Dirty Rotten Vampires 1
Hurt Me Good
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A cold heart plus
hot blood sweetens the pain.
Blurb:
Barringer Ganteau
has hunted enough demon-mixed vampires to last a million lifetimes. His wish is
to see all demi-vamps maimed, preferably dead. Single-handedly, he attempts to
vanquish the scourge of mixed breeds from the face of the earth. Then Ringer
meets Armada, a demi-vamp with the power to deliver the kind of pain he desires
and melt his frozen heart.
Armada comes from
Haiti, carrying the exotic heat of the islands and her kind with her. When she
faces a cold-hearted vampire, a being superior to her mixed heritage, she vows
to hate him as much as he hates her. Armada hadn’t reckoned with the vamp’s
ability to use pain to bring out a side of her she had not known existed.
Excerpt:
She’d only learned about the demon blood a
few months ago. Hell, she didn’t want to sprout horns or grow a tail. She had
witnessed firsthand what a diseased demi-vamp looked like when she hunted with
Split. The ragged teeth and yellow skin made her sick.
“Guess I’m not the only one in the room who
kills demi-vamps.”
She spun to catch him watching her from the
doorway. “Fuck you.”
“Please.”
“Oooh! Go to hell.”
“A place more suitable to your kind.” Armada
didn’t grasp the meaning of his glare. Ringer’s voice grew softer. “Come eat, I
cooked.”
“Why when you could fabricate it.”
“Because I like to cook and fabricated
doesn’t taste as good.”
“Probably tastes like shit.”
Red circled his violet eyes. She understood
that look having seen it often when Split became irritated. “You can let me
know; I’ve never tasted shit.” She reached for a vase on the table and lifted
it to hurl at his head. “Can you afford to replace that? I will take it out in
trade.”
“God, I hate you.”
“Living with me is easier once you
understand my rules.”
“I’m not living with you.”
“Yeah, you are.” He strode to stand beside
her seat. “One, don’t throw my shit around; two, eat what I cook or fabricate
your own shit.” He wrapped a curl of her hair around his finger. “Three,
when we fuck, we do it my way or not at all.”
Standing, she walked past him and turned. “I
like not at all.”
“Honey, you’ll be in my bed by nightfall.”
“Doubtful.”
He walked to where she stood. “Linen closet
is at the top of the stairs. You’ll need bedclothes for the sofa.”
“You only have one bedroom?” She glanced
around the space for the first time. Expensive antiques dotted shiny plank wood
floors. The furniture was masculine and in a mix of dark chocolate and red
hues. Large windows remained bare of curtains. Probably a voyeuristic
jackass. The living room was large and bright. Good thing there was no
truth to the fact vampires could only move around at night. Sunlight streamed
in the window. “One bedroom?” From the floor plan, she knew upstairs held more
than a single room, unless, of course, it was a damn large room.
He laughed and looked over his shoulder.
“Only one you can enter.”
“Bastard.”
“Hope you like baked chicken.” He grinned.
“With lots of garlic.”
“I’ll fix a salad.”
She reached the kitchen in time to see him
fork a breast and a thigh onto a plate. He followed the chicken with a large
dollop of mashed potatoes. “Do I look like a salad fixings kind of guy to you?”
“Jesus.” She yanked open the refrigerator
door and peered inside. Closing her eyes, she attempted to bring salad greens
to Barringer’s house. Nothing. She could transport, but that was with Split’s
help, and right now, he seemed absent from her head. One day she’d get the hang
of vampire tricks and be able to use them by herself. Spying an old, spotted
apple, she grabbed it. “This will do.”
“Whatever.” He bit into the meat and chewed
for a minute. That was followed by a big helping of potatoes. After he’d
swallowed the food, he took a sip of white wine. He gazed at her with his head
tilted. “You’re thick enough to miss one meal.”
The apple slammed dead in the center of his
plate sending the chicken flying into his lap and mashed potatoes covering the
front of his shirt.
Chapter Two
Barringer slowly unbuttoned his
shirt as he watched fear take her eyes from red to violet and back. “Come
here.” He compelled her across the kitchen tile. Her sneakers screeched as she
attempted to resist.
“Don’t you…”
“I did warn you about playing with
fire, honey.”
Her bronze skin glistened under the
lights. A strong desire to lick and bite into her neck, to taste her demi-vamp
blood, filled his loins with a need he had not acknowledged for decades.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Would you prefer ma chérie?”
She considered vanishing but
couldn’t without Split’s help. As Armada continued to slide toward him, he
noticed her gaze rested on his nipple rings. Ringer would humor her, let her
believe he thought she could vanish. “Don’t make me chase you through the atmosphere;
you really won’t like it when I drag your ass back here.”
“Please!”
When she stood by his chair, he
turned it, and pulled her across his lap. Yanking down her shorts, he rubbed
her ass cheeks and felt his cock harden. She was a goddamn demi-vamp; why did
he want her so badly? Raising his hand, he delivered a sharp smack to her
buttocks. When she squirmed, he groaned. The smell of her womanhood permeated
his nostrils. Another solid whack made her moan as she gyrated her pelvis
against his crotch.
“So beautiful, honey.” Seeing his
print on her buttocks pulled a spurt of cum from his dick. “You wanted this.” Thwack.
The sound echoed through the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
“Then I’ll stop.”
“Barringer… I… unnhhh.” Her hips
pushed against him.
“Or would you like me to continue?”
He caressed her enflamed skin with his fingertips, rubbed his palm softly
across the reddened cheeks. “Shit, I want to fuck you.” Moving his hand between
her legs, he felt wetness there. “You’re wet.”
“Please, don’t stop.”
“Open your legs
for me.”
Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele
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