So, you know from the title alone that this story’s gonna be hot, right? I had fun brainstorming the series name–Stepbrothers Stepping Out. I knew I wanted to combine not one, but two, taboo themes—Step-siblings and Ménage. I had thought I was out of step scenarios, but then you all came up with a treasure trove of ideas for me to continue with. But I think after I write one more, I’ll take a break. I want to do several step-daddy fantasies too, but have yet to find that perfect series title. Do y’all have any suggestions? 🙂

Shorties are never going to make me rich and famous, but I enjoy writing them so much, I can’t stop. Thank goodness, y’all seem to enjoy reading the bite-sized goodies too! Remember, there are four other step-stories. And I bet you can’t stop at just one…

Answer for your chance to win your pick from among the many short stories I’ve published. I will pick three winners! (Sorry, not this stepbrother story!) You can check out the list here: Short Stories

Which sport’s players do you find the sexiest? Football, soccer, basketball…?

When a college student changes her appearance and follows her brother and his teammates to Spring Break in Mexico, she’s ready for adventure… It’s game on!

Purchase your copy here!

Excerpt from With His Team…

Moisture spilled into the crotch of my panties. I could have him. I could have them all. The ugly sister. The girl they thought only good enough to do their laundry or their homework. I could be the thing they’d fantasized over for weeks. And I was dying to know what exactly they’d dreamed of doing.

Who was I kidding? My decision had been made the minute I’d decided to follow them to Cabo. “Empty the ice bucket. I want all the phones inside it.”

Indrawn breaths sounded all around. Then the guys sprang eagerly into action, doing as I had asked, filling the bucket then walking toward Harry and me. He dropped his hands and stood back, his gaze sliding away as the guys gave me the bucket. I counted the phones, then added my own, making sure they understood how seriously I was taking their precautions.

They had plans. Likely expected to take control and move me around like a doll to be shared. I had other ideas about how this should go down. Starting now.

I balled my fists and placed them on my hips, then gave them a steady stare, touching on each of their faces. Harry’s expression was impossible to read, shuttered, his blue eyes narrowed. Mal’s darkly furred chest was rising and falling swiftly; his cock was already pressing against the front of his trunks. Sam stood, arms akimbo, a cocky grin stretching his lovely mouth. And Karo looked so fierce more moisture wet my folds.

“I’d like to see what I’ll be playing with,” I said softly.

They all quickly reached for their waistbands—all except Harry, whose expression was turning darker by the minute. He was the one who’d sealed the deal. Shouldn’t he be happier?

“Wait,” I blurted.

They halted. Mal groaned.

“Do you have condoms? Foam?”

“A fucking case,” Sam said. “No foam.”

A case? Seriously?

Sam shrugged. “Four guys, five days… We had to be prepared.”

But a case? I shook my head. “All right. You can continue.”

Shorts and trunks dropped to their feet, Harry’s a little more slowly. Not a one of them wore underwear. All their cocks were erect, rising upward. A creamy ball of pre-ejaculate sat on the tip of Mal’s nearly purple cock.

My heart galloped, and I sucked in a deep breath, and then another to calm myself.

“What about you?” Harry said, raising his chin.

“Guess that’s only fair.” Oh fuck! It was time to commit. I could turn tail and run, or I could really do this. Mary the doormat would have quivered in her Converse tennis shoes. Instead, I turned to give Harry my back. “Unzip me.”

His hands moved my hair forward. The zipper eased. I stepped away to face them, holding the fabric against my chest, and then slowly pushed it downward.

Every gaze went right to my breasts. All breathing ceased. I pushed the dress past my hips and let it puddle around my feet. Then I tucked my thumbs into the thin band of elastic riding my hips and shoved my panties down. When I was as nude as they were, I held still, letting them look.

Mal was the first to shake himself from his stupor. He took a step forward, but I wagged a finger. He fell back in line.

I walked to Karo, standing at one end of their lineup. I reached out a hand, surprised it wasn’t shaking, and smoothed it over his chest. His pecs tensed beneath my touch. I glided my fingers lower then wrapped them around his huge, blunt cock.

He eased his feet apart and pulsed his hips. I let him glide his cock through my fingers then dropped my hand and moved down the line.

Sam sucked in a breath that tightened his already ripped abdomen. I gave him a similar caress, this time boldly tugging on his dick.

He lifted on his toes to follow the motion then gave a little moan when I moved away.

The head of Mal’s cock was well-lubricated. I stood in front of him and grasped him with both hands, one cuddling his balls, the other stroking his cock. When I moved my hand upward, I rubbed my thumb in the creamy moisture, smearing it over the cap.

I aimed a glance at Harry whose gaze was smoky. “I think I need more assurances,” I said softly.

“What do you want?”

“We need a secret. One you won’t want breathed to anyone outside this room.”

His gaze hardened. “What do you want?” he repeated, his voice harsher.

I glanced sideways at Sam. “I want you to blow Mal.”

Can you believe this is the last day of March?! I feel as though I blinked on New Year’s day and now I’m here!

Ready for another wild ride with my naughty steps? The fifth step-sibling adventure in a series of edible little shorties is ready for you to enjoy.

He should be taboo. A place a girl should never go. But he’s there, always in your life. Accessible, and yet, not. Until proximity and availability inspire lust–and then he’s irresistible.

Click on the meme above to see all the step-stories on Amazon!

While you’re here, be sure to see what was new in March and what’s coming in April–I promise it’s hot!

And thanks for being here. I love hearing from you. Love that you’re still buying my stories. Here’s a toast to March–tomorrow’s a new month!

Stepbrothers Stepping Out: With His Team

When a college student changes her appearance and follows her brother and his teammates to Spring Break in Mexico, she’s ready for adventure… It’s game on!

Purchase at Amazon

Love on the edge of the galaxy… For Captain Adam Zingh, the mission is simple–acquire one hundred wives for him and his crewmates to help colonize a new planet, far from Dominion rule. Rescuing prisoners from penitentiary in deep space should have been a simple in and out operation. The women would be grateful for a second change at freedom, or so he thought. However, he hadn’t yet encountered the stubborn captain of the prison ship. When pirates overtake their ship, Evena McClure resists, mindful of her duty to protect the women under her command as well as her impending pardon. The pirate and the prisoner have only a week to seduce the other side to their will. A pirate’s parlay has never been so sweet! Buy at Amazon ~~~~~~~

A female soccer player, who is also a Domme, has more at stake than scoring points on the field. Win or lose, she’s making her move today… Buy at Amazon

I have another short story, and by the end of the week, I’ll have one more ready to go. First, Playing the Field is an LGBT story about two female soccer players. If you read the Cleis anthology, Girls Who Score, then you read the original version before I decided to expand it. Enjoy the excerpt I provide below. And no, I’m not a soccer player myself, but my daughter was, so she helped me with the “choreography” for the scene. Hope you enjoy! By the end of the week, I’ll have the next Stepbrothers Stepping Out story ready! Be watching for the announcement!

And because I love to do it, I have a question for you now. Answer for your chance to win your pic from among the many short stories I’ve published.

You can check out the list here: Short Stories

Do you like to watch or play sports? If so, which one(s)?

Playing the Field

A female soccer player has more at stake than scoring points
on the field. Win or lose, she’s making her move today…

Buy at Amazon

Enjoy the excerpt!

Sweat stung my eyes. I lifted the edge of my blue jersey and wiped my face, never losing sight of the black and white ball flying across the grass field.

“One minute left!” Coach shouted from the sidelines.

It’s just a damn game, I reminded myself, but still my stomach plummeted. We needed one point to enter the penalty phase. One lousy point to tie this game up.

The Sharks were playing like damn minnows, letting the Vipers kick our asses up and down the soccer field—our home field. And from their grim expressions, every one of my team members felt the same urgency. If we didn’t win, this would be the last game of the season.

For me, it was about more than just the game. The last game was also my last chance to work up my courage to do what I’d been fantasizing about since the team had first started training in early spring.

A green jersey bumped past me, the Vipers’ player turning her head to give me a smirk before loping on her coltish legs down the field to follow the ball. Anger flared.

One lousy point. I stretched my shorter legs, heart pumping so hard inside my chest the shouts from the sparse crowd in the bleachers faded away. My focus narrowed to the ball zigzagging from one Viper player to the next, my own blue-jerseyed teammates showing the strain in their grim expressions as their movements lost fluidity and grace, and they clumsily tried to muscle close enough to steal away the ball.

I stretched one last time, edged up to the player dribbling the ball between her clever feet, then swept out my foot, catching her ankle and sending her sprawling, then stole the ball.

I wasn’t the most graceful player, wasn’t the star, but I had the goddamn ball now. I lowered my shoulder and bumped a Viper out of the way, then pivoted on my toes and aimed myself and the ball toward the opposite end of the field.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her, backing up toward the other team’s goalie box.

Vicky Moldina gave me a little wave, and I tipped my chin, but didn’t want anyone catching my intent, so I ran to the right, skirting their players, lowering my shoulders and putting on the bull dog face I’d been told intimidated the hell out of other teams—something that always set my own team laughing, because they knew me better.

However, if they’d read the deadly intent in my heart, the searing determination, they’d have wondered who the hell I was.

My thoughts and heart slowed. I repelled the next player who moved in to steal the ball with a sharp, sly elbow. I charged forward, then zagged to the left, leaving two opponents to tumble over one another, and then headed on a parallel path with their goalie.

Vicky backed up again then shot toward the goalie.

I kept on my parallel path, then tried a move I’d failed more often than I’d completed, kicking the ball with my heel to send it like a bullet to Vicky who was poised in front of the goalie’s box.

Our star striker grinned, swept out her foot to catch it—but something happened.

Usually so graceful, her foot rolled over the top of the ball, her ankle turned. She fell in a heap to her knees, then beat her palms against the grass as a green-shirted bitch gave a whoop and stole the ball away, racing toward the other end of the field.

Three short whistles blew. I bent at the waist, hands braced on my knees as I dragged in deep breaths. My gaze remained on Vicky who pushed up from the ground.

She met my gaze and mouthed, “Fuck.”

I shrugged and forced a smile. “Just a game.”

We shared small smiles while our teammates pulled together, remembered their manners, and gave Vicky half-hearted pats to console her before lining up to run past the other team, slapping hands and offering insincere congratulations.

I ran behind Vicky, wishing I hadn’t passed the ball to her. Not because I was disappointed with the outcome, but because I didn’t want this to be the memory she took away from the game. I didn’t want our friendship tainted even a little bit. Not that it was a deep one. Or even very personal.

After my teammates huddled with the coach and offered each other hugs and promises to meet for lunch or dinner during our break—none of which would happen—I trudged toward the showers in the rec center.

“Dinner at Hooters!” Coach called out.

I grinned. We’d have had Outback if we’d won; the threat of Hooters had been meant to spur us toward victory.

As players headed to their lockers, Vicky limped toward the coach’s wire equipment cage. She dug beneath balls and netting then pulled out the first aid bag.

I didn’t like the little wince she gave and moved toward her. “Did you hurt yourself when you took that tumble?” I asked, my voice a little thick because hell, it was her I was talking to.

She wrinkled her perfectly shaped, narrow nose. “It’s my knee. I felt something pull.”

“Do you need to go to the emergency room?”

She shook her head, sweaty tendrils of dark hair shaking against her cheeks. “It’s probably just a sprain. I’ll wrap it after I shower.” She pulled a rolled ACE bandage from the pack and started to put the bag back into the cage.

I reached for the bag, taking it from her and rummaging inside. I pulled out a small jar of Tiger Balm and held it up. “I’ll massage it before you wrap. It’ll feel better faster.” Lord, my cheeks began to burn. Had I given myself away in my eagerness?

Her brows furrowed—just a subtle motion, almost indiscernible, but the glance that swept my body was less so. Subtle, that is. “All right. After we shower.”

After we shower. I know my jaw sagged just a bit at the way she’d emphasized that one little word. Drool pooled in my mouth. I followed her as she turned away, heading to her locker to pull out a plastic bag with her toiletries and a fluffy white towel. I did the same, hurriedly, a little nervous now.

I was reading too much into her words. Still, when we entered the open shower room, I hesitated before setting my items on the slatted wooden bench beside hers. When she raked her jersey over her head, I followed suit and stripped.

Most of the girls were already finishing up. One by one, spigots turned off, towels slid around nude bodies, and they trailed out the door, leaving us alone.

Good locker room etiquette would have been to choose a spigot on the opposite side of the room, but when she strode to the far corner, out of sight of the open doorway, I followed, choosing one right beside her and trying hard not to let my gaze linger on her gorgeous frame.

A small half-smile kicked up one corner of her mouth before she turned her head, closed her eyes, and let the hot water sluice over her hair and face, giving me the perfect opportunity to ogle her long, lithe body.

Which I did until she opened her eyes. I quickly glanced away.

She squeezed shampoo into her palm then handed me the bottle. Her fingertips glided against mine before dropping away. Swallowing hard, I squeezed shampoo directly onto my hair, then set the bottle on the floor.

With our gazes locked, we began to soap our hair.

Nothing had ever been this hot.

We’d both no doubt showered in open stalls in high school—naked women with slippery bodies—but I, for one, had never been this aware. With her hands raised, massaging her scalp, soap slithered down in long, winding ropes that caressed her shoulders, her small round breasts, and taut belly. Her legs parted, widening her stance a little so that I could admire the small, smooth labia framed so perfectly by her muscular thighs.

“My knee’s throbbing,” she whispered.

My gaze darted up, and soap slid into my eyes. I grimaced and turned my hot face into the spray before blinking back at her. Her lips were pursed in a smile; her eyes wrinkled at the corners with silent laughter.

God, if she was teasing me because she knew I was queer I thought I might never get over the embarrassment. But she turned, showing me her ass, and then glanced over a shoulder, one dark, arched brow raised. “It’s okay for you to wash it. The others are gone.”

“You sprain your hand, too?” I blurted.

Although my voice was gruff, she didn’t seem put off. She squeezed soap from her short hair to trail down her back then faced the white tiles.

UPDATE: The winner is…Janie!

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For those of you who aren’t signed up for my newsletter, I have a new release!

Well, this is a new-old story. One I wrote way back when. Because I still love it, I prettied it up and readied it for prime time. Sort of. It’s still a tad raunchier than my current stuff. ¿Cómo es posible?, you ask. You gotta love the alphabet: mf, mff, mfm, and of course, orgies…

But at the core, Desire’s Prisoner is very much a romance between the captain of a pirate space ship and the captain of a prison ship, who also happens to be a prisoner…

Get your copy now for just $0.99! That price won’t last long.

*~*~*~*

Desire’s Prisoner

Love on the edge of the galaxy…

For Captain Adam Zingh, the mission is simple–acquire one hundred wives for him and his crewmates to help colonize a new planet, far from Dominion rule. Rescuing prisoners from penitentiary in deep space should have been a simple in and out operation. The women would be grateful for a second change at freedom, or so he thought. However, he hadn’t yet encountered the stubborn captain of the prison ship.

When pirates overtake their ship, Evena McClure resists, mindful of her duty to protect the women under her command as well as her impending pardon.

The pirate and the prisoner have only a week to seduce the other side to their will.

A pirate’s parlay has never been so sweet!

Get your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Desire’s Slave

Book 2 of the Planet Desire trilogy is coming next month!

After a fellow convict is murdered while she’s guarding the maximum-security cellblock, ex-con Calandra Jones escapes the ship of the pirates who liberated the convicts, determined to make it on her own. Just as she’s attempting to arrange passage on another ship headed for a mining colony, she’s abducted by a handsome slave trader bent on offering her for sale at a potentate’s auction.

Calandra vows to seduce the trader into changing his mind about offering her for sale. A sensual storm erupts during their desert odyssey that culminates when Calandra is sold, and Drago must decide whether he trusts their love enough to launch a rescue.

Reserve your copy here!

*~*~*~*

Contest

For a chance to win a small Amazon gift card, answer me this…

Are you a fan of Sci-Fi romance? Would you like to see more stories in this genre?

I blinked and February was gone. And just like January, I blew my goals. This time I know why. I let life get in the way. So, to try to help my flagging concentration, I instituted a fresh organizational tool—a bullet journal. I’ll let you know how that works for me after I’ve maintained it for a month.

What did I accomplish in February?

1. I wrote five chapters of the next Firehouse 69 book, and finished it! Then went through two rounds of edits.
2. I completed 1/2 of the revisions needed for an older title I’m republishing.
3. I wrote three chapters of a new cowboy story.
4. I wrote one brand new short story and published it.
5. I expanded an already written short story and published it!

Just so you didn’t miss those newly published titles, here’s a reminder…

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January Releases

  
[Click on the covers to go to Amazon!]

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What’s coming in February?

* * * * *

Contest

Answer this for a chance to win a small Amazon gift card…
(Then be sure to leave a comment so I know you entered!)

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I’ll be sending out a new newsletter later today and announcing this month’s winner of a handmade gift from me. If you aren’t already a subscriber to my newsletter, go here:

Sign up for Delilah’s Newsletter!

UPDATE: The winners are…Pat Freely, Debra G, and Amy T!

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I’ve another new shorty for you to enjoy! Well, new if you’ve never read Lesbian Lust, and twice as long as it was in Licks… I like to make sure the shorties I publish individually are at lease 5,000 words long, and if they are not, I promise to add a little something extra. Since The Weekend came in at just over 4,700 words, I added a story I’ve never published before—Soldier Girls. So enjoy! And don’t you just love the cover?!

That’s what this weekend was all about. A last chance to renew our connection. Or maybe this was goodbye…

Includes a bonus story, Soldier Girls, at the end!

Note: This original short story may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!

Purchase here!

I just thought I might mention two other recent shorty releases that are doing rather well… Plus that brand new shorty collection that’s out…

The Hired Hand is still #1 on the LGBT short reads list! And I love the notes readers are sending me regarding my latest Stepbrothers Stepping Out story! And do you know what a great value Strokes, Vol. 3 is? Especially now? That $0.99 price will not last long!

Thanks for your support, everyone! And click on the covers, if you’d like to check them out!

Excerpt from Soldier Girls…

Fort Sill, Oklahoma, 1992

“Don’t ask, don’t tell” didn’t last past drinks at dinner.

Sergeant Kim Prescott eased off her dark green Army jacket and hung it on the seat behind her. The movement stretched the lighter green blouse across her breasts. She must have caught me glancing, because her brown eyes narrowed. “Too bad you have to head back to Gordon this weekend.”

“Gordon” was Fort Gordon, Georgia. I’d been lucky to snag a slot in a two-week course at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where I’d shared a classroom table with SGT Prescott. We’d bonded over stories of both our stints in Desert Storm and our inability to quit cigarettes now we were stateside.

Of course, all the chit-chat was riddled with subtext. I couldn’t control my need to ogle her amazing figure. She couldn’t seem to stop teasing me. Like now. A shoulder eased back, pushing out her full breasts, ensuring I’d stare a moment longer. Then she bent toward me again, the table between us. Her fingers stroked the back of the hand gripping my beer bottle. It was a quick touch, really, but I jerked.

“Easy,” she said. “It’s not like I’m hitting on you.” Then she looked at me again, giving me a stare that challenged while her expression shuttered up.

I knew the look. If I laughed it off, that would end the pass. We’d both edge away from where we currently sat, hunched over the table toward each other, ostensibly to hear better in the loud bar. We’d find an excuse to cut the evening short and go to our separate billets. One had to be careful in this environment, because one misstep could end a reputation and a career. And as effed up as the DoD policy was, I liked my job and took pride in the fact I was a good soldier. I wasn’t going to risk everything because I like the curve of Kim Prescott’s breasts.

However, her stare continued. Temptation proved too great to resist.

Beneath the table, I slipped off a shoe and ran my toes up the inside of her calf. “What do you say we ditch this place and head back to my room? I’m getting hoarse from shouting.”

Pass accepted.

We retrieved our jackets, settled the check, and walked back to her car.

*~*~*

Contest

For a chance to win  your choice from among the stories on this web page—My Shorties—answer me this…

What are your Saturday plans?

Mine include making tie-die shirts with the kids to wear on Valentines Day! Sounds messy, right? And it was all my idea…

UPDATE: Winners are named! You have to check the comments for the list!

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I’ll admit it. The idea felt icky. While not truly incestuous, the word “brother” attached to any hero who would be a heroine’s lover should be one of those places you should never go, right?

But then I wrote the first story. Then the second. And suddenly, I could see the allure. Someone you shared a roof with. So many opportunities to witness or be watched doing inappropriate things. Now, I have the fourth story in a series of edible little shorties ready for you to enjoy.

I thought this would be a five story series because I didn’t have any more “With xxx’s” ideas, but then I asked for your help for more, and now I can keep going indefinitely! If you still want them…

I already have a naughty cover for “With His Team” — and your suggestions that I loved: With His Ex-Wife, With His Ex-Boyfriend (LOL–I love that one!), With His Ex-Girlfriend, With His Ex-Lover, With His Pilot, With His Gardner, With His Doctor, With His Trainer, With His Bodyguard, With His Mate (I see a shapeshifter story there!)…

With His Team is next, because I already have the cover, but what are your TOP THREE FAVES from my list for the next stories? Answer for a chance to win one of the first three Stepbrother shorties I wrote (NOT WITH HIS FRIENDS). There will be three winners!

In the meantime, take a look at the new release!

When a college student joins her stepbrother at the family lake house, sparks fly when she realizes he’s invited his best friends as well…

**FREE TO KINDLE UNLIMITED SUBSCRIBERS!**

Just $0.99 for everyone else! Purchase HERE.

Excerpt from With His Friends…

I followed the sounds of masculine laughter and splashes, skirting the lake house and heading straight toward the dock. Anger fueled my steps. And hurt. Caleb knew I’d expected to spend time alone with him this weekend. This, our last chance to enjoy the cabin on the lake now that our parents were divorcing. The house where we’d spent so many summers growing up would be lost, and perhaps, so would my relationship with Caleb.

Who knew what the future held for us? We were both heading back to school in a few weeks, him to UT, me to Rice. There would be no more family reunions during the holidays, no more chances to share the same roof where our parents’ self-involvement had allowed so many opportunities for the two of us to be…well, involved.

As I approached the dock, I realized that the two young men with my brother were known to me. I’d dated both. Johnny Wills, “John Wayne” to his friends, and Bradley Tanner. How awkward. I could hardly blow hot all over my brother when both men knew only too well that, for me, anger flipped my sexy switch. Read the rest of this entry »