Love in Bloom (an erotic short story) (3 page)
Her gaze lowered to his chest. “Sounds almost like a commitment—for you.”
“I have to be truthful. I don’t know how to do this.”
The corners of her lips twitched. “I’ve watched a few movies. I think it starts with you putting your penis inside me.”
Laughter shook him. “That’s not how it starts. What kind of guys have you been dating?”
Finally, she met his gaze again and gave him a little shrug. “That’s not something a girl tells a guy.”
“Ah hell,” he whispered then slid his cock inside her. He should have been a little scared about how good it felt. How momentous the act seemed. But all he could concentrate on was the silky warmth surrounding him and the way her mouth parted around a breathy sigh. “What’s the next step?”
Her fingers cupped his cheeks. “You kiss me like you mean it.”
“What do I mean?”
“That you want to be with me. That this isn’t just about sex. That you really do want to see me past that third date.”
“Sounds easy enough.” He kissed her, not moving his body although his cock ached to thrust deep. Instead, he rubbed his lips against hers, slipping his tongue inside when she opened beneath him to tangle joyfully with hers.
When their mouths parted, he felt a rush of satisfaction because her lips were blurred and her eyelids drooping. “Think we might move onto the next thing?”
Her arms came around his back, and she set her cheek against his shoulder. When her thighs parted and lifted to cup the sides of his hips, he took that as permission and began to move.
And he had moves. Knew how to make a woman come apart, but with Mandy, he wanted this first time to be about more than sex. He wanted true connection, not calisthenics.
Rising on his elbows, he held her gaze as he began to rock forward and back, tunneling deep inside her. Moist heat gloved him, caressing every inch of his shaft. He moved steadily, setting a slow pace and watching for her changing expressions to tell him when she needed more.
When her fingers dug into his back and her body arched beneath his, he rose on his arms and strengthened his thrusts. He scooped his mouth against hers. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you need.”
“Just this. Perfect,” she moaned. Then she turned her head, and her eyes squeezed shut. He knew the moment she started coming apart because her pussy pulsed around him, drawing him deeper.
Unable to hold out a moment longer, Dustin closed his eyes and hammered his hips against hers, flying over the edge, his whole body tensing as he gave a muffled shout and came.
As he fell against her body, her arms enclosed him, her hands sweeping up and down his back in comfort. He’d never wanted to share this part with another woman, but thought the cuddling might be every bit as beautiful as the sex itself.
The woman made all the difference.
*
The next morning,
Mandy eyed the bouquet then grinned at Dustin across the breakfast table. “Interesting choices. Daisies are my favorite, you know.”
Dustin ducked his head. “I wasn’t sure what to bring a girl who worked in a flower shop.”
“It’s a cinch she likes flowers. Always a safe choice.”
“That’s what I thought.”
His expression, when he finally looked up again, held not an ounce of his usual, edgy bravado. Her chest pinched. “You didn’t have to, you know.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to do more, but I had a hard time concentrating.”
“Yeah, I arrived at three doors yesterday with the wrong flowers.”
His eyebrows lifted and dipped in a wicked waggle. “No one met you in a towel?”
She laughed. “That was a first for me. Memorable. So do you remember me yet? From high-school?”
“Lab, right? But you used to wear glasses. That’s what threw me off.”
She nodded, but narrowed her eyes. “Right. The glasses did it. Not the fact I didn’t have boobs or a cheerleader’s outfit.”
He had the grace to grimace. “I guess I was pretty shallow.”
“That’s okay. Shallow saved you for me. So does this count as the third date?” she asked cheerfully.
“Because we did it three times? No.”
“Darn.” She pouted her lips. “I was hoping to get past it so I didn’t have to worry anymore.”
“You don’t, you know. Have to worry, that is,” he said quietly. “I like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“I think we have something.”
And because she didn’t know how to respond to that without crying all over him, she went for a joke. “Terminal stammering?”
He shook his head, his smile wry. “We have something special. I’ve never said this to a woman before, but I think we should go slow.”
Her mouth gaped in dismay. “You mean no sex?”
“I mean,” he said, lowering his eyebrows, “we take this in stages. Like building a house. Pour a foundation, put up the frame. Be deliberate.”
“Because me jumping you scares the snot out of you?”
He gave her a glare. “Because I want this to be special. To do everything right.”
“You don’t think it already is?”
He blew out a breath. “It’s not something we could tell our kids about.”
Our kids?
Her mouth dropped the rest of the way open.
“Too soon? I know,” he said, his confusion apparent in his blue-green eyes. “That’s why I said we should go slow. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Happiness bubbled inside her. “No, I don’t mind you mentioning it at all. And if that’s where you think this might go, then we should. Go slow, that is. But can we do that after you take me back to bed? Because you can’t just say something like that and get me all turned on and not do anything about it.” She stopped to take a breath and her shoulders slumped. “I’m babbling again.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I don’t mind. I kinda like that I can shake you up that easily.”
He held out his hand, and Mandy slipped from her chair and settled into his lap. They held each other for a while, listening to each other’s heart beats, thinking of the future and all the wonderful possibilities.
“I do remember your eyes,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You used to stare at me over the top of those ugly glasses.”
“I thought you were dreamy.”
“You helped me get a B. I would have flunked if you hadn’t been my partner. Did I ever thank you?”
Mandy leaned away and grinned. “I think you just did. Three times.”
Delilah Devlin is a
New York Times
and
USA TODAY
bestselling author of erotica and erotic romance with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters. She has published over a hundred thirty erotic stories in multiple genres and lengths, and she is published by Atria/Strebor, Avon, Berkley, Black Lace, Cleis Press, Ellora’s Cave, Grand Central, Harlequin Spice, HarperCollins: Mischief, Kensington, Montlake Romance, Running Press, and Samhain Publishing.
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Wet Down
S
herry stood so
near the closed blinds, she could feel the heat trapped between the white wooden slats and the double-paned glass. Dust motes floated in the gilded light slipping between the blades. All she could do was stare.
She finally had what she wanted. So, why wasn’t she happier about it? Perhaps because now that the election was over, the whirlwind pace of her life had slowed. And little things became as glaringly clear as the floating specks.
Being mayor of a small West Texas town didn’t pay squat, meant she couldn’t step out of the house in sweats, a holey tee and no makeup, and pretty much guaranteed she’d have to run into her soon-to-be-ex-husband on occasion.
The only upside was if she kept super-busy,
maybe
she would barely even think about him.
“It’s a wet down ceremony. We have to make a speech,” her assistant said, her gaze fixed on the tablet she always held filled with hen-scratched “notes to self.”
Only the notes weren’t to herself, they were to Sherry, the mayor. A strange quirk Sherry tried to find endearing. But Martha had made it very clear, by the way she’d commandeered Sherry’s schedule and made executive decisions about the appointments she ought to keep, that she didn’t consider Sherry mayoral material. Martha likely thought Sherry was too young and flighty. Caldera’s last mayor had retired from public service after twenty-five years sitting in this office. And in the past few, he’d allowed Martha free rein, something Sherry would have to deal with, but was reluctant to approach.
Sometimes, her EA creeped her out with her bifocaled, unblinking stare and constant use of the royal
we
. Sherry was the mayor, not the queen bee.
Although she had been a member of Caldera’s royal court for homecoming. Back in the day when she and Blake had been inseparable. High school football star, homecoming princess. They’d both been so beautiful. So freaking stupid. And there she was thinking about him again.
She flipped the blinds and stared across the street at the fire engine parked on the concrete drive, already looking cleaner than her kitchen counter—and they were giving it another bath? Why? Soon, they’d be retiring the truck because it was too old. She snorted. A fireman
would
have an obscene name for a ceremony that retired one loyal, trusty engine and introduced a prettier, sleeker new model.
Sherry drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t going to imagine what a firefighter’s personal wet down ceremony might entail. Again, she gripped the cord, ready to flip back the blinds. As a force of habit, she kept them permanently turned to prevent even an accidental view of the station across the street. The open bays faced City Hall, and on any given day, she could look out and see the firefighters on shift in their torso-hugging t-shirts and dark pants, looking sexy as hell as they crawled all over their big engines…
Holy shit, her mind was wandering again. “Can’t someone on the city council take the ceremony?” she asked, not looking back.
One of the firemen was speaking to someone just out of sight.
She waited, her breath held as the other man moved into view.
Blake.
Her entire body sighed. Head-to-toe tingled. She might be mad as hell at him, but she still loved everything about the way he looked—close-cut dark brown hair, brown eyes a girl could sink into, shoulders so broad you just knew you were safe when he appeared—and right now, he was shirtless, holding his tee in a crumpled wad and wiping his damp chest. She swayed closer to the window.
Why was he such a sweaty mess? Was he hydrating? Good Lord, did the man never age? She worried about every pound that made its way to her ass, but he looked better than when they’d split. Did he spend all his time in the fire station gym because he was lonely? She stiffened. Maybe she should head to Curves instead of eating rocky road ice cream while watching reruns of Dr. Quinn and Sully making moony eyes at each other.
He rubbed his chest again, and then lifted the shirt to swipe the back of his neck, revealing his pale underarm. Oh, she’d loved that dark tuft of hair beneath his arm. She smiled as she thought about the time he’d awoken to discover she’d made a teeny-tiny braid with that silky hair. He’d chased her through the house, threatening to spank her for disrespecting his manhood, but when he’d caught her, he’d bent her over the kitchen table and given her a different kind of pounding instead.
“We’ll make sure Lois Freely from Texas Weekly is invited, too,” Martha said, her pencil scratching across the pad.
Her warm and fuzzy regrets dried up in an instant, and Sherry flipped the blinds, cutting off the delicious view. “You do that,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from sneaking into her tone. “Can’t have her missing out on watching a fireman use his hose.”
She remembered what her granny had said about wishes and assholes.
Ever’body has ‘em, shoog.
At least, she could cut one asshole out of her life. The papers were in her top drawer. The sooner she had them served, the better.
Of course, she’d have to check her schedule first to see when she’d have time to call a process server. Hell, she should have done exactly what Blake’s brother had advised when he’d drawn up the divorce papers.
“Honey, let me handle this for you.”
She’d noted the sparkle in his eye and knew he didn’t believe she would ever go through with ending her marriage. Did he think she kept him on retainer just because she needed an expense to write off her taxes? Never mind the fact he only charged her twenty-five dollars a year.
Years ago, Blake had asked Ryan why he’d accepted her as a client, seeing as how Ryan was
his
brother. Ryan had smiled. “Bro, don’t you want someone in this family knowin’ what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of hers?”