Ultra Strokes Read online

“You said there was a button.”

  She guided his hand to her side and waited as he unbuttoned her skirt then unwrapped her like a present.

  He stared at her tights.

  “Not very convenient,” she said grinning.

  “Not a problem.” He crawled off the bed then leaned over her, sliding his fingers under the waistband of her tights and peeling them down. When he bared her pussy, his gaze snagged, but he lingered longer staring at her thighs. “I’ve imagined them so many times. They’re lovely, rounded.”

  She held her breath. Yes, she was carrying too much weight, and most of it landed on her butt and thighs. But his tightening expression signaled arousal. She came up on her elbows to watch him drag the tights the rest of the way off.

  His gaze darted to her face then back to her pussy. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her ankles and pulled her sideways until her legs dangled off the side of the bed. “Take off your blouse.”

  She sat up, reached behind her to open the button at her neck, then pulled off her blouse. Before he could ask, she opened her bra and drew it down her arms.

  His chest rose. His hands went to his belt and he unbuckled it, opened his pants, and pushed them down his legs. When he straightened, she felt a little dizzy. He was large. Just as he’d been in her dream. Thick and curving upward.

  He bent over her, scooped her mouth with his, then pushed her backward, lowering to take a sprung nipple in his mouth. He suctioned, drawing until her toes curled, then backed off to tease her with flutters of his tongue.

  “They’re pink. I knew they’d be pink,” he said, kissing across her chest to capture the other nipple.

  She petted his thick hair, combing it and digging her nails into his scalp when he nibbled her tip.

  Then he backed away again, going to his knees and spreading hers. He draped her thighs over his shoulders and kissed her inner thigh, an outer lip, before burrowing into her, his tongue licking around her entrance then plunging inside while he tweaked her clit with his fingers.

  “Daniel,” she said, groaning. Reality was so much better.

  When he rose again, he shifted her, urging her to the center of the bed. He cloaked himself then turned her and licked a hot trail down her spine. At her bottom, he bit each cheek. Just hard enough to make her quiver. He kissed her cunt and moved behind her, his cock prodding her, then plunging into her.

  Sophie screamed, unraveling in a moment. His girth stretched her, his length plundered. Moisture flooded her channel as she bounced back to greet his strokes.

  A clap landed on one side of her ass. Loud, but not really hard. It surprised her, made her freeze.

  He leaned over back and whispered in her ear. “Did you like that, Sophie? Do you want another?”

  Her pussy flooded with moisture, as much from the silky texture of his voice as the warmth of her ass. “Please.”

  He straightened and began to thrust into her again, smooth, deep glides that had her passion rising steeply again. A slap landed on the opposite cheek, sharper than the first one. Her pussy clenched his cock. She lowered her middle to lift her ass, begging silently for another.

  Again and again, he placed slaps, some hollow-sounding and not too sharp, others flat and stinging. She sobbed, dropping her head to rest it on the cool sheet. This was pure bliss.

  At last, he went still and bent, encircling her with an arm and raising her to sit, still impaled on his cock. His hands roamed her breasts, massaging then pinching her nipples. “Use your fingers to tug on them, pull them far and let them bounce back. I want to watch.”

  She did as he asked, resting her head to one side as he gazed over her shoulder as she played. She tugged them, twisted them, pulled them out and watched them bounce. Her nipples felt like they were on fire, her pussy oozed constantly.

  “My balls are soaked,” he said in a low rumble then pulled one hand away and smacked her breast.

  She cried out. Already sensitive, the surprise sent her into a mini-orgasm.

  He twisted her nipple, digging in a fingernail. “Stop. Not yet.”

  She opened her mouth to say that was impossible, but just as quickly as it had overtaken her, her orgasm settled, leaving her there, riding the edge of a powerful explosion.

  He was a sadist, a monster. She’d earned her orgasm. How could he be so cruel?

  “Do you want to complain?”

  She couldn’t. Not when he spoke to her in that silky tone.

  He slapped her breast again, and then smoothed his hand down her belly. His fingers found her clitoris, and she gasped at his first rasping touch.

  He tsked in her ear. “You aren’t nearly ready, Sophie.”

  What did he mean? She was filled with his large cock, as wet as she’d ever been, and she felt as if a coil had formed around her womb, winding tighter and tighter. If he’d only let her, she would come.

  He clamped her clit between his thumb and forefinger and began to roll it in twisting motions. She reached back to pull his hair, stiffening her body. “It’s too much,” she gasped.

  But he didn’t stop, twisting and twisting, pausing only to drop spit onto his fingers before he squeezed her raw clit again.

  “Nearly there, almost, love…”

  She glanced down between her legs and realized her clit was engorged, elongating. He pressed now on the base, pumping it like a tiny cock. She hadn’t known, had never managed that on her own, and now that he was doing it, she knew what he meant. She hadn’t been ready. Not nearly, but she was there now.

  Her fingernails dug into his thighs and raked him. Her entire body quivered and shuddered. Sweat coated her chest, her face, and still he stroked her. “Please,” she keened.

  Daniel kissed her cheek. “Now,” he whispered.

  Sophie screamed, the explosion radiating outward from her clit to every extremity. Her body bowed and arched, her vision narrowed to a tunnel, and still he pumped, not releasing her clit until she rested limply against his body.

  Sophie knew with a certainty that her clit would be swollen for days. That every time she crossed her legs, she’d feel the ache. She turned her head and gave Daniel a shy smile. “Thank you.”

  Daniel’s arms enclosed her. His hands gently cupped her breasts. “Am I a monster?”

  “You, love,” she whispered, “are a master.” She breathed deeply and shook her head. “But what about you?” He was still hard and lodged deep inside her.

  He smiled. “You’re done in, but tomorrow, when we ride the train, I’m going to ask something of you and you will give it to me.”

  Sophie knew what he asked would be something she would never consider on her own, something shameful and shocking, but she nodded. “I’ll do anything, Daniel.” Anything to lure him to her bed again.

  *

  The train came to a halt at 42nd. She held her breath, not raising her head until she saw those familiar loafers stop in front of her. Today, he wore an overcoat. Was it going to rain? She glanced up, and he held out his hand. Leading the way, he took her to the back of the car into a corner. They held onto the bar and stood so close the motion of the train made them sway together.

  Daniel reached for her hand and cupped it against his cock. He was erect, his cock straight against his zipper. His belt already hung loose at his waist. Without being told what he wanted, she guessed, and opened his button, slowly slid down the zipper, then drew his cock from inside his pants.

  She glanced sideways; no one could see between their bodies. They might guess what was happening, but they wouldn’t know. She lifted her hand and licked her palm, then gripped him firmly.

  Daniel leaned toward her ear as she began to stroke him. “I dreamed of you all night.”

  “I went to sleep with my fingers petting my sore clit.”

  He chuckled, and she leaned her head against his shoulder as she stroked him again and again.

  As they rode, she paused only when the train entered a station, her hand still but clasping firmly around him.


  He kissed her cheek. “Your scarf,” he whispered. She slid it surreptitiously from her neck and gave it to him. He held it over his cockhead and she stroked again, listening as he groaned softly and spilled his seed on the pretty silk.

  When he’d finished, he stuffed the scarf in his pocket. She zipped him up and raised her face.

  His kiss was hot, possessive of her mouth. When she drew away to breathe, he followed. “Tonight,” he said, placing his forehead against hers. “I won’t play with your clit. I have another spot to torture.”

  Sophie smiled, happy she’d pleased him and sure he would see her again. He’d have to return the scarf.

  “Tomorrow night, my place,” he ringed her wrist, as though testing it for size. “I have several somethings to show you.”

  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.