Read Online Vampire Food 08: He Smelled Like Peach Pie by Kat Barrett - Free Book Online

then picked up speed to move to somewhere else. Vampire blood was very methodical, always healing the most serious injuries first before it rushed off to repair lesser infractions to her skin. It distracted her momentarily and when she turned her attention to Salt again, he was gone. The door of the cabinet had been loosely closed and she turned her head, looking for Salt. Em couldn’t see him.
    Her body jerked violently forward as he hit her with something. It was not a whip of any kind, something solid with a severe bite that left the skin of her ass on fire. He had Rory’s handcrafted paddle with the layers of teeth that tore and dug into her skin. He hit her again, this time with the smooth leather back. Salt never used a paddle on her. His actions became unpredictable, one strike hard, another soft.
    He wasn’t focusing on any one area, but simply whatever skin seemed to strike his fancy. Using both the smooth leather and carved, sharp tines, he continued to torment her body.
    Em whimpered with each new assault, unsure if she should cry out in pain or revel in the bliss he was creating. Her cunt was flickering back to the point of crisis need, flashing so close to climax that her head lulled back on her shoulders with the solid sensation. With a brutally hard blow to her ass, Salt walked to her side. He went back to the cabinet and put the paddle away. Without choosing something else, he went to window to stand with his back to her and look outside. Her lidded, bleary eyes focused in on the movement of his arm. His hand was down in his crotch, his arm flexing. The son of a bitch was masturbating again. Em snarled, jerking her right hand and then her left. The chains snapped in her frustration and she went down to the stone floor hard on her knees. Salt didn’t turn around as she got to her feet and ripped the bindings from ankles. She was almost to him when he turned around. His hand was resting on the crease of his abdomen, his arm still moving as if he was stroking his cock. Em stopped, glaring at him.
    Salt smiled. “They always warned me that you could do that. I wanted to see it myself.” Bowing his head, in a show of respect, he sauntered up to her.
    Em could feel the fluid in her body boiling with a mixture of pain, arousal, and anger. He had tricked her to prove a point and she had fallen right into his trap. Salt stroked her cheek, his palm cool against her chin. He then flashed downward, grabbed her ankles and flipped her onto the lounger. He leapt onto her, pinning her beneath his body as he kissed her with vehemence in his mouth. “You are a hundred times sexier than Mia. How I want you is insane.”
    The words instantly curbed her anger and it winkled out like an extinguished candle. Em returned his kiss, her tongue hungry for the taste of him. Salt leaned back slightly, caught her gaze, and then kissed her again. Leaning to the side, he stroked her breast for a moment and then as if suddenly impatient to be inside of her, grabbed her thigh and filled her with his cock. Her pussy was so tight with desire that she whimpered against his mouth. Salt moved like a sex-starved teenager, his hips pumping his taut dick in and out of her wetness. Em ground her nails into his shoulders, her pussy so ready for interaction it was gripping his flesh. Salt continued, grunting in enjoyment in a far more realistic tone then he had earlier. Em heard the difference, and knew that he had just been messing with her mind.
    Her fingers sank into the muscles of his back, not breaking the skin, but simply grabbing at the body that she so adored. He moved faster, building into a flash that made her howl with the overwhelming feel of friction it caused. Her head drove back into the lounger, Salt slamming into her before he stopped completely, his body bucking against hers as their climaxes collided.
    He shook his wild mane of hair and then dropped onto her chest, kissing her rampantly as the pulse of her pussy calmed to a warm