Love in Bloom (an erotic short story) Read online

  *

  Mandy blew out the breath she’d been holding. He’d said exactly what she wanted to hear, but was it a line he’d used hundreds of times before?

  But who was she kidding? Her whole body had tingled with excitement the second she’d realized who had helped her out of her shirt. “All right. I’ll go out with you. But it’ll be late. Tonight’s the longest day of the year for me. I’ve been going since before dawn. I have Valentine’s Day deliveries lined up until eight.”

  “Don’t bother dressing up. We’ll do something casual. Can I pick you up?”

  She reached for the notepad and jotted down her address, and then stepped closer to give it to him, forcing her gaze to meet his and catching his flicking over the tops of her breasts again.

  “I don’t remember those,” he murmured. “I think I would have if we’d ever dated.”

  “Late bloomer,” she muttered with a shrug.

  “Nice. Gonna use those shears on me if I try to kiss you?”

  The shears sat next to the notepad, and she pushed them away. Then she realized what her action implied, and blushed, but he was already moving in.

  Not that she was complaining. The hands that slid around her bare waist were warm and strong. The face lowering to hers so handsome she sighed as their lips met.

  The kiss was soft, exploring. His lips caressed hers. Mandy lifted her hands and placed them against his chest, as much to brace herself because her knees were weakening, and to feel the flex of steely muscle as his arms wrapped around her.

  He broke the kiss. “I should go,” he whispered.

  Unable to form a single word, she nodded. Her hands slid up his chest, around his neck, and she rose on tiptoe to kiss him again.

  Her aggression sparked a fire. His mouth landed on hers, his tongue stroked inside.

  Mandy dug her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, meeting his thrusts with eager forays of her own.

  When his hands landed on her bottom and lifted her to the edge of her work table, she wrapped her legs around his hips to bring him flush with her body.

  Her bra gave beneath the flick of his practiced hand, and her breasts spilled into his palms. Thumbs swept her nipples then fingers plucked the tips.

  Their mouths went wild, lips suctioning, tongues tangling.

  The phone rang.

  Eyelids at half mast, Dustin lifted his head. “Don’t answer it.”

  She groaned. “Busiest day.”

  His eyes closed, his forehead met hers, and he dragged in deep, ragged breaths. “Tonight.”

  She nodded, too overcome to play coy. “We’ll stay in.”

  “Am I moving too fast for you?” His eyes opened. His gaze was steady. Intense.

  She blinked, still warm and pliant from his kisses. “Dustin, I’ve been waiting for this forever.”

  *

  Dustin hadn’t any patience with the elevator in her apartment building and ran up the six flights, arriving slightly out of breath at her door. He hoped she hadn’t had second thoughts. Not that he’d blame her. Things had gotten out of hand, and quickly, at her shop.

  Still, he’d be in hell all night if she decided to slow the pace. His cock had throbbed all afternoon, and he hadn’t wanted to ease the tension while he’d showered because he didn’t want anything surrounding him that wasn’t her.

  Her arousal had been a beautiful thing to witness, adding rose to her cheeks, a sparkle to her sky-blue eyes. He checked his joy at her door, worried now that she might not feel as eager or as enthralled as he did after his second encounter with Amanda Blakely.

  He’d filched a business card from beside the cash register before he left the store. Now he finally had a name for the woman he’d kissed amid the blooms and leaves littering the work table in her store.

  Taking a deep breath, he eyed the flowers he clutched in his hands and hoped like hell a florist who worked with them all day long wouldn’t think him unimaginative. But he hadn’t known what else to bring. The pink roses were the color of her cheeks when flushed with passion, the irises the color of her eyes. He’d had the florist add baby’s breath for the hint of innocence her eager passion exposed, and yellow daisies because looking at them made him think of spring and the hope she’d still be with him to enjoy the change of season.

  He rang the doorbell then stood back, feeling eager and awkward and hoping like hell she met him with a smile.

  Then the door flew open, and there she was. She was dressed in faded blue jeans with frayed holes at the knees and an overlarge tee that draped her body to mid-thigh. But she’d foregone a bra—and he couldn’t manage to look away from the ripened little tips that poked against the blue material.

  “I’m up here,” she said.

  He dragged his gaze upward, feeling a blush heat his cheeks, only to find a grin stretching her mouth.

  “I took you at your word,” she said, still smiling. “You said casual. I don’t like underwear between me and my clothes when I’m home.”

  In an instant, his mouth dried, and he pushed the bouquet toward her chest.

  Her laughter bubbled over, and he relaxed. “Guess I know how it feels now,” he said softly.

  “Yeah, kinda takes your breath away. Nice flowers,” she said, lifting a brow.

  “I’m not sure what it means. This feeling.”

  Her expression shifted to something more thoughtful. “Then we won’t label it. Not yet. But I do know where it’s heading right now…” She reached for his hand and pulled him inside her apartment, past the living room and straight into the darkened bedroom at the end of a short corridor.

  “We could order in food first,” he said, trying to remember he ought to be a gentleman since he wanted more than just a one-night stand.

  She was already pulling her shirt over her head and crawling onto the mattress.

  A second glimpse of her small rose-tipped breasts and the narrow indent of her waist had his palms itching to touch her again. He toed off his shoes.

  Mandy turned and rested on her elbows. “I thought we might finish what we started since I haven’t been able to think of anything else all damn day.”

  A smile stretched his face at the frustration brimming in her voice. Warmth filled his chest at her expression. She acted in control and self-assured, but her wide eyes gave away her anxiety.

  He stripped quickly, donned a condom while he could still think to do it, then strode toward her. With gentle tugs, he removed her jeans without saying a word or letting her help and crawled over her, settling his weight on top of her. “We’ll do this, seeing as how eager you are to finish. But I want more.”

  She lay still beneath him. “More?”

  “Mandy, I want to know you. I’ll be seeing you again. Past the third date.”

  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 t
angle 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.”

  About Delilah Devlin

  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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  Excerpt from Wet Down

  Sherry 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.