Hell on Earth 1 - Hell's Belles

by Jackie Kessler

  He'd found an empty chamber within the Red Light District of Pandemonium, reserved to those affiliated with Lust. Although the elite had personal quarters that they decorated however they wished, lesser-ranked demons made do with spartan rooms containing only a sleeping pallet. None of these bedrooms were assigned; it was strictly first come, first served. The chamber itself, like all such pods, smelled of the deep earth from which it was carved. And sex, of course; all rooms in the District smelled of sex.

  I sidled up to Daun and reached out, stroking his member, his flat stomach, his chest, tracing the outline of his jaw. "Heya, sweetie."

  "Babes." His voice rumbled in his throat, the lazy growl of a somnolent grizzly bear. Without touching me, he rubbed his thumb and index finger together, and I cooed as I felt ghostly fingers brush against my clitoris.

  "Oooh. I like."

  "You're supposed to."

  He rubbed his finger up his thumb and wiggled the digit, and I purred with delight as I felt a ghostly finger probe inside of me. Nearly melting against him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and planted my mouth on his, sucking greedily. Before I could mount him, he gently pushed me away.

  "Slow, babes," he said, chuckling. "I've been working on a new fantasy. You game?"

  Many of the infernal liked to try out their various temptations on other creatures of the Pit before they plied their wares on targeted humans. But agreeing to act as the unsuspecting mortal in a demon's fantasy was risky for the player. The one controlling the scene had complete control over the situation… and over the demon going along with it. On top of that, there was a chance the player could get lost in the fantasy and forget everything about having been a demon.

  Hazards of the job. Besides, Daun was worth the risk. Along with being a pal, he was the best lay this side of the Pridelands. I squeezed his shaft once, then let go. "For you? Always."

  "Excellent." His eyes glimmered as he said, "Get dressed."

  "Who am I?"

  "Good girl, engaged, true to her man, but curious about what another lover would be like."

  I raised my arms over my head and tilted my face toward the ceiling, closing my eyes. Power rippled through me, starting at the top of my head and working down to my feet, weaving my costume. Short, dark hair. Round, wholesome face. Long frame, but slightly chunky. Pert breasts. Round belly and hips. Curvy legs. Dainty feet. For an outfit, I selected a white T-shirt beneath a V-necked blue sweater and dark blue jeans. Matching bra-and-panties set. A gold bracelet winked on my left ankle. A thin band of gold, with a tiny but bright diamond set in its middle, hugged the ring finger of my left hand. Small gold hoops hung from my earlobes. A whisper of makeup, just enough to accent my brown eyes and long lashes; nothing too fancy. I wiggled the toes of my bare feet, enjoying the ticklish sensation.

  I loved playing dress-up.

  "Sweet," Daun said, giving me the once-over. "Okay, babes. Ready?"

  Anticipation fluttering in my stomach, I nodded.

  His long nail grazed my forehead, and I shifted.

  A sensation like falling, which ends with me shuddering. In the back of my mind, I know I am still the demon Jezebel. But now I am also Molly Ridgewood, twenty-three, and newly engaged to Jeff Loren. I still can hear his tremulous voice whisper in my ear when I remember him asking, Will you marry me?

  A doorbell rings.

  I open my eyes, surprised to be standing in the hallway of my cramped apartment. Of course I'm here, I tell myself. Jeff and I just moved in yesterday. He's at work, and I'm unpacking. Where else would I be?

  Boxes clutter the foyer and the kitchen; even more crates barricade the bedroom. The smell of new paint mingles with the stale city air blowing in from the open windows in the living room. It's far too hot for my sweater, and I peel it off as I approach the door. Moving is sweaty work; I should have remembered that.

  Blotting my forehead with the sleeve of my sweater, I open the door. Hulking in the doorway, a man smiles down at me. A blue bandana holds his long, red hair away from his lean face. Beneath a sleeveless leather vest, a dusty white T-shirt pokes out. Ripped jeans cover his lean legs. Oversized black boots shod his feet. A voice in my head giggles. Shitkickers, they're called shitkickers. I swallow the nervous laughter that accompanies the thought. I never curse. Good girls don't curse.

  "Yes?" I ask, fear peppering my curiosity. Jeff and I were living in the big city now; who knows what this stranger wanted? He could be anyone, could do anything, and I would be helpless. The phone won't be in service until tomorrow, same as the electricity. My cell phone has no charge. If there's a problem, all I can do is scream… and everyone knows that in the big city, no one will risk themselves to help you. In the city, you're on your own.

  The thought makes me giddy. I've never been on my own before.

  His eyes sparkle in the dim light of the hallway. "Found your purse outside." His voice is rough, a rumble that reminds me of a motorcycle revving down a nighttime street. "Thought I'd do a good deed and return it." He raises his hand, and sure enough, my beaten up shoulder bag dangles from his fingers.

  With a startled gasp, I reach for it. "Thank you! Gosh, I didn't even know I'd dropped it. Where'd you find it?"

  "Just outside your door. I was leaving another apartment and I saw it lying on the ground. Took a chance that it belonged to whoever lived here."

  "Thanks," I say again, smiling up at him. He's so tall. Jeffs my height. I like having to crane my head to meet a man's eyes. "You're a Good Samaritan."

  "I like to think of myself as a knight in leather armor." He grins, motioning to his leather vest. Smoker's teeth, I think as I laugh, too, crooked smoker's teeth. I never smoked, always thought of it as a dirty habit. A dangerous habit.

  He holds my gaze for a moment, then glances at the numerous boxes around me. "Going or coming?"

  "Coming," I say, staring his face. I can't decide if his eyes are green or hazel. "We just moved in yesterday."

  "We?" He glances at my hand, spots my ring. With a wry smile, he says, "Congratulations."

  "Thank you."

  "Lucky guy here helping you?"

  "He's at work." A tattoo peaks out from beneath the man's sleeve. Something stirs in me, low down, near my crotch. Tattoos are so sexy. Jeff doesn't have a tattoo, wouldn't dream of ever getting one. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I mop my brow again with my sweater.

  "Bringing home the bacon," the stranger says, arching his brow, "so you can fry it up in a pan."

  He's so different from Jeff. Where Jeff is clean-cut, this man sports a two-day growth of stubble. Jeff is easygoing, unassuming. This man radiates dominance… and hints of danger. My heartbeat thumps in my ears as I think about what it would be like to be dangerous. A thin scar trails down one of his cheeks. I imagine stroking the white line, brushing my fingers over its pattern of old pain. My breath quickens as I wonder if his kisses would be like Jeff's—soft and loving, if sloppy—or if they would be forceful, insistent.

  "You've got such beautiful eyes," the stranger murmurs.

  His words hit me like ice water, and I clear my throat. I am marrying Jeff Loren. I love Jeff Loren. What does it matter that I find this man, this tall stranger, fascinating—even desirable? Maybe I'd dream about him tonight. Something secret, something wicked. But nothing more than that. I'm a good girl.

  "Listen," I say, my voice cracking, "I'd like to give you something, to show my appreciation for returning my bag." I rummage through my purse and take out my wallet.

  When I look up, he's laughing silently. "What's so funny?"

  "I don't want your money," he says, a bemused grin on his face. "That's really not necessary."

  "Oh. Um…" I'm at a loss of what else to offer. I know I don't want him to leave yet, but there's no way I can have him stay. He's a stranger, and I'm engaged.

  His eyes darken to a rich, chocolate brown. How could I have thought they were hazel? His voice low and seductive, he says, "What I'd really like is a thank-you kiss."


  Thoughts of Jeff dance in my mind, whisper of betrayal, even as my breath catches in my throat.

  "Isn't that what fair maidens give their knights on white horses?" A smile quirks his lips, his full, cupid-bow lips, lips that promise to be soft yet strong. "A kiss?"

  It would just be one kiss. That's all. Even good girls can give kisses. "Sure," I say, and I stand on my tiptoes. Tilting my head up, my lips brush against his.

  Magic rushes through me as the world catches fire. His tongue thrusts forward, parting my lips. My tongue touches his, and they probe each other, turning in maddeningly slow circles. The kiss strengthens as our tongues roll faster, shooting waves of heat into my breasts, my stomach, my groin. I've never felt so alive!

  He starts to break away, but I grab his long hair and pull him back to me. His lips leave mine as he kisses his way to my ear. He whispers, "What about your man?"

  "Fuck him," I pant, wanting him, needing him to kiss me again.

  "I'd rather fuck you." His breath tickles my neck, and I gasp in startled delight as he licks the hollow of my throat. "Is that what you want? You want to feel my cock inside of you? Want me to fuck you?"

  "God, yes…" His tongue flicks out, licking my earlobe, stealing my voice.

  "'God'? My, you are far gone, aren't you, babes?" He chuckles softly, and just as I'm about to question his words, he leans down and sucks my nipple, right through my shirt and bra. Moaning, I lean back, thrusting my chest into his face.

  He nuzzles between my breasts, then he moves to my other nipple, teasing it with his mouth and teeth. My hands clutch his shoulders as my hips jerk forward, moving in rhythm as he sucks. His mouth leaves my breast and he whispers, "Lose the shirt and pants."

  My face is flushed with heat. Breathing heavily, I pull my T-shirt over my head and throw the garment to the floor. Then I unclasp my jeans and yank the zipper down so hard that I break it. I wiggle out from the denim and kick it away. Standing in the hallway of my tiny apartment with the door wide open, I'm clad only in my pale blue bra and panties. And I don't care that my new neighbors could see me, don't care about my fiancé possibly walking in at any second. All I can think about is this man, this powerful stranger with long red hair and soft lips, and how I want to feel him inside of me.

  "Nice," he says. Then he grabs my arms and crushes me against his body. Kissing me deeply, he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he kicks the front door closed. Sucking in his breath like it was a drug, I kiss him even harder, faster, bruising my lips. I can't get enough of him; I want to drink him down until he fills me.

  He throws me onto my ancient sofa. I stare up at him, my lips parted, my body tingling all over. With a practiced motion, he unbuttons his fly. His penis pokes up, and I gaze at it, marveling over its thickness, over the way it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

  Climbing on top of me, he kisses one of my nipples as his hand reaches behind my back and unfastens my bra. He flings it off of me and sucks at one breast, fondling the other. Writhing beneath him, I moan as my body responds in ways that I've never known before. He licks down my chest to my belly to the edge of my underwear. His tongue runs over the swell of my stomach before he catches my panties in his teeth and yanks down, exposing the triangular patch of dark hair between my legs. Working my underwear off my legs, he drops my panties to the floor.

  Oh God, I'm doing this, I think as he kisses up my calf, then my inner thigh, sending shocks of pleasure through me. I'm actually here with a stranger, and he's about to make love to me, and I don't even know his name.

  Then his mouth finds my sex, and I can't think at all as his tongue darts out and licks between my inner lips. My hips buck beneath him as I cry out, and my hands ball into fists as I feel something huge and wild building inside of me, begging for release.

  He grabs my hands and pins my wrists above my head. Maneuvering on top of me, he gives me a knowing smile as he plunges his staff inside of me.

  I squeal as he pounds me, as he fucks me, as I move beneath him and with him. "Ahh!" I shout with every thrust, "Ahh! AHH! AHHHH!" A dam bursts inside of me, and I arch my back and scream as my sex explodes in liquid fire. I shudder as my groin pulses, the tsunami of pleasure too intense to describe slowly winding down to lapping waves.

  Oh… bliss. A smile spreads across my face as my body relaxes. Breathing deeply, my eyes slip closed.

  His breath is hot on my neck. "Call my name."

  Sleepily, I murmur, "Don't know your name."

  "Yes you do, babes." His penis shifts inside of me, sending aftershocks between my legs. "Say it."

  And, as if by magic, I do know his name. My mouth opens, and I whisper, "Don Juan."

  "That's my good girl." His lips touch mine, but I'm too sleepy to do more than let him kiss me. "You're mine."

  "I'm yours," I agree as I feel sleep dragging me down. Before I lose myself completely, I feel his finger touch my brow.

  Shift.

  A falling sensation, ending with a violent shudder wracking my body.

  My eyes opened to find Daun's face above mine, his golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Welcome back, babes."

  I felt him, huge and throbbing, inside of me. Blinking, I shed the vestiges of my dress-up character, shaking away the last characteristics of Molly Ridgewood like a dog ridding its fur of water. Daun's cock bumped against my cervix, sending ripples of pleasure interlaced with pain through my body. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I sank my talons into his shoulders. He grunted, then flashed me his fangs in a huge grin. He liked it rough.

  "Sweetie," I said, my voice a throaty purr, "you were amazing."

  "Flatterer."

  "You actually got me to say your name," I said, feeling awed and incredulous… and, truth be told, a touch uneasy. Female Seducers were firm believers in the one-night stand—meaning we had one chance to snag our intended target. Our male counterparts liked to suck their victims dry over the course of many visits. Even so, that initial seduction was key. Once a human female willingly kissed an incubus, that was the end of her willpower; he'd be able to fuck her six ways to Salvation, and she'd beg for more. Once she called his name, she was bound to him until her soul belonged to Hell.

  In all the times I'd played along in Daun's fantasies, he'd never gotten me to say his name at the end. And while I didn't have a soul to lose, the idea that someone had complete control over my desires, even just in play, was disquieting.

  I was Jezebel. No one owned me.

  Well, except for King Asmodai and Queen Lillith. But why split hairs?

  "You're getting better," I said, pumping beneath him, trying to yank myself out of my dark thoughts with every thrust of my hips.

  "Always." He kissed me deeply, ending with him sucking my lower lip. Then he pulled back to meet my gaze. "You were gone way before the end, though. You actually mentioned the G-word."

  "I remember," I muttered. Gah. If anyone found out I'd cried "God" in the middle of a fantasy, I'd never hear the end of it.

  Knock, knock, Jezzie.

  I froze as Megaera's voice kissed my mind. Even though she wasn't a creature of Lust—as a Fury, technically she wasn't even a demon—we had our own bond, formed out of friendship. A thousand-plus years would do that to anyone. Heya, sweetie. I'm sort of in the middle of something.

  More like you're in the middle of someone. Thought you were going to call me when you were done.

  I sort of got sidetracked.

  You mean you sort of forgot. This is important. Can I summon you?

  Meg didn't need my permission to yank me to her side—she was way, way more powerful than me and could basically do whatever the fuck she wanted. But because we were friends, she always asked my permission. At times, I thought she was too nice to be a creature of the Pit. Give me a sec to say good-bye.

  Apologies to Daun. Kisses from his Auntie Meg. Her presence caressed my mind in a farewell hug, soft as velvet. Then it was gone.

  Tensing my internal mus
cles, I squeezed Daun once, then pulled away from him. I sighed as his erection slid out of me. "Meg's in a tizzy, sweetie. Got to go."

  His smile lingered, even though his eyes narrowed. "Sometimes I think your priorities are screwed up, babes. What's more important than fabulous sex?"

  "That's what I'm about to find out." I crushed him to me in a final kiss, then Meg summoned me and Daun was gone.

  Chapter 13

  Belles (III)

  Roman's breath, Roman's voice, but Daun's words: "Babes, I've missed you."

  I squirmed out of his grasp and spun around to face him. Yes, it was right there in his eyes: The red-rimmed glow that had nothing to do with drink, drugs, or exhaustion. How could I have missed it?

  Easy. I hadn't been looking. I was so confident that Caitlin's magic would protect me, I'd forgotten to watch out for signs of the Underworld. Stupid. Now I placed the subtle odor in the room: Brimstone.

  "Daun," I said, hating how high-pitched my voice was, like I'd sucked on helium. "How'd you find me?"

  In Roman's body, Daun grinned: A slow unfurling of his lips, radiating sex. A tiger's grin. "Your friend Meg is very worried about you. She asked if I could pop by, see how you were doing. Me, I never argue with a Fury." He looked me up and down, his gaze heavy on my skin. "Seems to me like you're doing fine. Looking fine, too. I like the innocent façade. Very nice. Very…" His hand reached out and cupped my cheek. "… Tempting."

  I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Leaning against Roman's desk, I closed my eyes. A shudder worked its way through me, more intimate than Daun's lingering touch. Lucky, lucky girl. This could have been very bad.