The Road to Hell

by Jackie Kessler

  "The truth," I said coldly, "is that I did what I had to do to rescue him."

  "Right," he said, staring at me from across the room. "So my touch means nothing to you now."

  Invisible fingers slid down my shirt, cradled my left breast. Tingles ran up the backs of my legs as those fingers danced over my curves.

  Swallowing thickly, I whispered, "Stop that."

  "Stop what?"

  The hand moved down, touched me between my legs, pressed. I gasped, rocked my hips as those fingers stroked my nub. "That," I panted. "Stop that."

  A finger slipped inside me, flicked my core. I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I came.

  "Stopped," Daun said, licking his finger. "Sticky sweet."

  Fuck. My panties were completely soaked. "You are such a bastard."

  Invisible fingers pinched my ass. I squealed, jumping about a foot in the air.

  "Smile when you say that, babes."

  "Here we go," Paul said as he walked up the hall, holding a bottle of over-the-counter relief. "It's the evil green liquid, I forgot to buy the caplets…" He stopped, looked first at me, then at Daun, who was still sucking his finger. "Did I miss something?"

  "Nothing important," I said, flaying Daun from head to hoof with my gaze.

  "Not on the level of, say, the Announcement," Daun said between sucks.

  Paul looked at me. "Announcement?"

  Daun smiled.

  I took a deep breath. "Sweetie, I can't tell you. It was from before, and it's officially filed under Off Limits. I'm sorry."

  "You had to be there," Daun said. "It was the biggest thing Hell had ever seen."

  "Daun, stop being such a dick."

  The smile morphed into something evil. "You want me to be a dick, Jez? Just say the word."

  Hooboy.

  "It's okay, Jesse," Paul said, emphasizing the name. "You can't tell me. I got it. I'm okay with that."

  I could have slurped him up like hot chocolate. "Really?"

  He cast Daun an unreadable look. "How's it go? There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy."

  "You're murdering Shakespeare," Daun said.

  "And yet, somehow, I'm able to live with myself." Paul stared hard at the incubus. "Jesse can't tell me some things about her past. I'm okay with that. Hell, I'm okay with her wanting to keep on dancing."

  "Really?" I said, stunned. "But I thought…"

  He turned to face me. "I don't like other guys seeing you naked and fantasizing about sleeping with you. But if that's what you want to do, if that's what makes you happy, then I'll come to grips with it. I don't have to like it, but I'll deal." He shrugged. "Could be worse. I'm just glad you changed careers in the first place."

  I ran up to him and squeezed him until I heard his bones creak. "I love you, you big goof."

  He embraced me, held me tight. "I love you too, Jess."

  "Excuse me while I vomit from all the love in the air," Daun said, then proceeded to make puking sounds.

  I ignored the incubus. "Sweetie, I don't want to make you unhappy. If my dancing really bothers you that much, I'll stop."

  "We'll talk about it later," he said.

  "I know," Angel said, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the stereo. "You can teach other angels how to be seductive!"

  I stared at her. "Say what?"

  "You know, for those of us stuck being Seducers. Damn me, what do angels know about seduction? It's a. It's a. You know."

  I said, "A sin?"

  She snapped her fingers. "Exactly. A sin. We're not supposed to do sin. But now we do. And we're terrible at it."

  "She's right," Daun said. "They are."

  "So you could teach us!" Angel's eyes lit with passion.

  "Brilliant idea. Here," Paul said, handing her a capful of evil green liquid. "Why don't you toast Jesse's new career move?"

  "Ooh, green," she said. "Pretty. Like Jesse Harris's eyes." She quaffed the medicine, then gagged. "Damn me, what is that? It's horrible!"

  "It'll help you sober up," Paul said. "Maybe."

  "We hope," I said.

  "Blech." She wiped her tongue on her arm. "Look, Jesse Harris. I'm like you kissing."

  I blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "She sticks her tongue out when she kisses me," she confided to Paul. "It's sort of disgusting. But I didn't tell her that. You know. Didn't want to hurt her feelings."

  Paul and Daun both stared at me. I said, "What? I was proving a point."

  The two males exchanged a look.

  "I don't want to know," Paul said.

  "I do. You sucked face with the angel here, and you didn't tell me? Babes, I would have paid good money to see that. I would have forfeited a week's soul quota to see that. You and the angel? Really?"

  "She said I tasted like gold," Angel said, then hiccoughed.

  "So, what does gold taste like?" Paul asked me.

  I shrugged. "Angels."

  "She'd be such a good teacher," Angel said, yawning. "Except for the kissing part." Then she snuggled against Paul and fell asleep. Even her snores were gorgeous.

  I sighed. For an utter bitch, she was sort of cute. Like a puppy. A baby hellhound. A hellpuppy?

  "I'll take her," Daun said to Paul, grabbing the cherub and cradling her to his chest. "She can sleep it off in Pandemonium."

  "No taking advantage of the unconscious celestial," I said.

  "Right, as if. She's just a frigid bitch."

  Thinking of Michael's arctic kiss, I shivered.

  "You two lovebirds have fun." Daun smiled at me. "And no worries, Jezzie. I won't come calling. You and I, we're quits."

  "Really," I said, not believing him.

  "You're too human for me, babes. I have different standards."

  Before he bamfed away in a puff of sulfur with the snoring angel, I caught a glimpse of his aura: red and green, like Christmas for the damned. And I knew that he was lying. I wasn't too human for him—far from it. But hey, demons were made for lying.

  I'd be seeing Daunuan again. I'd bet my soul on it.

  On second thought, I wouldn't. This soul cost me a Hell of a lot. I think I'll keep it.

  "Love," I said to Paul, "this is the part where we kiss."

  He walked up to me, took my hand. "And have wild animal sex?"

  I smiled just thinking about it. "Only if you ask nicely."

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at

  Jackie Kessler's

  HOTTER THAN HELL

  coming August 2008!

  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 her tongue out, 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 cliche, 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 se
a of red. "The perfume, I mean. It's Gucci." She leaned forward, offering me her neck as she pressed her breasts against my chest and 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 said, "You're 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. My Turn. 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, a ready, steady go on the first real touch. Thus a five-minute warmup 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 to 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, how I'm going to make you scream…

  She groaned against me, and my tongue lapped up the sound. I left her mouth to kiss up the length of 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're you doing with my wife?"

  Uh oh.

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

  Shit.

  Getting interruped 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 inducing the part about getting buried by a falling wall. The wreckage hadn't lulled 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 talk, just talk, talk." I shot my arm out and leveled a blast overhead. The light fixture overhead shattered and crashed down to the ground. 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 lulling. That meant attacking him directly with my magic was right out. And that meant I had to figure out what his 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.