Hotter Than Hell. Jackie Kessler

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СКАЧАТЬ heartfelt thanks to…

      John Scognamiglio, the rest of the Zebra gang, and Ethan Ellenberg, for making this book possible.

      Miriam Kriss, for your unbridled enthusiasm.

      Eileen Cruz Coleman, Vibekke Courtney and Dream Forge Media, Magee King, Marie Lu, Diane Nudelman and the Advance Promotions team, and the incredible staff of the Delmar P.O., for their support when I decided to Hit the ROAD.

      Backspace and the CR-RWA, for being terrific author communities.

      Jaci Burton, Rachel Caine, Cathy Clamp, Elaine Cunningham, MaryJanice Davidson, Joe Konrath, Cheyenne McCray, Michelle Rowen, Martha O’Connor, Cornelia Read, and Gena Showalter, for their love of all things Hell.

      Caitlin Kittredge and Richelle Mead, for keeping me sane.

      Renee Barr, who goes above and beyond.

      Heather Brewer, the best critique partner an author could ever hope for.

      Mom and Dad, for cheering me on.

      Ryan and Mason, for being who they are.

      And Brett, who should get a medal for putting up with my mishegas.

PART I

      Chapter 1

      Coitus Interruptus

      Anyone in my position would’ve thought the buzzing in my head was anticipation. Five minutes to go, then the client would be eating from my hand. Literally. I had the grapes ready and waiting in the ice bucket, chilling. She liked it when I let the cluster dangle over her lips—she’d poke out her tongue, sinewy and slick against the ripe fruit, darting pink flesh over purple. Sweetness on sweetness, both begging to be sucked. Plucked. My blood pounded through me, boom boom, boom boom, sending happy signals to my brain and my balls, getting my body primed. T-minus five minutes, and counting. Small talk until then—light touches here, knowing smiles there, lying about her job and mine. Thinking about sex. Killing time.

      So it sort of wasn’t my fault that I didn’t sense the demon approaching.

      The client had moved some things around in the bedroom since my last visit. Now her wedding photo was missing (“Getting it reframed”) and the threadbare pink comforter had been replaced with one that was red and advertised sin. We sprawled on the bed, clothing still on, intentions thick in the air. She was decked out in a white silk sheath and pearls and lacy thigh highs. I was a study of blacks. A bit cliché, but Tall, Dark, and Handsome was all the rage. She liked it, and I aimed to please.

      “I got a new perfume,” my client said. “Envy Me.”

      “I’d prefer to ravish you.”

      Her smile pulled into a grin—white teeth flashing in a lipstick sea of red. “The perfume, I mean. It’s Gucci.” She leaned forward, offering me her neck as she pressed her breasts against my chest, rubbed. Looking for a quick feel through the silk. My kind of woman. She purred, “Like it, baby?”

      Inhaling deeply, I took in the peony and jasmine and other scents blending together with her eager sweat, her underlying smell of female in heat. “Nice,” I lied. Me, I preferred the musk of her sex alone, without the cloying flowery scent over it. “You smell good enough to eat.” No lie there.

      “Yeah?” She was playful, almost kittenish. “You going to…eat me?”

      Heh. Sex kittenish. “Oh, yeah, doll. Eat you alive.” Among other things.

      “My big bad wolf.”

      That made me chuckle. Brushing her hair away from her face, I asked, “You my Little Red Riding Hood?”

      “Depends, baby. You want me to ride you?”

      I smiled, wistful. “Like you would not believe.”

      My head buzzed, hummed as she oozed sex, her body practically begging me to climb on top of her. Soon, doll. Soon. She jiggled against me once more, reached her hand out toward my thigh—stroked once, lushly, then pulled back. She knew the dance by now: only teasing at first, quick-fingered taunts. Nothing overt. Not yet.

      Seduction, after all, had its rules. Date Number One had been all about getting her to kiss me. Number Two had been pleasing her like no other man or woman ever had before. Three had been making her want me more than anything else. (One thing about us Seducers: we always put our clients’ desires ahead of our own. If not for the rules, I would’ve fucked her silly after I introduced myself.)

      Here we were at Date Number Four: D-day, the Big One. Otherwise known as The Payoff. It set my blood to boil just thinking about it.

      But first things first: I had to get her revving—ready, steady, go—on the first real touch. Thus a five-minute warm-up of sexual tension. Seduction 101. Child’s play. And never mind how that single stroke of hers on my leg had rippled up my back, settled into my stomach. I shifted; the front of my pants was too damn tight.

      Sometimes the rules really sucked.

      “Don,” she said, her voice a low purr that went straight to my crotch. That’s all she said: my name, or her version of my name. That’s all she needed to say. Her hand again, now on my stomach. I wagged a no-no-no with my finger as I grinned, thinking about how she’d taste like candy. Thinking about how she’d call my name.

      Mmm. Shivers.

      “I’ve been waiting for this all week,” she whispered.

      “Me too.”

      “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She dropped her gaze to my fly, where she saw just how much I was thinking about her. Her desire filled the air, thick and pungent, as she begged me, “Come on, baby, let’s get started already.”

      But damn, how I wanted to. Oh, the things I wanted to do. Would do. Four minutes—no, less now. Three and counting. I said her name, put just the right amount of foreplay into my voice.

      She looked up at me through her makeup-crusted lashes, slowly ran her tongue over her fuck-me lips. Bedroom eyes; blowjob mouth. Intoxicating. Boom boom, boom boom.

      “Now, baby,” she said, her voice a throaty growl. The woman was giving way to the animal, to the instinct that tingled deep inside her. Giving way to lust. And all with no nudging from me. Sweet. She said again: “Now.” Insistent. Demanding.

      A hum again, this time strong enough to make me sit up. Frowning, I felt the buzz resonate through me, pitched high in warning. No, this wasn’t just anticipation. This was—

      —her mouth on mine, her tongue jabbing through my lips and running against my teeth. My momentary caution faded into bemused surprise. She usually wasn’t so direct, but who gave a damn? Screw the countdown to bliss. She was ready. Steady.

      Go.

      Heat rolled over me, bathed me in fire from head to toe. I opened my mouth to hers, pushed that heat into her. She said, “Mmmmmm,” melted into the kiss like chocolate over flame. I washed my hands over the silk of her body, and the buzzing in my head sputtered, died.

      Oh, doll, СКАЧАТЬ