Firstborn-Hellacious
3
Hell
is no place for a human…unless they’re
dead!
Wicked
Sathariel, the eldest son of Satan, has finally met his match, and at the
oddest of times, she turns up in his head. Accustomed to having his father and
siblings rummage through his mind, he can’t handle his woman seeing his
hellacious thoughts. And when it becomes clear she’s heaven bound – all hell
breaks loose!
Lori
Thornton’s psychic ability is new, and never one to control her temper or her
mouth, she often finds herself in bizarre predicaments. One such event is
meeting Satan’s first-born and calling him a pretty boy. When his eyes fill
with hellfire and he releases horns, talons, and the long, leathery, forked
tail that swings treacherously toward her, Lori knows her life is about to spin
deliciously out of control.
Find Satan's triplets in Hellacious 1 & 2 - Irreverent, funny, and sexy as...HELL!
Excerpt:
Wicked remained a little annoyed about
what she’d said about him on the beach the day Slick reacquainted himself with
Marcia Carter. He lounged against his bar, keeping his hands in his pockets. “So
I’m a freaking nutjob?”
He listened to the turmoil in Lori’s
mind as she peered around his apartment, taking in the dark, masculine
furniture, his guitar leaning against the amp by the tall mahogany stool he sat
on when he played.
Unbelievable. “You play guitar?”
She glanced at the wall between the loft’s two elevators. Brushing her fingers
lightly over the strings, she asked, “Who painted the picture?” Lori caressed
the neck of the instrument, sending a flare of passion to his crotch as he
imagined her fingers squeezing his cock.
The
Old Guitarist
was his favorite painting and it is why he played. Wicked found it soothing to
coerce sounds from it no one heard but him. He liked having total control over
something in his life. “Unbelievable that I enjoy music?” He glanced at the
painting. “It is a Picasso.” He shrugged. “Over the millennia I have gained
some culture if only by osmosis, honey.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He strode to stand in front of her.
“Tell me, sweet Lori, what did you mean?”
“It’s just…” Breath hitched noisily in
her throat. “I didn’t think, oh hell, you know what I meant.”
“Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”
“I didn’t think the son of Lucifer would
play an instrument, enjoy music and art, or -- or read a book.” She
straightened her shoulders. “In fact, I didn’t think you’d be normal at all.”
“I am much more than the evil creature
you believe me to be.”
Wicked hadn’t intended to kiss her so
soon, he wanted Lori to get used to him. Eyes that rivaled his in their
blueness stared at him. She ran a hand nervously through her neck-length blonde
hair and her full lips quivered. The smell of her fear made him anxious, unsure.
How could he make her understand he’d never, ever hurt her. “I’m going to kiss
you.”
When she didn’t step back, he leaned
down and pressed his lips softly to hers. His hands were now clenched at his
sides as he vowed not to touch any other part of her body. Wick knew her wide
hips would be soft, her plump breasts would more than fill his palms, and her
nipples, taut beneath her shirt, would be so damn sweet. Easing his tongue past
her lips, he tasted her for the first time. His senses reeled at the exotic
flavor of who she was. Her thoughts, her needs, tumbled headlong into his mind
and blinded him with the light of goodness from her soul.
Snatching back, he gazed at her long and
hard. “Hell’s sake, I didn’t expect you to be so fucking devout.” Especially knowing
what she desired of him. No matter, he would take her tonight, make her his. He
ran the tip of a finger around a bud. “Are they hard for me, Lori?”
“Wicked… I… please, don’t…”
“I will do nothing you have not dreamed
of.”
“I didn’t realize you invaded my dreams.”
“I watched them.” He smiled. “I wanted
your sleep to be peaceful.”
“You can do that?”
“I can do anything I want. I’ve been
through your mind a hundred times since that first night.” Shoving hands back
in his pockets so he wasn’t tempted to touch her again, he tilted his head.
“You’ve been in mine also.” He still couldn’t fathom how that had happened.
Probably his mother’s doing. “Have you seen anything terrible enough to condemn
me for?” He felt her feeble attempt at reading him, but he’d closed that
pathway for now aware another would only spring up. Damn Josette.
“No, but, unlike you, I haven’t seen
everything. I know it’s there, I feel it.” She averted her eyes. “You are the
devil.”
“I am his son.”
“Like father, like son.”
He moved to stare out the window of his
loft. Lights shone brightly from the many high-rises surrounding his building.
Looking up, he saw a myriad of stars, and one shot toward Earth in a solitary
path. He remembered when he was a boy Josette told him shooting stars were
angels falling to Earth. Wicked never believed it. They were pieces of dying
planets or stars, nothing more. “Tell me what you feel right now?”
“I can’t.”
He turned to face her and rested his
hips on the sill. “Yes, you can.”
“I want… damn it, Wicked, I want you.”
He grunted. “I know what you want, tell
me something else, something I don’t know.”
“You know everything there is to know.”
“I don’t know why it took you so long to
come to me.” He should have had her in his bed long ago.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve known since the first night we would
be together.”
She stuttered, “I-I guess I did.”
“I scare you that much?”
“Yes.”
He walked to her. “Yet you envision me
between your thighs.” He ran a finger over her lips and sighed. “I don’t want
you afraid, and I won’t take you that way.” His body shimmered in and out of view.
“You will stay here.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“You can’t stand to be with me, but you
don’t want to be without me.”
“Wicked, I need time.”
“You’ve
had enough, but I’ll give you a little more.” He vanished, heading below to
visit with his father. Relax, honey, you
got what you wanted. For now.
J. Hali Steele
Growl and roar-it’s okay to let the beast out.
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