Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  “I will.” he said simply. “I plan to lay you down on this bed and lick your pussy next. I want you to come all over my face. Then I am going to fuck you again and again. But I have one question.”

  She nodded, biting her lip, her clit already twitching in anticipation of his attention.

  “Would it be okay if I stayed?”

  She gulped, tried to process his words, her mind blurry. The struggle to overcome raw lust and her need for more from this man had been hard fought. What was he talking about? Stay where? Here? With her? She must have remained quiet too long because he embraced her, although her arms stayed by her sides, her body stiff with tension and disbelief. It couldn’t be true. Her inner cynic kept her in denial.

  “What, for a few more days then?” She muttered into his warm skin.

  “No.” He tilted her face up to his. She knew the emotion in his eyes now. It mirrored hers. “Forever,” he said before he leaned into her lips, then picked her up and plopped her down on the bed.

  Gillian thought she could drown in his kisses, would happily get lost in the soft, dark tangle of his skin and hair.

  “Now about that pussy.”

  She smiled and shifted upward on the bed as he slid down her body, not leaving a single inch of flesh unkissed or unlicked. He grabbed her hips and dove between her legs, pulling her clit into his mouth, sucking hard. She cried out and fisted her hands in his hair. His fingers probed then pushed inside her, reaching up high, under her pubic bone, touching someplace deep and spectacular. She yelped and wrapped her legs around his shoulders, angling her hips up higher. The orgasm smacked into her without warning.

  “Mmm….” He moaned against her soaking flesh as she came, and lapped at the moisture that coursed over his hand while her body jerked and shuddered.

  “Wow,” she whispered, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. “Never thought I could come so…fast.”

  He chuckled and lunged up, flipping them over so she straddled him. She smiled, rocking her hips. He smiled back, eyes hooded and dark with passion. He reached over to the side table drawer and grabbed another condom packet.

  “Are you ready for me, Gillian? ‘Cause I need to be inside you, already. Again. Now.” He growled as he sheathed himself then gripped her hips, lifting her up. “See?” He nodded toward the place where their bodies were about to connect. She looked down. His long cock just touched her lips.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” She demanded. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. God, this is amazing. He is amazing. Better than she had imagined.

  He guided himself inside her, filling her, reaching high, like his fingers had at that angle. “Ahhhh…yes,” he groaned.

  She fell forward and shoved her tongue into his mouth, owning him like he had her. He clapped both hands on her ass, thrusting into her, letting her lead the kiss but proving his need for her at the same time. He tore his lips away, his breath ragged gasps.

  “Give me your nipple,” he demanded.

  She arched forward, putting her breasts against his face. He nuzzled them, licking the hard buds of her nipples, sucking and biting, making her pussy clench harder. She rocked against him, feeling the orgasm approach, this time slowly, more intensely than the previous two. She watched a small drop of sweat drip from her breasts onto his skin as she pushed herself back up. Bracing against his firm chest, her inner muscles gripped his length; she ground her clit against his pubic bone. She closed her eyes and leaned back, letting it take her, move her, and when she came, it was in a tumult, tossing her under in waves of pleasure. She gasped when he flipped her over again, never taking his cock from inside her.

  He yanked her from one orgasm straight into another. The sight of his amazing mahogany skin moving between her legs, proved mind bogglingly erotic. The view of his cock moving out and thrusting into her body, the press of his length filling her made her grunt and yell out with continued spasms of sheer ecstasy.

  “I’m gonna come.” His face was a mask of pleasure. “May I?”

  She propped a knee against his chest. The exquisite angle and the sensation of him so deep nearly made her weep with pleasure.

  “Please.” she pleaded with him. “I want you. I…need you.” She closed her eyes against the intensity of his orgasm.

  “God, yes! Ah…Gillian….” Her body clutched and milked him. She let her leg fall off his torso and pulled him to her lips. His were soft and tender on hers as his hips continued to thrust in reflexive movements inside her. She wrapped around him, their bodies slick with sweat. After a few moments their breathing slowed, and he withdrew, dropping down beside her.

  “In the name of all that is holy, you are amazing.” He groaned and stretched, pulling her into his arms. “Will you stay with me tonight?” His low voice sounded already headed toward slumber. “Please, I want…I need to wake up with you in my arms.”

  She rolled to her other side, letting him spoon her from behind and covered them both with the silky duvet. She’d arranged for an overnight sitter so Harrison would be fine. And she needed to wake up in this man’s arms tomorrow—and for the foreseeable future mornings. She sighed, and snuggled into his embrace. He kissed her shoulder.

  “Gracias,” his breathing evened out as he relaxed against her body.

  “Thank you,” she muttered, as the words forever and Ramon tumbled through her head.

  She smiled.

  ***

  At that moment, Jackson Castillo got a text message from Madame Evangeline

  “Well done, mon cher. Well done.”

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as erotic romance author.

  When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.

  Her groundbreaking romance subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)

  Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.

  www.lizcrowe.com

  www.brewingpasssion.com

  www.a2beerwench.com

  www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor

  www.twitter.com/beerwencha2

  Erotic Healing

  A 1 Night Stand Story

  by

  Becca Dale

  Also by Dale

  Can’t Stop Me

  Heart Desires

  Kya’s King

  Ryan’s Treasure

  Millionaire and the Girl Next Door

  Unspoken Promises

  ~DEDICATION~

  To my darling man who makes me smile when the world closes in.

  Chapter One

  Brenna Halsted’s fingers trembled as she clicked on her inbox and a response email from Madame Evangeline appeared. She had never done anything so insane in her life, but she needed a mental boost, something to break through the months of pain and emotional stress. Something to carry her away from the past and into the future.

  She almost deleted the message without reading it. What the hell was she thinking? Runway models did not hire a dating service to find a bed partner.

  You’re not runway material anymore. Her fingers shook again as she traced the scar running from her right eye to her lip. More lines and ridges decorated her upper chest where shattered glass had torn once-flawless skin. The physical pain had faded but never actually left—an unruly guest that refused to go away.

  Her ph
one rang as she stared at the monitor. You have a date. She answered the cell without checking ID. “Brenna.”

  The deep rumble of Drew Constantine’s laughter floated through the phone. “Hey, beautiful. You sound distracted.”

  His casual endearment wrenched her heart. The nickname no longer fit; they both knew it. “Hey, hot stuff. Guess what just arrived in my email?”

  “An invitation to grace the cover of Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Edition?”

  Resentment for the prize she could never achieve burned in her throat. “You’re an ass, Drew.”

  “Damn it, Brenna. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know. Don’t stress it.” Her best friend, a cover model extraordinaire, forgot sometimes that the accident had literally slashed her from his world. He would never be intentionally hurtful. She tipped back in her chair with the phone tucked under her chin and twisted opened a water while she sought composure.

  “So, have you read the email yet, or are you sitting there contemplating erasing it?”

  A laugh burst from her. “You know me too well.”

  “I do.” He paused and cleared his throat, as if he had something lodged in it. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh since….”

  She sat up and put the bottle on the desk. No way in hell was she going to get into another sappy, I-miss-my-smiling-Brenna conversation with him. “Do you want to hear what it says?”

  “Yeah, wait though. I’m in the elevator. I’ll be there in a second.”

  A quick glance at her braless state beneath a ratty wife beater and the faded Senor Frog’s boxer shorts she’d worn for two days made her cringe. “Seriously? Geez, Drew. You could give me some warning. I look like crap.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that. Your apartment maybe, but not you.”

  She assessed the great room. An empty tissue box, along with half a bottle of Chardonnay and a dirty wine glass, left over from the previous night’s crying jag, littered the end table. Her morning cereal bowl and coffee cup sat beside the sink. Otherwise, the area looked pretty clean. “Actually, the place looks better than usual. I vacuumed and picked up yesterday.”

  “Amazing.” He laughed again, and the sensual sound hit her from two directions—tickling her ear through the phone and preceding him as he let himself in the front door. Drew strolled toward her with his usual cocky demeanor. Even the act of disconnecting the phone and sliding it into his pocket sent out erotic vibes. A lush, golden lion’s mane—too thick and soft to belong on a man’s head—brushed his shoulders and framed his gorgeous blue eyes. A shadow beard accented the sharp angles of the face that had made him millions before he was twenty-one. Snug jeans rode low on his hips, and a pearl-grey designer T-shirt she recognized from his last photo shoot gave him the look of an international playboy. At twenty-eight, he wore arrogance like a second skin, but beneath it lay the tender and compassionate heart of her friend.

  Brenna studied him, and a pang of regret that she had never let him closer than a hug seared through her. Too late now for shouldas. “You look good enough to eat this afternoon, Sir Constantine.”

  His lips tilted into a mischievous grin, out of character with the badass image he cultivated in public. “You think so?” He bent over her, his arms braced on either side of her desk chair. She licked her lips when his intense gaze settled on her mouth. “Then let me take care of you.” He nuzzled his nose along her neck. His breath teased the unmarred skin. “No need to run to the arms of a stranger when we could make magic of our own, beautiful.”

  For a moment, she almost allowed herself to believe in the impossible—almost. Ghost pain ripped across her skin like finely-honed blades. The sensation tore a gasp from her, and she shoved her chair back to escape his seductive persuasion. Her laugh sounded forced and bitter. “You suggested this, remember?”

  “Yeah, but I changed my mind.” He dropped to his knees, eyes as vivid blue as the sea surrounding his homeland. His long fingers curled over her bare thighs. “Don’t go, Brenna. I could help you through this if you’d let me.”

  God, she wanted to believe, to lean into him and soak up his sexy strength, but how long before he drifted on to someone who could grace his arm as a worthy mate? How many weeks before questions about her scars and pity over her shattered dreams became more than he could handle? She forced a smile and cupped his face in her hands, relishing the scratch of his whiskers against her palms. “I need to get laid, you said so yourself, but I need my friend more. Why would I mess with perfection, hot stuff?”

  Chapter Two

  Three days later, Brenna checked her text messages as she followed the bellhop to the premier suite of Castillo Resorts and Hotels-Andros Island, Greece. Two from her mother demanding she touch base the moment she arrived safely, one from her sister saying pretty much the same thing, and one from Drew. She sent a quick I’m here and fine to her family before she opened the last text.

  Please.

  He’d sent her the same basic message repeatedly since the details of her one-night stand had arrived. Don’t go. What if it doesn’t work? I hate this. Stay with me.

  She snapped the phone shut and ignored the familiar ache in her chest. She hated her scarred body next to Drew’s chiseled perfection. How the hell did he think she could ever sleep with him? She ran smack into the back of the luggage cart as the Castillo employee stopped.

  “Miss? Are you all right?”

  His thickly accented English rolled off his tongue with the same luscious sound that subtly laced Drew’s voice, even years after he’d left his homeland. “Of course. Just a klutz.” She smiled and pretended not to notice the way his gaze skittered away from the scar on her face.

  He settled her bags in her room and waved off the tip. “All has been taken care of. There is a note by the refreshments and a phone near the bed should you need anything.”

  The bellhop started to leave, but she reached to stop him. “Wait.” He glanced at her fingers curled over his hairy arm, and she jerked her hand away. “The other guest. Do you know…were you given his schedule?”

  “I believe everything you need is in the note.” He smiled and disappeared into the warm afternoon.

  Brenna watched the door close behind him before she moved to the large bank of windows running floor to ceiling, overlooking the Aegean Sea. The breathtaking view called up stories Drew had told her about his homeland. Why had she agreed to come to Greece? How could she follow through with pure insanity in a world that had raised the only man she’d ever truly desired and the one she’d never allow herself to have?

  ***

  Was she in the room yet? Had she read the note? Would she comply? Everything depended on her willingness to play the game. The sharp breeze off the sea teased Kostas Drakos’s closely-shorn hair and stung his cheeks. His friend and business partner, Jackson Castillo, had suggested Madame Evangeline and her nearly magical service, but he had not yet suspended disbelief enough to trust in the mysterious matchmaker.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Drakos?”

  Kostas turned from the breathtaking seascape to the stocky bellhop. “Yes?

  “Your guest arrived ten minutes ago.”

  Relief and a strange uncertainty washed through him. “Good. Did you tell her about the note?”

  “Of course, sir. All is as Madame Evangeline requested. Including the bodyguards at the door for the young lady’s peace of mind. Should she panic, she need only cry out for assistance.”

  Kostas nearly groaned. He had every intention of making the lovely Brenna scream. He only hoped it would be in ecstasy, rather than fear or pain.

  “Is there a problem, sir?”

  “No.” He waved the older man away. “Thank you for your help.”

  He waited another forty minutes to allow her time to settle in and follow the instructions before he hiked the narrow path to the suite.

  ***

  Brenna shook her head and read the note again.

  Ms. Halsted,

&
nbsp; Welcome to Greece. I assume you will find your room satisfactory and the wine at the appropriate temperature.

  I have taken the liberty of placing guards outside your door. Should you feel the need of them at anytime during the next twenty-four hours, simply call my name and they will assist you in any way you desire.

  Please, do not take their presence as a lack of faith in your date for the evening. Mr. Kostas Drakos is a respected businessman. Rest assured, I have investigated every aspect of his personality and trust he will offer exactly what you need to overcome your problem. The guards are simply a security blanket, requested by Mr. Drakos himself. Should this venture exceed your comfort level at any point, the men will move you to different accommodations and ensure your utmost privacy.

  In the basket beside the bed, you will find everything you need to fulfill both yours and Mr. Drakos’s fantasies.

  Enjoy yourself, my dear,

  Eve

  The basket held a red satin mask, two sets of matching fur handcuffs, several long strips of white silk, condoms, and another note requesting she remove all clothing and lie on the bed wearing nothing except the blindfold.

  Good God, what have I done?

  She fingered the mask, appreciating the fine material beneath her fingers. Madame had spared no expense, even to the smallest detail. Panic rose in her throat and twisted her stomach at the thought of exposing her scars to a stranger. She hurried to the door and flung it open. On either side of the sidewalk stood two of the largest men she had ever seen. Both had thick, brown hair, dark sunglasses, and steely jaws. Sleek business suits did not hide their bulging biceps and massive thighs. Their sheer size would intimidate Godzilla, the pistol bumps beneath their jackets simply overkill.