Stories From The 6 Train 2(107)

“What would you like to order in?” He asks me, going around the counter and closing in the distance between me and him. With each step he takes, my heart starts to pound louder, just like an alarm. “Or maybe we can think about that later…” He continues, lowering his voice and brushing two fingers against my cheek. I tremble as I feel his touch and, reacting by instinct, I take one step back, almost spilling the wine all over my dress.

“We can order now,” I blurt out, reaching for my cellphone while my mind goes into overdrive. I try and look for a restaurant that does home deliveries, but I can barely concentrate on what’s on the screen. Robert reaches for my phone and simply plucks it out of my hands, placing it on the counter.

“You’re nervous,” he whispers, smiling at me. “That’s okay. I’m a bit nervous too…” I gulp as he comes up at me and, taking another step back, I hit the fridge with my back. My eyes dart to his crotch, and I notice something bulging underneath his pants. Oh, God, I can’t believe that he’s already hard.

Coming up to me, he presses his body against mine, taking both hands to my face. As I feel his boner on my leg, I immediately react by pushing him back and stepping to the side. My mouth has suddenly grown dry, and I guess I can say the same thing about my pussy.

“Robert… I think you’ve misunderstood me,” I start, looking at him as I try to find the right words. I told him he could come over, I’m wearing a skimpy dress… And now I’m telling him that he has misunderstood my intentions? Well, that’s rich of me. Still, I don’t care - whatever I’m wearing, no man has the right to put a move on me without my consent. That’s right, I might be a lot of things, but I’ll never allow anyone to walk over me. Especially when sex is concerned.

“You’re just scared,” he continues, still walking toward me. The guy is relentless. “But you don’t need to be… I want you, Becca. I’ve dreamed of you every single night since I first saw you.” How do you spell creepy? Oh, right, R-o-b-e-r-t.

As if the universe conspired to save me from his advances, someone knocks on the door. I step out of his reach and walk hurriedly toward the door, turning the handle without bothering to ask who’s on the other side. My heart skips a beat as I see the man in front of me. Yes, I know what you’re thinking… And you’re right.

“Becca…” Mason says my name as he steps inside the apartment. In his clear blue eyes, I can almost see my reflection.

“Mason…” I say, my heart tightening up so much that I no longer know how in the world it continues to beat. He smiles tenderly at me, and then he notices that we’re not alone. He looks at Robert with one arched eyebrow, and I notice his eyes wandering to the bottle of wine on the counter. Finally, he look straight at Robert. His smile vanishes, and he purses his lips; I wish I could have a hole where I could hide right now.

He looks into my eyes, and I give him a weak smile. I’m sorry, I mouth, biting on my lower lip with regret. With a quick nod, I give him my assent to do what needs to be done.

“Get out,” he tells Robert, turning to him with a serious expression on his face. He’s completely relaxed, but I notice his hands balling into fists, almost as if he’s ready to crash them into Robert’s face at a moment’s notice.

“You can’t simply walk in here and --” Without bothering to hear what Robert has to say, Mason walks over to him and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He tells him, and I can almost see Robert shrinking in size. To have someone as imposing as Mason telling you to fuck off has be an intimidating experience. He opens his mouth to speak but, like a fish suffocating on too much oxygen, he simply closes it again. When Mason lets go of him, he straightens the collar of his shirt and, trying to act as dignified as possible - and failing miserably - he walks toward the door.

Before he leaves, he throws me a pissed off look and then simply storms out, slamming the door behind him. I turn to Mason at once, looking as apologetic as possible.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, desperate to know everything about the tender expression he looks at me... Somehow, I already knows what he wants to say, but I need to hear it all the same.

“I was wrong, baby girl. I was so fucking wrong,” he whispers, closing the distance between him and I and placing both his hands on my hips.

"Fuck the world, Becca," he says. "They can fucking take everything from me. My company. My title. My money. But I swear to fucking God they will never take me away from you. Ever again."