Hot Delivery Guy Novels & Stories

"Okay, then. We open at seven in the morning. Don't be late." Josh shook Antony's hand. "No chance of that." They walked out into the bays, and Antony spent a few minutes introducing him to the men working there. After saying his good-byes, Josh jumped in his truck, anxious to see if Mrs. Patterson would approve of him enough to rent him a room. Then he'd take a look around town and see if there was a place he could get a cold beer and a juicy hamburger.

I smiled politely as I passed through the laughter, the smell of grilled steak and perfume mixing in the summer air. I stepped outside and closed the gate gently behind me. “Hello. Are you Miss Nella?” the delivery man asked, his voice soft but hurried. “Yes, I am,” I replied. “I’m really sorry for the late delivery. I lost my bike key and—well, it’s been a night.” “It’s fine,” I said. He handed me the parcel, and I signed. He turned and mounted his bike, muttering apologies. I turned to walk back. Then—I felt it.

" I wondered. As I opened the door, a tall male figure stood infront of me. He was well built, wile wearing a blue short-sleeve shirt and shorts. He also wore a blue cap with a company logo and black boots. He had a friendly smile on his face while a brown package with the label "fragile" tagged on it. From his uniform, I assumed he was a deliveryman. "I'm looking for Arin Adderman." The delivery man gazed intently at me.

“Good morning, here is your order” He shouted loud enough for them to hear. With a joyous and happy tone, one can never know that he is not a worker in that area. No one can even tell that it is his first time doing such thing. Not even mention the fact that he never once encounter seeing someone deliver package like that since he always ask Herald to do it for him. “Ah? Who ordered this?” The workers in this place started to ask each other thinking who is the one that ordered that food.

_____ Episode 24 – Morning Delivery The 8:15 AM delivery was the only thing that got me out of bed on Mondays. It was a pathetic little ritual, born from a subscription to a local artisan bakery that promised “life-changing sourdough.” The bread was fine. The view was better. His name was Kelvin, according to the blurry photo on the delivery app. In person, he was definitely more. Six-foot-something of lean muscle packed into a company polo shirt that strained across his shoulders. Dark, tousled hair that looked like he’d just run his hands through it, and eyes the color of strong coffee. He had a smile that was equal parts friendly and knowing, a dimple punctuating his left cheek.

What more could I have Asked for? I saw the young man afar off and it was a delivery guy in a different kind of clothing.. Why was a delivery guy in a suit??? “Here you go ma'am, enjoy your day!” He said and hopped Into the car and zoomed off . Why was this car looking so peng!!!! I wondered what could be in the box and I turned to take my leave back to my apartment, but I noticed Sylvester was in his car with a lady, but he didn't seem to have seen me. I minded my business and went straight back to my apartment.

"Keep your head low and your mouth shut, or you may one day end up rambling something to your sons in your deathbed." I left them circling each other's throats. Out back, the refrigerated truck's diesel growl harmonized with the purchaser's tirade - "Third late delivery this week!" "New climate controls and system upgrades," a driver shrugged. "Goods spoil if we rush." The purchaser shook his head and walked back into the door. He never saw my elbow drop - a precise rabbit-punch to the C3 vertebra. His keycard felt warm against the cold storage door's frost-sealed handle.

“Oh, you live two streets away from here? Maybe we can have it delivered by today…” “Really? I don’t really mind if you guys are busy. But that’d be nice…” The man excused himself for a while and I waited as he talked to another employee. After a while, he walked back into me, wearing a big grin while showing off the key in his hand. “Make it fast, George! I have to deliver a refrigerator out of town.” The man he was talking to shouted at him. “Yeah, yeah. I promise, this will be quick.”

She walked to the door, took a breath, and opened it. The delivery guy standing there was taller than she expected — easily 6’2”, with broad shoulders and muscular arms covered in tattoos that disappeared under the sleeves of his tight black t-shirt. The shirt hugged his chest and abs, showing off a strong, athletic build. His name tag read “Marcus.” He had dark eyes, a sharp jawline with light stubble, and a confident, easy smirk as he looked at her. “Large pepperoni for Emma?” he asked, his deep voice smooth and warm. He held the pizza box in one hand, the other holding the receipt.

He was holding a clipboard and three massive, reinforced cardboard boxes stacked on a hand truck. "I just need a signature for a Serenia Buenavista," the delivery guy said, smacking a piece of gum casually. He looked around the foyer, his eyes lingering on a visible bullet nick in the crown molding, but he didn't say a word about it. City delivery drivers had seen it all. I stepped out into the hall, letting out a loud breath I didn't realize I was holding. "That's me." Matteo turned his head, his dark eyes tracking me as I walked down the corridor. "You ordered packages to my house? We've been here less than twenty-four hours."