1001 Dark Nights Short Story Anthology 2020

by Fiona Archer

  She slid her hands down his pants and grasped his penis.

  “Aw, it’s cute.”

  “Molly…” Ty warned.

  “All right.” Still holding his penis in her hands, Molly said the words. She looked up and fought back a giggle. Ty’s eyes were plastered shut, and she held his baby penis in her hands like it was breakable.

  “Is it back to normal?” Ty opened one eye and glanced down. “Damn!” He jerked himself out of her hands and shoved himself back into his pants.

  Their bedroom door shot open, and in walked Jasmine.

  “Jasmine, what if I was naked?” Ty exclaimed as he zipped up his fly.

  She flitted her hand in his direction like what he’d said was ludicrous. “It will take 24-48 hours to reverse. You have to be patient.”

  “Seems to be the theme of my life,” Molly muttered.

  Jasmine brushed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and to Ty’s cheek.

  “Dishes are all loaded into the dishwasher. I’m heading out. Love you guys.”

  “Bye. Love you too,” they both said in unison.

  Ty plopped down on the bed. “So I have to live with this for the next two days.”

  Molly walked over to their dresser and brought out her pajamas. “Yeah. Maybe only 24 hours,” she said as she took off her shirt and pants.

  “Is that a new bra and underwear?” Ty asked, turning Molly around to face him.

  “What, this old thing?” Molly turned dramatically to put herself on display. The red number was indeed new. Her breasts were boosted and perky, and the cheeky boy shorts showed just the right amount of cheek. They were covered in lace that Molly found itchy. She wasn’t one to be showy, but she figured it’d boost things in the bedroom. Even though Ty preferred her all naked, he had a thing for cheeky boy shorts.

  “No. Not this old thing. I’d remember this. You’re breathtaking.” He trailed kisses down her body, causing every neuron to fire. His hands lingered on her ass as he gripped it tightly.

  Molly felt a hardness against her leg. Trailing her fingertips across the opening of his pants, she slowly slid them inside.

  “Well, look at that. Baby carrot is now a mini banana.”

  “I betcha it still works,” he said seductively. Tossing Molly over his shoulder and placing her on the bed, he proceeded to show her just how much it truly was the motion in the ocean and not the size that mattered. He rocked her world, and that mini banana hit all the right spots, three times in a row.

  Chapter Eight

  Thankfully, Ty’s penis made a full recovery after only a little more than 24 hours. These past weeks they’d stopped trying so hard to get pregnant. He didn’t rush home during lunch, and Molly didn’t pretend she was a contortionist in an effort to make the sperm swim any faster. She wanted to be a mother badly, but she realized that she was letting too much of life pass her by.

  “Class, please pay attention. You need to know how to properly mix the formulas together so you don’t do something wrong and burn off your eyebrows.” A few giggles sounded through the room.

  Molly’s stomach turned in protest, the bile creeping into her throat as soon as she opened the first container of liquid.

  “You okay, Professor? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

  “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” Molly rushed to the ladies’ room before she spewed chunks all over the hallway.

  She came out feeling much better. She washed her hands, letting the warm water soothe her as she tried to get her bearings.

  “Pregnant?” A woman handed her a piece of gum. “The mint helps with the morning sickness.”

  Molly stood there with the gum in her hand, dumbfounded by what the woman had just said.

  Could I actually be pregnant?

  She rushed out of the bathroom, dismissed her class early, and swung by the pharmacy for a slew of pregnancy tests because one wouldn’t be enough. Not today.

  By the time she made it home, her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. Molly peed on every damn stick and positioned herself outside the bathroom door. She was frozen, too afraid to look.

  “Molly?” Ty called when he finally made it home from work. As he entered the bedroom, he rushed to her, searching her for any injuries. She was sure she was a sight, pressed against the bathroom door, her arms wrapped around herself. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Molly slowly stood up, using the door as support. “I’m fine. I took a few pregnancy tests. I got sick at work today.”

  Ty’s face lit up. “You think you’re pregnant?”

  “Maybe?” Molly choked on her laughter and tears.

  “You want me to look at the tests?”

  “Could you? There’s 15.”

  “Fifteen tests?” Ty ran his hands through his beard.

  “I wanted to be sure.”

  He laughed and brushed back Molly’s hair. “Either way, we’re in this together, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  She moved to the bed and sat down, listening to the creaking of the bathroom door and the shuffling of the tests. When she glanced up and saw Ty holding a test in his hands, her heart dipped.

  “We’re going to be parents.” Molly shot up and ran right into his arms, the pregnancy test falling to the ground. They kissed each other, relishing the moment they’d been waiting on for what seemed like forever.

  “I have to call my mom. The next four months will go by so fast. Lots of planning and preparation!”

  “You mean nine months,” Ty corrected.

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you? Witches have a gestation period of only four months. Something to do with our genetic make-up.”

  Molly watched her rock, her husband, the man that had kept her grounded since she could remember, turn as white as a ghost. She guessed she’d wait to tell him that multiples were greater odds for witches as well. Guiding him to the bed, Molly sat him down and held him while he recovered from the shock. She was overcome with joy. It was the one thing she’d wished for and the one thing witchcraft couldn’t give her. But damn, it was no match for a baby carrot penis and some sexy red lingerie.

  Copyright Gen Ryan

  About Gen Ryan

  YOU CAN FIND Gen curled up reading paranormal romance and romantic thrillers or frantically typing her stories on her laptop.

  Forensic psychology is her trade by day, teaching and molding the minds of college students. Her interest in psychology can be seen in her books, each including many psychological undertones. Although she loves teaching, her passion, her true love, lies in the stories that roam around in her head. Yes, they all come from her mind—the good, the bad, and the totally insane. Gen Ryan is an international best-selling author in multiple sub genres within romance. She lives in Massachusetts, with her husband, daughter, son, and American Eskimo dog named Chewbacca. With each story she shares, she hopes her love for writing and storytelling seeps through, encompassing the reader and leaving them wanting more.

  Follow Gen: Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorgenryan

  * * * *

  WHEN WE WERE YOUNG (Hopelessly Devoted Book 1)

  When she fell in love with her high school sweetheart, Rainey Matthews thought it’d be forever. But life has a habit of sneaking up and throwing a sucker punch when you least expect it. Parker’s military career has become his top priority, leaving Rainey behind while he pursues his dreams. A combination of Parker’s PTSD and his actions threaten to tear Rainey’s heart right open, and she can no longer keep it together. Then an unexpected lifeline appears and shows Rainey what it’s like to be cared for and loved. She finds herself happy for the first time in a while, but those sneaky sucker punches aren’t done, and keeping happiness will be an uphill battle.

  https://www.hottreepublishing.com/shop/when-we-were-young/

  BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE (Thin Red Lines Book 1)

  MADISON HARPER IS NO stranger to monsters. After surviving an unimaginable childhood, she fights her past
every day and dreams of working for the FBI to protect the innocent from monsters like her own father. Her plans are clear: finish her PhD, then join the next class of trainees. Her father’s escape fast forwards her plans. The two agents assigned to protect and instruct Madison offer her so much more than she ever expected. They teach her about love and pain, trust and loss. But not everyone can or should be saved. Will Madison avoid being her father’s last Beautiful Masterpiece?

  https://www.hottreepublishing.com/shop/beautiful-masterpiece/

  Masked Desires

  by

  Gina L. Maxwell

  Chapter One

  Maggie

  One long-ass international flight, two cab rides, three painstaking hours of hair and makeup, and one hellishly slow Uber trip into downtown Bellview, Texas. It felt like eighty years to get here from France, but I finally made it to the ball.

  Granted, I’m way past fashionably late, but it isn’t midnight yet, so I’m calling it a win.

  Thanking the driver, I step out onto the red carpet, careful not to snag my heels on the hem of my new dress. When I enter the lobby of the five-star hotel, a thrill runs through me.

  I love New Year’s Eve. Filled with hope, self-reflection, and new beginnings, it’s my favorite holiday. And in Bellview, the place to be when the clock strikes twelve is the annual Emergency Masquerade Ball—the black-tie event organized by Bellview’s fire and police departments to support local charities. Everyone who’s anyone attends, and for the first time in two and a half years, I am, too.

  Tonight is going to be special, I can feel it. Like the stars have aligned, and Lady Luck is on my side. There’s a damn good chance I’ll be ushering in the New Year the way I’ve always fantasized—with Jonah Warner’s lips on mine.

  Jonah is my brother’s best friend and partner in the Bellview Police Department. He’s also my longest standing crush; the one guy I’ve held a torch for since hitting puberty. The minute I knew I’d be home in time for the ball, I hatched the perfect plan to kiss Jonah at midnight, forcing him to acknowledge our chemistry.

  However, I might encounter a few potential problems. Like if Jonah is in a relationship. Or he brought a date. Or—the most likely scenario—he continues to avoid being around me without Callum present.

  That’s been his MO ever since we shared a single, bone-melting kiss the night of my eighteenth birthday…right before his face drained of color and he stumbled away with an apology and a promise it would never happen again. A promise he’s unfortunately kept.

  In the elevator I study my reflection in the chrome doors, ensuring I didn’t mess anything up on the ride over, and all looks well.

  My gown is dusky periwinkle with spaghetti straps and a plummeting V neckline. The bra cups are lined, but sheer material bares skin down to my waistline. And a floor-length waterfall of tulle hides a slit where my leg plays a sexy game of peekaboo when I walk.

  But what really sets it off are the matching beads and jewels handsewn onto the bodice to look like flowers, vines, and butterflies that wind down my body and trickle into the top of the tulle.

  It reminds me of a faerie queen, so I’ve transformed my appearance to match. I hid my red hair with a pale blue wig and pinned half of it up with jeweled combs, leaving soft tendrils to dance around my face. To complete the look, I’m wearing lavender contacts, exaggerated false lashes, and my pièce de résistance—a half-mask created entirely with makeup. Using my skills and every minute I could spare, I created elaborate butterfly wings in shades of blue and purple around my eyes with jeweled strands painted as though resting against my cheeks. With expertly applied shadowing, it has a 3D appearance like I’m wearing a real mask.

  I really outdid myself. I just hope it impresses a certain someone. Holding a hand over the nervous flutters in my belly, I step out of the elevator and directly into a scene from Phantom of the Opera. It’s breathtakingly magnificent. So many people, some in traditional evening gowns and tuxes with others in elaborate masquerade costumes, all masked and having the time of their lives.

  Scanning the room, I find Callum right away, working a shift behind one of the small bars set up around the room. Despite most of his face being covered, he’s easily recognizable by his height and bright orange hair. I wait with the other guests at the bar until he’s close enough to hear me.

  “Jeez, Callie, what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?”

  His head snaps around, and his eyes widen behind his mask. “Maggie?”

  I smile. “Surprise, big brother.”

  “Holy shit, c’mere!” Cal shoves his mask up and darts around the bar for a hug, but I hold my hands up.

  “Callum Clark, if you smear my mask, so help me God, I’ll punch you in the junk.”

  That pulls him up short. “What do you mean smear—whoa. Mags, is that makeup?”

  “Yes, and it took me over an hour, so you can squeeze me to death later, okay?”

  “Sure, squirt.” He smirks, then raises his hand, but I smack it away.

  “And no wig ruffling!”

  “You’re no fun when you’re in costume,” he says with a warm smile. “Small price to pay for having you back home, though. Two and a half years was way too long.”

  “We saw each other at Christmases.”

  “You say that like a few days out of a year is a lot. Seriously, Mags, I’m glad you’re home.”

  I blink quickly to stem the moisture gathering in my eyes. It’s a little surreal to think I’m back in the States for good. After graduating college, I up and moved to France for no other reason than I could. I spent the next couple years living my best life while growing my name as a makeup artist in the television and film industry. But when Cal’s wife got pregnant, I started making plans to move back before the baby was born. I can’t wait to be an auntie and spoil that kid rotten.

  “I’m glad I’m home, too,” I say.

  The other guy working the bar summons Cal, reminding him he’s on drink duty. “Shit, I gotta go. I just started my shift, so I’m not off for a while yet. Jonah’s around here somewhere, though; you should go find him so he can keep the vultures away from my baby sister.”

  “That’s okay, I don’t want to interrupt him and his date.”

  Please say he doesn’t have one. Please pl—

  Cal snorts and pulls his mask back into place. “The Playboy of the BPD bring a date? That’s rich. You know Jonah—he likes to keep his options open.”

  I’m counting on it. “You’d better get back to work. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Bolstered by the news that Jonah’s single, I make my way through the room, stopping to indulge in a few chocolate-covered strawberries as I casually study the other guests. But I make it to the opposite side of the ballroom and no Jonah. I frown. I couldn’t have missed him. He’s six-five with the shoulders of a linebacker. It doesn’t matter how he’s disguised; those details stick out in any crowd.

  My shoulders slump as I flag down a waiter for a glass of champagne, but he’s carrying a tray of empties. I smile in understanding but let out a heavy sigh as I turn.

  “Care for some champagne?”

  Sweet baby Jesus in a tuxedo, it’s him. Jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes behind his simple black mask, cheekbones that could cut glass, and lips so full they almost look wrong on a man. Almost. On Jonah, they’re perfect. Everything about him is perfect. Snapping myself out of my stupor, I order my pulse to stop racing (unsuccessfully), accept the slim flute, and grin wryly as I take a sip. “You don’t think I should stick to water?”

  It’s something Jonah always griped to my brother about whenever Cal let me drink—under his careful supervision—at parties before I was twenty-one.

  “Not unless you plan on driving home. I’d hate to have to arrest you later. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t hate it all that much.” One side of his sexy mouth hitches up as he holds out his free hand. “Hi, I’m Jonah.”

  What. Is. Happening? Did I enter the Tw
ilight Zone? Did I trip and hit my head?

  I know it’s been a long time since he’s seen me, and it’s not like my usual red hair, brown eyes, and hordes of freckles are on display, but I didn’t expect this. He’s known me my whole life! Callum recognized me easily enough, didn’t he? I think back to our exchange and realize I called him “Callie,” my name for him from the time I was two.

  In a daze, my hand finds its way into Jonah’s, and I watch as he slowly lifts it to press a kiss to my knuckles.

  “And you are?”

  Dumbfounded, stupefied, flabbergasted—take your pick. I’m about to tell him as much when an evil spark of an idea starts to germinate.

  Jonah has never given us a chance. Not because he doesn’t want to—that excuse went up in flames the night of my eighteenth birthday—but because of who I am to his best friend, a stance I’ve always thought was ridiculous.

  But what if I accidentally-on-purpose play into the hands of the Playboy of the BPD? Then I could show Jonah just how good we are together before he has a chance to shut me down.

  A wide smile creeps onto my face. I intended to kiss Jonah Warner tonight. But if I play my cards right, I might be doing a whole lot more.

  Chapter Two

  Jonah

  Hell, this night may not totally suck after all. As part of BPD, I’m “strongly encouraged” (read: required) to attend our annual New Year’s Eve charity event. But tuxes and appetizers the size of quarters isn’t my idea of fun.

  You didn’t mind it when Maggie was around.