Stories From The 6 Train 2(75)

She hooks her fingers under my belt loops and slowly unbuckles my belt. I can hear the clink of the metal buckle unfastening and I shift uncomfortably, my pulse increasing.

"I can't do this," I say, pushing her hands off my belt.

She isn't listening. "Of course you can," she purrs, "and you will. We're married, remember? This is what husbands and wives do." She renews her efforts, shoving her fingers under the waistband of my boxers.

My stomach lurches at her touch and at the thought of Lorna as my wife. She's one of the most heartless people I've ever encountered in my life—and I've encountered a lot of despicable people on Wall Street. There's no upside to being with a woman like her.

I push her off me again, and this time I stand up from the couch. It's a bold move and Lorna isn't happy. Her eyes are as cold and unpredictable as a brewing storm.

"I won't say this again, Mason," she says, glaring at me. "You better do as I say and follow my lead, starting with Red Lion Aviation."

"I've already told you, it's a terrible investment," I say. "Red Lion Aviation is an Indonesian airline with one of the worst safety records in the industry. It's not uncommon to hear that another one of their planes has taken a nose dive into the ocean."

"Minor details," Lorna waves dismissively. "Planes go down. People understand that. They're still far safer than cars."

I'm not willing to hear her reasons for why we should invest in Red Lion Aviation because no matter what, I've performed the market research, crunched the numbers, and I know that it doesn't make sense on any level.

"I won't do it," I reply.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"I'd carefully reconsider what you're saying," she hisses. She walks over and grabs her purse from the table. "Because if you don't, I'll make sure the Board sees that you are unfit to lead this company."

Without saying another word, she walks to the door and steps out before slamming it shut behind her.

Fuck me. How did I allow myself to get into this mess?

Just as I'm about to sit back down on the couch and try and forget about Lorna for the night, I hear a knock on the door.

I hope she isn't back for another round.

I open the door.

And I see her … it's Becca.

But she looks different. There's a suspicious look to her eyes.





Becca





I shouldn't be here at his apartment. Every fiber in my brain is telling me that I should just turn the other direction and walk away.

No, I should probably run away.

As far away from Mason and my mother as I can get.

If I have half an ounce of common sense in my head I won't go any deeper. I'll cut my losses and tell myself it was what it was—a very hot, passionate affair with an older man who just happens to be my stepdad.

But that's if I had any common sense.

That's if I could make myself forget how hot he made me when he held me. How excited I got when my hand wrapped around his hard shaft. How I felt him grow in my hand. How I made him hard.

Sure, he's a playboy. I knew that going into it.

He's 16 years older than me. I can do the math.

But the times that we've been together, when he's taken control of my body—owned it and used it for his pleasure—can never be forgotten.

I can't forget his cock inside of me, stretching me out.

I can't forget seeing his eyes roll back into his head when I put him in my mouth and run my tongue up and down his shaft.

When I pumped him repeatedly.

When I licked his tip.

When I made him cum.

Oh God, when he came. It's almost as hot as when I think back to how he makes me cum.

See where my mind has gone? See what's happened?

No, I'm definitely not thinking with my brain.

I'm thinking with my clit.

Is that even possible for a woman to do? I've heard of guys who think with their cocks, but women are supposed to be smarter than that, aren't they? I mean, your husband or your boyfriend, babe. You're way smarter than him, right?

So why am I standing here then like a ridiculous deer looking at headlights?

I mean, thank God Mom didn't see me as she walked off. She was walking the other direction, but she was too busy straightening her clothes out to notice anything.

Mason recognized me though.

He's looking straight at me.

I can't help myself. I should be running away. I should be protecting myself from what Mom can do to guys.

But I don't run away, do I?

I stay here as he comes up to me.

I can smell his cologne wafting into my nostrils and I close my eyes as I inhale. He smells like...man.

All of those thoughts of self-preservation that were in the back of my head are now completely gone.

All of the dark, twisted, sexual desires that I've been living with Mason—fucking my older stepdad—are back and stronger than ever.