Chapter 7
FAYE
Faye threw her things in a duffel bag, her heart pounding and her ass smarting. Cade was taking her to be his slave.
His slave.
Did that mean sex slave?
Considering the way he’d seemed to enjoy spanking her, she suspected it did.
He spoke from the doorway, causing her to jump. “I want you to pack a short skirt and the tightest t-shirt you have.”
Yep. Sex slave.
She put her hands on her hips and whirled to face him. “You have to be kidding.”
He grinned. She had never seen him smile before and caught herself staring at his gleaming white teeth, the canines almost fang-like in length and pointiness.
Her pussy clenched. Why did this man seem hold some kind of power over her body?
“I’m not kidding, little fairy. If I’m going to have a slave around the house, I can dress her any way I like.”
She imagined him tying her spread eagle to a bed and having his way with her.
As if he read her mind, he laughed. “Don’t worry. I never take what isn’t offered.” She heard bragging in his tone, as if no woman ever withheld herself from him. She was sure it was true. He probably had fan girls throwing themselves at him every night.
The thought made a spike of jealousy rise stab her throat.
She sniffed and gave him her back, but packed the requested items, the tingling burn of her bottom keeping her from disobeying.
She packed her mom’s journal and her wand. Putting on a warm jacket and throwing her duffel over her shoulder, she walked to her front door. “I’m ready.”
“Good girl.” He came up behind her, his flippers flapping, and took the duffel from her shoulder.
She clutched at it, refusing to give it to him. “I can carry it,” she snapped.
Tilting his head to the side, he considered her. For one brief second, she thought he might spank her again, but then he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He led her out to his motorcycle, which she regarded with trepidation. “Is that thing really safe in New Kristiandom? Aren’t the roads too snowy most of the year?”
“You’d better just pray I can ride it with these flippers,” he grumbled, swinging his leg over and trying to position the huge appendages on the tiny foot pegs. “If I can’t shift gears, you’ll be learning to drive it.”
She shut up, hoping he could do it himself.
“Well, get on,” he snapped when she just stood there, watching.
She swallowed and climbed on behind him, not sure what to do with her hands. She wasn’t going to wrap them around his waist, she knew that much.
“Hold on.”
The motorcycle lurched forward. She shrieked, her arms flying forward to clutch at his jacket as her head fell back from the surge.
The cold wind made her eyes water and her breathing passages burn.
Abandoning her objection, she wrapped her arms around Cade’s midsection, pressing her face against his back to cut the wind.
By the time they arrived at his place, her teeth chattered from the cold. Frozen, she couldn’t move from the bike, even when Cade got off and leaned it on the kickstand.
“Leather’s the only kind of jacket for motorcycling,” Cade offered when he took in her huddled, shivering form.
He reached over and plucked her off the bike as if she weighed nothing, setting her down and walking toward his door.
She still couldn’t seem to move, and she stood on the icy sidewalk, watching his back retreat.
He turned and frowned, and she expected him to bark an order or a threat, but instead he walked back to her, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her into his little house, the duffel bag swinging down toward his feet—er, flippers.
He lowered her to her feet, took off his leather gloves and removed her mittens, covering her icy hands with his huge warm ones.
She found herself gazing up at him, marveling at his eye color, which was more amber than brown, the golden irises seeming to glow. A shiver unrelated to cold traveled through her body. She leaned forward, nipples hardened, clit swelling just because he put his big hands over hers.
“Aw, you’re freezing.” He noticed her shiver. Picking up a throw blanket from the sofa, he flung it around her shoulders, wrapping her up tight. “I’ll turn up the heat.”
She nodded, unable to speak. She looked around his small house.
In one corner stood his musical instruments—cases and cases of various sizes and shapes.
She knew his local band had gained popularity in the past few years, their tours taking them all around the continent.
She went to see them when they played in town, never staying to say hi, not wanting to fight her way through the thicket of adoring women who hung all over him.
Despite the fact that she was supposed to be his slave, he put a tea kettle on and made her a cup of steaming hot cocoa, which he pressed into her hands.
“Thank you.”
He grinned. She liked the smile on him. All the grouchiness he’d shown at her place seemed to have faded, except when he had difficulty with the flippers and he would shoot her a Hollywood-worthy glare.
“You’re no good to me frozen. I’m sorry, I should have considered how cold you’d get on the motorcycle.
I am responsible for you, and I failed to take the elements into consideration. ”
“You’re responsible for me? How do you figure?”
His lips curved into a sexy smirk. “Well, you’re my slave, and I’m your master. So if I’m in charge of you, I’d better keep you safe, right?”
She shifted on her feet, uneasy with the way his words turned her on.
“Go put on the t-shirt and skirt. I have the heat turned up, so you should be fine.”
She made a face but picked up her bag. “Where should I change?”
“You can use my bedroom, I guess. You’ll be sleeping on the couch.”
She clomped to the bedroom, pulling off her jeans and sweater and donning the requested outfit.
“So, let’s go over the rules,” he said when she returned. “You will call me ‘Master’ at all times. If you fail to address me properly, you will be spanked. You will speak respectfully to me at all times, or you will be spanked. And most importantly, I expect instant obedience to my every request.”
She gaped at him, her hands balled into fists. He must be crazy. “Go to hell!” she spat.
The look of delight on his face frightened her almost as much as the speed with which he grabbed her and tossed her over his lap on the sofa and flipped up her skirt.
“You enjoy this!” she shrieked in outrage.
He chuckled as he pulled her panties down.
“Yes, I do.” He started to spank her. He did not slap nearly so hard as he had back at her apartment, but her bottom still stung from his use of her wand.
She reached back, trying to cover his target.
He caught her wrist and bent it deftly behind her back.
“I love to spank, and you happen to have the cutest ass I have ever seen.”
She should not be turned on. Pain had always been something she avoided at all costs. But even though she did not want to be spanked, her traitorous body had turned molten, a trickle of arousal leaking out between her legs as a hot pulse made her thighs open.
Cade stopped, stroking his hand over her twitching cheeks. “I can smell your arousal, Faye,” he murmured. “What turned you on, the spanking or hearing I love your sweet ass?”
Her pussy clenched and she hid her face in the sofa cushion. This could not be happening.
He gave her a hard slap, eliciting a squeak. “I asked you a question!”
CADE
His sweet little fairy hid her face from him. “I don’t know!”
He lifted her to stand, positioning her between his knees. He tugged the panties around her thighs down to her ankles. “Step out, little fairy. You won’t be wearing these while you’re under house arrest.”
Her face, already flushed, turned a deeper shade of pink. “You can’t—I don’t—” Her eyes filled with tears and he whiffed the metallic smell of fear. Instantly regretting upsetting her, he pulled her to sit on his knee.
“Shh, shh. You’re okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head on his shoulder. “You’re safe enough, little fairy. You don’t have to be afraid. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer. And I will only punish you if you break my rules.”
She snuffled against his neck, the salty smell of tears mixing with the fading musk of her arousal.
“Are you still mad at me?” she sniffed.
His heart twisted. She cared?
“Nah… not really. It truly was an accident?”
“I swear on Pan’s flute.”
He stroked a circle around her back. “So just call in some of Pan’s magick and get my feet back, okay?”
“I will.” She lifted her head. “I promise, I’ll figure it out.”
He nudged her back to stand. She reached for the panties at her ankles. “Uh-uh. What did I say? No panties. I want your gorgeous ass bare and available so I can correct you on the fly.”
She erected herself, holding her pink flouncy skirt down in the front as if afraid he would peek at her pussy.
It naturally made him all the more curious, and he teased her, picking up the edge and bending his head way down to peer up.
“What are you hiding? I am quite certain your pussy is as gorgeous as your ass.”
“It’s not groomed!” she blurted, looking embarrassed.
He laughed. “You’re not into trimming, eh?”
“No, I don’t ah… we don’t… um… no one sees it except me, usually.”
His eyebrows shot up to his forehead. “You don’t have sex?”
She shook her head.
“Ever?”
“No. We don’t.”
“We? Meaning fairies? You have got to be kidding me! Little sprites of nature, ruled by Pan, God of Debauchery?”
She folded her arms. “Not until we’re ready to procreate.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Bullshit.”
“It’s the truth. What would you know, anyway?”
“Sassy. I will spank you for that.”
She jumped back out of his reach, and he laughed at her sprightliness.
“Apologize and I might let it slide.”
“Forgive me, Master.” She lifted the sides of her skirt and curtsying.
Damn, she was cute. He laughed again. “Go in the kitchen and make us some dinner, slave.”