Undying Love (25 page)

Fighting the speed of the train and my embarrassment, I clumsily zigzagged down the aisle, occasionally grabbing onto the corner of a seat for balance. Like the previous cabin, every seat was taken. No one seemed to notice me, but truthfully, I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. As I neared the rear end of the car, the train jerked, lurching me forward and then flying into the lap of a
Wall Street Journal
-reading commuter to my left.

“I’m so sorry,” I squeaked at my victim whose face was still buried in his
WSJ
.

He flexed his leg muscles under my muscular butt, signaling me to get up and then slowly lowered his newspaper. A smirk curled on his lips.
Those lips!

My heart leaped into my throat. Adonis!

“Sit,” he said, motioning to the empty window seat next to his.

“Um, uh, I’m in economy,” I stuttered, my eyes unable to leave his face no matter how humiliated I felt. Up close, he was even more beautiful than I imagined with his chiseled nose, strong angular jaw line, and piercing eyes, the color of sapphires.

“Don’t worry; I’ll handle it,” he said with a wink.

Holy shit! Adonis had just winked at me!

“Sit,” he growled, this time as if it were an order.

With a powerful heave of his knees, he bounced me to my feet, forcing me to plop down next to him.

Holy shit again! I was going to spend the next hour and a half sitting next to this gorgeous man—a man that existed in my dreams—and now I had no idea what to say. My heart pounded.

“What’s your name?” he asked, in a coy tone that suggested he was daring me to answer.

“Sarah,” I replied, pulling myself together in time to reply in a very business-like voice.

“Saarah,” he repeated, his voice deep and sexy.

The way he said my name drawing out the first syllable with breathiness—sent a chill down my spine. I could not help thinking of my favorite song from one of my favorite movies,
West Side Story
. “Say it soft and it’s almost like praying.”

“Ari,” he said next, not giving me time to ask the obvious.

A fitting name. Almost like Ares, the Greek God of War. This man was a warrior. A beautiful warrior. And I was soon to find out that conquest was his middle name.

I held out my slender hand to shake his. Truthfully, I didn’t know what else to do. His long, tan fingers entwined mine. His grip was strong. Powerful. Slowly, he raised my hand to his lush lips. Blood rushed to my head as they pressed ever so gently against the back of my palm. One by one, he unfolded my fingers, sucking each one as if they were candy sticks. The wetness of his warm saliva glistened on my fingertips. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and moisture pooled between my legs.
What the hell was he doing? And what the hell was I?

My heart was racing as fast as the Amtrak. I needed to stop this. Move to another seat. My eyes darted around the cabin, but still there were none to be had. No one seemed to notice what was going on; they either had their face buried in a newspaper or book or were occupied with their cell phones, iPads, or Kindles.

This was just not right. I was sitting next to a complete stranger and letting him suck my fingers. He could be a total whack job… a molester… or serial killer. Who knew? Though my fear was fleeting, I made up a desperate clichéd excuse. “Um, uh excuse me. I need to use the restroom.” Actually, I really did. I needed to get away from this mysterious, seductive stranger and get a grip.

“It’s right behind us,” said Adonis dryly, returning to his newspaper.

I leaped up from my seat. Tripping over my bag, I caught a glimpse of Trainman’s bemused expression. He refused to move his long legs, forcing my butt to brush against them as I made my escape.

The door to the unisex restroom located at the back of the cabin was locked. That meant someone was inside. I tapped my foot impatiently, my head filling with the image of the blond, blue-eyed Adonis sitting next to me. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? These kinds of things never happened to geeky me. They were the stuff of novels and movies. Not my boring all-work-no-play life.

“Hi.” A familiar velvety voice catapulted me out of my thoughts, and a waft of warm breath blew across the nape of my neck. I spun around.

My mysterious stranger. His crisp blue eyes burned into mine, making my temperature soar, and my legs turn to jelly. What was he doing here? I suppose he had to go. I couldn’t stop that.

I turned my head away and stared squarely at the bathroom door, praying silently that whoever was in there would hurry up. He blew hot air on my neck again and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against his rock-hard body. A bulge pressed against my buttocks. I was getting sick to my stomach and might need the bathroom more than I originally thought.

Finally, the door burst open in my face; a sour-faced, overweight matron barged out. Calling on every muscle in my body, I broke free of Trainman’s grip and hastily dashed into the stall and the stench she left behind. My hands shaky, I fumbled to slide the latch, but before I could get it through the lock, the door forcefully swung open.

“I couldn’t wait,” Trainman growled, pushing me against the cold metal sink basin. He thrust his hips tight against mine. I was trapped.

He leaned in close to me. A mix of his warm minty breath and expensive cologne rushed into my nostrils, eradicating all traces of the fetid odor. His eyes narrowed, turning into collectible slivers of blue sand glass. His mouth descended onto the right side of my neck then slowly trailed upward to my earlobe. He clamped his warm, moist lips on the cartilage, alternating between nipping and sucking it. Oh my God! I didn’t know my earlobes could feel so much. The last time they felt anything was when I got them pierced in eighth grade. And that was pain. Pure pain. Now what I was feeling was joy. Pure tingly joy…and the sensation was coursing through my entire body.

Still pressing me hard against the sink with his hipbones, he pinched my dime-size nipples between his thumb and index fingers and then began massaging them in small counter clockwise circles, each rotation harder than the one before. Magically, the buds elongated and hardened beneath my navy cotton t-shirt. A new I-want-to-burst-out of my skin sensation gathered in the triangle between my legs. I moaned softly.

“You don’t wear a bra,” he murmured in my ear.

I rarely wore a bra because I really didn’t need one. My boobs never got past a small A-cup, the size of old-fashioned champagne saucers. Before I could say a word, that is if I could utter a word, he whispered, “Sexy.”

Moi,
Sarah plain and tall, sexy? And this coming from this gorgeous beast? Pinch me. I must be dreaming this entire fantasy. As if on cue, he pinched one of my nipples again. My crotch roared silently in delight. No, this was real okay. And it was happening to me. Sarah Greene. Art school graduate. Aspiring toy designer. Twenty-five-year-old virgin.

I stared at his beautiful face. His eyes were tilted downward. A sly smile tipped to the left made me nervous. In a good way.

While one hand continued to twirl a nipple, the other slid down my torso past by tight, twisted abdomen and under the waistbands of both my skirt and pantyhose. His hands felt like hot velvet as they explored my inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he moaned. “No panties?”

I never wore panties with pantyhose. Why bother? They were called pantyhose for a reason. And I confess, not buying expensive panties—and bras—saved me a lot of money—money I needed desperately to visit my sick mother.

“Very sexy,” he said, enunciating each syllable, as his fingertips made their way to the triangle between my legs. They stopped to caress my patch of hair, stroking it as if were a beloved pussy…cat.

“So soft and silky,” Trainman pronounced as if I were auditioning for one of those look-at-my-gorgeous-hair product commercials.

After a tug of a curled clump, his fingers plunged lower to the smooth folds between my legs. They explored this new territory eagerly like someone who was searching for gold. And then he discovered it. The nugget. Greedily, he rubbed the pad of this thumb around his discovery with intense little circles that were driving me insane. A loud moan escaped my lips.

“You’re so wet,” he crooned.

That was an understatement. I was swimming in my own juices. My eyes caught a glimpse of him. A wicked smile crossed his face, and his blue eyes glistened.

He squeezed the folds of my labial lips together and then used his fingers to spread them apart.

“I want you,” he moaned, his voice all hot and breathy.

And despite myself, I wanted him. More than anyone or anything. Well, except for my mother getting well again.

Still massaging my nub with his thumb, he plunged his long middle finger into the cavity between the folds. I gasped, not prepared for the shock of penetration. Shockwaves spread through out my body as his finger glided up and down the soaked, spongy walls, in and out, each thrust deeper than the one before.

“Baby,” he moaned. “You’re so hot.”

I gasped again, still not sure this was really happening. My core was aching for more. Desperate for it. Why wasn’t I resisting?

“I’m going to take you now,” he growled.

Take me where? I didn’t want to be anywhere, any place but here in this cramped bathroom with this mysterious sorcerer who was doing his magic on me.

Using his free hand, he yanked down both my skirt and hose. He must have popped the side button to my skirt because there’s no way it would have slid down my hips, no matter how boyishly narrow they were. My eyes glanced down at my skirt puddled on the floor and my pantyhose scrunched up above my combat boots. As they made their way back upward, I heard him unzip his fly. My gaze stopped short at a massive hunk of pink, veined flesh that was aimed at my crotch. I was ready to surrender. Yes, take me now.

“Sit on the sink,” he ordered.

I was in no condition to argue. I plunked my buttocks down on the edge of the steely basin. The cold metal gave me goose bumps all over. He pulled off my boots and the hose.

“Now, spread your legs.”

Yes, sir.

An intensity washed over his face. Like an artist who was contemplating painting his masterpiece. He placed both hands on my hips to anchor me.

“Now, take me and insert me where you want me.”

Holy shit! He wanted me to touch that monstrosity? Cradle it in my hands? Our eyes met, mine wide-eyed with fear and excitement, his hooded with determination and desire.

Hesitantly, I wrapped my slender fingers around the pillar of flesh, surprised that they could circle around it despite its diameter. I’d never felt a man’s penis before. The touch beneath my fingers was hot, velvety, and pulsating. I knew exactly where I wanted it. The hollowness inside me was crying out for it. I need to be sated by him. Totally consumed.

Gently, I angled it upward toward the opening between my legs. I slid the tip inside. He gave it a sharp thrust, jettisoning his member deep inside me. The initial pain and shock of the hard fullness was enough to make me almost fall off the sink or into it, but as my muscles relaxed, it felt good. Like it belonged and had found its home sweet home.

“Oh baby, you’re so tight.” Rolling his tongue over his lips, he gripped my hips and lifted me off the sink basin so that we were almost face to face. My feet dangled like a rag doll’s, not touching the floor below.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, pressing his hard body close to mine.

In no condition to argue, I did what he said, wrapping my long legs around his lean, torso like a pretzel, causing the crotch of my hose to split apart. He gripped my thighs. My arms swung around his neck, and I squeezed him tightly, clasping the rich fabric of his suit jacket between my fingers. This was one ride I did not want to fall off.

Pressing me firmly against the bathroom wall, he thrust his stone-hard member deeper into me, and I gasped with a mixture of shock and ecstasy as the tip rammed against a hypersensitive spot. He groaned. He slid his rod down and then thrust it upward again, this time even harder against the bull’s-eye. I moaned. He groaned louder. He repeated the pattern, speeding it up with every in and out. How could that giant thing between his legs fit so easily and comfortably inside me? Every thrust elicited a moan from me louder than the one before and a groan from him, deeper than the previous. I moved my arms to his buttocks, folding them firmly around the rock-hard cheeks under his trousers and fell into the rhythm of his in-and-out movements. Our breathing grew ragged.

“Oh baby, what you do to me,” he groaned, his voice an octave deeper and sexier beyond belief.

“Don’t stop,” I pleaded, my voice breathy, my mouth dry.

“Don’t worry.”

He planted his thumb back on my clit and massaged it vigorously as his member glided up and down my flooded tunnel, hitting that mega-spot again and again. My temperature was rising. Sweat was pouring out of every crevice of my body. Squeezing my legs tighter around him, I closed my eyes to savor the unbearable pleasure this gorgeous beast was giving me.

“Are you on birth control?” The words drifted through my head, not expecting them. I managed a throaty “yeah” as he thrust his member once again into my tunnel of joy. I had been on the pill for several years due to my irregular cycle.

“Good, baby,” he murmured in my ear. He yanked back my head by my ponytail and rolled his hot, velvety tongue up my neck. So, this was my reward for the right answer. The sensation drove me crazy. I felt like a puppy being scratched in her favorite spot.

He accelerated his pace, of both the banging and massaging. Whimpering, I didn’t think I could take it any more. My sex throbbed as a wildfire raced through my body, shamelessly kindling every nerve inside me, from my head to my toes. I was about to implode.

Without warning, I felt him exploding. “Oh, Saarah,” he groaned, drawing out my name. I convulsed around him, my own deep explosion sending shockwaves through out me.
Oh my
God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I wasn’t sure if I was saying the words aloud or screaming them silently in my head. What was happening to me? I had never had such a mind-blowing experience.

Slowly, he pulled out of me. I was surprised at how big and rigid his now glistening member still was. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, cleaned himself up and then adjusted his pants over his thick length. I don’t think he was wearing underwear either.

“Sarah,” he said as he zipped up his fly, “do you still have to pee?”

“Yes,” I stammered, as I pulled up the remains of my pantyhose and slipped on my skirt. I was shaking, dazed and drained from his plundering.