Sweet Hell

Pari met his gaze with her own, and their eyes seemed to duel, one gaze tangling with the other.

When the guard had finally gone, Pari walked toward him in a professional manner and held out her hand. "Mr. Rogan, I'm—" Her confident words stopped abruptly when she looked up into the most hauntingly beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. "—Pari Sisco," she whispered, pulling her hand that had begun to tremble, from his. “I’ve been asked to represent you."

Nothing but silence—and those eyes.

Moving quickly, she began digging into her wallet and expertly flipped her card toward him. "There, see? It says Pari Sisco, Attorney at Law."

Keeping his cold eyes on her, he began pacing around her, taking in all of her assets. "Blond hair, high heels, cute little butt, and you smell like the perfume counter of a cheap department store."

She turned to face him. "Please, Mr. Rogan, do you think—”

"A full, round thirty-eight, and bound to taste like candy," he said. While his torrid blue eyes continued to rake over her, he leaned against the bars, his piercing eyes narrowing on her waist. "Let's see," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I'd say about twenty-three... twenty-four, tops." Then dropping his eyes, he looked at her hips. "Thirty-six, easy." Pleased with himself, he lifted his eyes and met Pari's. "Well?"

Pari didn't want to tell him he was right, or even close.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes concentrating on hers. "You got all the things a little nympho is supposed to have, but the one thing that really gives you away is them bedroom eyes."

"Are those...uh...bedroom eyes."

"Whatever," he said, still looking at her closely. Then stepping away from the bars he leaned down in front of her, clutching his knees. "Good God, those little beauties could make a good man leave home."

"Mr. Rogan," Pari said, almost at the point of losing her patience. "Can’t you just forget about my eyes, my butt, or any other part of my anatomy that may interest you? I'm here to talk about you."

A frown crossed his face as he looked at her hair. "How long is that?"

Pari glanced around, wondering what he was looking at. "How long is what?"

"That," he said, reaching out and pulling a very large decorative pin from her hair. His eyes widened as he watched it billow down to her waist. "My God, you look like a Barbie doll. What did they do, sweetheart? Model that doll after you?"

Angered, Pari grabbed the pin from his hand, slammed her briefcase down on a nearby table and struggled to get her hair back up, but couldn't, so she gave up. "Mr. Rogan, could I please have your cooperation?"

"Is it natural?"

"What?"

"The color. Is it natural? I don't think I've ever seen a woman with hair as blonde as yours that was natural."

"Yes," she sputtered and spewed. "It’s natural, now can we please get down to it?"

He smiled the same lopsided smile she'd seen on TV. "'Down to it?'" he whispered seductively while lifting his foot and placing it on a chair. Leaning close to her, he said, "Why, Ms. Sisco, is that a proposition?"

Totally exasperated, she turned and began banging on the bars. "Mr. Guard!" she called, stretching her neck to try and see down the hall. "Mr. Guard, may I please get out of here?"

Kitt chuckled, following her with his eyes. With an arrogant saunter, he walked over and leaned on the bars beside her and folded his arms across his chest. "Mr. Guard." His voice was high and singsong as he mocked her. “May I please get out of here?" Then noticing the way her blouse parted in front, his eyes took on an interested look as he peered down into her cleavage. She noticed where his eyes were, and reached up to try and close her blouse. "What's the matter, Ms. Sisco, do I scare you? Afraid I might try to mingle a few of my nasty bodily juices with yours?"

She reached up to slap him, but he caught her hand in mid air and brutally jerked her to him. They were so close she wouldn't have been surprised if the fire in his eyes had burned her.

ADULT EXCERPT

He knew of only one way to make her pay for her sins.

She was in her room packing, so he began a quick stride up the staircase and down the hall to her room. He stood silent for only a moment before he knocked softly.

"Come in," she called out.

Kitt stepped in. "I thought I'd come up and see if you needed any help."

"As a matter of fact, I could use some help with this zipper."

He walked up, turned her around and began tugging on it. He worked with it for a moment and finally got it free, sliding it all the way down her back, slowly. Kitt noticed she didn't have anything on underneath. His pulse began to pound, and heat hotter than any fire that hell could produce clenched his groin as he looked at her soft pale skin. He licked his lips. He could swear he was salivating. He couldn't resist reaching his hands into the shadowy opening and around her waist.

* * * *

Feeling his hands creeping around her, Pari leaned against him with her eyes closed. His breathing became ragged as one hand lowered to her abdomen and closed around her furry mound, while the other came up and began caressing her breasts. Pari leaned her head backwards, enjoying his lips along the soft curve of her neck.

"Kitt, you know I want you, but don't start something you don't intend to finish."

He didn't answer her, just dug his fingers into her juicy canal.

"Ohhh God," she moaned as a lusty fire began to engulf her.

She felt her dress slide off, and Kitt’s lips as he kissed her naked shoulders while pressing the bulk of his engorged cock against her firm little butt.

"Before you go," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "How about a nice long, hot fuck?"

Her eyes flew open. She jerked away from him and whirled around, holding her dress up in front of her.

He came after her, but she ran.

"What the hell are you running from? Isn't this what you've been wanting?" He quickly grabbed her and pulled her to him.

Struggling in his grasp, she began crying, "Not like this, Kitt. This is cheap and dirty."

"Cheap and dirty is the only way you know how to do it. It's the way you've lived your life, you little slut."

"Why do you always say things to hurt me?” she sobbed. “Why?"

"Why not? Whores can’t feel anything.”

“Kitt, if you’re upset with me because of Boris—”

“Before he died, father had a private investigator looking into your past. Know what he found out? You're a dirty little nympho, Pari. Probably slept with every man from here to California. Not only do you have the stink of the Rogan men all over you, but every man you've ever known. When you were fourteen you seduced the local preacher. When your parents realized you needed professional help, you seduced your therapist, not to mention every man and kid in the county, including your goddamned uncle."

Grabbing her shoulders, he lifted her and kissed her violently, and then made a big production of bringing his hand up and wiping at his mouth as if afraid he might be contaminated. His eyes never leaving hers, he walked over to the door and opened it.

Standing in the doorway, he turned and looked back at her. “The worst part is, letting this disease turn you into a high-priced whore.”

“I had to get through college, Kitt,” she sobbed.

"That’s no excuse. There are scholarships, places you can go for help. Grants. You chose to go through college on your back. What did you do, Pari, sleep your way up to valedictorian?”

“Kitt,” Pari sobbed, “please don’t do this.”

“How does it feel, Pari, to know there's a man in the world that doesn't want you? You stink,” he rasped, looking at her as if she were a painted up hooker on a street corner. “You’re dirty, and ugly, and I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole." Before he closed the door, he added, "By the way, I cancelled your plane reservations. You might as well unpack, sweetheart, because you're not going anywhere. My father paid you three million dollars, and by God, you're going to earn every penny." He cruelly began counting on his fingers. "Now, let's see, we have the maid, the butler, the cook, the chauffeur, and beginning today, our very own resident whore.”

When Kitt slammed out the door, Pari felt as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. She collapsed on her dress, staining the expensive material with her tears. She had struggled all her life with the fire between her legs, but couldn't have even guessed that one day it would drive away the only man she could ever love.

* * * *

From somewhere far away… somewhere in the netherworld, a sinister spirit lay in wait. Today he’d made his first appearance. His presence wasn’t bold, but guarded. His words weren’t forceful, but merely suggestive. With the subtle cruelty of a tyrant he had engineered the situation perfectly. He had to be cagey at first, and restrained. They couldn’t know that he was around, he had to bide his time. But soon… like a whisper in the night... like the subtle slither of a snake... like the silent weaving of a spider web around the captured fly he would move stealthily into their lives. Only then would they know. Only then would it become painfully clear that—Boris Rogan was back!