Frost

By Taryn Kincaid

Dagney Night, a sought-after succubus, is no stranger to blazing hot sex. But as Valentine’s Day approaches, she longs for something more. When oddly erotic paintings arrive for display at her art gallery, arousing everyone who views them, she wonders about the mysterious artist who created the works.

Maxwell Raines, a fire-sex demon, lives a life of solitude and seclusion behind the walls of his compound at Sleepy Hollow, channeling his lustful impulses into his art—until his muse deserts him and his temperature rises past the danger point. He needs sex. Now.

When Madame Evangeline arranges a torrid Valentine’s 1Night Stand for them, will the flames of their encounter be too hot to handle?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Jan 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781613334638

Book preview

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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.

Frost

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Taryn Kincaid

ISBN: 978-1-61333-463-8

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

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www.decadentpublishing.com

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Also by Taryn Kincaid

Lightning

Thunder

Frost

Sleepy Hollow - Book 3

A 1Night Stand Story

By

Taryn Kincaid

~DEDICATION~

Thanks to all the wonderful people at Decadent, especially the many-hatted Valerie Mann, who edits with humor and patience.

Chapter One

So, the usual next week, Dag? Same bat place, same bat channel?

Dagney Night squinted near-sightedly at her fuck buddy and tightened the belt of the silk robe around her waist. The slick sash always slid loose, leaving her flesh exposed. Why the fuck couldn’t designers make ties long enough to hold together a peignoir made for more curvaceous frames? Pieces of material the size of mailing labels might work for runway X-rays, but they abso did not work for real women.

She took her irritation out on the male already cracking open her apartment door to make his getaway, and shot him her patented look from point-blank range. The look, he’d once told her, poisonous enough to shrink a man’s nuts. Randolph McNeer tapped his foot, waiting for her answer, the picture of impatience, one jaded eye already turned toward the elevator down the hall. Yet, sure enough, as the halves of her wrap gapped open again, his gaze dipped to her cleavage. Hers dipped to the erection straining the denim of his jeans.

Coming or going, Randy?

He glanced at his watch. Guess I have a few minutes. Lifting a hand, he circled his forefinger around her nipple through the shiny fabric of her robe.

I bet you do. She stepped back, squirming out of his reach. But don’t let me keep you.

As with most incubi of her acquaintance, it was all about him. Slam. Bam. Yeah, and whatever. Still, this one usually managed to scratch her ever-present itch. The inner warmth from the afterglow of their brief encounter still radiated through her, even if her heart and soul remained empty and unfulfilled. But the sexual gymnastics burned more calories than Zumba and