Hotter Than Hell. Jackie Kessler
looking for action. And I was pretty sure she didn’t recognize me for who I really was.
Excellent. Just what I needed: a little fun to cheer me up.
“My client’s a bummer,” I said, flashing a disarming smile at my new companion. A slit ran down the right side of her dress, starting just beneath her hip and extending all the way down, teasing me with a glimpse of pale thigh. I wondered if she’d squeeze those thighs around me as I pounded her, or if she’d spread them wide as I dove into her secret waters. “All she can think about is her new antilife status. It’s getting me down.”
As if on cue, my client chimed in: “I’m dead.”
The blonde’s slender fingers pressed down on my shoulder, working the muscle. She was getting bolder. Nice. She said, “Your client seems to be in denial.”
“Yup.”
“Why haven’t you brought her to the Abyss?”
“I’m extending the torture.”
Her fingers paused, then continued their dance over the black material of my shirt. “How thoughtful.”
“I’m a caring sort of demon. So what are you doing here, sweetness?” I ate her with my eyes, relishing how my heated gaze brought a blush to her cheeks. “Don’t you have mortals to tempt?”
“I’d rather be here, with you.”
Heh. That wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth. Working for the Pit has been rubbing off on her. I arched a brow. “Really. And what would you rather be doing with me?”
Her smile faltered. After a pause, an idea lit her eyes. Her voice low and laden with meaning, she said, “Maybe you could buy me a drink, and we could talk about that.”
“A drink?” A chuckle burst out of my mouth. Couldn’t help it; she was like something out of A Beginner’s Guide to Seduction, without the obligatory illustrations. “Talk about what we could do? You’re acting like I’m one of your marks. And a stupid one, at that. What am I, sweetness—target practice for your turn with the flesh puppets?”
My laughter obliterated her smile. She straightened her spine and looked down at me, dispassionate. Cold. Her kind always masked their discomfort with disdain. Frigid bitches, the lot of them. She sniffed, this cute little sound of derision. “I’ve been told that practice makes perfect.”
“Good advice.” Still chuckling, I reached over and encircled her waist in my hands, then pulled her onto my lap.
“What are you—”
“Like you said, sweetness, practice makes perfect.” She gasped as I rubbed my crotch against hers. “Time to practice.”
She spluttered, “We’re in public.”
Damn, she was adorable when she was flustered. “I’m sorry, I thought you were a Seducer. My mistake.”
“No, I am…” She took a shaky breath. “I am a Seducer.”
“You sure? You’re acting prissy enough to be one of the Arrogant.”
“I’m dead.”
Fuck me raw. I glared at my client and snarled, “You: shut up.”
She shut up.
“Much better.” I turned my attention back to the blonde, who tensed as I cupped her ass. My voice a purr, I said, “You’re so anxious, sweetness. You’d think you haven’t flirted with anyone before.”
Her cheeks flamed. “That’s not true…”
I nuzzled my face between her breasts, took in her odor of flowers and spice—no perfume here, no false scent covering her core. This was all her. “You’d think,” I said, kissing the curve of her left mound, “you’d never been touched before.”
“I…”
My mouth found her nipple, which was tenting the white silk of her dress. She let out a startled squeak when I kissed it, sounding like a mouse cornered by a tomcat.
Boom boom.
I trailed my tongue over the nub, teasing it with my lips and teeth until she groaned—a full-throated sound, caught between a whimper and a growl. Mmm. I sucked her nipple, and with a cry she leaned back, pushing her flesh against my face, begging me with her body to do more. I squeezed her bottom, then ran my fingers up over her back, her neck, her ear. As she quivered against me, I kissed my way up the swell of her breast, her throat, then slowly licked the line of her jaw.
She was moaning now, her hips dancing in circles over my groin. Going with the moment. Losing herself. Sweet. I nipped her earlobe, then lapped away the sting with my tongue. My fingers left her ear to trail along her neck, her collarbone, then dipped lower to brush over the swells of her breasts just as I kissed the hollow of her throat.
A sudden burst of peppermint overrode the stink of lilacs, and I knew I had her.
Heh.
I whispered in her ear, “You’d think you were an angel pretending to be a succubus.”
She froze.
“And based on how you’re reacting, you’d think you’ve never been fucked. Angels don’t fuck, do they?”
Her quick intake of breath told me my words had touched a nerve. Or maybe that was from me fondling her.
“So what are you, sweetness? An angel playing the part? Or a succubus looking to score? Is your snatch holy, or hungry?” I thrusted against her, dry humping, my rod nearly bursting out of my pants. I’d been told that cherubs taste like gold. I wondered whether her molten gold would rush down my throat, or if I’d have to coax it out of her. Tease her. Tempt it out of her.
“I’m a Seducer,” she stammered. “As the King of Hell decreed.”
“Right, the King.” I kissed her neck, relishing how she squirmed in my lap—she was turned on, on, on, and she was so very afraid. Positively intoxicating. “Brilliant move, replacing all the succubi with one-time angels. Like you could do anything better than a real succubus.”
She tried to wiggle out of my embrace, but I locked my arms around her waist. I said, “Of course, fucking something as holy as you would probably freeze my dick off.”
“You can’t speak to me that way,” she said, shooting me with a glare that was supposed to remind me she had once walked close to God. As if I cared.
“I can do whatever I want to you, Feathers.” I allowed my true form to radiate through my mortal shell for a moment—but that moment was all it took. Her eyes widened as she glimpsed my horns, my eyes, my fangs. The real me. “I’m a first-level incubus. And you’re just a fallen angel with her legs locked at her knees.”
“My lord Daunuan. I…” She took a deep breath, then smoothed her features until she wore a mask of perfect coldness. “I didn’t recognize you, my lord.”
“Never would have guessed. You need to work on your acting, Feathers. Not to mention your pickup lines.”
She sniffed again, a tiny sound brimming with contempt. Impressive. She said, “Don’t call me that.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because it insults me.”
“Aw, poor little cherub. I’ve singed your tail feathers.” I massaged her bottom, squeezing her cheeks, enjoying how firm she was in my hands and how she acted like I’d just stuck a hot poker up her ass. “I’ll rub it and make it feel better.”
Her face could have been chiseled from ice, except for her eyes—they flashed a heat that bordered on hatred. Not that her kind could feel something so negative. The cherubim were all about forgiveness and love. Puke. Who needed love when there was passion?
“Pissed off, Feathers? Sweet.”