The Morning Ride (an erotic short story with exhibitionism, light BDSM)

by Delilah Devlin

  Another flow of people moved around them, and he shook his head. “I’ll call.”

  She gave him a small, tight smile and turned away.

  Daniel watched her move away, not liking the leaden feeling that weighed him down. He stepped out, unwilling to let her out of his sight. When he caught up with her, he cupped her elbow. “Promise I’m not a stalker, but would you have coffee with me?”

  A gust of laughter shook her, but she quickly nodded. “I know just the place.”

  *

  Sophie played with the curls she’d formed in her hair, hoping he’d appreciate all the care she’d taken with her appearance. She wore a demure, sleeveless cloudy blue blouse, a slim navy skirt and tights—monochromatic colors were supposed to be slimming, and she wanted to be perfect. He was picking her up at her place, their first real date after a week of morning coffees.

  Everything was going great. They’d agreed to take an earlier train each morning so they could stretch their daily meetings. They talked rapidly, in blurted confessions then sat quietly drinking their coffee. Every day when they parted, he kissed her, each kiss more passionate than the one before. This morning, he’d drawn her hips close to his, and she’d felt his erection against her belly. He hadn’t minded when she’d pressed against it; his fingers bit into her hips.

  He hadn’t said where he was taking her, but she hoped he didn’t have reservations he wouldn’t want to break. She’d spent the afternoon cleaning her apartment, changing her sheets, because she wanted him to stay. It was time to find out if reality matched fantasy.

  Her doorbell rang and sent her heart racing. When she swung open the door, he was dressed casually in a long-sleeved, heather-colored Henley and jeans. In his hands were bags bearing the name of her favorite Thai restaurant.

  His gaze slid down her skirt and silk blouse then back up. Heat glittered in his eyes. “I should have told you not to dress up. Sorry you went to the bother.”

  She shook her head and spun. “Do you like it?”

  “Very much.”

  “Then it was worth the effort.” She pointed to the single button at the side of her skirt. “That’s all that’s holding it up.”

  His chest rose. “Sophie, I’m trying to take this slow.”

  She cocked a brow as she took the bags and walked to her kitchenette. “Bringing dinner to my apartment where we can be alone, that’s slow?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I was hoping to get to second base on the sofa.”

  She laughed and reached for his hand. “We’ll eat after we’ve worked up an appetite.” Then she walked backwards down the short hallway to her bedroom. A single light shone on the stand next to her bed. The covers were turned down. “I was hoping you’d get considerably farther than second base.”

  Daniel gave her a look that sent a rush of fluid to her pussy. His gaze was sharp, his cheeks tightening to blades. He gathered her closer, pulling her body against his, and bent his head.

  She rose on tiptoe and met his kiss, winding her arms around his neck.

  He raised her skirt, grabbed handfuls of her ass, and lifted her. She wound her legs around his waist and held tightly as he walked to her bed.

  He came over her, roaming his hands over her clothing, squeezing her breasts, her hips, coming up between her legs to glide over her sex.

  Sophie made a sound, a tiny mew, and he leaned away. “Too many clothes?”

  She nodded, reaching for his shirt to drag it up partway until he pulled it over his head. His skin was pale as a stock-broker’s should be, but nicely muscled. Hair cloaked his chest, not too thickly, just right. She combed her fingers through it then circled his small nipples.

  “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 ea
rned 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.”

  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 forty 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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  From Sm{B}itten:

  True love bites!

  Emmy Harris knows she’s not perfect. She has a little extra padding and isn’t the brightest bulb, but you’d think she was a sexy rock star the way everyone at a certain night club treats her from the moment she walks through the door. In fact, the two sexiest men there can’t seem to keep their hands off her, until one of them sweeps her away to his private domain. A girl like her isn’t going to waste a chance like that! So he’s a little rough and likes to take a nibble or two while he pleasures her. For a girl who didn’t know she’d never experienced a full-blown orgasm before, Dylan’s eccentricities are delicious!

  Dylan O’Hara only wants a night of passion to slake his lusts, but finds Emmy is a full-bodied, red-blooded siren whose innocence and humor draw this Master vampire like a moth to a red-hot flame. When Emmy attracts the attention of a serial-killing vampire, Dylan vows to protect her, but he fears he’ll lose Emmy once she discovers he’s not quite human…

  Be warned. Emmy Harris doesn’t think like most romance heroines. You’ll get a glimpse of her funny little mind here…

  Excerpt

  At his urging, Emmy couldn’t hold back another second. She dug her fingers harder into his hair and pulled. “Come with me,” she said, her voice tight. And then she whimpered. The experience was too much. He was too much—Mr. Stamina. Too hard and lean and beautiful. His lovemaking was astounding and—something she never thought she’d admit—too strenuous. She panted like she’d run laps, something she’d never ever do.

  He shook his head and continued the deep thrusts that pounded against the gate of her womb. Buried to the hilt, he ground his pubic hair against her clitoris until she was so sensitive to the scrape, she thought she might come out of her skin. And she was right effing there, could feel the tension wind tighter in her core.

  But she wanted him with her. This one last time, she needed the whole enchilada. “Baby…bite me.”

  He stopped. His arms grew rigid and his nostrils flared. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice holding a note of desperation.

  “I want you, Dylan. All of you.”

  “Dammit! Emmy, do you even know what you’re asking?”

  “For you to trust me to be strong?” She lifted her hands to his cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t seen your other face?”

  His entire body shuddered, and he closed his eyes. “Then watch,” he whispered.

  Breathless with curiosity and a tinge of fear, she held still beneath him. His eyes opened—not the dark orbs she knew were green—but glowing circles that reflected the waning moonlight, like an animal’s. The better to see me.

  His cheekbones lifted, popping and cracking as his fa
ce reassembled into the monster mask, his skin stretched tight around it. His lips curved above teeth that slid over his human set, long and razor sharp, the longest at the four corners of his smile. The better to eat me.

  The most miraculous part of the transformation was the muscle that grew rigid and strained beneath his skin, stretching him outward, turning the arms that held her knees to stone. And his cock was one of those things hardening and enlarging, pushing deeper without a flex of his hips. The better to fuck me.

  A low growl rattled in his throat, and for a moment, Emmy had doubts she was really ready for this. Something was wild and primal about that growl. But then his tongue, longer, rougher, swiped along her throat. Her skin grew numb. She relaxed. He’d considered her comfort—part of the man was still inside the monster. Angling her head to the side, she held her breath.

  His teeth sank slowly into her neck, burning at first, then he drew, sucking her blood, and pure sensual heat spread from her neck, moving downward and tightening her breasts and belly.

  His enlarged cock pushed inside her, pulled out, and pushed again. His thrusts were so powerful her buttocks left the bed with each stroke. Still, he kept a steady rhythm that soon had her wishing he’d move faster, harder, rougher. And she told him so.

  He growled in response—the Big Bad Wolf buried between her legs, and she reveled in the power to make him lose control and be the beast for her.

  That she could inspire the beast in any man was a revelation.