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.
I step close and slide my hands over the small of her back, pressing her close.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” I say with a smile. I trace, taking her with me.
The wind tugs at my shirt as we materialize. We’re on a lit walkway on the side of a rugged cliff. Far below our feet, the ocean froths against the rocks.
Aurelia gasps. “Where is this?”
“Polignano a Mare,” I say the town’s name with the proper musical accent.
“Italy?” Aurelia gasps.
“Italy,” I confirm and beckon. “Come, bella mia.”
Aurelia clings to my hand, letting me lead her down to the restaurant. The glowing rooms are carved right into the cliff. My captive fae’s eyes are round with wonder as we enter the restaurant cave. We’re promptly seated at a cozy table right up against the iron railing. The wind tugs at Aurelia’s hair.
“This is wonderful,” she mouths. But when the waiters appear, her eyes drop to the white tablecloth.
I order in Italian. As soon as the waiters retreat,