Strokes, Vol. 3

  Strokes, Vol. 3

  Delilah Devlin

  This eBook is not transferable.

  It cannot be resold, shared or given away because that will be considered an infringement on the copyright for this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Delilah’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Strokes, Vol. 3

  Copyright © 2016 by Delilah Devlin

  Kindle Edition

  Cover by April Martinez

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations for review purposes.

  Dedication

  I write to be read. So, as always, this volume is for my lovely, loyal readers…

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Big Brass Buckle

  Pitch Black

  The Pleasure in Surrender

  One-Track Cowboy

  How to Train Your Skjaldmaer

  Johnny Blaze

  Red Dawn

  About The Author

  Foreword

  I didn’t begin my career writing short stories. In fact, I was already a well-published novelist when I took up the challenge to send a short story to an editor on an open call. That first story hooked me, and now, I’ve been a fan of the format now for some time. I’ve had the great good fortune to edit a few collections of my own, as well as building a stock of personal shorts that I can share with readers.

  Well, here I am again with my third volume of Strokes! These stories are intended for bed-time reading—a week’s worth of naughty tales. Read them alone or with your partner. Read them to your partner.

  I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. As always, I can promise that even though they are short, they are not lacking in passion. Bon appétit!

  Delilah Devlin

  Big Brass Buckle

  ‡

  LIGHTNING CLAWED THE sky with a crow’s foot, illuminating thick thunderheads that glowed yellow-green and ominous. The color the sky often turned before a tornado twisted its nasty tail. Glad to be out of the rain and safe from the jagged streaks, I shivered against the cool vinyl seat as another flash lashed out like the end of a whip, lighting the sky so intensely that for a moment the darkened parking lot was as bright as high noon.

  That was when I saw the pickup roll in towing a large horse trailer. The Ford F-160 ground to a halt beside the diner’s plate-glass window. The driver wasn’t going to bother trying to park it in the flooded lot.

  I heard the muffled slam of the truck door when the end of the lightning strike flickered out, plunging the parking lot back into darkness. The driver would be soaked to the skin before he even hit the door. The distance was only twelve feet, but the rain was coming down in sheets. I’d been lucky, arriving before the worst of the storm struck. Mostly dry, I peered through the window at the deepening night, waiting for a lull before continuing my journey home.

  Earlier, I’d read the clouds as well as any West Texas native could and headed to the nearest shelter. The tiny diner with its 70’s style brick façade, split vinyl bench seats, and chipped, laminated table tops was a welcome haven. The attached string of dingy motel rooms was part of Plan B, if the storm didn’t wane before midnight.

  My arrival had been nearly forty minutes ago. Except for a bored waitress smoking a cigarette at a far table, I was the only customer. Until now.

  The door squeaked open, and a cowboy strode inside. He pulled off his cream-colored hat and shook shaggy dark brown hair like a dog, sending droplets of water lashing against the glass door. His white T-shirt, soaked almost to transparency, clung to the hills and hollows of sharply defined muscles along his chest and abdomen.

  I straightened in my seat, eyeing his tall, lean frame, liking what I saw. Instant lust drew me, stripping away my usual reticence with strangers. He wasn’t just my type, he could freaking set the mold. I licked my lips.

  Setting his cowboy hat on the table, the deeply tanned man sank into a booth near the door, his expression a study in irritation. Dark brows drawn in a fierce frown, his lips crimped in a thin line.

  This cowboy needed a reason to smile.

  I pursed my lips and let out a low whistle. His green gaze sliced my way, taking away my breath. One dark eyebrow rose, his gaze sharpening, giving my face and chest a quick sweep.

  His glance locked with mine again, and I figured I didn’t look exactly Coyote Ugly. Feeling brazen as hell, I smiled. “’Fraid you’ll melt?”

  The corner of his mouth curled—just a slight easing of tension I found promising.

  “I’m not that fragile,” he drawled.

  I liked the raw texture of his voice—a scratchy rumble that started deep in his chest and scraped upward. Already I could imagine it softening to a rasp when he whispered. “Seein’ as we’re the only ones here, cowboy, wanna join me?”

  With a nod, he gripped the top edge of the bench seat to haul himself up, giving me an interesting view of flexing biceps. He set his cowboy hat back on his head and sauntered my way. The easy roll of his hips and the dull clap of his boots on the tiled floor heightened the little flame of awareness growing inside me. The man certainly filled out a pair of blue jeans.

  My gaze dipped only a moment, taking in the oversized belt buckle and the equally impressive bulge at the front of his pants before sliding up to cling to his mossy-green eyes, the corners wrinkling as he narrowed his gaze.

  Something about him seemed familiar, like maybe we’d met once a long time ago. Only I knew I’d never forget someone like him. I shook my head, guessing I wanted a connection to this man that didn’t exist—something to make the plan unfolding in my mind a little less outrageous.

  His eyelids dipped then widened, a subtle once-over that left my breasts tingling and my thighs tightening.

  He nodded toward the window. “Storm catch you, too?”

  So he was willing to exchange small talk to extend our encounter while he politely studied me to figure out where I was leading him and whether he was willing to be led.

  I’d never considered myself especially easy, but I was quick to make up my mind when I saw something I wanted. Something I had to have—and this cowboy, I definitely had to have. “I don’t mind the storm. I needed a break anyway,” I said, trying to keep our conversation light and flowing. Soon enough, I’d figure out if he was ripe for a little more than flirting.

  He continued to stare—at my hair and my breasts, again—until I warmed past the need to be cool. “You change your mind? Or you gonna have a seat?”

  His soft snort, so typically male, plucked at my nipples. But he slid into the bench opposite me, stretching his bare arms wide across the top of the vinyl, all that lovely muscle and the shadows of his small male nipples coming into prominence with the stretch of thin, wet opaque cotton. “Travel far?” he asked, the texture of his voice deepening to a sexy growl.

  Again, I pressed my thighs together, enjoying the slowly building heat. “From Atlanta.”

  “Much farther to go?”

  “Home’s just down the road a piece.”

  He cleared his throat. “My name’s Da—”

  “Cowboy,” I interrupted him, setting the rules of this game.

  Interest flickered in his eyes. He nodded slowly and lifted his hat from his head to rake thick long fingers through his black-brown hair. “Am I gonna call you ‘lady’?”

  I gave him a cheeky grin. “My name�
�s Carly.” My middle name. I’d used anonymity before when I’d been on the prowl. Kept a little mystery to heighten a man’s interest. “I saw you pull up with that horse trailer.”

  “I took a string of horses to auction. I’m headin’ home now.” He sounded tired, but his steady stare told me he was waiting to see how this game played out.

  I hated the awkward silence that followed, as though we’d run out of polite conversation. At this point, I had to cut or run. I cleared my throat. “So, it looks like we’re both stuck here for awhile…” I let my voice trail off.

  His gaze sharpened, and I felt my bluster begin to fade. Had I been too bold?

  “Look…” He glanced around. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but our options seem a little limited, sweetheart.”

  The rusty rasp of his voice didn’t hold a single note of hesitation. He wasn’t pulling away. His gaze remained steady; curiosity gleamed—and maybe there was a little hint of challenge.

  Something I never backed away from. I nibbled on my bottom lip, satisfied when his glance dropped to watch. My confidence restored, I arched a brow. “You don’t appear to be a man with a lack of imagination.”

  “Not something I’ve ever been accused of,” he murmured. “But I generally like a little comfort for my partner.” He leaned over the table and whispered. “Something soft underneath her back or her knees.”

  Day-um! He wasn’t the least bit shy. My nipples spiked, and I leaned back and stretched my own arms across the back of the bench seat, giving him a clear view of just how aroused those little points had become. “Sounds like you can be a little rough,” I said, kicking off one sandal and lifting my foot to reach beneath the table.

  I slid my toes along the inside of one booted calf, trailing up his thigh slowly, skipped his crotch and teased him with a glide along the opposite thigh. I found his cock nestled there, and squeezed it with my toes before settling the ball of my foot between his legs.

  He drew in a deep breath, his eyelids falling halfway closed as he eased down in his seat and widened his legs. “I’m just a cowboy,” he said, his voice tightening as I gave his crotch a rub. “I tend to ride my horses and my women hard.”

  My thin cotton panties soaked up the moisture seeping from inside me. I massaged his dick, rolling my foot, heel-to-toe, eliciting a roll of his hips as he nudged his cock deeper against my foot. One last caress and I let my foot fall back to the floor.

  His eyes widened and his chest rose sharply with his next indrawn breath. “Anyone waitin’ at home for you?”

  I shook my head. “You?”

  “Uh-uhn.”

  My slow-spreading grin matched his for wicked delight. No impediments then to our pleasure.

  He cleared his throat and glanced away.

  I was glad for that hint of reticence in him. It emboldened me to make the next move. Set the pace.

  “Need a cup of coffee?” I asked.

  The side of his mouth quirked up. “Think you can pry her away from her crossword puzzle?” he asked, nodding toward the waitress.

  “Oh, she and I are old friends by now. I just help myself.” So I got up, taking my time, letting him get a nice view of what I’d worked so hard at the gym to perfect. I knew there was a little extra baggage in the trunk, but most men didn’t seem to mind. So I made use of it, swaying slowly, knowing he was smart enough to pick up on the invitation.

  I poured his coffee and came back, giving him a mischievous smile. His expression heated me. Narrowed eyes, crooked grin. Like he was taking my measure. Sticking his thumb into the air to read the windage before taking aim.

  He lifted his cup to his lips, and I leaned forward, resting my breasts on the table. “So, how much time do you think we have?” I whispered.

  He must have gulped a little too fast, because he winced and set down his cup hard on the table before clearing his throat, his gaze glued to the cleavage I displayed above the low-neck tank tank top I wore. “Time?”

  “Yeah, until the storm ends and you have to move along.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “Lady, anyone ever tell you that you move fast?”

  I shrugged, pretending a nonchalance my tight little nipples belied. “The way I see it,” I drawled, “if I don’t move quick, we’ll never know.”

  Eyebrow raised, he shook his head. He wasn’t going to ask, know what?

  As though some higher power knew exactly what was called for, the lights flickered out with the next flash of blue-white lightning, plunging the diner into darkness.

  “Shit!” he muttered.

  “I’ll go find some candles in the storeroom,” the waitress on the far side of the diner muttered.

  “Don’t worry about us,” I called out. “Think we’ll just watch the storm through the window.”

  As though the dousing of the lights was a signal, every erogenous zone of my body prickled to alert. Eager and ready to take advantage of the opportunity. How far would the cowboy let me go?

  “I dropped something,” I lied, lay across the bench seat, and reached to grab the center support of the table. Then I dropped to the floor on my knees, hoping the floor underneath was as spotless clean as the top of the table.

  Reaching forward, I found a knee and glided my hand up his thigh, feeling the tension in his flexing muscle. I wondered if I should expect a hard hand clamping over mine to halt my progress. But instead, his legs widened more, and he relaxed deeper in the seat.

  Since thick denim wasn’t exactly conducive to teasing strokes of foreplay, I decided to go straight for the zipper. Not knowing how long the power would remain out, I needed to move fast. I reached for his oversized belt buckle and flicked it open expertly in the darkness, unzipped his pants, and reached inside.

  “Shit!” he said, his thighs tightening granite-hard.

  I slowly drew out his thickening cock, then wrapped my fingers around his shaft and squeezed.

  “You know, those lights are gonna come on any second now,” he said, his voice sounding a little strangled. “You ready to get arrested?”

  I giggled softly. My answer was to lean close and suck the head of his cock into my mouth.

  His fingers threaded through my hair, and his palm cupped the top of my head, protecting me, I realized, from thumping it on the bottom of the table.

  As I sank on his cock, taking him deeper into my mouth and coming up again, I let his hand be the gauge of how high I could go. I opened my jaws and swallowed as much of his thick length as I could, swirling my tongue along his shaft.

  “I fucking don’t believe this,” he moaned.

  I didn’t either, because my hand closed around the large oval belt buckle lying to the side, and suddenly, I knew whose cock was tickling the back of my throat.

  Two-time World Champion Rodeo Cowboy Dalton McCabe. A McCabe!

  And a rodeo star I’d drooled over from the stands on more than one occasion. Now I’d wet his cock with my lips, kissed his length, tongued the grooved little slit on the mushroom head.

  “We should get a room,” he whispered, his fingers gently pulling at my hair.

  I licked the ridge surrounding the crown and murmured a protest. I’d have to let him slide this monster back into his pants. Where I could no longer touch it.

  His hand gripped my hair with more strength and tugged. “I mean it,” he groaned.

  I dragged my lips off him and gave his belly a kiss. “Think you can get your zipper over this?”

  He snorted, his abdomen jerking against my cheek as I leaned into him, sucking the taut flesh.

  “I’ll use a damn shoe horn. Just let me drag up my pants.”

  With lightning lighting my way, I crawled from beneath the seat, rose to my feet, and strode toward the door, not waiting to see if he followed.

  Outside, the rain sliced, instantly plastering my clothing against my skin. However, I welcomed the cool rain slicking over me, imagining him licking off the moisture.

  He came up beside me and stepped
in front of the rain, shielding me from the worst, his arm settling around my shoulders to draw me near.

  Together, we bent our heads against the driving rain, matching our footsteps as we approached the motel office. I huddled just inside the door as he and the manager spoke in low tones, leaning over a form with a flashlight.

  The jangle of keys kicked my arousal into overdrive. He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me toward the door at the very end of the long row of rooms.

  Once inside, I tugged open the curtains to a window that looked out on the pitch black parking lot. The occasional jagged flash in the distance was the only light.

  Dalton came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. “Change your mind?”

  His rigid cock nudged my ass. Was he kidding? I turned in the circle of his arms and leaned back, stripping my tank top over my head. Then I reached behind me and unsnapped my bra. Before I’d even managed to slide it down my arms, I felt his warm hands cover my breasts.

  I pressed into his palms, groaning, loving the way the calluses on his hands scraped like sandpaper on my tender flesh. I let him play while I unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down my thighs.

  One of his large hands cupped my sex, his fingers gliding in the moisture gathering on my labia.

  I gave a little laugh and shoved at his chest. “Let me finish getting undressed.”

  Both his large hands slipped over my ass and shoved my jeans the rest of the way down my legs.

  He bent to help me step out of them, and I clutched his shoulders. When he looked up, his face was level with my pussy. His gaze glistened in the darkness for a moment before he leaned toward me and licked between my folds, stroking over me, until my fingertips dug into his skin and I swayed on my feet, shocked to my toes he’d been so bold with someone he didn’t know and shouldn’t trust.

  “Please,” I groaned, my face warming with embarrassment and arousal. “I need you naked, too.”

  He gave a stubborn shake of his head, and then his fingers pulled up the hood guarding my clit, and he smoothed the flat of his tongue over it, circling until it grew rigid and aching.