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 the 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.
2
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.
I’ve never approached her because she 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.
I thought I had her figured out. Now I’m rethinking everything. The last thing I expected was for there to be a sexy little minx under those designer clothes. But fuck, when she reached her hand up under her skirt and I caught a glimpse of that lingerie, all I wanted was to drag her off the train and see if there was a hidden little sex kitten dying to come out and play.
My cock is aching by the time I get home, and I glance at the clock, cursing when I realize I don’t have much time to do anything about it. I change out of my suit quickly, unable to resist taking my throbbing dick in my fist as I remember the way she wiggled that sweet ass on top of me, imagining what it would have been like to slide inside of her right there on the train.
I’m so fucking close already that it won’t take much, but I bite out another curse when the doorman buzzes.
“Yeah?” I grit out through the intercom after I throw on jeans and a roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt, removing my tie and unbuttoning the collar.
“Your appointment is here.”
“Send him up.”
I glance around the apartment, satisfied that the maid service did a good job today. I really hope this Adrian guy is a good fit. I don’t need a roommate, but I get bored easily being alone all the time. Yeah, I have plenty of women to keep me company, but they’re only interested in what I can give them. I just want someone around to keep the apartment from feeling less lonely. A guy that I don’t have to worry about trying to get to my bank account by way of getting into my pants.