She’d focus on that. On her irritation with Gavin. Even on her plan to start back at school in a couple of weeks.
Anything to keep her mind off that cop.
Drake took a long pull from his beer and scanned the almost empty bar. It wouldn’t fill up for a good couple of hours, and the time couldn’t pass fast enough. The distraction would be good for him. The hum of the people chatting. The laughter. Small talk with his buddies.
Nearly a week had passed since the little vixen had run into—and back out of—his life, with a speed normally reserved for racecars. But he looked for her every time he set foot in this damn bar. Hell, if he was honest, he looked for her little red car on the highway, too.
It wasn’t just the fact that she’d fulfilled his greatest fantasy by letting him fuck her in the alley behind the bar. Nor was it the mind-blowing blowjob she’d given him right after. Not that both weren’t on his mind to such an extent he’d had to jerk himself off in the shower almost daily just to keep the ache to a minimum and maintain some focus on the job.
No, it was something far more insidious. That sexy grin. The way it faltered when she thought he wanted something more than a quick fuck. She was intriguing. He wanted to get to know her. To figure her out. To make her smile at him for real.
So when she stepped in to the bar, he almost thought his imagination had taken over to show him what he desperately wanted to see.
But the door snapped shut behind her, and her beautiful green eyes scanned the room until they found him. Back straight and determination lacing her serious expression, she looked every bit the confident woman he’d left the bar with the week before, and nothing like the scared, angry girl who’d run from his home after. But a nervous energy surrounded her, and jerky movements betrayed her. Her confidence was a farce that his trained cop eyes saw through.
“Hey,” she said. Despite her obvious nerves, her gaze locked on to his and didn’t let go.
“Hey yourself.” Keep your cool, man. “Can I get you a beer?”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Sure.”
He waved for another, and she slid onto the bar stool next to his.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said when the silence got too oppressive.
“I’m not sure why I’m here.” She took a long drink from her beer and he watched her throat as she swallowed, his body reacting to the small glimpse of her skin. Fuck. Who knew a throat could be so sexy?
“I guess…I just needed to see you again. I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t.”
Something twisted in his chest. “I thought I wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Maybe I need a new plan.” She looked up from her beer, and the emotion behind her eyes hit him like a cinder block to the chest. Fear and worry, but need too. Not love—not anything nearly that serious yet—but a glimmer of something. Something bigger than just lust.
His throat was tight, and he swallowed a sip of his beer. “Maybe you do.”
“But—I need to take this slow.”
“We can take it one day at a time.”
Sweet Ride
Emma has always been a little bit of an exhibitionist at heart, but she’s buried that urge deep down—where it won’t get her into trouble. But when a stranger on a bus gets a little too close while trying to keep her warm, desire takes over.
Will her stranger remain a faceless fantasy? Or will she discover the bus ride is only the beginning of something new and wonderful?
Sweet Ride is a short erotic story. It is not intended for young readers due to mature content. Adults only.
Wind and rain beat against Emma’s body, the thin material of her blouse and skirt doing almost nothing to keep out the wetness and the chill. Struggling with the cold, she ran for the bus, her shopping bag beating on her calf as she half carried, half dragged it behind.
What the hell? Was the weather supposed to be so terrible? She should have checked the report online before she’d left for an impromptu day of shopping across town, but her phone app had shown a bright little sun only an hour before. Chicago weather seemed to change moods more often than her annoying boss. Not for the first time today, she wished she’d worn real underwear.
Stupid skirt that showed pantylines. Stupid shoe obsession. Stupid Chicago weather. It was May, for crying out loud.
The bus driver seemed to pause before taking off, a miracle in her experience, and she trotted up the steps. Giving the stone-faced man a tight grin as she scanned her card, she wondered why the hell she’d decided to make a trip to the other side of the city for a shoe sale.
Well, it had been quite a sale.
And she’d needed to get out of her apartment. She had been about two seconds from losing her shit due to pure boredom. Chicago was a new city to her, and she didn’t know anyone save her coworkers and her boss. She hadn’t yet made any friends that she felt comfortable hanging out with outside of work. Not to mention it had been a beautiful day.
So much for that.
The rain had rolled in quickly, soaking through her clothes in what seemed like a blink of an eye. The bus was more crowded than she was used to, probably full of people who would have normally walked a few blocks if not for the chilling rain. She made her way down the aisle toward the back of the bus, keeping her gaze locked on the floor as much as she could. She was pretty sure that total strangers could see exactly how cold she was, with her nipples hard as rocks against the wet material of her blouse, and the last thing she wanted to do was accidentally make eye contact with someone and see them smirk.
Like the rest of the bus, there was standing room only in the back, but at least there was room enough that she could find a place to settle. Doing her best not to glare at a man who’d fallen asleep on one of the benches—thus taking way more room than he needed to—she turned to face the front of the bus in and clung to one of the bars passengers used to keep their balance. She was in for a long ride.
Really need to figure out the L.
Shivering, she set her bag on the floor in front of her and then rubbed her arm with her free hand. So damn cold. The man behind her was wearing a suit and long wool coat. She hadn’t glimpsed his face, but she was almost chilly enough to ask the stranger if she could use his jacket. Or even better, huddle up with him under the warm material.
Yeah, ask a perfect stranger to cuddle with you or give you his coat. That would totally go over well.
To her surprise, the man seemed to move closer to her, as if he could read her thoughts. Or, more likely, her blatant shivering.
“Brisk out there,” his low voice murmured in her ear. Sexy and with a hint of gravel, the tones sent an immediate jolt between her legs.
Brisk? Yeah, he had to be a native. The people here were nuts. They wore shorts when it hit fifty.
He moved a little closer, but not unreasonably so on the crowded bus. She couldn’t help but to lean back just a smidgeon. He seemed to radiate heat. Wonderful, fabulous heat.
His tall, strong frame drew close enough that the edges of his open jacket brushed her sides, and she allowed herself to relax even as he brought a hand up to grip the bar above hers. His coat fell around her, not quite covering her like it would if she were wearing it, but giving her a small bit of protection from the cold.
The smell of expensive cologne, subtle and spicy, touched her nose. His underlying scent was beneath it, and she took a deep breath, almost wishing she were brave enough to turn around and introduce herself.
But where would that get her? She didn’t have time for a relationship—she didn’t even have time to date. Mostly, she was okay with that. Although in a new city where she didn’t know many people, it got lonely. And she missed sex. Even the plain vanilla regular Friday-night-only sex she’d had with the boyfriend she’d left behind for the fabulous job opportunity that had brought her to the city.
The bus made a sharp right, and she lost her footing. She gasped.
From behind her, the man’s arm shot out
and he pulled her against his hard chest, saving her from the fall.
And allowing her to feel the press of a building hard-on in his pants.
“Sorry,” she said far too loudly, feeling a strange mix of mortification and sudden yearning.
“No problem.” He held on to her, a little longer than strictly necessary for her to regain her balance, before moving back to where he’d shadowed her before.
Was his voice lower? Huskier?
An old fantasy seeped into her thoughts—sex in public, just out of view of people wandering by—and she pushed it away. Surely she was imagining his…condition, his intention. It was all in her head. All because she’d once had a dumb fantasy about having sex in a public place.
Okay, sure, the fantasy hadn’t exactly gone away or anything. But the naughty idea of fucking someone in public was one that she had relegated straight to the “no way in hell” file she kept in her head for inappropriate thoughts. Right next to the one about stabbing that extremely rude barista with a fork and telling off her boss for taking a two-hour lunch while she was stuck working until nine o’clock for the fourth night in a row.
It was one of those fantasies strictly reserved for alone time, never to be shared with another person. Because, God, the judgment. She couldn’t even imagine speaking about such a thing to her ex, or anyone she’d dated in the past. The disgust that would surely cross his features at the idea—no, she couldn’t handle being laid bare in that way. That emotionally naked.
But she also couldn’t help leaning back into the man behind her on the bus, just a bit. For the heat, of course. And what the heck did it matter if she happened to close her eyes? Think about her fantasy a little? Nothing wrong with a little fuel for later that night when she was in her apartment, safely alone with her vibrator.
First, he’d whisper dirty things in her ear until she was soaking wet for him. He’d push her skirt up over her ass before freeing his cock from his pants. Then, despite the people around them, he’d slide her thong to one side and start pushing himself into her, forcing a groan from her lips as he made her body take his full length. Then he’d bend her over, making her grip the pole to stay standing as he positioned her ass in the air.
Shame would roll through her, but she’d be too turned on to stop. And he wouldn’t give a damn. He’d like showing her off, making her come in front of the crowd.
He’d fuck her as the bus passengers looked on, gaping. Pistoning in and out of her, he’d grind her hard. Rough. Hand wound into her hair, he’d tug. His other hand would come around to massage her breast, tweak her nipple. Dirty, erotic words would be forced from his lips as he pushed her closer and closer to orgasming. Then, when her pussy finally spasmed around him, his dick would jerk, over and over, shooting his cum inside her.
A soft moan escaped her for real, and she realized she was pressing into the man behind her. She blinked and looked around, mortified, but the other passengers were glassy-eyed and into their own worlds—staring at their phones, out the windows, or at nothing at all.
The man didn’t move away; if anything he pressed harder against her as he helped her keep her balance around the turns. She definitely hadn’t imagined his erection. She could feel it along her ass, long and hard and thick. She was suddenly thankful for the high heels she’d decided to wear. It placed his hardness directly at a level with her ass. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant.
Then she felt something else. He slid his hand over her hip and then left it there, gripping her gently. Possessively. As if he had every right to touch her.
Don’t freak out, he’s probably just trying to help you keep your balance. You never should have worn the darn heels.
She held perfectly still, not sure if she wanted him to only be helping her out or not. Then his grip on her hip tightened. Very deliberately, he rubbed his erection along the cleft of her ass.
A gasp escaped her and she bit back a moan. She leaned back into him, no longer able to lie to herself about whether she wanted this to happen. Sure, they probably couldn’t have sex on the bus—that much moving around of clothing and bodies couldn’t easily be hidden, and she wasn’t about to actually have sex with people staring—but they could tease each other. She wanted to tease him.
Maybe it was crazy, but the bus felt like a safe place. The man couldn’t very well assault her in front of all of these people without consequence. Besides, he sure didn’t seem like he intended her harm. He’d helped her keep her balance, protected her from the cold. Maybe he had a fantasy, too.
Would it be so bad to indulge them both? It wasn’t like they were likely to run across one another ever again. Why the heck not?
As sneakily as she could manage, she rubbed her ass against him. Slowly but with good pressure, she slid against his cock. The man behind her stiffened, and she could hear his breath, low and quiet, coming faster in her ear.
Could she make him come on the bus? With all these people around them?
The idea of it spurred her on and she began to move a little faster, a little harder. But then his hand moved, sliding down between them to cup her ass, making room between them. She almost growled in frustration.
She was already so wet, and her breasts were heavy and achy. If she could make him come, feel the wet, sticky material of his pants against her skin—hell, she’d have a memory to last her through years with only her vibrator as company.
For half a second, she worried he’d move away, jump out at the next stop because he was embarrassed about what they were doing. But then his hand moved.
Keeping his coat between any prying eyes—save the thankfully sleeping passenger to their right—he repositioned his hand under her short skirt from behind. When a rough finger slid between her thighs, she squeaked.
“Easy,” he breathed softly into her ear, his voice low and sensual. “Open up a little so I can touch you.”
Need shot through her whole body, and she nervously stepped her feet a little wider. Her legs were shaking. Nervous energy fought lust for control of her body and emotions. What if someone saw?
But the man behind her was careful, and to anyone else on the bus they’d simply look close—maybe like a couple. With his long coat and the crowd around them, no one would be able to see his hand between her legs.
“Good girl,” he murmured. Then his hand moved up and he slid a finger, featherlight, over her mound. The thin material of her thong did little to mute the sensation.
Her breath caught and she wanted him to increase the pressure, but she was trapped. She couldn’t move much to force him to touch her harder—not without drawing attention. She could only hold still and let him have total control. It was simultaneously maddening and wonderful.
The touches he gave her were fleeting, teasing. So soft she could barely feel his finger touch her clit before moving on to skim over her slit. He was careful to keep the material of her thong between his skin and hers. His thumb moved to press the material of her thong into her ass.
She bit back a gasp. Her whole body throbbed with need. With the cool air around them, she could feel how wet her pussy was already. The material of her thong was soaked—and he’d barely touched her. Her nipples pressed against her bra, no doubt still visible through her damp blouse and bra.
The desire to cup her own breasts, alleviate some of the tension that made them so achy, hit her. But she couldn’t, not with so many eyes so close. She had to simply suffer—take what he would give her.
Finally, he slid a digit beneath her thong and then roughly over her throbbing clit, rubbing her where she needed it most.
Pleasure at the simple touch arced through her. His hands were callused and his touch gave her just the right amount of pressure. She had to bite her cheek to keep from crying out. She was already so wet she was surprised her juices weren’t dripping down her thighs. And the man hadn’t even penetrated her.
“That’s nice,” he whispered, voice low enough that with the loud bus engine, no one could overhear. “
So wet and hot. Do you like this? You like a stranger’s hands on you?”
She could only press her body back into his in response.
He glided a finger along her slit before pushing the tip inside of her pussy. It took everything she had not to cry out.
“So wet. Tight, too. I’ll bet your little pussy would squeeze my dick. I think you’d love it.” He pumped in and out of her with the finger before adding a second one. “Could be anyone standing here. Finger-fucking you.”
A long sigh escaped her and a man down the aisle glanced in her direction before turning back to his smart phone. She did everything she could to keep her face blank, emotionless. But her mouth opened partially, and she knew how she must look.
“Shhhh.” The fingers were suddenly gone from her body, and she started to protest. Then he pressed the wet digits against her clit and started to rub.
Holy hell. How was she supposed to stay quiet through this? Her juices coated his fingertips, which moved smoothly over her clit. Pushing her closer and closer and closer to orgasm.
Relentless, he massaged her to the brink before moving his fingers back to push them inside of her. He thrust them in and out of her a few times, then moved back to her clit. Her body, slick with need, allowed his movements to be quick and sure.
Sudden panic hit. Could she come on a bus like this, with strangers surrounding her? Should she?
But she didn’t have a choice. He pinched her clit forcefully.
The orgasm hit her hard, and the mix of panic and pleasure almost made her cry out. Only the knowledge that there were other people around her—strangers—kept her silent. The sensation rocked her, and she was forced to lean back into the stranger to keep her footing. It was like the panic—the fear—made the orgasm stronger.
Even as she leaned back, the man didn’t stop his assault. If anything, he rubbed her harder, pulling out every aftershock he could, prolonging her pleasure.
Never Let Go: A Collection of Sensual Short Stories Page 6
