Lightning

by Taryn Kincaid

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Lightning

  Copyright © 2012 by Taryn Kincaid

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-397-6

  Cover art by Tibbs Design

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Lightning

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  Taryn Kincaid

  ~DEDICATION~

  To my longtime chapter mate, RWA11 conference buddy, and fellow 1Night Stand author, the inspiring Jennifer Probst. Turnabout is fair play. And good things come to those who persevere.

  Chapter One

  “A little higher and more to the left.”

  Lily Night narrowed her eyes as the building maintenance man shifted her framed diploma on the freshly-painted wall opposite her desk. She tried not to ogle the firm ass encased in a pair of tight jeans or the way the man’s shoulder muscles rippled beneath his T-shirt.

  Maybe if I pop an Altoid, I’ll have an excuse to wipe away the drool.

  She refrained from jumping the handsome worker dude’s bones. The last time she’d dallied with a human, the encounter had not gone well. Vivid images of that long ago prom night bombarded her. Campbell Jones had been a young, strapping, hunk-and-a-half football player and they’d started their date full of hope and expectation and lust. When he’d adjusted the fragrant gardenia corsage on her wrist, she’d inhaled his crisp, citrus scent and thought she might swoon at the sight of him in his tux. The black material stretched across broad shoulders that mirrored the promise of the bruising man he’d be in his prime. But she’d all but sucked him dry as flashes of lightning crackled over their heads. By the time dawn painted the sky, she’d turned him into a mere shadow of his former self. Literally.

  And briefly knocked out cell phone service in the lower Hudson Valley, as well.

  She’d sworn off humans ever since. Instead, she pulled all-nighter after all-nighter to evade the dreams in which men called to her—and to avoid the university dating scene that inevitably led to frequent and addicting sex.

  Mortals. Bleh.

  At least incubi could keep up with her on those occasions when she absolutely climbed the walls and needed to scratch her itch. But there was no percentage in screwing them. No emotion. No real fulfillment. A few brief moments of sexual satisfaction before it was wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, and on to the next willing customer.

  Such was the non-sex life of a succubus too afraid of emergency rooms to get laid by normal mortal males. But if she couldn’t fornicate, at least she could sublimate.

  Hell, yeah. That she could do.

  She surveyed her ultra-modern office space with pride. Any minute now, a torrential stream of clients would be clamoring for her expertise in accident reconstruction. She loved the irony in that. After all, she was a catastrophe waiting to happen herself.

  A fact with which her sisters readily agreed. A celibate succubus just wasn’t natural, they insisted time and time again. Not only that, but she was doing herself real physical and psychic damage, they insisted. Without a constant influx of the buzzing electrolytes transferred during orgasm, she would waste away, they noted, pointing to her size-zero figure, the dull, ashy blonde hair she pinned severely to her nape, and her fair and delicate—okay, so maybe she was a little too, er, translucent—complexion. At least she didn’t sparkle in the sun.

  As if she’d conjured them, two of her sisters materialized, draping themselves in sexy, languid poses on her Italian leather couch and the minimalist office furniture that could have come straight from the Guggenheim Museum catalogue. She supposed she should be thankful the entire Suc Sister Sorority hadn’t arrived to inspect and critique. Only a couple of her blood sisters—the sensual, raven-haired Zena and the voluptuous, near-sighted Dagney—had popped in.

  “According to ‘Corporate Chic for Dummies’, the diploma goes opposite the client’s chair to allow him to read same and be suitably impressed.” Dagney thunked a slick book the size of a dachshund onto the glass-topped desk.

  Lily swept her hand toward the stunning view of the city beyond. “But the floor-to-ceiling windows make that a non-starter.”

  “Lil’s whiter than Edward Cullen and you’re talking about where her diploma should go? It’s like the blind leading the sexless.” Zena uncoiled her slinky frame from the sofa and prowled the room like a huntress seeking prey. “Fuck this. She needs a man. A mortal man.”

  Dagney clucked her tongue in dismay. “We agreed we’d ease into this, Z.”

  Lily mentally substituted “the intervention” for “this.”

  “Ease, schmeeze. You two are seriously discussing office décor when that is in the room?” Zena craned her neck in the direction of the muscular maintenance man. “And you call yourselves succubi?” She snorted, and vanished. A shimmer of energy rippled the atmosphere and then she appeared again behind the hottie, invisible except to her sisters. Curving her slinky body to fit his, she twined a long leg around his calf.

  The man finished hammering with a final bang and rubbed the back of his neck, as if a sultry woman arched against him, blowing into his ear. As indeed one did. A subtle shiver ran through him. Zena eased down the zipper of his tight jeans.

  “Okay now, Ms. Night?” He glanced back at Lily over one brawny shoulder. “I need to—unh!”

  His words ended in a lusty grunt. The colossal hard-on bursting from his fly was difficult to miss. Zena parted her red lips and her tongue flashed out for a sample of his long, thick wares, gliding sensuously across the head of his throbbing cock. The man groaned, his sturdy legs wobbling. Abruptly withdrawing from Zena’s eager mouth, he leaped back, landing the sexy succubus on her ass. Glancing down at his glistening erection, he turned a furious candy apple red and fled the office, trying to stuff his exposed junk back into his jeans.

  “Mmm-mmm good.” Zena smacked her lips and offered her sisters a sly wink. “You discuss it with her, Dag. Hate to feast and run, but something’s just come up.”
Her laugh echoed as she chased the workman down the hallway.

  Lily sighed. “I hate when you two do that invisible thing with them. The least you can do is show yourselves.”

  “What, and leave them totally smitten?” Dagney crossed the room and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Anyway, we didn’t come to discuss Zena’s tricks. We came to discuss yours.”

  “I don’t do tricks, Dag.”

  “Precisely, Lilith. That’s why we’re here.”

  She stiffened. “I only see one of you now.” Another rapturous masculine moan drifted in from the direction of the corridor. “And I’ve asked you a gazillion times to call me ‘Lily’.”

  “At least Zena and I don’t hide our true nature.”

  “You know why. I put Campbell Jones into a coma, for goddess’ sake!”

  Dagney snapped her fingers as if to flick away the old argument. “You were in high school. It was prom. He got you drunk. And hot. And bothered. You thought you were in love. You didn’t have the maturity or skill to keep yourself in control. And besides, we are succubi. That’s what we do.”

  “We put men in comas?” Lily ran her fingertips over her framed diploma. “Not what I do. Not anymore.”

  “Right. I’ve got it, doc. You’re a newly-minted biomechanical engineer. Who knows nothing about the mechanics of biology. Or about being happy.”

  She opened her mouth to protest. Words failed her. Was she happy? Achieving her PhD had been satisfying, getting handed her diploma had thrilled her, opening her office had made her look forward to the future for the first time in…forever. But none of it had been as fulfilling or thrilling as Campbell thrusting powerfully and insatiably inside her—until their lovemaking started to go so horribly wrong.

  As if sensing her near capitulation, Dagney sidled over to the computer on Lily’s pristine glass-topped desk, and flicked it on. She tapped in a code, and turned the screen to display a discreet-looking web site.

  Lily raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

  “It’s your entry to Madame Evangeline’s exclusive dating service, 1Night Stand.”

  “Dating service. Puh-leeze. It’s not like I need a dating service. I am a succubus.”

  “You don’t freakin’ act like one.” Her sister shook her head as if her younger sibling continued to disappoint her and enlarged the site on the monitor screen until the pixels bombarded Lily’s vision.“And you don’t date.”

  “I abstain by choice.”

  Dagney snorted. “If you say so, love. But 1Night Stand isn’t your average online dating service. Except for those people who somehow stumble onto the site, it’s by referral from satisfied customers. Madame Eve is intrigued by your situation. We want you to do this. If not for yourself, do it for us. Once you sign up, Zena and I will even fill out the questionnaire for you. But if we do….”

  She left the implication unspoken but Lily wasn’t fooled by her sister’s innocent, cat-smacking-cream expression. Goddess only knew what sort of whacky, sexy, willing-to-do-or-dare-anything profile her inventive sisters might create.

  “Here’s your password.”

  With a sigh, Lily scrutinized the site. No phone number. The few vague words didn’t tell her much. At least there was no cheesy cavalcade of barrel-chested studs.

  “1NS? One Naughty Succubus?”

  “If you like.” Dagney laughed. “But I think Madame Eve prefers 1Night Stand.”

  Lily groaned. “1Night Stand. So what I don’t need.”

  “Totally what you do.”

  ***

  “Dude.” Sean Jones snapped his fingers then waved his hand before Camp’s eyes. “Come on, Camp.”

  Campbell Jones jerked his head up. A roll of blueprints was tucked under his brother’s arm.

  “I hate it when you do that.” He swatted his younger sibling away as if he were a mosquito. “And you’re tramping dust and debris into my office.”

  True, the deluxe penthouse suite of the half-finished office tower was not remotely ready to be used. Concrete only recently had been poured, drywall still covered the partitions, Masonite on the floors, and Tyvex panels masked what would eventually be panoramic windows with sweeping views of New York Harbor and the Hudson River.

  But he’d already settled into his new personal and business domain. Being this high up might have caused him discomfort once; now he felt like an eagle in its aerie, the vast sky at his command. He swiveled his chair around and hunched over his drafting table again, flicking on the overhead lamp to illuminate his sketch.

  He only ever lost himself when he was drawing. Most of the time he was hyper-aware. Scents, sounds, a cornucopia of sensation. But the feel of the pencil in his hand grounded him, the stroke of graphite on paper, one bold line connecting to the next and the next. He could soar, and remain earthbound at the same time.

  “Yeah? Well, I hate it when you zone out on me, bro,” his younger brother retorted. “I always think you’re slipping back into never-never land.” Sean paused. “Worries the crap out of me.”

  Camp grimaced. “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” He muttered the line like a mantra. He didn’t need to be reminded of the blank six weeks that had been cut from his life when he was a high school senior. He picked at that still-raw scab every minute of every damn day. He replayed the erotic scenes leading to his flame-out over and over at night.

  First he’d been groaning in utter bliss, finally thrusting inside Lily’s tight, wet sheath, as deep as he could drive himself, his hands kneading her soft breasts, his lips grinding against hers as he swallowed her ecstatic moans of pleasure. Pumping, pounding, screwing her in the back seat of his Camaro for all he was worth, lightning bolts arcing faster and fiercer across the night sky. Long past counting how many times they’d made each other come.

  Until his brain short-circuited.

  He woke up in a hospital bed, nearly two months later, the summer half over and Lily and her family gone along with it. The whole Night clan had left town without a trace. He had no idea where to find her. He’d guarded her secret ever since. His, too. Despite the prodding of his doctors, his shrinks, his physical therapists, his family—even his football buddies—he’d vowed that no one but he and Lily would ever know what had happened that night. Even he wasn’t certain. But he damn sure didn’t want anyone to know he’d experienced such mind-blowing sex that it rendered him unconscious.

  And left him with special abilities he chose not to reveal.

  But whenever a commercial for erectile dysfunction medication came on, and he heard the warning about seeking medical attention if your erection lasts longer than four hours, he wanted to throw something at the TV.

  “Let me see what you’ve got.” Sean took off his hard hat and leaned closer.

  Campbell shifted his position so that Sean was forced to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t eager to display his lap to his brother or acknowledge that mere thoughts of Lily had given him serious wood. Again.

  Hopefully, not four-hour wood.

  Sean nodded his approval of the drawing. “Not bad. Should go for beaucoup bucks.”

  “Everything will be completely solar-powered.”

  “Who’s it for?”

  Campbell shook his head. “Dunno.”

  “It’s for her. Lily.” Sean frowned. “It’s got everything but the white picket fence. It screams love nest on steroids.” He ran his thumb across the sketch. “Jesus. I don’t know if I ever realized that before. The girl broke your fucking heart, man. Probably your head. God knows what else. But you’ve never put down the torch you’re carrying. Every fucking thing you do is for her.”

  “She didn’t break my heart. She didn’t break my head.” He ground out the words from between clenched teeth. “And if I ever see her again, I will damn straight even our score.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” His brother waved a hand around the half-finished office. “Even this goddamned tower.”

  Campbell began to protest, b
ut Sean cut him off.

  “The building isn’t even finished but the design’s so fucking awesome the office space is ninety-eight percent sold already, in a prime real estate location,” Sean went on. “We’ve made a fucking fortune—you, me, Silent Partner and Developer Girl. The rest of us are spending like whales in Las Vegas. You’re feathering your nest.”

  “Nothing wrong with socking something away for leaner times.”

  “Please. I’ve got three sweet new marvels of German engineering parked in my garage. I party in the city’s hottest clubs every night with a different gorgeous chick on my arm.” He shot Camp a pitying glance. “You’ve got a Camaro that’s older than I am, under a tarp in the garage of the old house in Sleepy Hollow. You live like a fucking hermit, and you need to snap the fuck out of it. It’s been ten years. The bitch dumped you on prom night, for Christ’s sake. High school. You’re closing in on thirty.”

  “She’s not a bitch.” He stiffened, straightening into his fighting stance, ready to smash his brother into the ground, though they’d been through this a thousand times.

  “So much for evening the score.” His younger brother’s snort of disbelief could have shamed the winded snuffle of a racehorse finishing out of the money.

  “Are you really looking for me to cut you in half?”

  Sean returned the hard hat to his head, took a step back, and said nothing more. They both knew Campbell could, in fact, grind him into sawdust without breaking a sweat or bruising his knuckles, despite the impressive musculature beneath Sean’s T-shirt and jeans. The phenomenal strength and speed he’d acquired after the coma continued to mystify Campbell. Like his other weird abilities.

  “Lily didn’t dump me.” The protest sounded lame even to his own ears.

  “Yeah? Well, where was she?” Indignant sparks lit Sean’s blue eyes. “She sure as hell wasn’t with you when the paramedics dragged your sorry, unconscious ass into the emergency room. She sure as hell didn’t visit you while you lay in a coma all that time. No, she hightailed it the fuck out of town without leaving a forwarding address. No cards. No flowers. No nothing.”