Jezebel
“Five seconds!”
Everyone let out a squawk, like chickens about to meet the business end of a hatchet. As one, they stared at the goods in their hands (and dangling from their arms, and tucked under their armpits, and stuffed into their bags), obviously wrestling with the notion of getting something for nothing. Time froze as they considered the implications. Stealing, after all, is a sin—and deep down, they knew what I was letting them do was wrong.
Then they all bolted out the front door.
After the sounds of the mad rush faded, I took in the damage to the store. And I let out an appreciative whistle. Not bad for two minutes of work. Entire shelves had been cleared of their inventory, and at least two racks were broken. Discarded envelopes and second-rate cards carpeted the floor, their messages of forced cheer and love and happiness trampled into the ground. Amid the candy and knickknacks left behind on the higher shelves, a lone teddy bear sat awkwardly, perched between a sampler box of chocolate clusters and a hideously ugly silk-flower arrangement; the bear’s oversized paw seemed to motion to the trail of litter on the ground and that led out the door, as if it were pointing out the avarice that now stained the customers’ souls.
Well, maybe that was overstating it a little. I had invited them to take whatever they could, so that canceled out any technical wrongdoing on their part. They weren’t thieves, no. But they had all acted out of greed, which nicely planted the seeds for future sins—ones they might commit without any such invitation. Ones that would eventually lead to a very hot seat for a very long time.
Hey, one could always hope. I might not be a creature of Covet, but at least I’m a team player.
I made a beeline to the front door, my mind whirling as I stomped over the debris on the floor. That little delay only cost me about five minutes, start to finish. Not too bad. Big Boy was probably soft as a kitten by now, but that wasn’t anything I couldn’t fix. Maybe I’d start him with a blow job, let him get hard and huge in my mouth. There’s nothing like feeling a man’s pride swell from the way you worked your tongue and teeth. Yes, I decided—a little cock sucking, a little teabagging, and then I’d take him for the ride of his life.
Smiling, I slid the master lock into place. There we go. No more unexpected interruptions—
The telltale stink of rotten eggs, just for a moment—enough to make my nostrils flare and to signal that one of my infernal brethren had arrived. Brimstone gave way to a heady musk, heavy with the promise of sweat and sex. And then a man’s strong arms wrapped around my waist.
Hey now…
Breath on my neck, the hint of a smile as lips pressed against the curve of my throat. “Well, well.” The voice was deep, and exceptionally male, and went right between my legs. “Alone at last.”
Even as he spoke, I felt his presence slide into my mind, all satin sheets and scented oil. Been thinking of you, babes.
My heartbeat quickened, and not just from the way his hands were brushing against my breasts. Daun?
In the flesh.
I felt a smile bloom on my face, and my shoulders relaxed even as a different part of me tensed in delicious anticipation. Any incubus worth his horns could make a succubus climax (repeatedly). But Daunuan could make me come with just a look. Over the millennium, I’ve worked with—in the “working girl” sense—thousands of other Seducers. No one, not demons or gods or any entity in between, made me feel like Daun did. He was a very talented, very attentive creature of Lust. He had a wicked sense of humor, which isn’t as commonplace in Hell as you might think. And he was the best lay in all of the Heartlands.
He was also a demon, which meant he was here for a reason. The nefarious aren’t known for their social skills.
This is a surprise. I rested my head against his chest, allowed myself a moment to enjoy how his fingers traced my curves. What’re you doing here?
You.
I chuckled softly. “Cocky bastard.”
“Always.”
He was playing with my nipples now, rolling the buds slowly, maddeningly, until they nearly burst through my shirt. “How’d you find me?”
“Finished with a client. Felt you nearby.” One of his hands moved down the curve of my belly, down more, dangling now by the juncture of my thighs. He brushed against my crotch, a whisper kiss of the pads of his fingers against the gauzy black material of my skirt. Just that hint of a caress, and already a liquid heat stirred in my core; just that unspoken promise, and that was enough to make my body hum with desire. He said, “Wanted to feel you in person.”
I sucked in a breath as his strokes grew bolder, teasing me now with lingering touches. “I’m flattered,” I said, my voice thick, heavy with lust. I moved beneath him, rolling my hips, angling to coax his fingers to go deeper. Longer. Harder.
“I’m encouraged.” I couldn’t see Daun’s face, but I heard the grin in his voice. He nudged me just so, and like that, the simmer between my legs transformed into a raging boil.
Oh unholy Hell, what he does to me…
I felt Daun inhale deeply, his body pressed close to mine, and a shock worked its way up my spine as he rumbled his pleasure. “Jezebel,” he whispered, rolling my name on his tongue, turning it into something erotic. “You smell good enough to eat.”
Eat.
Unbidden, my mind flashed on the image of my client, his flesh overflowing his clothes, his huge shaft softening in my hand.
Oh, fuck me with a fork. My client. My trans-fat-gorging, ticking-time-bomb client.
“Babes? You just stiffened. That’s my job.”
“And my job’s the problem.” I snorted, completely exasperated, and more than a little frustrated. “I’m working.”
“I noticed.” His hand nuzzled between my thighs, his fingers probing, dancing. My sex pulsed to the rhythm of his fingers. “Every part of you is in fine—”
His magic licked my vulva, and I squealed.
“—fine—”
Another lick, slower this time, serpentine, and my squeal melted into a moan.
“—working order.”
My breath was coming in hitches. I could have stopped breathing, of course; demons don’t need oxygen, not unless we’re setting something (or someone) on fire. But cutting off my breathing would have also cut off some of the fantabulously wonderful sensations shooting through my body.
Life is a series of compromises. I kept breathing.
His magic nuzzled deeper, and suddenly my clit was throbbing from his invisible touch. I let out a very undemonic mewl as I sagged against him. He was cheating, the bastard—clients always come first. What he was doing was absolutely breaking the rules.
Sweet Sin, how I’ve missed him.
“Daunuan,” I panted. “Naughty demon. I’m on the clock.”
“Take a break.”
Bless me, how I wanted to. How I wanted him.
My hands reached back and around, cupped the swells of his ass. “Would love to,” I said, rubbing against him. The bulge of his erection pressed into the small of my back. “But my client’s waiting.”
Kisses now, sizzling on my neck, his lips blazing a trail to my ear.
“Checked on him,” Daun said, punctuating his words with his tongue. “He’ll keep.”
Oh, the temptation. If it were any other incubus, I would have sent him away with a slap and a tickle. But this was Daun, and my body was addicted to his like a miser was to money. No matter what forms we wore, we always fit together like a plug in a socket. However else things changed across the millennia, that was a constant. As was our incessant sex drive.
But no matter how much I wanted Daun inside of me, my client was waiting. And being a succubus is all about providing excellent customer service. (Not to mention lip service.)
I sighed. A demon, about to do the right thing. What was the world coming to?
Turning around to face Daun, I did a double take. “Why do you look like Matt Damon?”
His lips—his beautiful full l
ips—quirked into a bemused smile. “This from Elvira?”
“Hey, it’s what my client wanted.”
“And the customer is always right.” Daun had moved his hands when I’d turned, and now one of his arms was wrapped around me. His other hand was planted over my crotch.
“So I’ve been told,” I said, my voice husky.
Now his fingers were working on me, teasing me, turning me into a puddle of ooze and eroding the little control I had. I felt my knees weaken, and I wondered if I had time for a quickie…
No, no, no. Bad succubus. You can screw Daun any time.
Well, any time we happened to find the time together. How long had it been since we’d last had a heat-filled moment to spare for each other? Ten years? Twenty?
“But the clothing doesn’t make the woman,” he said as he fingered me. “You could’ve appeared in a hair shirt and ashes, and your client still would have begged you to fuck him.”
“You’re a sweetie,” I said, or tried to say, but the words came out more like “Youhhhhhhhh.” Not my fault. Daun got my sweet spot. Daun always got my sweet spot.
Panting, I spoke through our psychic Seducer link: My client’s skittish. I’ve got to get back to him before he bolts. Or expires. Which would be totally unacceptable.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Daun said, as insistent as his fingers.
Normally, his tone would have given me pause; Daun was acting much too confident, even for him. But then a knowing smile unfurled on his face, and he stroked me again…
Eeeeee!!!…and who really gave a shit about one measly client, anyway?
“Besides,” Daun said with a chuckle, “it’s Valentine’s Day. And I have a gift for you.”
Ooh. “A prezzie?”
“For Jezzie.”
“A rhyme! How inventive!” I squeezed his ass, then stretched my hands enough to skim my nails against his balls.
He let out a sound of pure animal intention, a growl that echoed in my breasts and my belly and my clit, and as that delicious sound skimmed over my body I decided that just this once, I’d put my own selfish needs before my client. Really, Big Boy was a stone-cold liar in life. So what that I’d lied to him when I said I’d be right back? What comes around goes around.
And I’d make him come around. Eventually.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m yours.”
Daun’s smile bloomed into an evil grin, all poison and poppies. “Don’t I know it.”
“Why, Daunuan. You sound as possessive as a Coveter.”
“One of my many vices,” he said, his voice the satisfied rumble of a tiger’s purr. “I’ve waited such a long time for this.”
I shivered with anticipation. “Daun?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve missed you.”
He paused, then his hand moved away.
For a moment, I thought I had insulted him—demons don’t have feelings, not in the way that humans do, and to admit that I’d missed him was akin to an anathema, like the L-word. Then again, demons lie, so maybe he thought I was just teasing him.
I shouldn’t have cared about what he thought. But bless me for an angel, I did. I cared about him. And that was the biggest anathema of all.
All of this, in a heartbeat. Then the moment passed as he wrapped his arms around me in a tender embrace, and I felt something loosen in my chest.
“Babes,” he said, “I’ve missed you, too. I’ve been thinking about you. And now I’m going to show you just how much I’ve been thinking about you.”
I smiled. Daunuan was such a horny little devil.
Some things never change.
THEN:
THE GREAT FLOOD
Chapter 2
Daunuan
There’s nothing quite like the acoustics of the Abyss.
Listen: sounds carry over the polished stones of the Great Wall that presses against Hell’s periphery like a monolithic anaconda. Background noises, first—the lamentations of the damned, their screams slowly unraveling until they’re nothing but sighs in the hot breeze over the Lake of Fire. Next, the clinking of metal on metal as the Coveters stockpile their gold. The Gluttons now, smacking and belching as they gorge themselves on meat and gristle and bone.
But those aren’t the sounds that get under your skin, the ones that burrow deep and fester.
Over the Wall, the buzzing snores of the Lazy saw through the acrid air. Louder than that is the inane boasting of the Arrogant as they swagger and preen, their asses so tight you’d think there’s a sinner wedged between their cheeks. Worse still is the incessant yammering and yowling and of the Envious, whining about wanting what they don’t have. And then there’s the thunderous crashes of the Berserkers, bashing one another into pulp and roaring their victory and pain.
Those sounds don’t matter, either.
Go beyond those background noises of unimportant Sins. Delve into the heart of Hell, and you’ll feel its beat working its way through you, boom, boom, boom, boom, dancing over your limbs and seeping into your pores until your heart beats with it. That’s Lust pounding through you, seducing you, shaping you.
Now, listen the way a Seducer does: the squeals of delight that tickle their way up your spine, the grunts of exertion that coil your muscles tight. The moans of pleasure that set your blood aflame. Hear them? All the sighs and the oohs and the growls of desire, blending together in a symphony of sex? Those are the sounds that matter: the sounds of demons fucking like rabbits terrified of extinction.
Those are the sounds of an orgy surging through the Heartlands of Lust—the music of flesh on flesh, hypnotic, insistent.
And I was missing it.
I slammed my fist against my thigh, snarled my rage. Here I was, an incubus, missing the biggest fuckfest that Lust had seen in more than a millennium, all because it was my turn at the Gates. The afterlife just wasn’t fair.
Grumbling, I rubbed the sting out of my leg. All right, fine, it was completely fair, which made it even more unbearable. All demons had to pull a stint as Gatekeeper, and it just happened to be my turn. So instead of getting laid, I was standing on the mouth of Hell, picking my fangs.
Not like there really needed to be a Gatekeeper in the first place—really, who was going to try to break into the Pit?—but the mortals doomed to an eternity of torture and despair seemed to expect there to be someone checking them in. And so, we obliged, like it or not. And I definitely didn’t like it.
I snorted, pawed my hoof over the hard-baked clay of the ground. The whole thing was just so pointless, and never more so than right now. For the first time in longer than I could remember, there was no line of sinners and demons outside of the Wall, waiting for admittance into Hell. That alone would be considered a minor miracle, except (a) our side didn’t do miracles and (b) there was a major catastrophe responsible for it.
Things were running amok Above—from what I heard, the waters were still flooding the Earth, drowning beasts and babies and all manner of living things. But none of the infernal or the celestial were out collecting souls, even though almost every human in the world was dying or already dead, good and evil alike. The supreme ruler of the Pit had declared an embargo: none were to travel between the planes until further notice. All of the creatures of the Abyss, from the most minor infernal entity to all the major deities, were slumming deep within the boundary of Hell, their tails and other assorted appendages tucked between their legs and other body parts.
And that meant it was party time Below…all except for yours truly, stuck on guard duty.
I once heard a mortal exclaim that if you can’t complain to someone who can change your situation, don’t complain at all. Demons follow a similar notion: if you complain, you’ll get drawn and quartered, then thrown into the Lake of Fire, so don’t complain at all. So I silently bitched and moaned, and counted the various ways I wished I could slaughter whoever had called up my name for standing watch at the Gates, and I waited for my shift to end.
Demons ar
e very good at waiting. But waiting with no real purpose drives me bat-shit insane.
Folding my arms across my chest, I leaned against one of the wrought-iron Gates that separated Limbo from Hell and closed my eyes. If I couldn’t exercise my favorite muscle, I could grab a little sleep. A smile quirked my lips as I thought about the possibility of the Almighty still wringing out the water from the skies when I got off duty. If that came to pass, I’d be able to partake in the celebration of Sin.
But I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was all the noise from beyond the Wall keeping me awake, or maybe it was knowing that if the King of Lust happened to find one of his Seducers asleep at his post, that Seducer would be publicly castrated.
Hell isn’t big on sympathy. Or second chances.
Time passed. Ball-breakingly slowly.
I was so lost in my own boredom and resentment that I almost didn’t hear the lighthearted voice say: “Heya, sweetie. Come here often?”
Female demon. Another Seducer, based on the salutation. Creatures of Lust usually greeted one another; we understood the concept of the more, the merrier. Thus, the orgy that I was missing right now.
I mentally kicked myself. She’d caught me off guard. Normally, the psychic link all Seducers shared would have announced her presence before she’d bothered to speak, but I’d severed my connection about three hours ago. That’s a huge no-no, but today all of the Lower Downs of Lust were too busy fucking to notice that one of their minor brethren wasn’t part of the group mind.
It wouldn’t be in my best interest to show that she’d startled me, so I acted nonchalant. Keeping my eyes closed, I gave the standard Seducer reply: “Every chance I get.”
“Looks more like you sleep every chance you get.”
Ooh, she was a sassy one. I pried my eyes open. And then I grinned.
Hellooooo, sexy.
Like me, she was a satyr, but like all of her sex, she didn’t sport horns or hair. Her skin was cherry red, and the pelt than covered her from hips to hooves was curly and black, begging for me to run my fingers over it. One of her hands was planted on her hip, and she stood with her tits thrust out, as if she were offering them to suck. I took in the swells of her breasts, the curve of her thighs, the concave turn of her belly…ah, I wanted to run my hands over her body, trace her shape and memorize her form.
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