She rocked her hips slowly, sensuously, arousal parting her lips. “I was…uh, I was… That is, I was…”
He pumped against her, his already massive erection increasing by the second.
She met him thrust for thrust, their gyrations lewd. “Wait.” She kept grinding into him. “I need to say this.”
“Sure.”
They maintained their carnal dance.
“Go on.” He wanted to hear this.
She pulled in a huge breath. “I was taking law classes at night before I got here. I know how to present a case. I’m a great litigator. It’s in my blood. I’ll make Satan see reason. I won’t lose.”
She couldn’t have killed the magic between them faster if she’d tried. He stopped pretend fucking and stepped away. “There’s no winning down here for the condemned.” The moment she opened her plush lips, Satan would vaporize her, then bring her back and get his rocks off on torture…the kind she wouldn’t like. “It’s not possible.” He grasped her biceps. “You need to get a grip and accept your fate.”
“Screw that.” She stroked his chest.
Heat and delight shot down his torso, landing in his balls and cock, both still ready to boogie, her effect on him more than it should be.
The door to the office opened.
Before Andros or Racan stuck their heads out, Vespar backed away from her and hit the wall again. “What you want is impossible.”
“You know it’s the right thing to do. I can see it in your eyes.”
He looked past her. “You’re wrong. There’s no way I could or would help you.” Once he called on his powers, a door appeared where none had been before, and he lowered the handle. “Get in there and study your handbook.”
Her chin quivered, and tears glistened in her eyes. “You could help but you won’t. Shame on you.”
On me? He wasn’t the one using his wiles to get her to do what he wanted. At this point, he figured even fucking her senseless wouldn’t get her to obey. Despite being winded and content, she’d still fight him.
Which would lead to another go with her—a repeat performance he’d never indulged in with the other condemned.
Vespar swung the door inward so hard it banged against the wall. “Inside.”
She backed toward it, the disapproval and disappointment in her eyes pinning him.
If he could have run without losing face, he would have. As things stood, he met her stare for stare, hardened against anything she said or did.
A tear ran down her cheek, the bead twinkling in the light.
His throat and chest hurt, and his skin burned. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d blushed, embarrassed by his callous behavior.
The moment she stepped inside the room, he slammed the door closed.
Andros and Racan watched from the office doorway.
Fuck. Vespar glared, his foul mood warning them not to say one damn thing.
Chapter Four
Megan
Megan sat on the counter reserved for her employee handbook since no one thought to provide chairs in here, or they figured the damned shouldn’t expect such luxury.
Trying to reach Vespar on a human level hadn’t worked. Using reason had done squat. Her tears hadn’t put a dent in his fucking armor. Even wanting him physically, which to her horror she did—along with Racan and Andros—produced zip.
No matter what Vespar said, they weren’t all bad. She sensed their goodness in her bones. Psychopaths might tease as they had, but then went in for the kill. They hadn’t harmed her in the least, other than playing with her head, which was more galling than anything. Their teasing proved strangely provocative, not brutal. Their heat and size delectable. Their scents great, too.
Andros’s smoky cologne, or whatever it was, enticed like nobody’s business. Racan’s sensual, masculine fragrance brought to mind silk sheets, hot nights, and raw sex, while Vespar’s spicy, heated scent turned her inside out.
When it came to the dicks she’d known on Earth, she’d had no trouble loathing them. With these three…
What the fuck am I going to do?
She couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t right. Earth had never been an equitable place, especially for Holly. First, she’d lost their parents, then her health, and now her big sister. That crap had to stop. No one deserved this much bad luck.
Think.
She chewed her thumb and considered what was left after tears, seduction, and begging hadn’t worked. Precious little, that’s what. Needing to move, she swung her feet. Her heels chipped the red paint on the opposite wall. As spacious as the office and hallway had been, this area was smaller than a studio apartment, that same weird symbol decorating everything. Rather than chandeliers, harsh fluorescent lights burned above.
Screeeeeeech.
Christ. She winced as a high-pitched wail tore through the room and sounded worse than microphone feedback.
“You now have eighteen minutes to study.” Andros’s voice boomed from everywhere.
Approving noises sounded in the background.
She would have bet they were from Vespar and Racan.
Bastards. Swearing beneath her breath, she plopped the book on her lap.
“On your feet.” Racan spoke this time. “No sitting or relaxing.”
“Until your one-hour break,” Vespar said.
She gave the voices her middle finger.
The screeching returned, louder than earlier, and didn’t stop.
Shit. She jumped off the counter and landed hard, her ankles bending from the stilettos.
The noise cut off.
“You now have seventeen minutes to study,” Andros said.
This was worse than her numerous foster homes, and they’d been uniformly gruesome. People who fed and clothed her only because the state paid them to do so. Mean individuals who thought cracking a smile or offering a hug showed weakness. The ultra-pious ones were the worst, believing they should break every child’s spirit, making them easier to handle.
She hadn’t buckled to them and wouldn’t here either.
Resolved to fight, she only pretended compliance and cracked the book.
Ugh. The musty odor was grosser than wet dog fur. Breathing through her mouth, she flipped past the table of contents to the first page. The upper half had sky-high letters written in red, proclaiming The Customer is Always Right.
What else?
The first rule stated: “The only reason you’re here is to serve and to make the experience enjoyable for the patrons. They matter, you don’t. Their needs are important, yours don’t exist. They…”