Stories From The 6 Train 1(28)

His eyes go a little wild. “You want this?” he grits out.

I nod, my eyes dropping to his mouth. “So much.”

“Fuck, Poppy.” His eyes dart around the train as if he’s looking to see if anyone is watching.

I don’t even care if anyone is. That’s how desperate I am to have more of him. Right the fuck now.

I scrape my fingers down over his cock and smile in satisfaction when I feel it twitch beneath my hand. “You want it, too?”

His laugh is sharp with a touch of bitterness. “You have no idea, do you?” His eyes cloud over again.

“What?”

“This. This right here. I’ve wanted this from the moment I first saw you.”

I feel like a cartoon character whose eyes bug from their head. “Come on, Dom. Be serious.”

An intensity grips him, and he takes my jaw in his hand. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I tried to stay away from you, Poppy. I knew it was wrong. That’s why I left. I couldn’t resist you anymore, and I knew if I stuck around I would mess everything up.”

A million questions fly through my head. All the shame I felt all those years for feeling this attraction to him—and he felt it too? All the hurt he caused me when he left—he did it with good intentions. I don’t know what to think. How to process it.

So instead of addressing it, I say, “Why now?”

“You’ve haunted me for years. Even tonight when I was sitting in that booth before you came onstage—” his eyes harden for a moment, “—you were who I was thinking about. And when I saw you? The idea of you up there and all those fuckers seeing you made me crazy. Not when, as wrong as it is, I can’t think of you as anything but mine.”

I gasp at his admission.

His eyes go darker. “I snapped. And when I saw you, your gorgeous, incredible body, I knew I couldn’t fight it anymore. So you need to know now. If you come home with me, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to make up for all those years of wanting you. I’m going to put you exactly where you belong. On my cock. And I’m going to make you cum so hard that you forget anyone who ever came before me.”

Wild, crazy sparks take off all over my body, every nerve in my body screaming for him to do what he just said. His words alone have me so wet that I can barely stand it, my pussy clenching around the emptiness that begs to be filled with him.

I squeeze his cock again, desperate to have him inside me. “Please,” I beg on a pant.

“You better be sure, Poppy. Be sure you want this.”

I stare at him for a moment, hardly believing this is real, afraid that I’m going to wake up and discover it’s not.

“Yes,” I breathe. “I want this. I want you. All of it. Everything you’ll give me.”

I don’t know if he realized just what I mean by that. That I really will take anything and everything he’s willing to give me. All of him is what truly I want. His body, his mind, his soul, his heart.

I know it’s impossible, so I’ll take what I can get. “Please, Dominic.”

He doesn’t answer with words.

Instead, he grabs my hips and lifts me up, spinning me around until I’m straddling his lap, his hard cock wedging against my throbbing pussy. Then his hands dive back into my hair, gripping the back of my head and yanking me forward.

He drags his teeth along my jaw until he reaches my lips. He nips at them lightly, teasingly. Then all restraint is gone as he crushes me against him, devouring my mouth. Doing exactly what he said—erasing everything that ever came before him. I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.





28





Dominic





Longest fucking train ride of my life. When we finally make it back above ground, I tuck Poppy into my side and tear up the sidewalk, covering the distance to my apartment as if my life depends on it.

And it feels like it does.

As if I’m going to come unhinged if I don’t get her upstairs and naked Right. This. Second.

When I get her inside, I haul her up against me, ready to explode.

It’s a desperate clash of arms and mouths and tongues and teeth, the pent-up need I’ve fought for so long taking over me like I’m a man possessed. And that’s exactly what I am. I’m completely possessed by this woman writhing in my arms as we struggle to free ourselves of the clothes that are keeping us apart.

Her shirt is gone in an instant, and I dispose of her jeans almost as quickly. She toes off her shoes, and she’s left standing before me in nothing but that scrap of lace, just like she was less than an hour ago.

“Never again, Poppy,” I bite out. “You will never take your clothes off for any man but me.”