Hard Lust Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Don’t miss these One Handed Reads! Out of Control

  Seduced

  The DILF

  Hot Nights in Morocco

  Three sexy demons—what’s a girl to do?

  Don’t ever trust a demon. Unfortunately, Megan has learned that lesson too late. The deal she made to save her sister’s life has landed her in hell temporarily and about seventy years early. And now she has three sexy demons trying to tell her what to do.

  Nope. Not going to happen.

  These guys have never had to deal with such defiance. Andros figures she’s due for some erotic discipline, which he’ll happily provide. Racan’s pure alpha, his hardcore plans include bondage and submission. Quiet yet intense, Vespar expects endless kink to spice up their carnal play.

  Who would have ever expected she’d end up falling for them? Too bad demons can’t be trusted…because someone is trying to kill the magic and threatening her stay in this lusty world.

  Chapter One

  Megan

  Even during her worst days, Megan Wynters never believed this would happen.

  I am so screwed.

  Afraid to budge, she stood paralyzed in a garish room decorated in more gold and mirrors than Versailles, a weird symbol she couldn’t decipher painted on bloodred walls. Displayed throughout the cavernous space were countless marble statues depicting nude men and women screwing or going down on each other. Thunderous bass from a death-metal tune pounded through the wall to her left, the pornographic paintings hanging there bouncing on each deafening beat.

  She curled her upper lip, turned, and flinched.

  A guy who hadn’t been in here a second before, sat in the throne-like chair behind the humongous desk. Early thirties or so, he had hazel eyes and thick blond hair that fell in soft waves to his shoulders. Those suckers and his chest were beyond broad, his well-toned muscles straining against his black silk shirt.

  Her stomach fluttered at the astounding picture he created, and then her insides clenched when she recalled where she was.

  That didn’t keep her from eyeing him further.

  The sun, or a tanning lamp, had tinted his complexion gold, while his features—not only were they masculine, but beautiful enough for an angel.

  Down here? In fucking Hell?

  Given his great looks, she had to be anywhere but there. Her pulse ticked up. Hope surged.

  Someone moaned.

  The statue to her right was climaxing. Jeezus. The writhing life-sized figures weren’t stone but people, or demons, or something animate. The pure-white woman threw back her head and wailed. The pasty guy kept pumping his cock into her.

  God, God, God. This definitely wasn’t Heaven. But not quite the other place, either, considering the cool air circulating, causing goose bumps to rise on her arms.

  Rattled and wary, she faced the guy.

  He regarded her mouth and then met her eyes, his searching and engaged.

  Unexpected heat rushed through her, her folds creaming at his inviting response, appreciation for his raw male appeal stealing her breath and—

  Hold it. She couldn’t be turned on by him. It’s a trick. He’s fucking doing this to me because he’s…

  Uncertain what he was, she cringed at the possibilities but still couldn’t glance away.

  He stroked an onyx ring on his left forefinger that boasted a dark red symbol—the same as those on the walls—against a black circle.

  Which means? Her stomach rolled and wouldn’t stop. She didn’t want an explanation on what the marking signified. It might murder her dream that this wouldn’t turn out too bad.

  Already his silence was killing her. Say something. That was definitely preferable to him doing any other fucking thing.

  He smiled, producing deep dimples in his cheeks.

  Her knees weakened at his normal, friendly greeting. The way a mortal guy might show delight at seeing her, and that maybe this could lead to something good. Conversation, a few laughs, then other great stuff. If he behaved nicely, she wouldn’t mind. Damn, she hadn’t had fun in forever.

  Another statue climaxed.

  Holy hell. Snapped back to reality, she remembered her presence here was a colossal blunder she had to straighten out. Her mouth was so dry she struggled to speak. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

  “Andros.” His smooth baritone caressed and enticed. “And you’re Megan.”

  She wasn’t admitting to anything.

  He glanced at his computer screen. “You waitressed at Sally Jean’s before coming here.” He grinned, making new dimples. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  No, please, no.

  Raucous laughter, howls, and earsplitting music shook the wall. A smutty picture fell to the floor.

  He flicked his hand. The pornographic image sailed back to where it should have been, without him touching it.

  Bile rose in her throat. It was useless to pray for anything reasonable here, but she hoped his supernatural powers didn’t include dipping her in boiling oil like characters suffered in horror movies. “You have to listen to me. I’m not supposed to be in…in…” She couldn’t continue.

  He looked at her questioningly. “You’re not supposed to be in Hell?”

  Shit. She nodded.

  “In that case, you’d have to be innocent.” He fingered his ring. “The same as everyone else down here. Right?”

  Her face grew hot. How dare he dismiss her concerns out of hand, not even pretending to listen to her. Fury replaced her fear, intense heat stinging her skin. “For your information, I only signed the dumb contract because I needed the dough for my kid sister’s experimental treatments since the state’s program wasn’t helping, she doesn’t have any medical, her boyfriend can’t put her on his, and mine was shit—high deductibles, a lifetime cap, the insurance company denying every damn thing. The SOB who conned me into this swore I wouldn’t have to come here for decades, meaning when I got old and checked out. I’m only twenty-five. For him to send me here immediately wasn’t what I agreed to. He breached the contract particulars, which makes it invalid. No way am I staying.” She pivoted.

  The door that had been behind her was now a solid wall.

  Fuck. Suppressing a shiver, she turned and faced him again.

  He rested his hands on his flat belly and tapped his ringed forefinger.

  Another normal gesture, except pure sin—the good, sexy kind—radiated from him.

  Her legs got watery, his effortless masculinity chasing away her outrage and terror when it shouldn’t have. She locked her knees and squeezed her fists. “I want to talk to the person in charge.”

  His eyebrows inched up. They were surprisingly dark given his light hair. “You mean Satan?”

  Who the fuck else? His was the only name she knew besides Andros’s. If she hadn’t been too impoverished to save Holly’s life on her own, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Rather t
han pointing out the obvious and bitching, she poured on the charm. “Yeah. He’s good. Thanks.”

  “Welcome. But as a newbie, you’ll have to wait several eons before he’ll put you on his schedule…if he does.”

  A shriek caught in her throat. “I can’t stay here.”

  He snapped his fingers. A paper bearing the word Contract at the top materialized next to him. He scanned the document. “Are you saying this isn’t your signature? If it’s not, then you do have a valid complaint. Take a look. Please. Let me know.”

  The paper flew her way. She skittered away from it. “What if it is mine? That jerk demon promised—”

  “Yeah, I got that.” He stood, his black dress pants hugging his powerful thighs. “Is your sister getting the treatments she needs?” Genuine concern rose in his eyes. “Is she better? Will she survive?”

  His questions and unexpected worry touched her. “The docs swear she is and will, but—”

  “Uh-uh.” He wagged his finger as he might to a rebellious child, his previous consideration gone. “We met our end of the bargain, and now it’s time for you to do the same.”

  Her blood ran cold. “This is where the boiling oil comes in?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  She couldn’t believe he needed an explanation. “You’re going to torture me?”

  “Torture? Like pulling out your fingernails or hammering spikes through your eyeballs?”

  Sweat poured down her face and chest. She pressed her lips together, not wanting to give him any ideas.

  Understanding sparked in his eyes. The emotion didn’t last. “Moving on, let’s focus on your duties here.” He rounded his desk and leaned against it. “Given your wait experience at Sally Jean’s, you’ll serve drinks in Hard Lust, the gentleman’s club I own along with Racan and Vespar, who you’ll meet shortly.”

  She didn’t understand. “Gentleman’s what?”

  “Club. It’s where the commotion is coming from.”

  The wall trembled, pictures and mirrors jounced, crappy music swelled, and women and men bellowed in either pain or ecstasy.

  He smoothed his pants. “You’re on duty twenty-three-seven and—”

  “What? Wait.” She wasn’t staying, but if she couldn’t find a way out she wasn’t putting up with that shit. “Are we talking hours and days here, or is there another way you measure time?”

  “We use eternity as the standard. Endless. Ceaseless. Infinite. Or whatever term you prefer.”

  The room swam. This couldn’t get worse, unless he shot spikes at her as she schlepped booze to who-knew-what in the club. “You’re saying I get one freaking hour off each day?”

  “You sound surprised.” He lifted his chin, dimples gone, manner wounded. “No matter what you’ve heard concerning this place, we’re not bastards. We care about our condemned.”

  Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat. It died on a whimper. “I. Do. Not. Belong. Here.”

  His demeanor cooled. “We don’t get involved in contract disputes. Be grateful your sister’s on the mend.” He tapped his thumbs against the desk. “About your clothes…”

  “What about them?”

  “They need to go.”

  “What?” She stepped back and ran into the ornate door, which had returned without a handle or knob. “No. Damn. Way.”

  He glanced to the side and then back, his commanding stare hardening. “You can’t wear what you have on.” He gestured to her running shoes, jeans, and tee then wrinkled his nose at the message on it: Feminist as Fuck. “Hard Lust is the ultimate experience down here. Our patrons expect a certain flair. Quality if you will.”

  Song lyrics poured in, each word more obscene than the last. The images in the porn pictures came to life, the same as the statues, the guys balls deep in females and males, the mirrors reflecting everything.

  She clenched her jaw.

  He put out his hand. Several leather straps, similar to narrow belts, appeared and hung over his palm. “Your uniform…and shoes.” Five-inch stilettos took form, dangling from his fingers.

  The uniform had less material than the heels. Dental floss would have covered her better. She wanted to barf and resist, settling on the latter. “As I’ve already stated, no damn way. You forcing me isn’t—”

  “Forcing you?” He looked perplexed. “You made the bargain, my partners and I didn’t. Now that you’re here, our job is to run this place. Like working in Hard Lust is yours, while you’re in uniform. Which the other women have worn without complaint, question, or comment.”

  “They’re not me.” She arched an eyebrow. “I still say no.”

  He swung from confused to annoyed to pensive. “Look, we use dim lighting in the club, except for the exhibitionist, voyeur, and discipline areas…and the spotlights, which you’ll see when you get there. If you’re sensitive as to how you’ll look in your uniform, you’ll—”

  “Seriously?” For the first time, she approached him, frustrated and tired of men objectifying and marginalizing females so they could rule the world. They were almost as bad as the beauty industry getting rich off women’s insecurities that they caused. “I’m not ashamed of my looks. I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of my appearance, including you. As far as going topless, I don’t see the problem. How come guys get to strip down, but women can’t? I’d guess it has everything to do with men’s inability to control themselves.” She breathed hard. “Don’t ever think I have issues with this, because I don’t.”

  He offered a sympathetic look. “Sure about that?”

  In a perfect world, she would have slugged him. Being here, she pulled off her tee and bra, tossed both aside, and cupped her boobs. “I dare you to tell me anything is wrong with these babies.”

  He stared at her tightened nipples, his lips parting. “Now that you’re on board, I say ditch the rest.”

  Right. She shouldn’t have expected a different response, but was surprised she’d stepped into his trap so easily. However, what he wanted wasn’t happening. Capitulation had never been in her nature, not even down here. “You first.”

  He pushed away from the desk.

  Although tempted by his raw magnetism, and hating herself for it, she stepped back and bumped into something.

  A statue. The stone guy grabbed her ass, then slid his fingers between her legs on a collision course with her clit.

  Enraged, she slapped him. Gah. Agonizing pain shot from her palm to her wrist. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Blinking back tears, she waved her hand to stop the hurt.

  Andros maintained his unshakable cool despite her being dumb enough to smack marble. “You all right?”

  In this X-rated Twilight Zone? She refused to answer or play further into his games and give him another chance to mess with her head. His authority and powers allowed him to do whatever he wanted, but she’d resist, maintaining her dignity, and would stop him…somehow. “What do you think?”

  “My guess would be no.” He tapped his jaw. “That’s too bad, but maybe it would help if I explain something. The concept here is simple. I command. You obey.”

  She ground her teeth.

  “No dice?” He offered a bland smile, dropped the uniform, and sat. “How about I give you a demonstration on what happens if you defy me?”

  Enduring torture wasn’t her thing, but cowering to him and then bullies in a gentleman’s club wouldn’t make the unpleasantness any better. Once the patrons knew she was an easy mark, they’d simply grind her down further for sport. Like what inmates did to new arrivals in prison. No way. She gathered her courage and squared her shoulders. “Bring. It. On.”

  He dipped his head. “If that’s what you want.”

  Like she had a choice? Longing to kill his smug confidence, she feigned indifference at the impossible situations he kept putting her in. “Do your worst.”

  He lift
ed his hands. “As you wish.”

  She sailed across the room without anyone touching her and landed smack in front of him, her freaking clothes history.

  That wasn’t the worst. Nudity didn’t bother her.

  He did.

  His presence imposed and aroused, his big body powerful in the best possible way. His smoky scent hinted at cherry tobacco rather than the expected sulfur. His heat warmed. Damn, it intoxicated.

  Encouraging her to cave.

  Fuck that. Fight. She had to. Demon or not, no guy ruled her. She stepped back.

  An invisible force drew her closer to him.

  Shit. She fought his power. “Dammit, let go.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Without his hold on her, she staggered away, straight toward a statue.

  “Careful.” His power kept her from colliding with it, his unseen touch assured but gentle, his warmth pouring into her, comforting and arousing.

  Her breath spilled out. Her inner thighs tensed. Her pussy ached.

  No, no, no. Her reaction was wrong. Fuck, it was insane. Once he drew her into his sexy web, then what? He’d break her?

  Never. By the time she was done here, she’d own him.

  Chapter Two

  Andros

  Women didn’t often surprise Andros.

  Bethshiba had blindsided him—eons ago. He’d given her his trust and what humans would have considered his heart. Their paradise lasted for a short while before she—

  No. He wouldn’t go there. What they’d had and what she’d done to him was in the distant past, even if she’d forever screwed his future. Vespar and Racan’s too. To have them swept into the morass she’d created hurt the most since she’d been his mistake. No more. He’d learned an invaluable lesson from their time together and had since kept his guard up when it came to women. He never allowed them into his innermost desires or thoughts, and simply had fun.

  Megan narrowed her eyes, ready for a battle she looked prepared to win.

  Playing her way could be sweet, but he had a better idea. With his power at full tilt, he delivered his heat and scent to her, to thrill not repel.

  Her lips parted, an appreciative moan escaping them, her head lolling back.