her tears, he’d released her.
She wasn’t even sure what had made her cry. Probably just the need to let go after the terror of thinking he would drain her. But he’d made sense—the way he’d been going after her hadn’t been angry or violent, it had been sexual. So presumably, that meant he wouldn’t have killed her.
She wondered if he’d ordered any books on vampires when he sent for the magic ones. Probably not. She continued to work her fingers over her clit, remembering the feel of his hardened bulge between her legs, the tickle of his fangs at her neck. She came in a short, unsatisfying orgasm and had to sit down on the edge of the tub, dizzy from the hot water and the blood rushing...away from her head.
She didn’t feel as shy this time walking into her room dressed only in the towel. Charlie had fallen back into a deep sleep, judging from the sounds of his breathing. She looked at him, a wave of déjà vu coming over her, as if she’d known him forever, but had just forgotten until now. She shrugged it off and changed.
In the kitchen, she took out the eighteen-pack of cage-free eggs, nitrate-free bacon and organic spinach and made herself an omelet. Breakfast was the one meal she knew how to cook. It was her favorite meal of the day. She made one for Charlie, and then decided to make pancakes, as well, since she found he’d bought real maple syrup. She even beat homemade whipped cream to go on top, and placed berries around the edge of the plate. She covered both plates with plastic wrap—he’d bought the new expensive kind with sticky sides to guarantee it stayed on—and placed them in the fridge.
She left a note in case he was up before she returned home.
Charlie—
I didn’t know what you’d like for breakfast, so I made you an omelet and pancakes. They’re both in the fridge.
XXOO,
Your slave-fairy
She smiled, titillated by the idea of being his slave-fairy. In play, that is. And she was beginning to understand that it was just a game to him. They were flirting. He threatened. She sassed. The consequences were mild. Otherwise he already would have hurt her or forced her to do things she didn’t want to. So far, she found his form of punishment as arousing as he did, even though the humiliation of it infuriated her in the moment.
And she’d liked the way he told her to be home by two. Like a Daddy who set her curfew. And she liked the way he pulled down her panties to spank her. Oh God, she was wet again.
She put on a floppy hat and grabbed her gardening gloves. Carefully closing her bedroom door completely to block it from the light, she opened the front door only enough to slip through, closing it tightly behind her.
She returned to the familiar peace she always found when working with nature. Even in the heat of the Tucson fall, she craved the smell of the earth, the feel of the plants between her fingers.
Her fig tree had dozens of small fruit buds and the basil had
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