Stories From The 6 Train 1(9)

“You can’t have that thing on here,” she bites out, her eyes a mix of irritation and intrigue. And possibly a bit of lust—or maybe that’s me.

“That thing,” I throw back, “is my true love.” I caress the body of my bike. I don’t expect her to get it. Most chicks don’t. “Ain’t no way I’m leaving her out on the street all night.”

She bites her lip, and fuck! All I want to do is drag her onto my lap and take those lips between my own teeth, biting down until she’s writhing in my arms.

“I guess I don’t blame you. She’s gorgeous.” Little Miss Sex on a Stick takes a step toward me and shocks the hell out of me when she runs her hands over the tank of my baby.

“You know bikes?”

Her eyes flick up to mine briefly, then down to my leather jacket, where the emblem of my club is inscribed, along with my name. “Maybe…Blaze?”

I nod, now intrigued myself. From the way she’s now checking out my bike more than me, it’s obvious she’s a biker chick. Or maybe was once.

“Wanna take a ride?”

Now those green eyes are back on mine, confused.

“Isn’t it broken down?”

I watch her intently until she starts to shift, uncomfortable by my scrutiny. And that flush is back.

I can’t resist. I reach out and trail a finger down that smooth throat, my fingertips brushing the edge of her tattoo. Her breath comes a little faster, and I smile.

“What makes you think I’m talking about the bike?”

Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip as her eyes glance around the nearly empty car. Just then, the train whips around a corner and she loses her balance, her arms flying out to grasp my bike to keep from falling.

Without a second thought, my hands wrap around her hips and haul her toward me, spinning her around until she’s seated sideways in front of me on my bike.

Her breath comes out on a gasp, and the little sound makes me hard in an instant. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her eyes now focused on me alone. Just the way I want it.

I smile, not bothering to move my hands from her hips. Not wanting her to move from where she is.

“What’s your name, Red?”

“Ginger.” Her voice comes out low and throaty. And there is no doubt she is just as turned on as I am.

“Ginger.” I grin wickedly. Of course she is. “Now, how about that ride?”





8





Ginger





Holy shit.

Is this really happening right now? Surely I’m already back home and dreaming about this sexy biker that has me wrapped in his arms, his fingers digging into my hips, dangerously close to my ass. Because my skirt is also riding dangerously high.

There is no way this can be real. My train fantasy, courtesy of Adrienne, is not only coming true but with the kind of guy I only let myself pretend I can have? No way that’s real.

But his warm breath brushing across my neck and the shivers it sends down my spine feel pretty damn real.

“Now, how about that ride?” Blaze asks.

Oh god. Yes, please!

To my total shock, I find myself grinning teasingly up at him. “Only if I get to be in charge.”

Something growly rises up his throat, and I feel it right at the top of my thighs, a pulsing throb of need making me lose all good sense.

His fingers tighten on me in response. “Ride away, baby.”

I swing a leg over the bike, shifting with his hands still on me until I’m straddling the bike in front of him. He’s pushed right up against my ass, and holy shit, he is hard.

I barely manage to keep the excited gasp contained, and to my complete embarrassment, I find myself pushing back against him and wiggling.

“There you go,” he chuckles. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I can’t even wrap my head around what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to stop, so I go with it. Somehow this fantasy man come to life is too much for me and I can’t make myself think rationally.

“Have you ridden before?” Blaze murmurs against my neck, sending another shiver through me.

Not sure if he’s talking about the bike or…well, other things, I go with an answer that covers both bases. “It’s been a while.”

“Hmm.” He takes his hands from my hips and runs them down my arms until his huge hands grip mine and stretch them out until I’m leaning way, way forward on the bike to reach the handles. The movement has my back arched and my ass pushed even further back into him.

“Let me refresh your memory, then,” Blaze continues. He grabs first one booted foot, then the other, and places them up on the bike until the only thing keeping us upright is him. But I’m not worried. I got a good look at those muscular thighs. This guy is big, in every way. And somehow, against every bit of reason, against everything about him that screams danger, I trust that he’s got me.