Hotter Than Hell. Jackie Kessler

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СКАЧАТЬ mouth to kiss up her jaw, now playing by the lobe of her ear. She squirmed against me, all soft and delicious, delectable, making contented sounds that told me I hit one of her sweet spots. Her hand clenched on my shoulder, then pushed. With a hungry rrrrr she rolled me onto my back, straddled my hips. The hem of her dress rode up, exposing the fullness of her upper thighs, the flash of white satin panties.

      Boom boom.

      “This is different,” I murmured, my hands on her waist.

      “You’re always so good to me, baby.” Her voice was thick with need, her eyes dark and brimming. Leaning down, she poured herself over me to whisper in my ear, “I want to ride you. Now.”

      Maybe I ditched the countdown, but other rules had to stay in place. Clients first, even on D-day. That was ever the rule. So I ignored the ache in my groin and said, “Ladies first, doll.”

      “Don…”

      “Maybe I’ll take the grapes, run them over your naked body. Nibble them off your skin.”

      “I don’t want grapes. I want you.”

      “You got me.”

      “No, I don’t. You never let me do you, bring you there.” She gyrated over my crotch, a slow dry hump that did maddening things to me. “It’s always been about me.”

      “I’m a giving sort of guy,” I said, my voice husky.

      “Your turn, baby,” she said, punctuating her promise with wet kisses down my neck. Her fingers played by my crotch, and over the buzzing in my head and the pounding of my heart, I heard her unzip my fly. “I’m going to love you so fine,” she said, “you’re going to sing my name. I’m going to make you explode.”

      Down she kissed, down my chest, my stomach, my—

      Wa-hoo.

      Okay, maybe the customer was always right…

      In the midst of mind-blowing pleasure, a deafening crash, followed by a man’s shout: “What the fuck are you doing with my wife?”

      Uh-oh.

      Louder than the man’s words, the buzzing screamed its warning in my head.

      Shit.

      Getting interrupted in the middle of sex is bad enough. Worse is when the cause of coitus interruptus is a demon.

      A glance told me all I needed to know: he was obscenely muscled, and his eyes glowed with malefic presence. Definitely not a Seducer; I would’ve felt the psychic connection. Sloth was out of the question. Pride, maybe, or Envy…

      Between my legs, the client was still going to town. Side effect of entrancing the clientele over the course of four Dates: they wound up being a bit one-track minded. Usually it was anything but a problem; at the moment, though, the pleasure was a tad…distracting. Not that I was complaining.

      Because my client didn’t seem to be one to talk with her mouth full, I put on my charming face and said to her husband, “Your wife’s told me so much about you.”

      He roared, a wordless cry of pure rage. Terrific—one of the Berserkers was riding his body. They weren’t exactly known for their reasoning skills. How was I supposed to convince a demon of Wrath that the client was mine? Hell knew I had all the paperwork to prove it…

      The husband cocked back a fist. The flesh burned red, and energy sizzled off his skin.

      Whoops. I grabbed my client by her shoulders and pulled her off of me, then rolled with her to the floor. She landed on top of me, her mouth working like a landed fish. Sandwiched between the wall and the bed, we were trapped. Last Stand at the Sealy Corral.

      From the other side of the bed: “I’ll kill the both of you!”

      The haze of passion began to clear from my client’s eyes. Before the fear took hold, I ran a finger over her brow, pushing a command into her mind. She crumpled on my chest, dead asleep. I nudged her to the ground. Back in a second, doll.

      Far over my head, a bolt of magic slammed into the wall. Smoking plaster fluttered down, singeing my face with tiny kisses. Maybe the man was possessed, but he was also a lousy shot.

      He bellowed, “Think you can sleep with my wife?”

      “Actually,” I called back, “sleeping wasn’t what I had in mind.”

      He screamed his fury, then the wall behind me exploded. I threw myself over the unconscious woman, shielding her from the smoking debris. I’d be blessed if I let another demon claim her. I’d been on her case for a month; she didn’t die until I said so.

      Sometimes, I was as possessive as a Coveter.

      Pieces of the ruined wall crashed on me and around me, covered me in filth and soot. Dust made me sneeze, and sneezing during a fight was both dangerous and rather lame, so I stopped breathing. The stench of smoke lingered in my nostrils. Nice. Reminded me of home. Not including the part about getting buried by a falling wall. The wreckage hadn’t killed me—when I was on a collection, the only thing human about me was my appearance—but getting slammed with it hurt like a bastard. My own fault; I should have known better than to taunt a Berserker.

      Over the sound of the settling rubble, he shouted, “You dead yet, asshole?”

      “Hate to break it to you, chuckles, but you missed.”

      Couldn’t help it. For demons, Berserkers were just so fucking stupid.

      “Seducer!” The man’s voice deepened to that of a constipated buffalo’s bellow. “I’m going to rip you apart!”

      “Some nefarious just talk, talk, talk.” I shot my arm out and leveled a blast overhead. The light fixture overhead shattered, crashed down to the floor. I heard the man jump clear and land heavily in the far end of the room. Recharging my power as the man regained his footing, I reviewed the possibilities. It came down to three options.

      One: I could kill the possessed human.

      No, the paperwork involved in the accidental slaying of a mortal would kill my sex drive for the better part of a decade.

      Two: I could run.

      Hah, as if.

      Three: I could banish the demon, leave the human alive.

      Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. Banishing, sans killing. That meant attacking him directly with my magic was out. And that meant I had to figure out what its weakness was and kick-start the exorcism.

      It occurred to me that priests had other uses besides between-meal snacks. Live and learn.

      The sound of clumping footfalls, along with labored breathing. Some mortals just couldn’t take a hint. I scrambled to the foot of the bed and yanked on the baseboard until I pried the wood free. Shouting to do the banshees proud, I leapt up and hurled the makeshift weapon at the human.

      And…bull’s-eye! The wood splintered against his torso with a satisfying crack. He staggered back three steps, blinked stupidly at the slivers СКАЧАТЬ