Dirty Deeds (Paranormal Erotic Romance) (2 page)

She didn't need to hear anything more. She may not want to steal the vile souls required of her, but the other option would be far worse. “Yes, sir, I understand.”

“Good girl.” His puffed up and twisted lips curved into a bit of a smile as she got up to leave. “You go on back home now and take care of business. Five days, Melody. I'm not kidding about this.”

Right. Five days to collect five souls, or I'm going to find out that hell does have more fury than a woman scorned.

Melody's boss sent her away with a wave of his hand, hurtling her through what could only be described as a dense fog and rematerializing her in…water. “What the—?” She opened her eyes and found herself flat on her ass in the fountain outside her apartment building. “Hell's bells.” She scrambled to her feet, pulling her micro mini down over her exposed bottom as she did. “Harold, that is so not funny!”

“Who's Harold, dear?” She jerked at the voice, looking up to see her neighbor Mrs. Mavis staring down her nose with her normal disapproving look. “Melody, dear what are you doing in the fountain? You're going to catch a cold like that.”

Melody climbed from the fountain with her head high, trying not to think about her new Botticelli leather boots that were now ruined.

“It's hot out here. I just needed to cool off.” She stepped from the fountain onto the walkway, trying to skirt her way around the nosy woman. But no, Mrs. Mavis blocked her way.

“Melody, it is not appropriate for a woman like you to go around dressed like—like that, especially after fooling around in our fountain.” Her brows drew together in a disapproving frown. “Look at yourself. You're flashing your goods to everyone in that shirt.”

Melody glanced down and yep, sure enough with her white top soaking wet, her nipples poked at the material for all to see.
Why did it have to be a big deal? It's not like the world would end because Melody Evans's hardened nips were visible.

“You needn't worry, Mrs. Mavis, I'm headed home now to change.” Frustrated with the woman's insistence on butting into her life, she wrapped her arms around her waist, effectively pulling the shirt tighter. “If you'll excuse me now, I'd like to get dry.” She'd tried to hold the sarcasm, she really had, but her meddlesome neighbor never let up. Mrs. Mavis glared. Her face flushed red and Melody thought smoke might billow from the woman's ears any second.

“Ooh—” Mrs. Mavis's breath swooshed and she took two steps back. “You're a naughty girl.” Melody stood back up, shaking her head.

“Mrs. Mavis, you have no idea.” She stepped to the left, and this time Mrs. Mavis let her pass. The annoying woman gave her a hard time every chance she got, so of course, she couldn't resist giving a little back whenever she could. Hell, it probably gave the older woman something to talk about at her women's group each week. She could just hear it now.

The devil has a hold on that one. Watch out for her; she's on the highway to hell for sure.

Melody laughed all the way back to her apartment, shaking her head and sashaying her hips. She stopped and admired her fire engine red door before going in. The neighbors had gone ballistic when she'd painted it. However, five hundred extra dollars to her landlord last month had gotten her the permission she needed to paint it any damn color she wanted. But what really chapped their uptight asses was the new pitchfork doorknocker she had added last week. Melody snickered. She couldn't help herself. It was too easy being bad around here.

She eased into her apartment, soaking in the heat as it flashed across her chilled skin. With a little twist of power, she turned on the stereo that sat on her dining-room table. The whole place flooded with the blaring rock and roll of AC/DC belting out “You Shook Me All Night Long.” Her heartbeat picked up, matching the tempo of the song as she removed the wet T-shirt and tossed it to the laundry pile in the corner. Her hips wiggled to the beat as she shimmied out of the tight wet skirt and added it to the pile. She kept the heat set at a comfortable one hundred and four degrees, and it warmed her while she removed her boots and peeled off her ruined thigh-highs. Ever since she became a demon, she couldn't keep warm enough. That was one of the few things she enjoyed when making trips
down there.

Naked, she danced around the room, forgetting her responsibilities and focusing on the thrumming need between her legs. Her fingers smoothed across the baby soft skin of her belly to the nest of blond curls covering her sex. She delved through the wet folds and rubbed the hood of her clit with the pad of her fingertips, arching into her hand, reaching for more friction. The music, the heat, the sensations all swirled in her head leading her down the wicked path of self-indulgence she loved so much. She kneaded her hard clit between her thumb and forefinger, rough the way she needed, and moisture flooded her pussy, coating her fingers.

Sensual energy buzzed through her blood as her climax approached. The music pounded in her veins, heightening the pleasure. With her free hand, she pinched and massaged her nipples, alternating between her breasts.

“Oh yes. Yes!”
Finally.

As her body shook with a small tremor signaling the imminent explosion, a cold freezing blast of air struck her full force, halting her hands and sensations.

Melody, five days. Five souls. Focus.

Harold's voice in her head brought her crashing down to earth.
Nooo
. The satisfaction her soul screamed for denied once again. “Aahh,” she snarled in frustration. “Harold, you are such a prick.”

Now cold and disappointed, she headed for the shower. Time to dress for the mission, get a damn soul and get Harold off her back. While she showered, she contemplated where she would hunt for a victim today. The seven deadly sins weren't hard to find. She lived in the South, after all. And with All Hallow’s Eve approaching, lots of parties with costume contests, alcohol galore, and wall-to-wall potentials engaging in all sorts of depraved activities were in abundance. In fact, she'd overheard a group of people talking about a new club in town.

Hmmm. What was the name of it? Dungeon something. A new BDSM club. That ought to be interesting
. Melody sat down in front of her computer to do a little search and find what she needed. She located the building on a map and memorized the directions. Fortunately for her, there were a few options to stop for a quickie soul grab on the way.

“Okay, Harold. If you want blood, you've got it.”

“Holy hell!”

Drake started at his assistant manager’s exclamation. He turned toward the door to see what had him all riled up. Drake spotted the hottie dressed in head to toe leather that had caused the outburst and the blood drained from his head to his dick.
Holy hell was right
. He wanted to call her beautiful, but one little word didn't seem like enough. Her perfection blinded him. From the honey blonde hair that curled around her head before falling down her back just shy of her ass, to her ivory face, to the dusky rose flush on her cheekbones setting off her wide jade green eyes.

And God, that mouth. Lush lips cloaked in a glossy red color.

The wicked things those lips could do.

“That's the one I told you about, Drake. The one who was here the other night, tormenting all of your customers.” John spoke in a low voice so no one would overhear.

Drake lifted his head in acknowledgement, but no words came to him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman at the door.

She walked slowly, hips swaying, searching the room, looking for something. Or maybe someone. He sure as hell hoped she wasn't here with someone because he had to have her. Every cell in his body fired with heat at the sudden images searing his brain.

He wanted to flip up that poor excuse for a skirt and run his hands across her naked ass, massaging the globes. It didn’t take much imagination to know that cream-colored skin of hers would pink up nicely with his personal brand of spanking.

Oh yeah
. His hand would leave a fine mark on her perfect flesh. Unlike most of the Doms he knew, he only spanked a submissive's bottom with his bare hand. The skin-to-skin connection he craved was necessary to his control. Her gaze continued to dart around the room as she sauntered over to the bar. She propped herself on a stool and ordered a diet soda on the rocks.

His gaze was drawn to the slender line of her back and the rounded curves of her rear. Drake shifted restlessly in his chair. He wasn't the only one to notice her; already the crowd stirred around her. Many men and women stared at the newbie, and oh yeah, she was definitely a newbie. The sharks smelled fresh blood in the water and were preparing to swoop in on their prey. The pending frenzy was enough to send his simmering sexual need boiling to the surface.

In a split-second decision, Drake stalked over to the bar to claim her first. At her chair, he took a wide stance to her side and a little behind her back, blocking her from many in the room, as well as letting the other Doms know to back off. Claim staked.

She must have sensed his presence, as she turned to the left and took a long hard look at him, something akin to recognition and pain clouding her eyes for a brief moment—but that couldn't be right. He'd never forget seeing a woman like her. When she flashed him the sweetest smile he'd seen in a long time, he decided he had to have been mistaken.

“Hi there.” Her voice slid across his skin as smooth as his favorite white mocha latte went down every morning.

“Hi yourself.” This close, her scent filled his senses with the distinctive smell of spiced tea. Spiked spiced tea. The kind that warmed him on a cold night, leaving him breathless and edgy from the Chinese herbs. She smelled like sin.

His fingers itched to touch those creamy bare shoulders left exposed by her leather corset, not to mention the lush curves of her breasts he imagined finding underneath. It was going to be so much fun to play with this one.

“I don't believe I've seen you here at the Dungeon before,” he began.

“I've only been here once. I overheard some people talking about it and I was curious, so I've been checking it out.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs on the stool, a nervous gesture that gave him a better glimpse of silken thighs. Yeah, he couldn't wait to get her under him, wrapping those mile-long legs around his waist, pushing her limits to the breaking point.

“Have you ever been to a BDSM club before this one?” He signaled for the bartender and ordered another Bud. A shy smile tugged at her mouth, and she shook her head no. “Mind if I sit here with you?” His curiosity was piqued.

“Please.” She motioned to the empty seat next to hers. Drake wasted no time. He sat, adjusting his already hard cock in his pants so the seam wouldn't keep digging into the sensitive skin. He caught her watching his groin as he adjusted, which only made him swell further. A smile threatened the corners of his mouth. At this rate, he'd be dragging her to a booth in record time. “Are you a top or a bottom?” If she said top, he was going to die on the spot. He didn’t bottom—ever, but he was damn sure this woman would be his.

“I don't really know what I am.” She shifted again in her seat. “I've never done anything like this. Only read about it in novels and online.”

“Okay, that’s not unusual. So tell me what it's like when you read about it? Does it turn you on?” A little catch in her breath gave away her answer. “Is there something in particular that gets you going?”

Her hands rolled the napkin on the bar and then unrolled it again. She repeated the process several times without answering. He didn't mind. He was nothing if not patient. He leaned close to her ear to whisper, getting a whiff of that delicious spicy scent. The heat rose in the room as perspiration broke out on his skin. “It's okay to be nervous.” She smiled, biting the corner of her lower lip with perfect white teeth.

“I'm not nervous. I'm just deciding what I want to try first.”

He sucked in a deep breath to clear his head and instead ended up flooded with a distinct new scent. That wasn't just her soap or perfume. No, that was the fragrance of arousal. Hot, thick, and, he'd bet, as sweet as syrup when he lapped up every drop. He eyed her neck, following the graceful curve along her shoulders and arms. Her hands stilled under his scrutiny, her breath halted. For the first time in a long time, he looked forward to a scene. He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap, ignoring her squeak of surprise. This was, after all, a sex club, and all who dared enter knew what they were getting into. The club had the signed release forms to prove it.