by Amy Faye
Vampire Daddy
Paranormal Romance
Amy Faye
Published by Heartthrob Publishing
If you want news about new novel releases, you can sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cmQY05
Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…
“Are you feeling comfortable?” The engine turns off. The lights stay up for a moment, until he presses a knob. The lights die.
“Why? What were you hoping to do to me?”
His eyes narrow in the dark, barely illuminated by a far-away streetlight. “I think you know.”
“Why don’t you show me?”
He smiles and leans across the car. His hand reaches past me, and there’s a click, and the seat falls away below me until I’m almost laid out flat.
“Comfortable now?”
I stare into his eyes. “I’ve been a bad girl,” I say.
“Yeah? You want to be punished? Is that it?”
“Oh, you know I do,” I say softly. “Are you going to punish me?”
“I guess I have to.” He unbuckles himself from the seat. “Turn over.”
I do what I’m told. He doesn’t need to use his mind-tricks on me for this. I’m more than comfortable doing it myself. Then his hand comes down on my ass.
It makes a loud pop and a shiver runs up my spine, as the pain blossoms outward. Then he does it again, and I start to lose my focus a little bit as I start to get too into the sensations in my skin.
“Back over,” he says, easing his seat back away from the wheel and lets himself recline back, same as I was.
“Why? Is there another punishment you’ve got in mind?”
“That’s right,” he says. His jaw is tight as he looks at me. I can see the muscles of his mouth flexing as his jaw clenches itself tight again.
“What do you want from me?”
“Can you suck a cock?”
I don’t bother to answer that question. Instead I just lean over and pull his manhood out of his pants and take it between my lips. I can hear his breath go out, low and rough and ragged and slow.
How’s that, I ask him silently in my mind.
“That’s good,” he says. The timing seems impossible, but he says it so absent-mindedly that it must be a coincidence.
I bob my head and suck hard. If this is all that happens then it’s a good night, by my standards. He’s got a good cock, big enough that it’s a little uncomfortable to fit my lips around it. But the sound of his satisfaction is enough to please me, too.
But it’s not all that happens. He pulls me off, breathing hard.
“Climb on up,” he says. It’s a brief trial of legs and shifter knobs before I’m kneeling over him. Maybe I should have worn panties, but I didn’t. Which means that it’s easy to hitch my skirt up a little and reach down, guide him to my entrance, and then settle my weight down on top of him.
If you want news about new novel releases, you can sign up for my mailing list here: http://eepurl.com/cmQY05
One
Don’t talk to strangers.
My mother always used to tell me that. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to avoid talking to strangers. Maybe it was for my own safety. But that didn’t matter much to me that night. Maybe I wanted a little danger. Maybe I wanted a little taboo.
There were a thousand other things that I should have learned before I went out into the world. Things like don’t be attracted to older men, for example.
But the man in front of me has light green eyes and an impassive expression. Like he’s waiting for something from me. Something that he’s expecting. And I’m more than ready to meet those expectations, whatever they are.
There might be some psychological thing in it. Maybe it’s got to do with my own home life and whatever. I could see a shrink about it and whatever. But the sex is too fucking hot to want to. This guy is different, though.
The relationship between me and the men I meet at places like this is a simple one. I get their cock, I have a good time, and I get to play to my fantasies.
They get a good catch. A girl they could probably never have landed at my age. That’s the give-and-take. I have my fun and walk away, and they think that they got away with something.
This guy, though, could have landed me any time. If anything, it feels like he’s the one slumming sitting here at the table, leaning in. He takes another drink from his amber-colored glass. Then he seems to think better of it, and upends the thing, swallowing the second half of the glass in one long pull.
“What do you say we get out of here?”
I smile and raise an eyebrow. “I thought you would never ask.”
“I’m not asking,” he says, his hand on my wrist. His thumb presses into my skin and I feel a shiver run down my spine. “Not really.”
“Then what?”
“You’re coming with me. It’s just whether we do it the easy way, or the hard way.”
I can feel my teeth clicking together, my jaw naturally jutting off to the side. “What’s the hard way?”
He smiles. “I hoped you’d say that.”
I never caught the man’s name, but he moves across the table. His hands have a chill against my skin, but it just makes me feel as if I’m burning. His lips find my throat and he presses a kiss just below my earlobe.
“You’re coming.”
I laugh a little. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
But then my body starts to move on its own, and I realize that maybe he isn’t going to have to do better than that. I stand up, and take a step. His hand falls on my ass in a hard, loud, sharp slap that sounds through the whole bar. I wonder if anyone looked up, but I can’t turn my head. My body moves on its own.
“What did you do to me?”
He walks beside me, drawing my arm up in the crook of his elbow. “Just a little encouragement, is all,” he says. But the grin on his face says something else entirely.
“God, this is hot.” I don’t know why I said it; I do know, though, that I agree with the statement. I want this to keep happening, in spite of how bad an idea it all is.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he says softly. “Trust me.”
He takes me out to a car that barely comes up as high as my breasts, which marks it as a sports car, and the smooth lines mark it as something European. I get into the passenger seat without really wanting to. Not that I wanted not to. But testing my mind against the bounds of its prison, I find that there’s no give at all. I naturally slip into the car.
He puts the key into the ignition and turns it. The car growls, barely muffled enough that the sound doesn’t hurt my ears. Then he jams the shifter into reverse and the car moves as if it were an extension of the driver, never making a noise any different than idling and it still moves out of its spot a little too fast.
“How are you feeling?”
The question surprises me. He sounds almost conversational when he asks it, as if he didn’t need to raise his voice in the least bit to be heard. With a start I realize that he didn’t.
“What did you do to me?”
His lips twist into a hard smile, but he doesn’t look away from the road. “I just encouraged you to do what you already wanted to.”
“Is that some hypnotist thing? Are you a hypnotist?”
That draws a laugh. A full, rich, laugh. Then his fingers flex on the wheel as he calms down. “Not exactly,” he says. “This place looks good.”
The car pulls over on the side of the road, into a pull-off. I shiver looking at him. The headlights illuminate a park that looks as if it had never been used. Then again, in this weather, nobody would use it.
&nbs
p; “Are you feeling comfortable?” The engine turns off. The lights stay up for a moment, until he presses a knob. The lights die.
“Why? What were you hoping to do to me?”
His eyes narrow in the dark, barely illuminated by a far-away streetlight. “I think you know.”
“Why don’t you show me?”
He smiles and leans across the car. His hand reaches past me, and there’s a click, and the seat falls away below me until I’m almost laid out flat.
“Comfortable now?”
I stare into his eyes. “I’ve been a bad girl,” I say.
“Yeah? You want to be punished? Is that it?”
“Oh, you know I do,” I say softly. “Are you going to punish me?”
“I guess I have to.” He unbuckles himself from the seat. “Turn over.”
I do what I’m told. He doesn’t need to use his mind-tricks on me for this. I’m more than comfortable doing it myself. Then his hand comes down on my ass.
It makes a loud pop and a shiver runs up my spine, as the pain blossoms outward. Then he does it again, and I start to lose my focus a little bit as I start to get too into the sensations in my skin.
“Back over,” he says, easing his seat back away from the wheel and lets himself recline back, same as I was.
“Why? Is there another punishment you’ve got in mind?”
“That’s right,” he says. His jaw is tight as he looks at me. I can see the muscles of his mouth flexing as his jaw clenches itself tight again.
“What do you want from me?”
“Can you suck a cock?”
I don’t bother to answer that question. Instead I just lean over and pull his manhood out of his pants and take it between my lips. I can hear his breath go out, low and rough and ragged and slow.
How’s that, I ask him silently in my mind.
“That’s good,” he says. The timing seems impossible, but he says it so absent-mindedly that it must be a coincidence.
I bob my head and suck hard. If this is all that happens then it’s a good night, by my standards. He’s got a good cock, big enough that it’s a little uncomfortable to fit my lips around it. But the sound of his satisfaction is enough to please me, too.
But it’s not all that happens. He pulls me off, breathing hard.
“Climb on up,” he says. It’s a brief trial of legs and shifter knobs before I’m kneeling over him. Maybe I should have worn panties, but I didn’t. Which means that it’s easy to hitch my skirt up a little and reach down, guide him to my entrance, and then settle my weight down on top of him.
He fills me up more than I can remember in a long time. Dear God, almighty, I didn’t realize how badly I had wanted this. He pulls me in for a kiss and I lower my shoulders until our lips come together. My hips, though, lift up just a little bit before I let them slip back down.
I keep them moving, slow and long movements at first. It builds up in my gut as his lips find my neck. My hips don’t keep moving slowly for long. They move automatically, now, hammering up and down. I can feel myself starting to lose my focus, my mind starting to go blank.
His lips feel so good on my throat. His cock feels so good inside me, every thrust hitting me in just the right spot. Every movement seems perfect. His teeth bite into my neck, hard. That feels good, too. Driving everything together, hard, and my body starts to rack itself as I have what feels like the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had.
Two
I don’t know what happened after I passed out in his passenger seat. I don’t know what it was that made me fall asleep, either. Just that I did, and that I didn’t mind nearly as much as maybe I should have. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve never been accused of having a strong sense of self-preservation.
When my eyes finally did open, I wasn’t in the worst position I’ve ever been in. I could have been in all kinds of trouble. I could have found myself lying on the side of the road, for example. There are all kinds of horror stories about girls having that happen to them. And right after picking up some anonymous stranger? It’s practically guaranteed.
But I didn’t find myself in that situation. I didn’t find myself in a strange bed, either. Not even tied up? Things could have gone way, way worse for me. I don’t even think things went all that badly, considering.
No, the first thought that occurs to me as I wake up is that I’ve never seen the inside of a private jet before.
I’m aware of them. I’ve seen pictures of the outside of private jets on television, and I’ve seen interiors that are more than likely just sets on a sound stage. It would be too expensive to actually charter a private jet whenever you needed footage, after all.
So the fact that the interior was nothing like I expected wasn’t completely surprising, but it was a little bit interesting. A little bit different.
“Where am I?”
There was no immediate answer. Then the seat beside mine turned and shifted. A man sat in it. The man I met last night.
“You’re awake,” he said. Like he was a little bit surprised, but pleasantly. “I was worried that we were going to lose you, and then we’d have to dump the body.”
He smiled at me, a pleasant twinkle in his eyes. But there was no hint that what he was saying was in any way a joke. He would have had to dump my body, and it would have been unpleasant, but not outside the realm of possibility. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
“Where am I?” I don’t like repeating questions, but maybe I just imagined asking the first time.
“You’re on an airplane,” he says. The tone in his voice is as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Heading to where?”
“Heading home.” That’s not helpful, either, I think.
“I don’t usually need a plane ride to get home.”
“Not your home.”
I shiver. “You’re not taking me home?”
“I am.” I’m getting frustrated by these circles that he’s walking me in, but I try to keep myself as calm as possible.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“You’re coming home with me.”
“You didn’t think to ask me?”
“No,” he says. It’s not that the idea hadn’t occurred to him, though. That’s evidenced in his tone. “I didn’t think that it mattered what you thought.”
I shivered. “If that’s how it’s going to be, then…”
“Do you want me to ask you whether or not you want to be here?”
“Yes!” I stand up and pace down the length of the compartment that we’re in. It’s not small. There’s more than enough room to stand and walk around.
“Alright, then. Sit down.” I want to keep walking, but I sit down. He told me to, after all. “You want to come with me, don’t you?”
No, I think. My mind fights against a fog that descends over it. My mouth opens. “Yes.”
“See? You wanted to come along after all, I guess. You’re right. I should have asked sooner. But you were asleep, you see.”
“What did you just do to me?”
“I told you before. I just encouraged you. That’s all.”
“No, you made me say that. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t like it.”
“I didn’t ask you to like it.” He lets out a breath and stands up. “I’m going to get something to drink. Do you have a preference?”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You will be. Now, do you have a preference?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Something natural, maybe. Do you like juice? I could get you a glass of juice. We’ve got plenty.”
“Do you have any soda?”
“No,” he says. His face twists into a frown. “No, you won’t be poisoning your body with that sort of thing any more. It’ll be something natural. If you’re craving sweets, then I can get you apple juice.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I know you did. So don’t try to play coy, H
ailey.”
“How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot of things. But first, tell me. What to drink?”
I take a deep breath, close my eyes. “Fine. Surprise me.”
“Good girl. You’re already learning. Sooner or later, you’re going to stop fighting it, and then we’re going to have a great time, you and I.”
Don’t get your hopes up, I think. But I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
“You can think whatever you want to think, for now,” he says softly. “I’m not interested in a puppet, after all. That’s boring. Oh, at first, it seems like it’s going to be very interesting. But eventually… eventually, everyone realizes that they really want a real person in there, somewhere. Someone who talks back. Someone who thinks and breathes and reacts. Otherwise you’re just playing with dolls.”
“What?”
“You’re still not really understanding.” He comes back with a glass. The liquid inside is bright pink. “And I don’t mind that.”
“You could just explain what’s going on.”
“I could,” he says. “But you have to understand. I’ve been doing this a very long time, and the first thing that I learned is that explaining doesn’t help. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. So I don’t talk about it.”
His own glass is filled with something dark and oily. It leaves a thick residue on the side of the glass. A red residue. It has a strong smell, but not one that I immediately recognize. He takes a drink from it, and lets out a satisfied sigh.
“So, where are we going, then? Your home, but where’s that?”
“Oh, we’re not going straight there.”
“No?”
“No airport. We’re going to be in for a few different modes of transport. It’s why I’ve got you in comfortable clothes.”
For the first time I look down and realize that I’m not wearing the same clothes that I wore yesterday. Everything else had been so surreal that I didn’t bother to try to examine my clothes.
“You changed my clothes?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t think that you’d want to be on the road for twelve hours in a skintight bodycon and a pair of fuck-me pumps.”