The hands on my hips clench as the train moves again, fingers digging into me, and I’m mortified to find myself wriggling, some naughty part of me hoping I might move just the right way to relieve some of the sudden pressure that’s quickly building between my legs.
“You okay?” The deep, gravelly voice should pull me to my senses, but instead the sexy rasp only makes me wetter than I already am.
Pull it together, Adrienne. Am I really getting off to some guy I haven’t even seen? Almost as if my body has a mind of its own, I twist slightly on his lap, the movement making my breath come faster as it pushes me harder against his dick.#p#分页标题#e#
Then my eyes lock on his, dark, depthless and smoldering.
Oh my god. It’s him.
“Hey,” I say breathlessly, unable to move. Unable to think.
Because it’s my train guy. The guy I’ve been eye-fucking for the past two months on my ride home after work.
“Need some help?” he says, a smirk on his full lips that makes me want to dive in and suck them right into my mouth, bite down hard and then lick them better.
“What?” I shake my head, not comprehending his words. Nothing making sense past the sudden throbbing in my pussy.
He leans down and grabs my forgotten shoe, sliding it slowly onto my foot. His eyes never leave mine as he trails his fingers up my bare leg.
I swallow hard, wondering if I’m dreaming. Because every late-night fantasy I’ve had lately stars this guy right here. This dark-haired mystery guy that I see on the train two or three times a week, his stubbled jaw inciting thoughts of what it might feel like scraping against my thighs as he licks me to orgasm.
Oh yeah, I’m totally dreaming. Because when his hand reaches the bottom of my thigh, it travels over to the other leg to continue its journey upward. His eyes go impossibly darker before they drop down, and I follow his gaze.
Somehow in my struggle to remove my stockings and my subsequent fall, my skirt got hiked up. Way up. I can see the lacy top of the other one where it is still held in place by my garter clips.
His fingers trail higher still, brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he deftly unclasps the hook. Hooking a finger inside the thin silk, he drags it down my leg, removing and replacing the other shoe after he bares my legs completely.
I can’t look away. This is probably the most erotically charged moment of my life, and it’s happening on an overcrowded rush hour train.
“That better?” he murmurs, his breath warm on my neck, and I swear I feel him get even harder beneath me.
I nod. But it’s not. I’m so wet that I wonder if even my skirt will be soaked through when I stand up. The only thing that would make me better right now is for him to do something about fierce need taking over my body, making me lose all sense of propriety.
The next span of time passes in a blur as the 6 Train flies through the dark tunnels of New York. I want so badly for him to touch me, to slide his hand back up my skirt. But he doesn’t. He keeps his hands firmly in place on my hips, though, not letting me leave the torturous pleasure of the hardness of his lap.
When the train finally pulls into my stop, I remain seated, not wanting the moment to end. But somewhere in my mind I find my motivation. The apartment. Right.
Staggering to my feet, I give my train guy one last regretful look. I can only hope we end up on the train together again tomorrow. Because I need to see where this could go.
Almost as much as I need this new apartment.
199
Reese
I drag a hand over my face as I emerge from the Seventy-seventh Street station. What the hell was that?
I almost want to cancel my appointment and hunt her down. But it’s certainly too late. She took off and was lost in the crowd before I could even get off the train. I scan the street and don’t see a trace of her anywhere.
That’s fine, I think as I make my way down the street. There’s always tomorrow. After seeing one of the most intriguing women on the 6 Train a couple months back, I made a point of seeing if it was a chance encounter, or if she rode at that time regularly. It was the latter. Maybe it’s kind of creepy, but I try to time my afternoon commute with hers.#p#分页标题#e#
I’ve never approached her because he doesn’t really look like my type. All prim and proper and cool perfection with her designer clothes and perfectly applied makeup. Long blond hair that gives the impression she’d be upset if a hair was out of place. And I definitely want to mess up all that perfect. Tangle my fingers in her hair as I smear her bright red lipstick all over my cock.
I like my women a bit on the wild side. Up for anything. She doesn’t seem like the type to be down with getting dirty, so as much as I enjoy watching her watch me over the top of the Kindle she pretends to read on her commute, I just haven’t gone there.