Ultra Strokes

by Delilah Devlin

  Ultra Strokes

  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.

  Ultra Strokes

  Copyright © 2016 by Delilah Devlin

  Kindle Edition

  Cover by Elle James

  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 because I have to. The fact I’m read is icing on a very sexy cake.

  So, as always, this book is for my wonderful, loyal readers…

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Tailgating At the Cedar Inn

  The Morning Ride

  Big Brass Buckle

  Pitch Black

  Red Dawn

  Nip ’n’ Tuck

  Zombie Love

  Lily’s Last Stand

  Dr. Mullaley’s Cure

  The Pleasure in Surrender

  The Butler

  The Long Ride Home

  About The Author

  Foreword

  I didn’t begin my career writing short stories. But, on a whim, I wrote a story in answer to an editor’s call for submissions. To my great pleasure, it sold! Hooked on the format, I searched for more calls and wrote and wrote, and then discovered that readers would actually purchase my shorties if I sold them individually. So, it’s your fault. You created this monster.

  I think I’ve gotten very good at writing them. I’ve been published in numerous Cleis Press and Mammoth Book collections. I’ve been published three times by Penthouse Magazine. I’ve even edited my own collections for Cleis, and now, independently. I don’t say this to brag, just to tell you that I know what I’m doing. I know how to turn you on.

  This compilation includes stories I believe are among my very best. Most are contemporary stories, but there are futuristic, historical, steampunk, and paranormal tales included in the mix. The collection is intended for bed-time reading. Read the stories while you’re alone or with your partner. Read them to your partner.

  I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I enjoyed writing them. Bon appétit!

  Delilah Devlin

  Tailgating at the Cedar Inn

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  I stepped out of the shower onto chipped and cracked aqua blue tiles with grout so dingy it was hard to tell what color it had been. Not that the bathroom was dirty, thank God. Just old. Like the rest of the 60s-built motel I’d found on the little back country road.

  I toweled my hair then shook my head like a dog, not caring where the droplets landed. It wasn’t a mess I’d have to clean up. For one last night I could be irresponsible, messy, even if it was only in a small way.

  I draped the towel over the edge of the old white tub and sauntered naked into the small room with the double bed. It smelled of tobacco and industrial cleansers. The bedding looked clean if a little nappy from wear, but I peeled back the quilt-top and tossed it on the floor anyway. Pristine white sheets beckoned.

  Just as I lay back, sighing with relief, sounds from outside the room jarred me from my happy haze. Tires squealed, masculine laughter bellowed through the thin walls, and vehicle doors slammed.

  I sighed and stared at the bared rafters above me. The laughter faded. I reached across to flip off the switch to the nightstand lamp with its yellowed shade. Lying in the darkness, I willed my body to relax, one limb at a time. I’d driven three hundred miles that day. I’d have gone another fifty for a decent hotel, but the shorter route my Garmin had found led me through narrow two-lane roads deep in the Ozark Mountains. I doubted I’d have found anything nicer.

  I should have stuck to the Interstate, but I’d wanted to shave some miles. Little did I know that the route would keep my foot busy pushing on the gas pedal then the brake the whole way. Exhausted, nerves shattered, I’d seen the crooked Vacancy sign outside the Cedar Inn and made my decision on the spot, swerving into the empty gravel parking lot. Not until I’d opened the door to my tiny, musty room did I have second thoughts about my decision. But how bad could it really be? I’d turned on the swamp cooler set into a window frame and felt my hair frizz instantly.

  Not that I’d really cared. There wasn’t anyone around to impress. Other than the clerk at the front desk, a skinny, twenty-something redneck with puppy dog eyes, the place was deserted. I’d shivered a little bit at the thought, double-bolted my room door and checked the locks on the windows. However, visions of the shower scene from Psycho didn’t put me off taking a long, lukewarm soak to wash away the road grime and sweat.

  The cooler purred, spilling muggy air into the room. The sheets felt clammy. Still, I grew calm as my body warmed the sheets beneath me, and then a little horny when I wondered if the room might have little peepholes for the clerk to watch me. He’d been cute if a little skinny. I wouldn’t mind if he watched—at least not in my fantasies. Who knew how long it would be until I felt comfortable enough, private enough, to indulge in a little one-handed play when my grandmother slept in the room next to mine.

  I slipped a hand between my thighs and lazily trailed my fingers through my cleft until my breath caught and heat pooled. I raised my knees and let them fall open, tilted my hips and thrust two fingers inside my pussy. I wasn’t in a hurry. I wasn’t even that eager to come. The motion soothed and excited, allowing my mind to let go of my troubles—the firing, the break-up, the move to my grandmother’s house—and focus only on the pleasure curling deep inside my core.

  When the blare of a TV sounded from outside, I had third and fourth thoughts about my decision to stop here for the night. What the hell? Why had someone moved their television set outside rather than watch in the seclusion of their room where the sound would be somewhat muffled?

  I gritted my teeth, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and reached for shorts and a tee, slipping them over my nude body and the keys into my pocket before I stomped to the door and flung it open.

  Not that the two men sitting on the truck noticed me—at first.

  Under the single flood light that illuminated the parking lot, I noted the construction company logo on the side of the pickup backed up to the door of the room beside mine. Then I eyed the large men seated on the sides of the truck bed, their shirts gone, faded jeans stretched over thick thighs. Their attention was glued to the basketball game, blaring from the small screen of the TV they had set in the bed of the truck on top of a white ice chest. They held Budweisers in their grips.

  At last, one of the men’s heads turned. He spotted me then whistled at his friend. Soon both their gazes peered down.

  I felt foolish standing in my bare feet with my wet hair spiked around my head. Why hadn’t I simply put a pillow over my head to muffle their noise? But I was testy. Moody. I’d lost my job, had a blow-up with my boyfriend over the fact I wouldn’t be splitting rent with him for a while, and cut my nose off to spite my own face by breaking up with him. Homeless now, I had no options. Grandma’s in Little Rock was my last resort.

  Tonight would be my last night of freedom before I moved under her roof and abided by her rules. She’d pay the bills—if I knuckled under and went back to school. Something I resented after being on my own for a couple of years, living by my rules.

 
; Which might have been exactly why I remained rooted to that spot. The men seated on the truck would never meet Grandma’s high standards.

  Sweat gleamed on their naked chests and both of them were thickly muscled and a little dirty—as though they’d come straight from work without the benefit of a shower.

  The shine only served to emphasize the depth of the musculature and their starkly masculine features. Their tanned skin stretched across cheeks and jaws that were sharpened to rough edges by hard work.

  Both their gazes homed on me, and while I knew the smart thing would have been to retreat without a word to my room and relock the door, I tilted my chin and thrust out my chest. “Can’t you watch the game in your room?”

  “We botherin’ you, sweetheart?” the one closest to me said, sliding off the truck to land in front of me.

  I peered a long way up and frowned into the face tilted my way. We stood close enough I could see the bristles of his evening shadow. He wore a ball cap that shadowed his eyes, but glints of blond hair shone beneath it. “It’s late. I was trying to sleep.”

  “It’s not that late,” he drawled. “Join us for a beer?”

  I glanced behind him and noted the grin on his buddy’s face. He was bare-headed with shaggy brown hair and a devilish quirk to his firm lips. The game seemed to have lost its fascination. Their gazes drank me down like I was long cool drink.

  I barely resisted the urge to jut my hip and twirl my hair.

  “Bobby, the night clerk, can vouch for us if you’re wonderin’ whether we’re safe,” the one beside me said, amusement lingering in his husky voice.

  I shouldn’t have been tempted. However, my body still hummed pleasurably from the heat I’d drawn with my own lazy fingers. Even sweaty, the two men were tempting. Both young, in good shape. Both interested if their sharpening gazes were any indication.

  And what the hell? It wasn’t as if I had anyone to answer to. Not at this moment. There was no boyfriend to betray.

  My mouth went dry and I swallowed. “Is the beer cold?”

  His friend bent and picked up the TV, setting it to the side to open the top of the cooler. The can of beer he drew out was wet with nuggets of ice sliding off the sides. He flicked open the top and handed it me. “Like basketball?”

  “Not particularly.”

  His head canted. “Not from around here, are you?”

  “I’m from Iowa.”

  “A corn-fed girl,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my chest.

  “Not a cow or a pig,” I ground out.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.” His lips twitched then stretched into a lazy grin. “Name’s Owen. My buddy here’s Chris.”

  I gave them both a narrow-eyed look, then turned and hopped up to sit on the open tailgate. “I’m Kelsey,” I said, pretending to be more confident than I really was.

  The TV fell silent. The man in the truck bed eased down beside me. The other one stood in front of me, feet braced apart as he took another draw on his beer. “Where ya headed?” he asked after crushing the can in his hand and tossing it behind me to land with a dull clank on the rubberized truck bed.

  “Little Rock.”

  Chris grunted. Beside me, Owen chuckled. “Small world.”

  “I take it that’s where you’re from?”

  “Yep. Visitin’ family?”

  “My grandmother. I’m moving there to help out.”

  “It’s nice you’re able to do for her.”

  More like she was “doing” for me, but I wasn’t willing to admit just how stupid I’d been. Lowering my head, I said, “We’re helping each other out.” My expression must have fallen because Chris stepped closer and tucked a finger under my chin to raise my face.

  I didn’t bat away his hand as I should have, but met his steady gaze. I don’t know what he saw, but his lips relaxed into a semblance of a smile.

  The slight motion drew my attention, and I realized for the first time just how attractive that mouth was. His lips were full, and when they stretched, white teeth flashed. A man with good teeth. Something I imagined wasn’t plentiful in backwoods Arkansas.

  I stared a moment too long. Heat crept slowly down my neck and across my chest. My nipples tightened, poking at the thin tee stretched across my breasts. He didn’t miss the sudden surge of arousal because his feet shuffled closer.

  Breathing became something I had to think about doing. I swept my upper lip with my tongue, opening my mouth to say something, but he bent toward me. Slowly. His narrowed eyes daring me to draw away.

  I didn’t. The beer was plucked from my lifeless fingers, and I gripped the edge of the tailgate, wrapping them around it to brace myself for a kiss.

  His mouth was tentative, teasing, sliding over mine and rubbing in a circular movement that pulled me with it, until I was moving with him, following to make sure I didn’t lose the seductive heat.

  When he drew back, he smiled. “You know, sweetheart, you don’t have to be alone tonight.”

  I blinked and glanced to the side at Owen.

  “Package deal,” Chris said, drawing my attention back.

  Package deal. Two packages. Mine to enjoy.

  I opened my mouth and drew a quick breath, suddenly nervous. “I don’t…” I cleared my throat. “I’ve never…”

  “We have,” he said quickly, cupping my chin and sliding a thumb over my still moist lower lip. “Nothin’ to be worried about. Cedar Inn’s quiet. Clean. You’ve got the single room, right? Come to ours, and we’ll shove the mattresses together. Plenty of room.”

  Moisture seeped to soak the crotch of my shorts. My clit throbbed and hardened. I could end it now and go back to my bed, slide my fingers over the knot and come in an instant, but their scent and heat surrounded me. I imagined being sandwiched between them both—slick, hot skin sliding against mine, front and back. I squeezed my thighs because they were beginning to quiver. Suddenly, I had options. One safe. One not so much—but wickedly enticing.

  “No pressure,” Owen said, dropping a slow kiss on the corner of my shoulder. “You call the shots. Whatever you want.”

  What I wanted was for them to make a move. Make up my mind for me, because I didn’t think I was capable of speaking.

  Chris laid his palms on the tops of my bare thighs and slid his thumbs between them, then slowly opened me, stepping closer, forcing me wider again until his crotch was flush with mine.

  His erection was impossible to ignore. A thick, insistent bulge. “Maybe you don’t want a bed?” he murmured. “Maybe you want it here?”

  His crudeness excited me. Challenged me in a way I’d never have accepted in my former life. I tossed my head. “But someone will see.”

  “Maybe. Might only be Bobby, but he won’t mind. Will you?”

  Owen slipped a hand behind me and rucked up my shirt until the fabric bunched under my arms. My belly bare, the warm night air blew across my skin, feeling like a caress. My stomach tightened.

  I glanced between them, noted the tension riding both their jaws. They wouldn’t make a move without my consent, but they’d pounce the second I did. I let the moment stretch.

  Then I leaned forward and raised my arms, keeping my gaze locked with Chris’s as Owen pulled the garment all the way off.

  Both men breathed deeply as they stared at my breasts. Chris cupped one, hefted it in his palm then squeezed. Owen wet a finger and circled the other nipple, pausing to scratch a nail across the tip. It hardened.

  “You’re pretty,” Chris muttered.

  “Doesn’t sound like you’re happy about that.”

  “Don’t pay any mind to what he says,” Owen said. “He’s hard. He doesn’t think straight when he gets that way. Take it as a compliment.”

  Chris plucked my nipple and released it, watching it bounce back. His gaze darted to mine again, and then he slipped his fingers inside the waist of my shorts and rubbed the top of my mound. “Can I take these off, too?”

  I didn’t mind his blunt tone this t
ime. The air between us felt charged with a current that pricked my nipples and caused my pussy to contract.

  I was already shirtless, already committed. So hot I was panting. I nodded, then gasped when Owen eased me back at an angle and Chris went to work unsnapping my shorts and dragging them off my legs.

  Then Owen pushed me forward and slid behind me, urging me to rest against his naked chest. Chris opened his jeans and pushed them off his hips, freeing his cock. He leaned over me, pressing me harder against Owen who chuckled as Chris hooked his elbows beneath my thighs and lifted my bottom.

  “A condom?” I gasped, one last shred of sanity remaining before my mind completely filled with the sight of him. He was thick, long, a straight cudgel of a cock. Twice the girth of the last man I’d had.

  “Pocket,” he ground out.

  I reached for the scrunched-up top of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. My hands shook, but I found the trifold of foil packets and tore one off. He watched as I clumsily cloaked him in the latex sheath. Then he was there, pushing inside me.

  The moment he entered me, my mind clicked. Fuck, I was really doing this. Really taking on a stranger while his friend held me, his hands cupping my breasts and his cock grinding against my backside through his jeans.

  And I wanted him nude as well. Wanted them both rutting, both sinking deep.

  I wriggled inside Owen’s embrace.

  Chris shook his head, his nostrils flared. “Want me to stop?” he bit out.

  “Fuck no. But what about Owen?”

  Owen laughed. The sound edgy, taut.

  Chris urged my legs around his back and stood, lifting me from the truck bed. Behind me, I heard the rustle of clothing, the snap of latex. I didn’t look back and instead nuzzled into Chris’s shoulder to hide my face. I should be ashamed. But instead, I was grinning, and then nipping his skin, causing him to groan and thrust.

  I didn’t know how they would manage it, but trusted that they knew a way.