Trainwreck 1 (Trainwreck #1)

by Nelle L'Amour

  Five minutes later, I was in my limo with Andre, heading downtown. My heart beat rapidly and my cock twitched with anticipation. I was looking forward to my dinner date with Sarah more than ever. And maybe, just maybe, it would end up with an après dinner drink at my apartment. For starters.

  Sarah

  My heart pitter-pattered. Every bit of me was revved up for my dinner date with Ari. I had less than fifteen minutes to get ready. Knowing Ari, he would be here on time.

  With Catherine gone and her ridiculous color-coded filing system done, I snuck into her office and used it as a changing room, locking the door behind me in case someone like Ike barged in. Quickly, I got undressed and slipped on the sexy dress Ari had sent me. The antique-filled space had a large gold-leafed mirror. I gasped when I saw myself standing in the silver stilettos and the hot pink sheath with its thigh-high slit. Once again, the words of the West Side Story song, “I Feel Pretty” whirled around in my head. Just like Maria, I looked stunning and entrancing. This was still a Sarah Greene I was not used to. Or might ever get used to. Beneath my slinky dress, I was stark naked. No bra. No panties. Ari was right again. I did look better with color.

  High-heeling my way to the elevators, I passed by Fernando’s cubicle. His eyes popped when he saw me. “Holy fuck! Is that you, chica?” I smiled at him. “Bebé, you are going to do the walk of shame tomorrow morning.”

  The bright smile on my face grew melancholy. I knew that I would not be spending the night with Ari. Not now. Not ever.

  “I don’t think so,” I sighed, wondering if I was totally insane and setting myself up for an epic disaster.

  “I want to hear everything,” called out Fernando as I continued to the elevator. “Todo!”

  I descended in the elevator with all eyes on me—male and female alike. I felt uncomfortable and was relieved to find Ari’s limo waiting for me in front of the office building. Upon catching sight of me, Andre immediately leaped out of the car and opened the passenger door. I slipped into the back seat, this time more gracefully than before. I was getting good at this.

  Ari was dressed in an expensive dark blue suit, a crisp blue and white striped dress shirt, and a jacquard tie that matched the color of his eyes. His business uniform. God, was he gorgeous. So, so gorgeous. The dizzying effect he had on me was always the same. It was as if I was encountering him for the very first time.

  All the doubts I had dissipated as he gazed at me. His eyes glimmered with approval and a hint of something else. Lust.

  “Saarah, you look hot,” he said in that velvety voice.

  I felt hot. My temperature was rising rapidly, with the heat wave centering right between my inner thighs. Holy shit. I was already dripping with desire and hoped I wouldn’t stain the silk dress.

  I jerked a little as he moved his deft hand onto my thigh—the one the slit exposed. He caressed my flesh.

  “So smooth. So sexy,” he purred as his hand made its way upward.

  My pussy was tingling with anticipation. It didn’t have to wait long. His fingers massaged my honeyed folds, arousing me with pleasure. I dug my fingers into the leather seat to stop from squirming.

  “My princess, you’re always so deliciously wet for me,” he whispered in my ear after nibbling the lobe. He dipped the tip of his velvety tongue inside it, making swirling, succulent circles while his middle finger mimicked the motions down below.

  I closed my eyes and moaned as my bud hardened into a marble. Then I jumped. He had inserted something high into my pussy. I could feel it pulsating against the walls.

  “I thought we’d share a couple of appetizers before dinner,” he said, his voice deep, sexy and as smooth as cashmere.

  “What’s that you just put inside me?” I managed between moans.

  “Just a little vibrating egg. I hope it won’t spoil your appetite.”

  If anything, it was making me hungry. Ravenous for his magnificent cock to sate me.

  As if he read my mind, I heard him unzip his pants. He placed my hand on his length; it was already thick, hot, and hard. And oh so big! I could already taste it.

  “I know you’re hungry, Saarah,” he teased as my fingers curled around it, absorbing the heat. “I prefer women with a healthy appetite.”

  Without interrupting the flow of motions between my legs, he slid off the leather seat and onto to his knees before me. My eyes, now half-open, met his. They glinted with wickedness.

  “I’m hungry too.” He cast his eyes down at his enormous cock. “Suck!”

  Holy shit! He wanted me to give him a blowjob. I’d only done this once before with a guy at college who’s dick was no bigger than my thumb. How was I supposed to fit this monstrosity in my mouth?

  Without overthinking, I bent over and wrapped my lips around the wide crown. My tongue rolled around the hot, velvety flesh. The sweet-salty taste was like a delicacy. A total turn-on. With a hiss, he pushed my head down the shaft with his free hand, urging me to explore. My tongue ran along the back of it, savoring the flavor and smoothness. Yes, I was hungry, and I was going to eat him. My head bopped back up and immediately went down again, this time deeper. I gripped my hand around the base and worked that area as my mouth slid back up and then right back down again, this time taking him to the hilt. His length swelled inside my mouth, filling the hollows of my cheeks. My eyes glimpsed his back arching as he groaned.

  “Oh baby, you suck me so well. Take it all.”

  His words were music to my ears. And the exquisite expression on his face, a work of art to behold, knowing I made him feel this way.

  As I continued to suck his dick with accelerating speed, he began to stroke my pussy harder and faster, alternating between up and down motions and circles. I was soaked and my clit was on fire. And deep inside my core, I was getting off on my vibrating egg. It was all too much. I wanted to whimper. Actually, shriek, but I couldn’t because his cock filled my mouth and was suffocating my vocal chords. It was so not fair that he got to moan and groan.

  I went down on him again, and this time he held me there, with his hand on my head. On my next rapid heartbeat, he roared out a savage sound, and with a violent shudder, his cock exploded in my mouth, spurting his molten release deep inside my throat. Syrupy, it tasted sweet and salty like his dick. And oh so delicious!

  “Swallow,” he ordered.

  I gulped down the hot cum as he pulled my head back by my ponytail, forcing me to release his cock from my mouth. My eyes met his, and I rolled my tongue around my cum-coated upper lip to let him know that I had enjoyed my appetizer.

  With a squeeze of my clit, he thanked me. The orgasm that was building in me erupted like a volcano, and I could finally let out the cry that was begging for a release. God, I sure hoped this part of the limo was soundproof.

  While my heartbeat slowed, Ari zipped up his fly over his glistening mound of flesh and returned to the seat, sitting so close to me I could feel his heat.

  “Saarah, look at me,” he said, his voice all breathy.

  I turned my head toward him. He looked more devastating than ever. I couldn’t help running my hand through his tousled golden locks. Inside me, the little egg was still vibrating, prolonging the burst of ecstasy I’d just experienced.

  He traced my lips with his forefinger. “I hope you enjoyed your appetizer.”

  “It was very tasty,” I managed with a small smile.

  A satisfied smile of his own spread on his luscious lips as he poured champagne into two crystal flutes.

  “I hope you enjoy French food just as much.”

  “Sure,” I said stupidly. The closest thing to French food I’d ever eaten was Knorr’s French Onion Soup mix.

  “I’m taking you to a little French restaurant in my neighborhood. Have you ever eaten moules marinières avec frites?”

  I didn’t even know what they were.

  With a wink, he clinked his glass against mine. “To another delicious meal.”

  ###♥###

  The b
istro Ari took me to was small and intimate. Tables with red-checkered tablecloths and votive candles were lined up against mirrored walls. Since it was early, we had the place almost to ourselves. Ari insisted we sit side by side, our backs against the mirrored walls. His thigh pressed into mine as he ordered from the menu, which was written entirely in French. A chilled bottle of expensive champagne was brought immediately to our table, the waiter pouring each of us a glass.

  Although the vibrating egg was deliciously distracting, I was feeling more relaxed in his presence. For a change, I started the conversation.

  “What were you doing in the city today?”

  He hesitated. “I went to see my shrink. We have a weekly standing appointment on Tuesday afternoons.”

  My mind flashed back to my conversation with his Ice Queen sister. She had mentioned that Ari had been in years of therapy as a result of his bitter divorce. Loosened up by the champagne, I was ready to venture into dangerous territory.

  “Why do you need to see a psychiatrist?” I asked, feigning innocence.

  He took a sip of champagne. “My ex-wife fucked me up. I have major commitment issues.”

  No kidding! I was dying to know if he talked to his shrink about me but instead asked, “How long were you married?”

  “Three years. The first year was a fairy tale. The last two a nightmare from hell.”

  I was making progress, getting him to open up. “How did you meet?”

  His eyes grew distant as if they were going back in time. “We met in St. Tropez. I was vacationing there with my family. My father was gravely ill, and I had just graduated from Columbia’s Business School. We knew it was going to be our last family vacation with him. She was there on a shoot—she was, at the time, a fashion model at the peak of her career. She worked mostly in Europe.”

  Inwardly, I cringed. I knew he was the supermodel type. I was a far cry from any cover girl and wondered again what he was doing with me. A wave of insecurity swept over me.

  He continued. “My parents and my sister didn’t care for her, but I was obsessed with her. I proposed to her one month later. Sadly, my father didn’t live long enough to see us get married.” His voice grew watery, and he took another sip of champagne. “In retrospect, maybe that was for the best.”

  Although I was dying to find out her name, I did not dare ask. He wasn’t offering; I wasn’t asking. Instead, I braved another question.

  “What happened to your marriage?”

  He drained his champagne and poured himself another glass. “Her modeling career began to wane—there’s always a fresh new face—and then she got pregnant with Ben.”

  “Did the two of you want children?”

  “I did; she didn’t. The pregnancy was an accident, but by the time she found out, it was too late to abort. I thought a child might turn our sinking marriage around…give her a new purpose in life. But I was wrong.”

  I listened intently, not interrupting him.

  “She gained a lot of weight and after giving birth, she couldn’t get her body back to what it was. Her career was over. Because she was a narcissist, the loss of her looks put her over the edge. She became bipolar.”

  I was familiar with that term. Lauren had been diagnosed with that disorder. She could be either hyper with glee or dark with gloom. When extreme depression set in, she could be dangerous to herself. Suicidal.

  “Did your wife try to hurt herself?” I asked hesitantly.

  Ari’s eyes flared. “No, she hurt Ben. She physically assaulted him.”

  I gasped, unable to mask my shock, while Ari’s lips hardened into a grim line.

  “She blamed him for her problems; we grew apart, and she turned to alcohol and drugs. One night, when Ben was three, he was afraid to go to sleep and kept crying that he didn’t want to go to bed without her. Drunk out of her mind, she couldn’t put up with his wailing and shoved him to the floor. He hit his head and had to be rushed to the hospital. He was in a life-or-death coma for a week. I never left his side.”

  Ari’s eyes grew forlorn. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine him sitting in a hospital room, anxiously waiting for his beloved son to wake up. The image broke my heart. I’d been there myself with my mother after some of her treatments. I wanted to clasp his hands but refrained.

  “I filed for a divorce immediately after that incident.”

  My eyes stayed locked on him, begging for—and then what?

  “When she got the divorce papers, she went crazy. We had a terrible fight, and she stabbed me with a kitchen knife. Ben watched the whole thing.”

  “Oh my God. The scar on your back?”

  My jaw stayed wide open in shock, partly because of what she had done to him and partly because I could not believe his darling little boy had to witness such brutality.

  “So, you’ve noticed it.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “It’s hard to miss,” I said, finding my voice. “How serious was it?”

  He sucked in a deep breath, blinking several times, and then clasped my hand as if he needed something to hold onto to go on.

  “I might have bled to death hadn’t Ben had the smarts to tell the 911 dispatcher I needed help after I collapsed with the phone in my hand. The wound required thirty stitches and I spent three days in the hospital.”

  “Oh my God.”

  A shudder tore through me as I tried to imagine the scene. It was straight out of a horror movie. Oh, my poor beautiful Trainman! And his poor precious little boy! His story was gutting me. My next words spilled out.

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “No, I didn’t want to drag my family into a New York Post Page Six scandal. My mother was just getting over my father’s death, but was still fragile, and I was restructuring the family business. I also didn’t want to scare Ben, who was already traumatized enough. It was the last thing everyone needed. My attorney sister, the rational one in the family, used her connections to keep the police away and came up with a plan to pay my soon-to-be ex off. She offered her a multi-million dollar settlement contingent on changing her name, leaving the country, and never having contact with Ben or me again. Her lawyer insisted she take the deal over a trial and possible imprisonment. She agreed to it, and I’ve never seen or heard from her again. Thankfully, Ben doesn’t remember her—or anything about the incident; he totally blanked it out. What he’s been told is that his mother died in a car accident and that’s how I got the scar on my back.”

  Ari took another deep cathartic breath and lowered his champagne glass to the table.

  I was on the verge of tears. His story was way more complicated and tragic than I anticipated. My darling Ari was damaged. So, so damaged. Emotionally and physically. A trainwreck. I desperately wanted to hold him in my arms and heal his scars. But I held back.

  We both drained our champagne in silence until our waiter returned with a large bowl of moules and a side of frites—skinny French fried potatoes. The delicious garlicky smell rushed up my nose.

  Ari’s face brightened. “Ah, Saarah, fresh mussels from the South of France.”

  I wondered—did he eat these with her in St. Tropez? I loathed Ari’s ex-wife for what she did to him, and even more, for what she did to that poor innocent child. No wonder my Trainman was so afraid of getting involved with another woman. The chances of having a long-term relationship with him were dismal. And I hated his ex even more for that.

  Stopping me in my thoughts, Ari demonstrated how to eat a mussel.

  “It’s easy. Watch.”

  He plucked the meat from the shell, dipped it into the broth, and then bit off the lower plump, fleshy part, and savored it. My eyes followed him as he discarded the tendons in a bowl along with the iridescent black shell.

  “Okay, your turn,” he said brightly.

  I reached for a mussel and mimicked his actions. The tender mussel meat rolled around in my mouth. God, it was good. Buttery, garlicky good. It got my mind off the revealing and unsettling conve
rsation we’d just had. I instantly wanted another one.

  I glanced at Ari. The expression on his face indicated he was pleased with my reaction. He opened another mussel, but this time held the meat by the grisly tip over my mouth.

  “Ouvre ta bouche,” he ordered in French.

  I assumed that meant, “open your mouth.” My mind instantly flashed back to the blowjob I’d just given him, bringing awareness to the little vibrating egg still inside me. It was making me hunger for him. Parting my lips, I let him circle them with the succulent meat until he deposited it on my tongue. Closing my eyes, I savored it and swallowed, then opened my eyes slowly.

  Ari’s sapphire eyes searched mine. His warm breath brushed my neck as he moved closer to me.

  “Do you know, Saarah, mussels are a natural aphrodisiac? The ancient Greeks believed they were the sustenance of the Goddess of Love.”

  My God of Love must be right. My hormones were raging out of control. Wetness was pooling in the pantyless triangle between my inner thighs. My body was heating, and I was buzzing all over. Ari must have known the effect the mussels were having on me. He reached his hand beneath the table and through my thigh-high slit, he slithered his fingers up my leg to my hot, wet cleft. He caressed the sensitive folds, arousing me further, and then pulled away with a smug smirk on his lips. The tease!

  “Feed me,” he ordered.

  He tilted back his head and parted his lips. I dangled a mussel over his luscious mouth and slowly lowered it inside.

  “Mmmm,” moaned Ari.

  We continued this sensual back and forth feeding ritual until all the mussels were devoured along with the cone of skinny fries.

  Ari placed my hand on his lap. Beneath his fine, gabardine trousers, his cock was as hard as I was wet. A rush of hot tingles traveled from head to toe as the flutters below turned into throbs.

  Ari gazed into my eyes. “Saarah, have you ever been to the South of France?

  Words trapped in my throat, I shook my head.

  “It’s still my favorite place in the world. You should go there sometime.”