Grave Hauntings: Where Sexy and Sinful Meets Dark and Chilling

by Parkerson, Charity

  She almost giggled when he began to spank her with the flat of his hand, her relief at not becoming vamp-food so immediate. But then, he might be just getting his jollies before he bit her vein. As this new fear set in, she struggled against his hold, but his arm around her waist was like steel. Well, duh--he probably had superhuman strength.

  He began to strike harder and she wriggled against the sting, though it was thankfully muffled by her jeans. In some bizarre coping mechanism, she began to count the slaps. By thirty-five, her butt was on fire, the pain growing exponentially with each new smack.

  “Ow! Stop it!” she protested, but he continued to punish her without answering.

  The absurdity of laying over a vampire’s lap for a spanking struck her and she began to giggle out loud, her shock and stress coming out in a rush of sobbing laughs.

  He stopped and she sagged in relief, thinking it was over only to realize his hand was at the button of her jeans. He hauled her to her feet and held her legs, looking up into her eyes. The fury was gone from his expression and the fangs had receded. Now he held only amused, if not arrogant command. “Pull down your pants.”

  He must not have used the glamour, because she did not feel the odd pulling sensation. “What?” she cried in outrage. “No way!”

  The corner of his lips lifted and he unbuttoned them for her, shoving her hands away and slowly pulling both her jeans and her panties down. She tried to catch them, twisting her hips to and fro, but he gave one yank and they arrived mid-thigh, her lady parts clearly exposed to his satisfied gaze. She held her shirt down, trying to cover her bare cleft as she stood in the humiliating position. Her legs trembled and she cast her mind about for any ideas about how to escape this obviously deranged creature.

  “Defiance will earn you extra punishment, my dear,” he said with the same predatory smile he’d given when she’d been ready to run out on the street. As if he were a cat and she was his mouse. Oh yes, do run, little witchling. I so love a good chase. She realized he was just playing with his food.

  A fresh wave of terror flooded her as he picked up the wooden dowel with which she’d tried to kill him and bent her back over his knee. One smack and she howled, wishing she’d never pulled it from the wall-hanging. She twisted, trying to cover her naked ass with her hand, but he caught her wrist and bent her arm behind her back. He began to spank her in earnest with the implement.

  “Ooomph. Ow!” she yelped, squeezing her eyes shut. The stake stung on her bare flesh. She kicked her legs, which made him chuckle. He beat a steady rhythm, as if the dowel were a drumstick and her flinching bottom were the drum. “Ooh. Ouch! Stop it!”

  “You’re getting a spanking, my dear,” he said. “You’ve earned it. There’s nothing you can do to stop it now.”

  On and on he spanked while she bobbed and wriggled to no avail. Her entire bottom blazing and certain she couldn’t take any more, she cried, “All right! All right, vampire...I’m sorry.”

  ***

  “Ah,” he said, pausing in his assault on her lovely cheeks, then giving her three more spanks in quick succession. “Magic words. Say it like you mean it,” he purred. The pleasure of having a lovely girl over his knee sent the familiar sense of arousal and power coursing through his body. His momentary irritation with her attempt on his life had long since been eclipsed by the enjoyment of bringing her to heel.

  “I--I’m sorry, vampire,” she cried in a rush, obviously reaching the limits of her pain threshold. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you with a stake. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

  He chuckled and gave her another swift volley of spanks. “I’m not sure I believe you.” He had delivered a sound spanking by this point, and the hue of her firm, round buttocks had turned from pink to plum. He was surprised, but not disappointed, she had not shed any tears yet. For him the pleasure was not in breaking a girl, but in the dance of taming her. He preferred a woman with pluck, and clearly this one had taken her cues from Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.

  “Owww,” she whined. “Please, vampire. I’m sorry.” She still sounded more pissed off than sorry, but he stopped anyway. He had proven his point.

  He broke off the sharp tip of the wooden stake, then snapped the length in half, dropping the pieces on the floor. “That’s probably the best you can give me for now,” he mused, running a cool hand over her bare cheeks, the heat delicious. As he continued to make lazy circles over her swollen bottom, his cock, already hard from spanking her, twitched against her hip.

  She stiffened.

  “No, little witch,” he said, lifting her to stand and pulling her jeans and panties up as she winced and tried to rub. He batted her hands away and guided her onto his lap. “That’s not what I want from you.”

  She squirmed, her bottom obviously too chafed to be comfortable on his hard thighs, but he held her firmly in place. Her hand slid to cover the alluring artery at her throat.

  “I didn’t come for that, either.”

  “Why are you here?” she demanded.

  “For your magic, my dear.”

  A look of confusion shadowed her youthful face. “I don’t have any magic.”

  “Ah, but you do, and it is quite powerful. Your protection spell out there dazzled. I’ll need you to learn to use your skill, because there’s a curse that needs undoing.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t help you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her expression held defiance, but he detected a look of panic beneath it.

  He stroked a wisp of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I need your power, witchling. You may not even realize you have it, but you do, and I’m not going to leave you alone until you’ve solved my dilemma.”

  She began to blink rapidly, her chest moving rapidly with shallow breaths.

  “Ah,” he said, softening his expression. “There are the tears.”

  “I’m not crying!” she glared but her brave expression crumpled, and a choked sob erupted from her throat.

  He didn’t want her to break. Though he knew comfort from him would not be welcome, he pulled her against his chest, tucking her head in against his neck and stroking her back like a kitten. She smelled fresh and sweet, like wild strawberries.

  She wrestled against his embrace but he held her fast, not allowing her to pull away.

  She gave up her struggle and surprised him by letting out one giggle and then another, though he could smell the salt of her tears. “And I can’t believe you spanked me!”

  He smirked. “Yes, I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to ladies. I come from a different era.”

  She laughed again. “No, I mean, I tried to kill you with a wooden stake, and you pulled down my panties and spanked me.”

  He chuckled. “Well, you were afraid when you went Buffy on me,” he said, thumbing the moisture from her lovely cheeks. “I can’t really blame you for that, can I?”

  She studied him with big brown eyes flecked with gold, her copper-colored hair falling in her face again. This girl was special--even if he hadn’t seen the bubble of light she’d cast on the street, he could feel it now in her presence. He hoped he could get her to cooperate, because it would be a shame to have to truly frighten her. He cupped her cheek, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. “Lovely mortal. Sasha, was it?”

  She didn’t pull away from his touch, reading him with the same amount of attention he paid her. “Yes. So what era are you from?”

  “I was turned in 1825.”

  “Turned to vampire?”

  He nodded.

  A tiny shudder ran through her, but she continued to regard him boldly. She reached out and touched his side burns, sending a tiny shock of electricity through him. “Hence the pork chops?”

  He caught the little hand touching his face and turned it over, his gaze inexorably drawn to the blue vein at her wrist. She noticed and snatched it back, holding it against her chest as she eyed him, warily.

  “I’m not going to drain you and I’m not going
to turn you, but I do require your full cooperation.” He put a finger under her chin. “Can you give that to me, Sasha?”

  She lifted her chin, but he saw fear in her quick swallow. “What happens if I say no?” she asked defiantly.

  “Nobody tells me no. You belong to me now. You’ll win your freedom when you’ve figured out how to rid me of my curse.”

  ***

  Being given a bare-bottomed spanking by a vampire was surreal enough. Being told she would not be rid of him until she performed magic--which she didn’t have the first idea how to do--chilled her to her toes. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her thudding heart.

  He lifted her up off his lap. “How about making me a snack?”

  Unfortunately, being frightened only made her snappish. “Why don’t you make your own snack?” she demanded.

  He yanked her back down on his lap and tugged her head back by her hair, his fangs lengthening as he stared at her exposed neck. “Shall I?” he asked.

  She made an incoherent sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

  He lowered his long fangs toward her carotid artery. “Shall I choose my own snack, little witchling? Or will you make me something from your kitchen?” He spoke with the satisfied purr of a man who knows exactly what answer she will give.

  “I’ll make it,” she choked out.

  He released her hair and helped her back to stand. “Thank you.”

  She walked away, practically panting to catch her breath, her legs trembling. “I didn’t think vampires ate food,” she said, falling flat in her attempt to sound unaffected.

  “We don’t have to,” he said in a bored tone. She didn’t turn around, but she pictured him examining his fingernails. “But we can. I certainly prefer blood.”

  She shuddered.

  As if he sensed her fear, he said, “Sasha...if you behave yourself and do what I ask, I won’t even hurt you.”

  It had been nice until the even hurt you. Like hurting her would be the norm. She did not give him the satisfaction of an answer. She opened her refrigerator and looked inside. She didn’t have much. Living alone made her a lazy cook, although she did like to prepare food for others.

  “Master, what shall I cook thee?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Be careful, love, or I’ll punish you again and I promise this time it won’t make you laugh.”

  Her bottom seemed to tingle in response, the warmth traveling even lower, to her sex. What was wrong with her that the idea of being punished by the sexy vampire turned her on? She closed the refrigerator door and fished a box of graham crackers from her cupboard, along with a jar of peanut butter and the bottle of chocolate syrup. Pulling out a plate, she arranged eight crackers on it, then spread each one with peanut butter and drizzled chocolate over the top.

  She carried the plate back and handed it to the vampire.

  He raised his eyebrows and looked doubtful. “What is this?”

  “It’s my version of s’mores,” she said.

  His lip curled.

  “Just try one. They’re tasty.”

  She picked a square up and held it to his lips, her heart skipping at the boldness of the gesture. “I promise I didn’t poison them with roasted garlic spread or anything.”

  His lips twitched in amusement and he opened his mouth a crack, as if only to let the tiniest bit of food in. Nibbling a corner, he looked up as he sampled the treat. “Not bad,” he said, taking the cracker from her hand and accepting the plate. “I guess I won’t make you crawl around on your hands and knees and lick my hand.”

  Her jaw dropped and she didn’t know whether to laugh or kick him in the shin. “I beg your pardon?”

  “My dear witchling, I have many ways of punishing you, and all of them involve your humiliation.”

  She stifled a shiver, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze.

  “If you would like to sit at my feet, I always enjoy subservience, but you are also welcome to sit beside me.”

  She time she did laugh, catching his smirk. She plopped beside him and made a show of snatching one of the crackers from the plate on his lap.

  She bit into the cracker and watched him chew, studying his beautiful face. A pierced eyebrow and multiple studs up his earlobes roughened the look, but he had a Hollywood mug with the firm jaw, blue eyes and sensual lips. He wore a black t-shirt, fitted snugly over a muscled chest, faded blue jeans and Converse sneakers, looking every inch the part of twenty-something mortal hipster. A very sexy hipster.

  When she finished her cracker, she reached for another one, but he slapped her hand, holding the plate away.

  She made a sound of outrage and he grinned.

  “Say please.”

  “They’re my crackers!”

  “Are they?” he challenged, the emerald eyes connecting with hers in a stare-down she could not win.

  She blew out her breath and looked away. “Nevermind.”

  He crossed one long leg over the other. “You see, there’s a pecking order here, love. The sooner you learn it, the easier things will go between us.”

  “Go to hell,” she muttered, pushing to stand up.

  He picked her up and plopped her onto his lap. “I am your hell, sweetheart. Believe it, witchling.”

  His words would have irritated her more, except she knew he spoke them to purposely get a rise out of her, so she rewarded him with a roll of her eyes. But his continued belief in her witchiness concerned her. “Listen,” she said, hoping this time he might believe her. “I’m not a witch. I don’t know anything about curses, or magic. Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t.”

  He reached out and wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb, turning it around to show her the chocolate syrup she had sported before he popped it in his mouth to suck it off. Her nipples tightened as she considered the effect of those lips sucking parts of her body. As if he could see through her clothing, his eyes traveled down to her breasts then back to her face, a smug look on his face. “I believe you don’t know or understand your abilities,” he said. “But I will help you get up to speed.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged and offered the plate of crackers. As she reached for one, he said, “Say please.”

  She huffed. “Please?”

  He grinned. “You see? That wasn’t so hard.” He offered the plate. Returning to their discussion, he said, “I’m not sure yet. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around a witch. But you have so much natural power, it can’t be that hard.”

  “What is the curse?”

  His expression hardened, a dark anger evident in the set of his jaw. “You’ll know when the time comes,” he said stiffly.

  She shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Okay. Look, it’s way past my bedtime. I know you’re nocturnal, but I need my sleep or I get very crabby. So...ah, are you going to let me go to bed?”

  He gave a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you’re realizing who is master here.”

  “Alone?” she clarified, catching a glint in his eye.

  He lifted her to stand and rose. Grasping her jaw, he tilted her face up to his.

  She stiffened, eyeing his fangs as they lowered, his heavy-lidded gaze mesmerizing. He merely brushed his soft lips across hers, kissing her as if they’d just ended a first date, rather than the bizarre exchange of attempted murder, spanking and...what? Kidnapping? Claiming? No words described her position. She couldn’t move, frozen under his light caress, smelling the sweet chocolate on his breath.

  He gazed at her. “Sasha.” He said her name as if committing it to memory. “Lovely little witch.”

  And then he dematerialized, leaving her standing alone in her living room, her heart beating in an irregular pattern.

  “Wait,” she said, although she knew he was already gone. “I don’t even know your name…”

  About Darling Adams

  Darling Adams is a naughty author who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance/submission and power exchanges. She also writes spanking
romance under the name Renee Rose.

  To read more about Sasha and the vampire, check out Loose Morals.

  Also by Darling Adams

  If you liked A Pecking Order, be sure to check out Yes, Doctor.

  Find Yes, Doctor (US or UK) and view Darling Adam’s author page.

  For more from Darling Adams

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  In Heat

  by Suzy Ayers

  Sitting at the table with wet-ringed watermarks, no one ever cleaned in this dive. Alexis tapped her long, red nails impatiently. The loud harshly lit bar was coated in a heavy blanket of smoke. The floor was littered with endless: cocktail napkins, plastic wrap from the top of cigarette boxes, cigarette butts and the occasional condom.

  Her eyes narrowed and grazed around this tiny wooden box called a bar. She let a sharp exhale escape her parted lips and abruptly went to the ladies room. Eyes flinched, heads turned—all of this she was used to and dismissed it. As she pushed open the flimsy wooden door, the rank smell of the bathroom caused her to crinkle her nose and want to hold her breath. It was a mixture of: vomit, standing urine, cheap perfume, sex and female menstruation.

  Sexual hunger was swelling within her and she growled when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were a deep lilac, which many mistook for contacts. She wiped the corners of her mouth with the pads of her index and thumb, careful not to disturb her shockingly red lipstick, which matched her nails.

  She adjusted her little black dress with a sweetheart neckline. It cast a lovely shape over her ample chest. She tussled her curly auburn hair and rushed out of the putrid bathroom. Walking past the jukebox and peered into it, wishing there was more than the sappy old country love songs spilling from it.

  She’d all but lost hope for her date. But his woodsy scent was strong...she could smell him, as the front door swung open. A ripple of sexual frustration cascaded over her. Alexis’ body fought between a flush and a shiver. She drew in the light gasp and toyed with her bare neck, scratching at her naked flesh lightly.