Box of 1Night Stands: 21 Sizzling Nights

by Anthology

  Laughing at her overactive imagination, Carson toweled off and dressed. Her cell phone beeped with new message, and she thumbed it open to read it.

  I hope you enjoyed your date. I try to deliver every fantasy exactly the way every client wants, even if they don’t know what they want when they request it. I’m very sorry for your pain, but sometimes we don’t realize what we have until it’s gone. –Madame Eve

  Weird. How would the 1Night Stand service know about her twisted little fantasy?

  Back in her room, she glanced at the Happy-Bunny-A-Day calendar on her desk.

  And froze.

  Was she in such a haze since he died that she hadn’t remembered to remove a single page? She could have sworn….

  Ripping off the page, she ran through the apartment. She rushed through her front door and across the hall before grinding to a halt.

  His door, looking like it had the day before.

  But, what if….

  Before she could knock—not that she expected an answer—the door opened. Her knees crumpled and she fell to the carpet.

  Realest-looking ghost ever….

  “Carson.” He pulled her to her feet, tugging her into his arms. His strong and very alive arms.

  His scent folded around her, warm and fresh from the shower.

  “You’re not dead. I thought—”

  “Yeah, me too. Come in here before the neighbors think we’ve gone nuts.”

  Unable to think, to process, she allowed him to guide her inside before closing the door. Everything—his sofa, his TV, his things—arranged the way it had been before he died.

  As if none of it ever happened.

  Biting back a sob, she wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or to commit herself.

  “You died.” The words choked out of lips gone numb as she stroked a hand across his table, as if feeling it would make it more real.

  “Yeah, but something tells me we’re the only ones who know that. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I can tell you I’m not taking the bike out today. Actually, I called off work. I’m not leaving this apartment at all until tomorrow, just in case.”

  Blinking at him, she struggled to make sense of it “So, you remember all that?”

  “Dying? Yeah, hurt like a bitch and then I haunted you. Weirdest shit ever.”

  Shaking her head, she stared at him. “How can you just—”

  “What? Say it? You’d be amazed what being dead does for your tact. I’m going to say exactly what I think from now on, about everything. Life’s too short for bullshit.”

  Shoving a hand through his thick, dark hair, he looked almost rueful. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt, he looked….

  So wonderfully normal.

  And completely off limits.

  Loss screamed through her and she tucked her arms around herself, seeking comfort. He was alive. Her best friend was still there.

  Back in the friend zone.

  “I know that look, too, blondie.”

  “What look?”

  “That look.”

  “What, the you’ll-be-back-to-fucking-half-the-town-now-that-you’re-not-dead look? Not sure how you can know this look. I’m pretty sure I’ve never had quite this expression before.”

  Shoving her hands in her pockets, she couldn’t make herself meet his gaze. Yeah, she was a fucking submissive. Which meant, sexually, she submitted. She wasn’t ever going to be aggressive enough to get his attention or….

  “Carson!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you fucking look at me?”

  She raised her face, obeying his command even then.

  “I’m not interested in half the town. Did you notice who I chose to haunt? You. I want you. You’re mine. Would you believe before I died, I even hired a dating service to try to fulfill my fantasies about you? Got an email from them this morning asking if I liked my date, to add to the strangeness of today. You’re the one I’ve always wanted and if I have to teach you that, well, I’m alive now. And have the dick to prove it, dammit.” His eyes glittered, almost like he fought back emotions as strong as the ones buffeting her.

  “You want me?” The needy words slipped out and she bit her lip, unable to meet his eyes, to face possible rejection.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “Now?” She wouldn’t be a pity fuck. Doubt for herself and his feelings for her, swamped her in misery.

  He didn’t reply and, by not answering or giving her an order, caused a thrum of heat to ripple across her flesh. Glancing up, she met his gaze.

  His slow smile told her she’d disobeyed. “You’ll pay for that.”

  Stripping while he stayed fully dressed, fully alive, ratcheted up her vulnerability.

  And turned her on.

  Which was the reality? Him being gone or being there?

  Her hand reached out, as if propelled by her need to feel his touch. When he curled his fingers around hers, she fought back a sobbing laugh.

  His eyes feasted on the curves she bared and he released her fingers to crack his knuckles. A shiver tracked down her spine.

  Once she stood before him, waiting, he pointed to the couch. “Bend over the back of the couch.”

  Obeying, she bent. He spread her legs with a nudge of his foot at her ankle then shoved her head down to rest on the cushions.

  Then he waited. “Hell of a view. Too bad I owe you one.”

  His palm cracked her tender ass and she clutched the pillow to keep quiet. He’d managed to curve his fingers around her slit, hitting her clit, leaving a burning handprint of desire in his wake.

  “You also forgot to call me Master.” Another crack followed the first.

  By the third crack, her ass had to be glowing pink and she fought not to writhe. Each hit, wet with her desire, stung more than the last, moisture increasing her sensitivity.

  The edgy peak of orgasm loomed, out of her reach, and she bit the pillow, seeking an outlet for her tension.

  “Very good. You’ve learned to stand still and be silent. I should reward you.”

  When his tongue parted her aching slit, she melted into the couch. Finding the release for her tension, she orgasmed.

  “Carson?”

  She couldn’t answer. Shaking, her muscles refusing to obey, she panted.

  “I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to ride you right here. Don’t say a word.”

  The rip of the condom wrapper sounded like a promise of more. A moment later, he tugged her ass into the air, the nudge of his cock against her opening almost too soon. Too much. She resisted begging him to stop.

  He pushed inside her.

  The feel of him, thick and throbbing, tipped her over the edge and she came again. He caught her breast, tugging her flush with the length of his body, his rough fingers tweaking the nipple while the other hand parted her slit to find her clit unerringly. As he moved, the last vestiges of her orgasm clutched at his cock, stretching her to accommodate his unyielding size.

  “I’m going to get you a collar. One of those ones that say ‘owned.’ You’ll wear it for me, won’t you, Carson?”

  Nodding, she reveled in him, so alive, so real, so there.

  “I love you.” The words she longed to say, but couldn’t before, vibrated with joy. Days and years of pleasure in his arms stretched out full of possibility. The hope for what tomorrow could bring blossomed in her chest, filling the hole losing him created.

  “Love you, too, blondie. I’m sorry I waited to take you.” His voice trembled a little. His hands, the smell of him, surrounded her, taking her pain and washing it away on a tide of desire.

  He rode her, became one with her.

  And she’d never felt so alive.

  Epilogue

  The letter, printed on creamy white paper and without a return address, must’ve been slipped under the door sometime in the night.

  Rubbing a hand over his face, Randall bent to pick it up before returning to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
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  Carson stayed with him all night, her sighs and whispers a symphony of pleasure he hoped to hear again soon. Maybe he should wake her….

  No, she needed some rest.

  Pouring the steaming brew into a mug, he turned again to the letter, slipping his finger under the flap and tearing the envelope open.

  With a sip of his hot drink, he scanned the page, smile blooming.

  Randall,

  I hope you enjoyed your experience with the 1Night Stand service. I take pride in ensuring each date is catered exactly to each client’s needs, but your case was a bit different than the norm. You and Carson let thousands of moments pass that might have resulted in a more favorable outcome, so I strived to make a moment you’d never forget.

  Sometimes it is necessary to lose something in order to understand its value. Just as Carson mourned, you now understand what a life without her would be like.

  Sincerely,

  Madame Eve

  “Weird,” he murmured.

  A hand slid along his waist.

  “What’s weird?” Carson’s voice, blurry from sleep, matched her eyes. He turned, leaving the letter to fall to the counter and captured her mouth. “Mmm, good morning to you, too,” she laughed.

  “Morning. I made coffee.” He reached for a mug, but she stayed his motion with another kiss, one full of drowsy passion.

  “Coffee wakes you up. I want to go back to bed.” The teasing tone matched her fingertips, dancing lightly across his stomach.

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” Tugging her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist and headed back to the bed.

  “What were you saying was weird? After the past couple days, I figured nothing could make our strange-o-meter go off.”

  “A letter from Madame Eve.”

  Struggling, she managed to wriggle back out of his arms. “What? What did it say? And why did you sign up for a date anyway?” She stormed back to the kitchen.

  He followed her, combing his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t sign up for a date with just anyone. I wanted you. I just couldn’t see a way that would ever work. You signed up for one, too….”

  “I was grieving.” She waved it off.

  “Is that the new ‘we were on a break’?”

  She scowled at him. “Haha, you’re so very funny. Where is the letter?”

  Glancing at the countertop, he then bent and searched the floor. “It was right here, next to the coffee pot.”

  “You mean, right where you left me this rose?” The rich, red bloom scented the kitchen, battling with the bitter coffee.

  “I didn’t get you a rose.” He retrieved it from her, inspecting it. Nothing seemed strange about the bloom, other than appearing out of nowhere.

  “Sure you didn’t.” She took it back, sniffing it. “Very sweet, Randall. I never would have guessed you had a romantic side.”

  Frustration washed away by the small smile curling her lips, he stroked her hair back. “I never showed you. But I do. I’m sorry we missed so many moments together, blondie.”

  “I’m not.” Her grin was quick and infectious. “It just means we’ve got to make the most of the ones we have now.”

  He nodded, reaching for her fingertips. When their fingers twined, she sighed and he remembered how badly he’d wished he could hold her hand when he lay in the casket.

  “Sounds like a plan, Car.”

  Starting now, he promised silently.

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Virginia Nelson spends her days chasing three very active kids around. When she is not doing this, or plotting taking over the world, she likes to write, play in the mud, drive far too fast and scream at inanimate objects. She can often be found listening to music that is far too loud and typing her next fantastic tale of blood, sex and random acts of ineptitude. Romance, in Ms. Nelson’s opinion, is not about riding off into the sunset on the back of a horse with the knight in shining armor— it is about riding the dragon. If the knight can keep up… well, that is love.

  You can visit with Virginia at:

  http://virg-nelson.com/

  Catch Me

  The Steele Brothers Trilogy - Book 1

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

  Jennifer Probst

  ~DEDICATION~

  To Pat Chute, who is my mentor and my friend. You said I should quit my job and write more books. You were right all along - I’m having a hell of a ride. Thanks for everything you did for me and my family.

  And for anyone who has been afraid to leave…afraid to stay…afraid to be alone…you have the courage to make a change. Take the leap and people will be there to catch you.

  Chapter One

  Rick Steele tipped the bottle of beer to his lips and scanned his surroundings. The famous club at the Castillo Hotel and Resort packed in both the celebrities and current “in” crowd, and tonight was no exception. The tri-level dance floor already held a rowdy group, baring more flesh than glittery clothes and grinding away with new dirty dancing. The music pounded and both male and female entertainers hung suspended in glass cages, revving up the masses as they rocked and rolled in G-strings.

  He bit back a groan and wondered what the hell he was doing there. His long shift was over, and he craved some downtime. Instead, he’d let his boss talk him into a one-night stand for the evening on the pretense the whole experience would be good for him.

  Shaking his head, he glanced at his watch again. He’d had a bitch of a day. Dealing cards called to his soul, but a bunch of sore losers and drunks had remained at his table to torture him. Now he waited in the trendiest club in Vegas for a woman he’d never met and tried to ignore his throbbing head.

  He curbed his impatience and took another sip of beer. Ever since leaving Atlantic City for a change of scene, he’d been grateful. Vegas satisfied his sense of adventure and hard play and the past year proved he’d made the right decision. After the breakup with his fiancée, his old friend and owner of the Castillo hotels, Jackson Castillo, urged him to start new. He’d met Jackson years ago at a mutual friend’s bachelor party, and they’d indulged in a drunken fest that rivaled The Hangover. They had emerged close friends and kept in touch. Jackson kept bugging him to deal in Vegas and work for his hotel. Rick always refused, until he’d walked in on his fiancée giving his groomsman a blowjob.

  He moved to Vegas the next week.

  Though it was difficult leaving his brothers, Jackson had been right. As always. He rented a beautiful apartment, made good money, and had endless women stretched out before him in one glorious chorus line. He’d moved past his heartbreak and unleashed his single status on a number of very willing participants.

  So why am I unhappy?

  He pushed the annoying thought away and tried to get a grip. Okay, so it had been months since he’d last taken a woman to bed. His choice. Hell, he’d thought Jackson would applaud his selectiveness instead of urging him to accept a date through Madame Evangeline’s 1Night Stand dating service. Of course, it didn’t help that Jackson met his own wife through the famous, yet mysterious, Madame. And when Madame Eve actually requested Rick to meet this particular woman, well, Jackson declared the whole coincidence a sign. Rick decided his friend wouldn’t shut up until he agreed, so he’d bitten the proverbial bullet and given in.

  His lips twisted in mock humor as he set the empty bottle down on the glass table. He wondered briefly why anyone would hand select him to meet any woman, let alone this Tara Denton—who’d apparently been through a brutal past according to the report Eve sent—and needed a tender hand. He liked to keep his distance from women. Get in and get out with his soul and heart intact. A little respect, a lot of pleasure, and no boundaries crossed. Of course, that’s another reason he’d taken a break. Easier to wake up alone than face the empty feeling of meeting a woman’s sleepy gaze and realize she’d never be the one. Or even the one for another evening.

  His phone vibrated in h
is pocket. Muttering under his breath, he fished it out and read the flashing text.

  Bonsoir, Rick. Are you ready for your adventure?

  His fingers paused on the keys. A slither of unease skated down his spine. His gut screamed once he agreed, his life would never be the same.

  Ridiculous.

  He typed his answer with the ease of an expert and sealed his fate. Good evening, Madame Eve. I shall put myself in your capable hands.

  A smiley face popped up on the Blackberry screen. Wonderful. Your date is in the Blue Room awaiting your arrival. Right corner table.

  The screen went blank.

  He shook his head at the enigmatic conversation and headed past the bar. The pulsing hip hop music dimmed as he made his way through a large tunnel of elaborate glass where an impressive number of gold statues were displayed in different forms of eroticism. He took a hard left, and entered the Blue Room.

  Aptly named, the quieter lounge area spilled an eerie blue light, reminding him of the Blue Grotto in Capri. The room shimmered from the floor to the ceiling with stunning crushed turquoise crystals embedded in every surface. A large aquarium tank took up one wall, displaying exotic fish in all sizes and colors, sea turtles, and stingrays. The sensual sounds of a flute and trickling water spilled from the background speakers a few feet down from the main club, and gave the impression of another reality. The room was soundproofed to close out the loud dance music and invoke a different experience. The exotic atmosphere impressed him every time he entered the themed room, even in Vegas.

  He let his eyes adjust to the change of light and focused on the far right corner.

  She sat with her legs crossed, neatly tucked under the glass table. A pink frothy drink rested in front of her, and she fiddled with the paper umbrella. Obviously nervous, she didn’t look up, and he grabbed the moment to study her.

  God, her body was killer. The plain photo tucked into the report Madame Eve provided didn’t do her justice. He estimated she barely topped five foot, even with the three inch heels she wore. She’d obviously gone all out for their meeting, evident in the sequined silver top clinging to lush breasts, and the short black skirt she kept yanking down, revealing a good few inches of rounded thigh. She sported the perfect hour glass figure that always pushed his lust buttons, but never seemed fashionable for women nowadays.