Stories From The 6 Train 1(83)

She raises an eyebrow and simply smiles.

We take the Uber to Saks Fifth Avenue. I figure I can't go wrong with this store—there's designer apparel at every level—shows, accessories, housewares, and when we step out of the car, I see her face light up and I know I've definitely made the right choice. I follow her into the building as she walks at a fast clip to the women's clothing, her heels clicking against the floor. She changed at the gym and is no longer wearing yoga pants. She's wearing a tight black dress and heels, and honestly, I can't keep my eyes off of her. Does she always go the gym with an extra change of clothes? I wonder to myself.

"Here's what I'm looking for," she says. I look around and see we're standing in the women's blouse section. "What do you think of this one?"

I honestly think any fucking blouse would look amazing on her, but I simply say, "I like it."

My answer doesn't seem good enough because she gives it another critical look. She holds the shirt in front of her, one hand on her hip. "I think I should try it on."

I nod my head and follow her to the dressing rooms. I find a bench and sit down.

"I'll wait right here," I say. I lean back and check my phone—no calls or texts, which is good—and I wait.

"Lance? Can you come here?"

I make sure no one is looking before heading into the dressing rooms. Are men even allowed back here? "Where are you?" I ask, just above a whisper.

"Right here."

I look to my left and I see her holding one door open slightly ajar. I slip inside. The room is small and it's forcing us to stand unusually close to each other. I watch as she starts to unzip her dress.

"I just need your opinion."

With her dress unzipped, I watch as she pulls it off of her shoulders. Her perfume fills my senses. My heart is seriously in my fucking throat. It's beating at a frenzied pace and I can't believe this is happening. The top of her dress is now completely off and hanging at her hips. I can't help but gaze transfixed at her perfect breasts. Those two perfect scoops cupped in a lacey bra. Do I dare touch her?

I immediately think back to the question she asked me at the gym. How much woman can I handle?





Jocelyn





The moment my shirt comes off, I know I have him.

More than I had him on the couch the other week. Or during my birthday.

There is no stopping now.

I’m going to do this, hun. No stopping me.

I’ll probably go to hell afterwards.

His eyes are on my cleavage, and he seems hungry to feel my breasts. He closes the door to the dressing room and I look into his eyes, my heart drumming wildly inside of my chest. I could get used to having men look at me like this, insatiable hunger flickering behind their eyes. After months of sharing a bed with a husband who doesn’t even look at me, there’s no way that I’m going to let an opportunity like this slide by me… He’s my stepson, sure, but so what? One hard look at him and my pussy grows wet, desire raging through me. He looks young, handsome… Delicious. No wonder he has such a reputation. As his stepmother, I think it’s my duty to find out if the rumors are true... Oh, why are forbidden things the most irresistible ones?

My pussy is already wet, my drenched underwear sticking to my skin. There’s a whisper inside of me, one that tells me to stop, that what I’m doing is wrong… But I just push it to the back of my mind. The blood that runs through me is charged with lust and sinful thoughts, fanning flames of wickedness in my mind and making me forget all about right and wrong.

I tried to avoid this. I knew how dangerous it would be for me to be near Lance. He’s simply too irresistible—handsome, wicked, relentless. But here I am now… And there’s no going back. There’s no stopping what’s about to happen. I’m going to have him, come hell or high water.

“Come here,” I whisper, taking one step forward, my eyes never leaving his, and I grab him by the scruff of his shirt. Pulling him into me, I press my mouth against his, parting my lips and brushing my tongue against his. I start unbuttoning his shirt, my eager fingers flying down the fabric as I expose his chest. My eyes take in the perfect shape of his pectorals, the irresistible ridges in his abs.

With one hand on my waist, he takes the other to my hair, grabbing it viciously. He pulls my head back and, leaning toward me, starts kissing down my chin toward my neck; once there, he starts nibbling at the soft skin gently. I close my eyes as I feel his lips against my neck, my rational mind slowly drowning in an ocean of pleasure.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you,” he whispers into my ear, a shiver going up my spine.