Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  ***

  Spook collapsed back on the bed, naked, staring at the ceiling, his brains scrambled, his cock erect and throbbing. He gritted his teeth and slid his hand lower, gripping his dick. He’d explode if he didn’t get relief.

  What had just happened? Had he dreamed the female who’d sneaked into his hotel room and ended up in his arms? She’d called him a demon, but somehow he didn’t think she’d referred to his lovemaking skills. Breedspawn? What the fuck was that? And why couldn’t he get her out of his head?

  When he’d pressed her slim, wispy form to his, she’d melted . Unlike anything he’d ever felt. Unlike any woman he’d ever been with. Stimulating. Arousing. He stroked his cock up and down, back and forth, harder, faster, imagining her hand, her slick heat sheathing him to the hilt. The taste of her lips, her tongue—like one of those berry-flavored Stoli vodkas he’d never order in a bar, would never be caught dead drinking. But now he wanted another sip of her. More. More. Much more. He groaned. The way her mouth had parted so eagerly when he’d urged her to open for him, her limber body wrapping around his, ratcheting his temperature until his fever zoomed off the charts. And those soft, plump tits, the nipples pebbling, screaming to be sucked. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, lick her juice. Hell, yeah. The whole fucking package. Totally addicting.

  He came with a groan and mopped himself with the towel, completely unsatisfied. He had to find the woman. That woman.

  Tossing the soiled cloth aside, he sprang off the bed and raced to the door, throwing it open, staring down the deserted hallway. Too late. Beyond caring if he gave the other guests a good show, he stood naked in the hotel corridor, holding his head in his hands, consumed by only one thought. He had to see her again. They weren’t done yet. Not even close. But how to find a…what was it? WOW? Will-o’-the-wisp?

  What the fuck was that?

  Returning to the desk near the window, he fired up the laptop again. A search of his usual sources and top secret data bases revealed nothing. He didn’t even know her name. But he had to find her. He Googled “will-o’-the-wisp” and discovered a lot of crazy-ass entries about fantastical beings who lured unwitting men to their deaths with mystical lights. Okay, so she’d glowed when he’d gotten her excited. Aroused. But come on.

  To distract himself, he scrolled through the e-mails clogging his inbox.

  One from—whoa—Maxwell Raines: Forwarded your photo to my cousin, Bhyrne. Yes, we think you’re family. Expect an e-mail from him.

  Holy shit! There was another Raines? Opening the e-mail from the cousin, Bhyrne, he nearly fell off his chair: Notice any resemblance? The attached photo could have been the selfie he’d taken earlier and sent to Max. Except that the guy in the picture wore a black T-shirt and had a gorgeous, grinning, raven-haired babe sitting in his lap, her arm draped around his neck. She’d added a PS: I’m Bhyrne’s mate, Zena. Come visit us in Sleepy Hollow.

  And, finally, another one of those cryptic e-mails from 1Night Stand. His boss had signed him with the exclusive and mysterious dating service, apparently deciding Spook had lost his edge along with his focus and needed to get laid. He double-clicked the mailbox icon.

  I have found her for you. Your perfect match. Are you ready yet?

  He shut his eyes, his hand hovering over the reply button. His superior had started to fill out the extensive application for him. Pages and pages of questions. Too much personal info requested, as far as a guy like him, used to slinking anonymously through life, was concerned. He’d tinkered with the form himself at odd hours of downtime, especially during those dark moments before dawn when he’d sat in a lonely, foreign hotel room, a desert war zone, or other global hotspot, trying to figure out how much he could omit, or how to cagily phrase a response to make it appear as if he’d answered a question when he hadn’t.

  He’d never finalized the application. But Madame Eve, owner of 1Night Stand, seemed to know everything about him. More than he knew himself. He was someone who operated in the shadows, and her knowledge made him nervous, caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. But he wanted answers. And needed to see the elusive…WOW again.

  He pecked at the computer keyboard, Can you get me a will-o’-the-wisp? and hit send.

  The laptop immediately chimed with an incoming e-mail.

  I already have.

  Chapter Four

  “None of this will do.” Veronica grimaced and turned away from the closet in Genny’s Sleepy Hollow apartment.

  Her head still spinning from her torrid encounter with the blistering hot demon in Paris, the flight home and flurry of e-mails from 1Night Stand with the particulars of the match, Genny could barely follow the witch’s bubbly chatter.

  “It’s either all leather or all gossamer. And I’m not even sure what gossamer is! But you def need some slinky silks and satins,” Veronica informed her. “We’re going to have to go shopping. The Westchester, okay? We can hop over to Neiman-Marcus for sexy lingerie.” She eyed her friend. “Unless…up for a trip into the city? Saks?”

  “No. None of the above. I’m not even game for this 1Night Stand date.” Genny frowned. When had she and Veronica switched roles, anyway? A few months ago, before 1Night Stand had matched Veronica with her super hunky and super fine contractor, Sean Jones, the reluctant young witch had sleep-walked through her existence as a quiet, unassuming, shy, fabulously wealthy widow. She hadn’t even been a very good witch. Instead of living her own life, she’d eagerly followed her will-o’-the-wisp bud’s exploits as Genny flitted around the globe.

  “He’s a demon, V. I can’t be with him.”

  “Well, Madame Eve thinks you can. And she’s never wrong.”

  “It’s against my code,” Genny protested. “Against everything I stand for.”

  Veronica frowned. “I never really got that. Your code. Lily, Dagney and Zena are succubi. That makes them demons. You’re okay with them, right? I know you like them. And don’t forget, I’ve met Max and Bhyrne Raines. We’re practically in-laws.”

  Well, not exactly. Sean’s brother, Campbell, had reunited with Lily, the great love of his life, courtesy of 1Night Stand. And Lily’s two sexy and sultry succubi sisters, Dagney and Zena, were mated to the Raines cousins, both fire-sex demons, also thanks to 1Night Stand.

  “There’s nothing evil about them,” Veronica went on. “Unless you consider gorgeousness a vice. They’re both hotter than sin and if Spook turns out to be anything like his family—”

  “Oh, he’s damn hot all right.”

  Veronica did a lousy job of hiding her grin. “Then you’re in for one helluva steamy night.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Genny recalled how his kiss had nearly incinerated her in that Paris hotel room, the scent of him enthralling her, binding her to him with invisible chains of passion, putting her under his compelling sexual spell. A whole night of that? She’d never survive it. Even if she did die with a happy and satisfied smile on her face.

  She sighed. “You may as well know, V, I fight demons. I hunt them. Kill them. I belong to a secret cadre of demon hunters. I’m a Protector of the Legion of Shadows. I’m off on POLOS missions most of the time, when you’ve thought I was trysting with some handsome rogue in the romantic cities of the world.”

  “Like Paris?”

  “Uh-huh. Like that. Spook was an assignment.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lower lip, remembering his sizzling kiss, his smoldering embrace. “Nothing I’ve ever encountered.”

  “I think you were meant to be. Madame Eve always knows.” Veronica paused. “What happened to you, anyway? I mean, you live here in Sleepy Hollow. You know there are demons here. Why do you have such antipathy toward them?”

  Why? Even after all these years the “why” stabbed her like a rusty knife, twisting into her so raw and painfully she could barely speak.

  “My parents froze to death one harsh winter when they’d been caught outside,” she w
hispered, her voice aching and unsteady. “Temperatures fell far below zero and there was ice everywhere. They got stranded in their car and their glow began to fade, the shimmer of their lights started flickering out. When they banged on the doors of the demon stronghold in Duyvil Tand, seeking even the smallest of embers for a spark of life, the gatekeepers laughed at them and refused to let them in.”

  “Oh, Gen, I’m so very sorry.” Veronica curled an arm around her shoulders, and met her gaze, her eyes soft and sympathetic, then uttered the one truth she’d always tried so hard to ignore. “But, Genny. If your parents were demons…then you must be, too.”

  ***

  Before meeting Max and Bhyrne in Sleepy Hollow, Spook quickly had gotten rid of the purloined computer chip, dumping it and his letter of resignation into a diplomatic courier pouch, along with any remaining ties he had to the secret government agency he worked for. So far, there hadn’t been any lethal repercussions. Not that he expected his letter would be the end of it. If they didn’t ice him, they’d at least have to debrief him. But right now, he was taking some “me” time, as the female Raines mates might say.

  The meeting with the Raines males had floored him. No question in his mind Max was his cousin and Bhyrne, his brother. Possibly even his twin brother. They looked that much alike. Bhyrne didn’t know much about his family history, having grown up on the street, and even Max was vague. But it seemed likely they’d been separated at birth. Even their personalities seemed similar and compatible. Bhyrne’s fledgling security agency piqued Spook’s interest. Bhyrne had squirreled away enough salary and hazardous duty pay over the years to make that work. But it seemed to be Spook’s mad skills the former enforcer really wanted as an asset.

  And so, yeah. Apparently the WOW was right. His relations were demons. Pretty much making him one, too. Away from the romantic lights of Paris, and beyond the zone of the slinky female who’d so sexually crazed him in the hotel, internal/external temperature had fallen. But his relatives were convinced he’d gone through some sort of false, premature breedspawn heat. The way they’d explained the male, fire-sex demon mating phase to him did not exactly thrill him, either. But there was no denying the burning love in his brother’s otherwise cool eyes when he gazed at his mate, or possessively patted her belly bump. Max had not yet gone through the phase, but Dagney assured them she couldn’t wait for the breeding flames to hit her lover.

  “So if I go on this 1Night Stand date with this WOW,” he said, still having a hard time saying her name, “I could go into heat? Bond with her for life? Make babies?”

  “Blazelets,” Zena corrected. “Demonlings.”

  Demon. There it was again. He so couldn’t get his head around that one, either. His brother had laughed when he’d told them he’d whiffed back from Paris, one of the skills of his spook training.

  “No, it’s one of the perks of being a certain kind of fire-sex demon,” Zena advised him. “Like breedspawn. Bhyrne can whiff, too.”

  “And as far as breedspawn goes, it’s not likely it’ll hit just because you’re out on a date with Genny,” Dagney said.

  Fuck. They knew her. He couldn’t decide whether that made it all better or so much worse. But he already liked his newly acquired relatives. Felt he’d known them all his life. Felt something missing had been found. And he wasn’t quite so alone in the world anymore.

  “We don’t think breedspawn is triggered by a particular female,” Bhyrne said. “Or Dagney would have sent Max far over the edge by now.”

  “She has sent me over the edge,” Max corrected with a grin. “But it’s more like a growth/maturation thing. When it’s your time, it’s your time. And when it does hit, you’d damn sure better have the female of your dreams within reach. Or you’re screwed.”

  “So screwed.” Bhyrne nodded. “For life.”

  His mate elbowed him in the ribs. “Watch that, buster.”

  “You know I wouldn’t have it any other way, Z.” He wrapped her in his arms and nuzzled the side her neck.

  “We like Genny,” Dagney told him. “You have to keep this date. Madame Eve is never wrong.”

  For the next couple of hours, Dagney and Zena got busy convincing him and planning his evening. They called a witch named Veronica, apparently the WOW’s closest friend and another 1Night Stand success story, and got her in on the act. Then they phoned their sister, Lily.

  Faced with so much estrogen aligned against him, he didn’t know what the fuck hit him. But then he found himself stepping onto the dock at the Tarrytown Marina, preparing to board a luxury yacht called The Lily Flower, overnight case in hand.

  Chapter Five

  Veronica and Sean drove Genny to the marina, pointed out the berth where Campbell’s luxury yacht was moored, and dumped her there before she could entertain any second or third or fiftieth thoughts. Even so, she would have gone into the nearby restaurant to phone for a cab, had she not spied Spook pacing the dock like a caged tiger waiting for dinner. He immediately turned toward her, noting her arrival with his ice-steel eyes.

  “Come,” he growled, his voice grim but demanding, and held out a hand.

  Again that weird compulsion. Her eyes locked on his. Her feet took her across the boardwalk until she stood by his side. He reached for her overnight bag and flung it into the stern of the small cruiser, where Campbell waited with an enormous grin to ferry them out to the yacht. Then Spook picked her up as if she weighed no more than dandelion fluff and deposited her on a wooden seat with less fanfare than he’d tossed her Louis Vuitton.

  “Ready for this, demon hunter?” Spook jumped into the boat and sat next to her on the wooden bench, so close their thighs touched. Without waiting for an invitation, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Oh, goddess. The scent of him. Not as strong as it had been in the Paris hotel room, and dissipated further by the smell of the river and the light spring rain that had fallen earlier. But enthralling and tantalizing nevertheless.

  “If you are, demon.”

  “As long as you’re not armed,” he muttered. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around that whole demon thing. And you can call me Spook.”

  Campbell coughed into his fist, failing to completely hide his laugh, and nudged the boat away from the dock. They made the short trip in silence. And then he tossed Spook the keys.

  “Take care of my baby and don’t run her aground. The galley’s well stocked. Weather’s gonna be clear and you should have smooth sailing. At least nautically-speaking. But, in the unlikely event you decide you can’t stand the sight of each other and you’re willing to row, you’ll find a few lifeboats and dinghies on deck.” He winked. “Enjoy your one-night stand. And don’t forget to change the sheets.”

  “Hunters first.” Spook indicated the ladder to the polished teakwood deck of The Lily Flower.

  “How about you don’t call me hunter and I don’t call you demon? At least for the next couple of hours?”

  “Couple? I think I can manage more staying power than that. But it’s a deal.”

  “And could we…at least pretend this is a romantic getaway?”

  “Romantic?” He growled, the sound so erotic, twinges of desire shot through her. She tingled all over, ached between her legs. His scent, the sound of his low, harsh voice, the sight of his big, gorgeous frame, the possessive and predatory look in silvery eyes fierce with lust made her slick and wet, ready to throw herself at him.

  “All I can think about is how much I want to fuck you,” he said.

  “Oh.” Her face flamed and she stole a glance at Campbell, apparently doing his best to be deaf. “Me, too,” she whispered.

  She clambered up the ladder, Spook’s large hand on her ass as he followed, guiding, pushing, steadying and securing and, yes, definitely copping a free feel, as Campbell brought the cruiser around and headed back to shore.

  This is it, then. No escape, unless she jumped into one of the dinghies and rowed herself. And upper arm strength was not one of her more
exceptional abilities.

  She’d never been on a luxury yacht before and sucked in a breath. The furnishings, every detail astounding and awesome, were polished and elegant, right down to the small pool and hot tub on the sundeck where they stood. Below deck, the design and décor amazed and impressed, tickling all her senses with their magnificence. Polished blond wood everywhere, posh, well-appointed leather couches and seats in subdued tropical colors, pale sea blues and greens built in or bolted down and grouped in conversation pits around glass and marble tables in the lounge area. A large wet bar and refrigerated wine rack was positioned against one wall, with a huge flat screen TV mounted on another. The dining area flowed out of the lounge, containing a long, formal table that could seat sixteen, as well as a more intimate alcove holding a small, round table for two. State-of-the-art appliances, worthy of a celebrity chef’s kitchen, filled the galley, clearly well-stocked, complete with another wine rack Campbell had mentioned on the way over.

  Spook whistled. “Definitely the whole enchilada. With salsa and chips. The By Jones development business must be good.”

  He still had his hand on her, though he’d made the transition from ass to waist as they’d strolled and explored. The familiarity of the gesture warmed her, natural and comfortable, as if their bodies had some kind of memory recognition, even if their conversation remained a little awkward.

  “You can let me go now, Spook,” she murmured. “Not like I’m jumping into a life boat or swimming to shore.”

  “Sorry.” His voice sounded low and gruff. “I don’t know what it is. It’s like I can’t stop touching you.” He began to remove his hand, but shook his head and left it there. “When I touch you, you glow, you know that?”

  “Yes. It’s because—”

  “And now you’re blushing, too. Because what?”

  “Because….” She searched for words. “I’m a will-o’-the-wisp.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s something else, though. Different. More—”