But no, my body ached pleasantly in ways that couldn't be explained by sleep. My thighs felt tender, my pussy still sensitive. And when I shifted, I realized with a flush of heat that I wore only my nightgown with nothing underneath.
My panties were gone.
I flopped back against my pillows, memories flooding back, the spanking, his mouth between my legs, pleasure so intense I'd apparently passed out from it. Somehow, he'd brought me home, put me to bed, and left me to wake alone.
I wasn't sure if I should feel cared for or abandoned. What did last night mean? Was it just a sexual release, or something more? And how was I supposed to look him in the eye across the café counter after he'd had his tongue inside me?
My alarm chose that moment to blare, announcing the start of another workday. Except everything had changed. I had changed. For one night, I'd been selfish. Had taken what I wanted without worrying about consequences or responsibilitiesor what anyone else thought. And despite the confusion swirling in my chest, one certainty remained, I wanted more.
As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I caught sight of something on my nightstand that hadn't been there when I'd left for work yesterday. A single black feather, soft and gleaming with subtle hints of red in the early morning light. Beside it lay a folded note, the paper heavy and expensive, my name written in elegant script.
I reached for it with trembling fingers, wondering what words awaited me. The words on the paper shocked me.
Simone Parker: Naughty List
One thing was certain, my evaluation week had just gotten considerably more complicated.
Chapter six
Krampus
Imoved quietly through the silent café, pre-dawn darkness hung heavy around me, broken only by the soft glow I allowed to emanate from my eyes, just enough light to navigate without disturbing the shadows that clung to me like old friends. The Hearth slept, waiting for life and noise and magic to fill it once more, but for now, it belonged only to me. And to the lingering scent of her, sugar and rose petals, indefinably Simone which clung to the air like a stubborn spirit, refusing to dissipate even hours after she'd gone.
I inhaled deeply, letting her essence fill my lungs. Mistake. The flood of memories that followed was immediate and visceral, her soft gasps as my claws traced her skin, the resistance in her muscles as she fought her own desires, the exquisite taste of her arousal on my tongue. I growled low in my throat, the sound reverberating through the empty café.
I'd acquired The Hearth centuries ago as an investment, a minor holding in this realm where I could observe mortal folly during the off-season. I never expected to find myself performing barista duties at dawn. Yet here I was readying the place for another day of caffeine addiction.
But my mind wasn't on coffee or customers. It remained fixed on Simone.
I could still feel her weight in my arms as I'd carried her home, unconscious from the intensity of her pleasure. How relaxed she'd seemed then, curled against my chest, her usual defenses stripped away by exhaustion and satisfaction. I'd cleaned her gently with a warm cloth, watching her face in sleep, peaceful in a way I'd never seen her while conscious. Her features had relaxed, the constant smile she wore finally falling away to reveal something softer, more vulnerable beneath. I'd tucked her into her bed, amused by the lonely fern that seemed to watch me from its perch on her dresser. Left a feather and note, a reminder that what happened between us was real, not some vivid dream she could dismiss in the light of day. She'd wake to the evidence of my touch, to the soreness between her thighs, to the memory of how thoroughly she'd surrendered.
Steam rose from the espresso machine as I turned it on, the hiss and gurgle a poor substitute for the sounds I'd drawn from Simone's throat. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to imagine how she'd sound beneath me, not just my tongue on but my cock, stretching her, filling her completely. Would she scream?Whimper? Beg? The thought of her begging sent another wave of heat through me, settling low and heavy in my groin.
Could she take all of me? Humans were fragile creatures, breakable in ways that made me both cautious and intrigued. I was not built like a mortal man, thicker, ridged in ways designed for maximum pleasure and, yes, a touch of beautiful pain. My imagination painted a vivid picture: her brown skin glowing in the firelight, hair spread across my furs, eyes wide as I entered her for the first time. The contrast of her softness against my hardness. The way she'd stretch around me, body yielding even as her pride resisted. I growled again, adjusting myself beneath my slacks. This train of thought was counterproductive to opening a café.
My frustration wasn't solely sexual. There was something deeper that had been building since I'd first watched her run this place with such dedicated self-neglect. She gave and gave and gave, to customers, to employees, to strangers who took advantage of her kindness, without ever taking for herself. The woman was exhausting. Infuriating. Captivating.
I moved through the café, setting out clean mugs, arranging pastries Silas had prepared yesterday, but my mind remained on how I would teach Simone to prioritize herself.
Punishment. The word itself sent a thrill through me, not for the pain I could inflict, though that had its own appeal, but for the lesson behind it. For the way her body had responded when I'd spanked her, pleasure blossoming beneath each strike, the freedom she'd seemed to gain when finally permitted to ask for what she wanted.
I considered my options carefully, planning with the same focus I brought to my winter duties. Gentle punishments for minor infractions, making her sit still and drink something hot before working. Forcing her to accept help instead of martyring herself on the altar of customer service. More severeconsequences for larger offenses, like the way she diminished her own achievements or how she hid her exhaustion behind that relentless smile.
I imagined binding her wrists with silk, denying her the ability to serve others, forcing her to simply receive. Pictured her frustration, her struggle, her eventual surrender. The release she'd feel when she finally understood she deserved pleasure without earning it through constant sacrifice.
The café gradually brightened as dawn approached, golden light spilling through frosted windows. I moved to the hearth, igniting it with a casual gesture. Flames leapt to life, crackling and dancing as if greeting an old friend. Fire recognized fire, after all.
I prepared a mug of hot chocolate, dark, rich, spiced with cinnamon and a pinch of cayenne. Simone's preference, though she'd never actually told me. I'd observed her making it for herself on rare occasions when she thought no one was watching. That was the first lesson I would teach her today, to accept something made specifically for her pleasure.
The sun breached the horizon fully, casting long shadows across the café floor. I settled into my usual booth, positioned perfectly to observe the entire space, particularly the door through which she would soon enter.
Somewhere in the city, Simone was waking to find my feather, my note. Was touching her body and remembering my hands, my mouth, my control and deciding how to face me after what we'd shared.
I smiled, let her come and pretend last night meant nothing. I'd seen behind the mask now, tasted the hunger she kept hidden. There would be no going back, only forward into whatever this was becoming between us.
The bells above the door chimed, announcing her arrival, Simone stepped into the café, her curls piled atop her head witha ribbon that matched her dress. The morning light caught her just so, illuminating brown skin that glowed against soft pink fabric, highlighting the exposed curve of her neck where her hair would normally fall, she’d added a pink scarf to chase away the chill. My claws flexed involuntarily at my sides. That neck. I'd tasted it just hours ago, felt her pulse hammer beneath my tongue.
I almost smiled before I caught myself, schooling my features into something more controlled. The sudden urge to soften for her was dangerous, unexpected. I watched as she unwound a scarf from around her throat, revealing more of that delicious skin. My enhanced vision caught what others wouldn't, the faintest shadow of a bruise just below her ear where I'd sucked perhaps too enthusiastically.Mine.
