Free His Captive Mortal by Renee Rose Page B

I’d get very far, but I must have walked a few blocks before I collapsed. And then a beautiful woman lifted me into her arms as if I weighed no more than a child, and she carried me to her apartment. She asked if I wanted to die, or if I preferred eternal life. I chose eternal life,” he said with a broad grin.
    “Is that true?”
    “Vampires can’t lie.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    “And the only thing that kills you is a stake through the heart?”
    “Not exactly. We heal quickly, so most injuries wouldn’t kill us, but decapitation or some other major injury which might cause us to bleed out before regenerating would. Sunlight, obviously.”
    “Silver bullet? Or no, that’s werewolves, right?”
    He chuckled. “Silver can harm us too, actually. Takes away our strength and burns our skin. Not fatal, but not a friendly element for us, either.”
    Sasha returned to chopping celery, but her eyes remained on him, bright with interest. “Ouch,” she cried, jerking her thumb up to her mouth.
    The smell of her blood reached his hunger-starved brain before any thought. He flashed to her, taking her sliced thumb into his mouth and sucking hard.
     
     
    Sasha yanked her hand out of his mouth, terrified. He’d done his materializing trick, appearing right in front of her with his fangs fully elongated and a look of pure hunger on his face. Not lust this time. He’d looked like a drug addict who needed a fix.
    Without thinking, she drew back her palm and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.
    A look of surprise flickered over his features. He grasped her waist and spun her around, bending her over the kitchen table. His fingers worked the button on her jean shorts. Pulling them down along with her panties, he slapped her ass, harder than she thought possible with just his hand. But then, he had special vampire strength, didn’t he?
    He continued to spank her and every slap stung, making her catch her breath and list from side to side to avoid them. After about twenty, her ass adjusted, heat flooding the area, taking the shock of each new slap away. Now they came as impact, warmth. Dominance.
    Her knees turned weak. Something had to be seriously wrong with her, because she began to welcome each smack, no longer dodging the blows, but lifting her ass to his hand, her breath coming in pants now.
    He stopped and stroked her hot skin. “You will never, ever lift your hand to me again.”
    “I’m sorry,” she muttered. She meant it this time. She remembered now that his saliva sealed the cut. He’d probably just been trying to help and she’d over-reacted again. And she definitely should not have struck him. A dumb move. Who slaps a vampire? She gave a prayer of thanks that her vampire preferred kink over violence when it came to retribution.
    Charlie put a hand in the middle of her back and pushed her belly down on the table. Sliding his hand between her legs, he pried her lips apart and outward with his thumb and forefinger, exposing her pussy to his view. She heard him inhale deeply.
    “Somebody is turned on,” he remarked.
    “No, I’m not,” she bit out too quickly to sound convincing.
    He covered her hand on the table with his own and dragged it down, past the edge of the table, threading it between her legs, from the front. He pushed both her fingers and his own against her slit, moving them up and down across her slippery folds. “Keep your fingers here,” he murmured in her ear.
    Her pussy was wet, the tissue swollen with need. Every thrust of her fingers sent zings of pleasure rippling through her body.
    He drew his hand away and she instantly missed it. Fingering herself was not so exciting as having someone else guide the motion. A sharp slap landed on her tingling ass, then another. She drew in her breath, dizzy. Charlie began to spank her again, at a slower tempo. With the next slap, she shoved her fingers inside her pussy, almost involuntarily, as if they knew that’s where they