Lily's Last Stand

by Delilah Devlin

  Lily’s Last Stand

  Delilah Devlin

  Copyright © 2015 Delilah Devlin

  Kindle Edition

  A wife gives her husband a sexy surprise…and then he ups the ante…

  Note: This 7800-word short story was previously published in Strokes, Vol. 1, but has been revised and expanded more than double its original length. It may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!

  For more short stories by Delilah Devlin, check out:

  Big Brass Buckle

  Catnip

  Dr. Mullaley’s Cure

  Dreaming by the Sea

  Drive Me Crazy

  Johnny Blaze

  Love in Bloom

  Night at the Wax Museum

  Nip-n-Tuck

  One Track Cowboy

  Pitch Black

  Red Dawn

  Tailgating at the Cedar Inn

  The Morning Ride

  The Obedient Wife

  The Long Ride Home

  The Pleasure in Surrender

  The Runaway Bride

  Two Hot

  If you love vampires, werewolves, and things that go bump in the night, check out her NIGHT FALL series:

  Silent is the Knight

  Sm{B}itten

  Truly, Madly…Deadly

  And coming soon:

  Knight in Transition

  From the Author

  To those of you who’ve read me before—hello, friends! To new readers, welcome to my world!

  As you’ll discover, I tend to bounce around in different genres, from contemporary to historical to paranormal to sci-fi—all are very sexy, so be warned. I also write in many lengths from short story to full-length novel. If you can’t tell, I love to write. And when a story is fast, it’s short. If my characters need more pages, well, you get the picture. I’m a slave to my muses (I have three—or so three different psychics have told me!).

  I love hearing from readers and have a very active blog and Facebook friend page. I run contests, talk about my favorite TV shows, what I collect, what drives me crazy. I ramble a bit. I’m doing it right now. But if you’d like to learn more about me and what I’m doing or writing about, be sure to check out the “About Delilah Devlin” page after the story.

  And if you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a review on your favorite retail site or simply tell a friend. Readers do influence other readers. We have to trust someone to tell us whether we’ll have fun when we open a new story!

  Sincerely,

  Delilah Devlin

  Visit www.DelilahDevlin.com for more titles and release dates and subscribe to Delilah’s newsletter at newsletter.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  About Lily’s Last Stand

  From the Author

  Lily’s Last Stand

  About Delilah Devlin

  Excerpt from Sm{B}itten

  Lily’s Last Stand

  ‡

  Lily Newcomb checked her makeup in the rearview mirror. She wore a new shade of lipstick—“Waitress Red”—on her lips with a slick of gloss to wet them. Brent used to say red lips made him think of blowjobs. She pouted her mouth at her reflection. That ought to make him sit up and take notice.

  Then, bracing herself, she let herself out of her Volvo and tugged the belt of her raincoat securely around her waist, trying not to think about how ridiculous this was, how cliché. But she was at her wit’s end.

  Brent didn’t know it, but he’d just spent his last night burning the midnight oil. They had enough now—enough money, enough things, enough of the right friends and associates. It was time Brent turned his considerable skills toward shoring up another relationship—one closer to home.

  Lily used his spare set of keys to open the outer door of the law offices and let herself inside. The reception area was dark, as was the corridor. Only a sliver of light shone beneath her husband’s door. They were alone.

  She unbelted the coat, letting it drop into a messy puddle at her feet. She fluffed her hair, combing her fingers through her bangs to tousle them. With a last deep breath, she strode on her four-inch patent leather heels to his office, grasped the knob with her sweaty palm, and inched the door open.

  Brent sat at his desk. The neck of his white, button-down shirt was opened, his tie askew. Bristles shadowed his rugged jaw. His dark hair looked deliciously messy as he frowned at the document in front of him.

  Before he lifted his gaze, she leaned against the doorframe in a seductive pose and tossed back her head, hoping he wouldn’t laugh when he realized she was there—and what she wasn’t wearing.

  She heard a cough. Brent’s gaze rose and widened, giving her a quick once-over before he bolted from his chair.

  Too late, she realized he wasn’t alone. She thrust a hand downward to hide her sex, wrapped an arm around her breasts, but it was too little protection, too late.

  Brent’s partner, Lou, rose from an armchair, instantly averting his gaze. He coughed again. “I can see why you were in a rush to get home, Brent,” he said, sounding strangled. He turned to walk toward the door, shielding his face with a hand and offering a muffled, laughing, “Nice seeing you, Lily,” as she stood, slack-jawed, beside the door. In the distance, she heard Lou whistling tunelessly as he exited the office.

  Heat crept across her cheeks as she glanced at her husband. “This was a bad idea. I’ll just let myself out,” she said in a little voice, backing away.

  But Brent kept coming. His face wore that look, the one he assumed when dressing down an intern for shoddy research. “Lily, get back here. Now.”

  Lily bit her lip then dropped her hands. She eyed him with trepidation. Not because she feared him—Brent was never harsh—but because she hated disappointing him. Too late again, she realized she’d acted rashly. Would she ever learn patience? To let things happen in their own time?

  As always, she’d seen a problem and rushed to solve it. It had seemed a simple plan—an ambush, really. He’d been staying later and later at work over the past weeks. And if she didn’t know he had a deep streak of integrity running through his core, she might have assumed he was having an affair. But she knew him. She used to work for him. She’d seen how deeply he could sink into a case to the exclusion of everything else. She’d just never thought she’d be shunted to the side for so long.

  Tonight, she’d decided to give him a wakeup call. Remind him that he wasn’t alone. That he had responsibilities at home to consider.

  Only now, she felt foolish. Desperate. Tears burned her eyes, but she lifted her chin, refusing to let her humiliation make her cower.

  Brent strode toward her, his expression neutral. His firm lips tight and crimped. When he stood in front of her, he snagged her wrist, pulled her across the threshold, then shoved the door to close it.

  He towered over her despite the heels—the only item of clothing she’d worn this night besides her abandoned coat. His gaze swept her again, but this time, she noted the flare of his nostrils. Did he catch the scent of the perfume he’d gifted her with last Christmas?

  After she’d opened the gift, he’d held out his hand for the bottle, then tilted it to wet his finger. He’d traced a path downward, between her breasts. That had been the last time they’d gotten wild and reckless together. Since then, sex had been perfunctory, an afterthought once they fell into their bed at night.

  His intense gaze bored into hers. His pupils expanded, darkening his eyes.

  Her own body reacted in opposition to the tension rolling off him—liquefying, melting toward him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I thought you were alone.”

  He didn’t answer, but lifted one hand, palm up, and cupped a breast. His
thumb flicked the tight, pearled tip. “Lou’ll be discreet, but what would you have done if I’d had the whole team in here?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Given you a lap dance?”

  He snorted, then sighed. “Lily, have I been neglectful?” he asked, his voice gruff.

  “I’ve missed you, Brent.”

  “Baby, I’m home every night.”

  She shrugged. “You’re there, but…you’re not.”

  His jaw tightened. He dropped his hand and stepped back.

  Damn, was he really that angry with her, that disappointed that he’d reject her now? Lily blinked and lifted her chin higher, feigning pride when it lay in tatters all around her. “I’ll go home. I apologize again.”

  “Did I say that you could leave?”

  Brent kept his voice even and plunged his hands deep into his pockets to keep from touching her again. He still couldn’t believe she’d done this. Lily was modest, overly so, given they’d been married now for nearly ten years. Every evening, she showered alone, then turned off the bathroom light before entering the bedroom in darkness. He’d thought maybe she was a little insecure about the changes two pregnancies had wrought on her slender frame. He knew it had taken a lot of nerve for her walk naked into his office. To have the moment spoiled by Lou had to be humiliating. But he wasn’t going to rush to reassure her.

  When he’d seen her, his shock had turned into instant arousal. But the more he’d steeled his features, the more interesting were her reactions.

  Her breaths were sharp little gusts. Her nipples were tight, the tips flushing a deep rose. She probably didn’t even know it, but her thighs were rubbing together, slowly. He’d bet money her pretty, trimmed pussy was very, very wet.

  Perhaps tonight was just what they both needed to add a little spice to their lives. And he knew just how he wanted to start.

  He walked back to his desk then turned and leaned his butt against the edge. “You’re wearing red.”

  She glanced down at her feet at the tall spiked heels then glanced up.

  He shook his head.

  Her eyelids blinked, mirroring her confusion, then they dipped, and finally, she gave him that look. The one that flirted from beneath her eyelashes. So feminine, that look, and filled with confidence. Her tongue rimmed her red mouth.

  Brent unbuckled his belt and drew it slowly from the loops. When it hung to the floor, he gave it a little wave and a snap. “Come over here, Lily,” he murmured.

  “Gonna spank me?” she asked, stepping out, her foot turned inward followed by the other, pushing her hips to wag deliciously side to side as she strolled toward him. So there was a little extra flesh on those hips than he remembered. Her belly was a little less firm. Her breasts more rounded and not as perky as they’d been. But he’d done that. His stamp lay all over her feminine frame.

  “I haven’t decided just how to punish you. But you need reminding that this is mine,” he said, spreading his fingers and clamping one cheek of her ass as she sidled closer.

  Her teeth bit into her lower lip, and she flirted again with her baby blues. “I can make it up to you.” Her fingertip glided down the front of his trousers, curving over the bulge building there.

  “Wipe that red all over my dick, and maybe I’ll let you off light,” he growled.

  Her lips twitched, but she flicked back her hair. Then, holding his gaze, she slid slowly to her knees, her hands gliding from his chest to his belly. She thumbed open his pants and dragged down his zipper. Then she parted the sides of the fabric, burrowed into the opening in his boxers, and slowly pulled his cock from his pants.

  Brent gripped the edge of the desk and leaned back as her honey-colored hair masked her movements. He couldn’t see, but he felt her humid breath against the tip. Her wet tongue lapped around and around the cap, tickling under the ridge, then over the top again. She pulled back.

  “How are your knees?” he asked.

  “Will you let me stop if I say they hurt?”

  They didn’t. He could tell by the saucy slant of her eyes. She was testing, pushing to see how firm he’d be if she didn’t please him. How unexpected. How intriguing. Sex between them hadn’t held any surprises in a long, long time. Not that it wasn’t satisfying. Not that he wasn’t happy with her. However, now his mind and body buzzed with new possibilities.

  He combed through her hair then dug his fingers into her scalp. “Don’t stop until I’m ready to blow.”

  That wicked tongue darted out, did a circle around her drenched mouth, then slid out of sight.

  Brent couldn’t contain his moan. Or the growl that rattled through him at her wanton smile.

  Her soft warm hands wrapped around his shaft, giving him a squeeze, and for the first time ever, he corrected her. “Squeeze harder. Give it a little twist.”

  Her eyes widened, but she did as he instructed, then glanced up again. “Like that?”

  It was damn near perfect, but he didn’t want her knowing that just yet. He placed a hand over both of hers and squeezed just a little harder, then began to slowly slide her hands up and down his shaft. “I’m not fragile. It won’t break. If I make noises when you touch me, it’s because I ache for it, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve been doing it wrong?”

  “Not wrong. Just not my preference.”

  “And you couldn’t tell me?” she whispered.

  He stayed silent, realizing that he’d had her on a pedestal all these years. His pretty little wife. His perfect trophy. Perfect mom. Never a full-blooded partner, because he hadn’t thought she’d want everything he could bring. “I’m sorry. I should have.”

  “Damn straight,” she said, which made him smile since she rarely cursed.

  Suddenly, he didn’t want the blowjob. Didn’t want her giving to him again. He slid his hands under her arms and forced her up. He bent his head to rub his lips against hers, taking the gloss, the red stain onto his mouth. With a quick turn, he pushed her against the desk, forcing her to arch her back. He rubbed her nipples with his mouth, painting them with the rich color.

  Then he moved down her belly, sucking against her skin, nipping, until her belly jumped, and she gasped. “Brent!”

  He reached her mound and slid his tongue into her slit. Her legs trembled, and she melted, sliding limply to the surface of the desk. But that was okay, because he had her. He shoved his arms behind her knees and raised them, pushing them higher, parting her so that he could stare at her cunt. He hadn’t gone down on her in ages. And why hadn’t he? Did he expect her to ask for it? She wouldn’t because she was always eager to please him. He’d been a selfish bastard.

  Bending, he thrust his tongue deeper into her slit, found her entrance, and snaked his tongue inside, tasting her saltwater flavor. Her scent, redolent with her light musk and a hint of the perfume he’d given her last Christmas, made him harder, more desperate to please her.

  Her fingers clenched his hair, pulling him closer. He smiled against her sex, and then lavished it with strokes—trailing down the outer lips, flicking the edges of the thin quivering folds framing her opening. Her fingers pulled harder, stinging his scalp, and he clamped his mouth around her clitoris, suckling like a starving man and sinking deeper into the erotic pleasure of eating his wife out.

  She was his. His to take. His to scorn or ignore. His to own, if he was man enough to prove it. “Baby, your pussy’s so wet. Come for me. Do it now.”

  She mewled like a kitten. A sound he’d never heard before. Not from her. Her thighs crept up, hugging his shoulders. He cupped the soft halves of her ass and caressed her, massaging her while he plied her clit with licks and flicks and bites that had her bouncing in his hands.

  “Oh God, Brent! Now. I’m coming now!”

  And then he felt her shudder, a slow ripple that shook her belly and breasts, and tightened the thighs bucking on his shoulders.

  He didn’t stop until she sobbed. Then he lunged upward, gathered her close, and kissed her. When he pulled away, he h
eld her gaze.

  Her eyes shimmered with tears. Her soft, ravaged mouth trembled then stretched slowly into a smile. “That shade becomes you, darling.”

  Her gaze was on his mouth, and he gave her a lopsided smile. “I love you, Lily.”

  “Prove it,” she whispered. “Come inside me now. Fuck me hard.”

  The F-bomb fell effortlessly from her mouth, leaving him feeling bemused. “Who are you?”

  Her gaze locked with his. “Can I tell you who I want to be?”

  “Please.” He nuzzled her ear then pulled away again so that he could see her expression.

  Her fingers pinched his chin and pulled it, forcing his stare to follow as she trailed her hand down his chest and belly, until her fingers wrapped around him and guided him inside her.

  His eyelids drifted downward at the pleasure of sinking into her slick heat, but he resisted closing them completely, because her gaze was steady, her features tense. He knew he needed to pay attention to what she had to say, that it was important. But damn, he wanted to rut. He tensed inside her, pushed as deep as he could go, then gave her a little nod. “Tell me. Tell me what you want to be, baby.”

  Her chin firmed. Her gaze snapped. “I want to be your lover, Brent. The woman you rush home to every night to bang.” One brow arched. “Yeah, I said that. And guess what? I have a whole new vocabulary I want to share. I want to be fucked, plowed, drilled, every way you can imagine, and a few ways I’ve been reading up on. Because I want to be your everything. I won’t be ignored. I won’t be compartmentalized. I’m your wife, yes. The mother of your two children. But I will also be your favorite fuck.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus…” His cock swelled, crowding against her inner walls. She was hot, wet, grinding against him—driving him out of his mind. “Baby…fuck…”

  Her hands slid over his chest, up to his neck, and she tucked them inside his loosened shirt to rub him there. “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to talk. Just do it, Brent. Fuck me like you mean it.”