Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  She circled the stanchions first, but he wasn’t there. She quickly strolled up and down the rows of vendors, always looking. She wandered to the children’s areas, though he’d never shown much interest in children. The greater fair was due to close down soon. She paused and bought herself a glass of wine, beginning to feel the fear of having missed him. Of his never having been real. His never being here or looking for her….

  She chugged the wine, fighting not to cry. A band started up on stage. A silly song of pirates and the peg-leg tango.

  She cried and wandered. Fog was coming in, and she wasn’t dressed for it, of course. Never brought a coat when she needed one.

  She found a place to stand at the outskirts of the crowd, in front of the stage. Children dressed like pirates danced to the forefront, blankets were spread about the lawn and people huddled close, looking forward to an hour or more of innocent pirate music.

  Emily sagged. He wasn’t here.

  A coat suddenly draped over her shoulders, and an arm swept around her. “Found you.”

  She whirled to throw her arms around him. He held her close, clinging to her. The crowd around them chuckled as he lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

  Finally, he set her down. She looked up into his eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he answered, brushing the tears from her face. “I have much to explain.”

  “I want to say it doesn’t matter, but it does. But what matters most is this.” She took a breath and swallowed. “Alan Silvestri, I love you. I want to be with you. I don’t know anything else and I may be insane. But it’s a wonderful sort of insanity.”

  “Emily, dear Emily. I love you and want to be with you! I am no longer cursed. The Immortal sails without me. Mama Lu gave me limited time, my love. Where can we go for privacy?”

  “Well, I had a camper, but it’s probably gone by now. Let’s get my duffle, and we’ll find someplace on the edge of things.”

  The music provided a pleasant background where they sat, down by the river. The children’s band finished up, and a more mainstream band took its place. She leaned against her duffle, looking at him in the light from nearby streetlamps. He’d insisted she keep the coat on.

  “I seldom feel the cold, love. After the days spent at the ice palace, I doubt cold will ever hold much power over me.”

  “And I find I get cold too easily.” She took his hand, stroked it. “My cuts healed, but not this?”

  “I took this on willingly the day you tried to shoot me. None of your wounds were done with deliberation. The Kraken likes you!” He grinned. From the corner of his eye, he saw a stark white tentacle rise from the river, then sink away as quickly.

  “The Kraken. There was more than one, right? I’m a bit hazy on it. And why did it help?” She wanted to know everything, but Alan said they had until three a.m., giving her time to ask regular questions, and she wanted to approach the serious stuff slowly.

  “I have no idea how many invaded the palace. Glacious offended the Old Monster centuries ago, when she established her ice palace. The deep cold of the ocean belongs to the Kraken. They acknowledge ice, but for her to make a home of it, to rise above it, so to speak…they have feuded forever. Probably related to each other. Families fights do linger.” He turned his hand in hers and drew her closer.

  She let her hand rest at his chest. “Why you? Why Mick? Or me?”

  “Why were we able to help the Old Monster win?” He chuckled. “Glacious hid her palace, and though the Kraken searched high and low, they couldn’t find it. I was summoned once a year. When I held her curse from Mick, it left her slightly weaker. My holding it challenged her. With you—twice I held you from her. When you shot me, and when you kicked me. Three cracks in her façade.” He sighed as she lifted her hand and stroked his face. “Mick and I once pledged to help Kraken wherever we found them. Sailors would catch small ones and eat them, or simply kill them. We freed them. I believe we must have kept dozens from death over the years.”

  “But why me? Why did I end up there? With you?”

  “My luck,” he whispered, and kissed her fingertips. “Honestly, Emily. I don’t know for certain. The Old Monster must have sent out that mirror, looking for someone to help. You found the mirror. And my life changed.”

  “Damn, no fuck.” She shivered, pulled away slightly. “Alan, the things Mick said….”

  “All lies. He’d accepted that we were brothers, but he still wanted to poke at me. And he knew to keep her attention from focusing on you. Return with me and hear it from his lips. I swear I never vied with him for Jezebel’s favors.” He recaptured her, closing the distance between them. “I did use you, desperate to escape from her curse. But I would not have sacrificed you, and I did not intend for you to even see her ice palace.”

  “She possessed me?” Her voice trembled and she scooted closer to him. He took advantage and swept her up against his chest, inhaled the scent of her hair and set his right hand at her hip.

  “I believe she cast a spell on you. I planned on Mick coming to me. To join forces. She must have used the crew of the Immortal to spy and played a trick on me. Used me to catch you. I am sorry.” He trembled as her lips touched his throat, a light kiss. Did he hear a soft I know?

  “The crew is free of her cold influence now. She kept them content and uninvolved these many years. I suspected they were Glacious’ agents, but I didn’t know they were spelled.”

  “How long until you’re drawn away?” She raised her head from the shelter of his chest.

  “Mama Lu said three hours after midnight.”

  “Will I return with you?”

  “She said that was up to you. You still have your mirror?”

  “Yes, and I know how to use it now. I dreamed of you, here. And came. I spent months wandering and missing you. I don’t care if I’m insane, Alan. I’d rather be deranged with you than sentenced to a sane, ordinary life here.”

  He chuckled. “What I experienced today was certainly not ordinary. I rescued a little princess named Stella who lost her parents. Stared at a fake Kraken full of children, witnessed a battle where cannon fired without ammunition, and heard some interesting music.”

  She laughed. “The play structures for the children! A much less fierce Kraken. Rescued a princess? Well, you did have an adventure!”

  “Yes, and Princess Stella scolded me regarding my intentions toward you.”

  “What?” She sat up, staring at him. “She what?”

  “I was instructed by her royal highness to make an honest woman out of you.” He pushed himself upward, took her hand in his. “Emily Pawes, will you marry me?”

  “Oh. Shit. Really?” She grinned. “An honest woman? If I marry a pirate, live in Tortuga, and sail with the Quill occasionally, will I be an honest woman because I wear your ring?”

  “No. But you will honor me. Answer me, Mrs. Pawes.”

  “I sorta like the name Mrs. Pawes. I’ll be Mrs. Silvestri?” She teased him, having no intention of saying no to his proposal. “Or Mrs. Captain Silvestri?”

  “You can be anything you like.” He frowned at her.

  “You will get me a ring?” She smiled into his gloomy face.

  “Only if you say yes,” he answered dryly.

  “Well, I don’t know. There may be other captains who still have ships that might be interested in me.”

  He released her hands and sat back, glaring at her.

  With a laugh, she sprang to her feet and dashed away. Calling over her shoulder, “Yes, you fool! Of course, yes!”

  He leaped to follow her, caught her down by the water and kissed her soundly. A splash further downstream drew the attention of the remaining festival-goers. And a loud pop came from the children’s play area. The Kraken didn’t care for its doppelganger.

  Emily and Alan ignored it, kissing.

  They hid when security cleared the area some hours later and when three
a.m. chimed from a local clock tower, and Captain Alan Silvestri felt the draw of home, that home included the woman in his arms. And her duffle bag of interesting anachronisms. Tortuga tucked itself around them, adjusting to the new toys.

  Three days later, the camper was towed to the impound lot.

  THE END

  If you enjoyed this story you can connect with Maureen on her website or subscribe to her newsletter to hear about new releases. Other books by Maureen are available.

  Turn the page to read Fifty Shades of Fifty Shades of Gray by Riley J. Ford or return to the TABLE OF CONTENTS.

  Fifty Shades of Fifty Shades of Grey by Riley J. Ford

  What happens when you try 50 Shades in the REAL world?

  When accountant Ben Weaver awakens after an erotic dream, he encounters a wife who is unwilling, uninterested, and who once again has a headache. The unworldly but focused Ben decides he will do anything to rekindle his sex life, including imitating the erotic techniques of billionaire Christian Grey from the Fifty Shades series. Unable to withstand the pent-up ache radiating from his tender blue testicles, Ben decides to take Grey’s methods to a whole new level in order to relieve the pressure on his . . . er, marriage.

  Shocked by her husband’s unusual plan, Kate Weaver hesitates in giving him what he desires. But for all his trappings of non-success—his ordinary accounting job where coworkers steal his sandwiches and brag about their sex lives, his lack of wealth, his inability to seduce his own wife—Ben is a man with one saving talent: the driving determination to reignite his sex life no matter what it takes. When the couple embarks on a daring and dangerous physical adventure, Kate discovers her husband’s fanatical zeal to explore all of Christian Grey’s darkest desires, with calamitous results.

  Erotic, hilarious, and highly disturbing, Fifty Shades of Fifty Shades of Grey is a spin-off that will titillate you, amuse you, and stay with you until the next erotic romance crosses your Kindle.

  Turn the page for Fifty Shades of Fifty Shades of Grey or return to the TABLE OF CONTENTS to choose another book.

  CHAPTER 1

  Mourning Wood

  She sighed softly, her lips parted. He squeezed her full, luscious breasts, heat igniting in his groin. They lay naked on a snow drift, just the two of them beneath the white-blue October sky. Puffs of clouds floated by, far above the white-capped pine trees. She was stretched out on the wool blanket, her bare skin covered in goose bumps. Her long eyelashes cast shadows against her flushed pink cheeks. Her breasts were soft, tantalizing mounds. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a thin, sexy landing strip that just begged his plane to land.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. She ran a tongue over her lips, trailing a finger down her belly. Heat spread through his lower region. She looked so beautiful she took his breath away. He loved seeing her like this, spread out on a blanket and waiting—begging—for him to enter her. So sexy, so inviting.

  Her nipples stood erect in the cold morning air. He bent and sucked a pink tip, causing it to harden between his lips. She gave a little cry and arched her back. He sucked the other nipple. She gasped again. He pressed his engorged member against her inner thigh, parting her legs with his knees. She reached up and pulled him close. Her breath was warm on his ear.

  “Take me,” she whispered. “Take me now.”

  With his fingers, he gently spread her apart. She gasped and writhed, pressing herself against him. He poised above her, his manhood throbbing. Waiting, teasing her.

  “Take me,” she begged again. He lowered himself onto her body. She let out a little cry, arching her hips up to meet his. A groan escaped his throat. His loins pulsated with hunger. She was so warm, so tantalizing, so ready in every way . . .

  Benjamin Weaver’s eyes snapped open. Wow, what a hot dream to wake up to. He was shivering. The bed comforter had been pulled off again, but his penis was hard enough to cut diamonds. He should put this baby to good use. It was the morning of his forty-fifth birthday, after all. If there was any time his wife would be inclined to give him sex, it was today. He was due some good lovemaking. Overdue, was more like it.

  He groped under the covers for her body. To his disappointment, she pulled away as usual, saying she had headache.

  He wasn’t going to let her get away that easily. “But it’s my birthday, and I’m ready to celebrate.”

  “Sorry, honey,” she murmured. “The only thing going inside me this morning is Tylenol.”

  Ben’s precious morning wood drooped as swiftly as his spirits. He sighed and threw back the covers. If he couldn’t get a little birthday action after twenty years of marriage, then their sex life—or lack thereof—was worse than he’d thought.

  Kate had started pulling away about two years ago, right after their daughter went away to college. Although the empty nest was supposed to be the perfect time to rekindle a couple’s sex life, it had been the opposite for them. Kate had started complaining of headaches, and soon their sexual activity had dwindled from weekly to monthly, dropping off further from there.

  Now a full year had passed since they’d made love, and Ben was at his wit’s end. There was only so much meat-slapping in the shower a guy could do before he started to feel like a desperate weirdo. Not to mention he was chafed raw from his wedding ring rubbing over his johnson every morning.

  Something had to change.

  CHAPTER 2

  Riding Crop

  “You need to get a riding crop,” suggested Rick Johnson a little too enthusiastically, leaning over Ben’s cubicle. “It’ll really spice things up, man. I’m telling you, Fifty Shades is the best thing that’s ever happened to my sex life.”

  “So you’ve said,” Ben said. “Repeatedly.”

  Yep, his coworker couldn’t stop talking about that popular mommy-porn book, which annoyed Ben to no end. Last week, Rick had shown the other accountants the fur-lined handcuffs he’d bought for his wife. He’d giggled like a hyena, saying how she’d turned into a sex kitten since reading the series. Ben had cringed at the image of his coworker, with his thinning gray hair and smoker’s-breath, horn-dogging it up with his dumpy, wall-eyed wife. Apparently, though, that’s what Fifty Shades did for couples.

  “You should’ve seen Amanda on her knees last night,” Rick continued, “her sumptuous ass jiggling as I brought the crop down again and again and—”

  “Okay, I get the picture,” Ben interrupted. “I really don’t need to hear the gory details.”

  “I’m just trying to share the highlights,” Rick replied, a bit peevishly. “Give you a tip or two so you can jump right in. Trust me, the book will restart your sex life in a big way. It worked for me.”

  “Thanks,” said Ben, trying not to sound annoyed, “but I need to ease into the idea. I don’t know if that type of book would be up Kate’s alley, anyway. But if I do get it for her, I’ll let her read it first and see what happens. I’m not going to break out the whips and chains right off the bat. I’m trying to save my marriage, not smash it with a wrecking ball.”

  Sal Rizzoli, the office lothario, sidled up to Ben’s desk. “Talking about your balls again, Weaver?”

  Ben gritted his teeth. “Don’t you work?” He knew damn well the only thing Sal Rizzoli worked hard at was his libido—i.e. getting into his female co-workers’ pants. So far this year, the self-proclaimed Italian stud had already bedded six of the single women in the office, according to his braggadocio statistics. And it was only January.

  Sal grinned. “Sometimes I see you scratching your balls, other times I hear you talking about ‘em. Seems you’re in love with your nuts, man.”

  Rick, ever loyal, stuck his head over the cubicle again. “Didn’t know you took such an interest in Ben’s balls, Rizzoli. Seems like a strange preoccupation for a straight male.” He smirked. “Anyway, back off. Weaver’s just trying to lay his wife.”

  “Ah,” Sal said, his grin widening. He ran his hand through his thick, slicked-back hair. “Why didn’t you tell me? I know a
thing or two about the ladies. I’m always happy to offer advice, help a brother out. I feel for guys who have trouble getting it up.”

  Ben cringed and hunched over his computer. “That’s not the issue, not that it’s any of your business.”

  The last thing he needed was Sal Rizzoli telling the whole office his personal stuff. “I’ve got work to do.” He pretended to study his computer screen.

  Rick shrugged at Sal. “I’m trying to convince him Fifty Shades is the way to go.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sal said. He leaned in. “Start with the elevator, Weaver. Chicks dig getting seduced in elevators. It’s one of the hottest scenes in that book. Once you prime her pump, you can take her home and bang her all night . . . unless you’re a two-second man, of course.” He nudged Ben, grinning. “Which, my friend, it’s pretty obvious you are.” He chortled loudly and walked off down the hall.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? Pissed, Ben frowned at his computer. Sal Rizzoli always had a way of making him feel inadequate, adding insult to injury. Yes, Ben knew Sal was the one stealing his lunch from the office refrigerator. Sal always denied it, of course, but one day Ben saw remnants of his wife’s tuna salad on Sal’s grinning lips and a piece of cilantro stuck in his teeth. It was the cilantro that did it. Only Kate put cilantro in her tuna salad.

  Ben and Sal had almost come to blows over the incident in the lunchroom, until Rick had pulled the two of them apart. Sal had gone around and told everyone that “jackass Weaver had forgotten to take his meds and went postal in the lunchroom,” which, for a few weeks, caused the whole office to tiptoe around Ben and whisper in the hallways as he passed.

  That confrontation hadn’t stopped Sal from continuing to swipe Ben’s lunch, though, and Ben cursed Rizzoli every time he opened the office refrigerator to find his lunch missing again. Ben vowed that one of these days, he was going to wipe that cilantro-laced grin off of Rizzoli’s face. Maybe plant a week-old fish sandwich to give him violent food poisoning.