EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2016 Winter Sloane
ISBN: 978-1-77339-120-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Ced, this first one is for you. And many others more.
HIS DIRTY GIRL
Romance on the Go ®
Winter Sloane
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
Rob
The toaster rings, and I grab the bread with my teeth. One look at the clock on my kitchen wall tells me I’ll be late for my train if I delay any longer, and I can’t have that. Nearly forgetting to chew, I scarf down breakfast, grabbing the backpack containing my work laptop when the phone rings.
Snarling, I remember to check the caller ID and wince, recognizing the number. Starting the day off by sniping at my ex-wife won’t do me any favors. Ignoring it, I run out of my studio apartment.
My cell phone begins to vibrate. Knowing who’s calling, I put the phone on mute. It’s the start of another beautiful day.
It takes me ten minutes to get to the subway station. Five minutes to push my way though a crowd of suits and designer but work-appropriate dresses—clones no different from me. Unlike these pencil pushers who love complaining about everything under the sun, I started looking forward to morning commute three weeks ago. The doors hiss open, and I manage to land myself in the queue to the fourth train compartment.
I squeeze my way in, pushing like everyone else. Sweat coats my back. Panic starts setting in when a quick look towards the windows tell me I might not make it. My office isn’t far. It’s only a twenty-minute ride and it’s right in front of the station, but I need to take the eight o’clock train or the rest of my day will go to hell.
Desperate, I search for her, one particular woman in the horde. Her platinum blonde hair and bright red dress stands out among a sea of monochrome. As if a magnetic force attracts us, our gazes meet.
No names, no nothing. I absolutely don’t know a single thing about her, yet I push against the crowd until I’m inside the train. One stop passes, giving me time to position myself.
“Morning,” I mumble.
“How are you doing?” she whispers back.
Greetings are standard protocol. Words hold no meaning here. We make do with our bodies. The doors come to a close and the automated voice announces the next station. She presses her back right up against my chest, and pushes her heart-shaped ass, barely covered by her dress, against the ridge of my erection.
Damn it, but I like how she’s all woman. She possesses the right kind of curves, able to take in the strength of my body without effort, and it drives me insane that all I can do is hold her.
The train makes an abrupt stop, the perfect excuse for her to trip on her four-inch heels and for me to band one protective arm around her luscious breasts.
I freeze for a couple of moments, realizing she took my suggestion yesterday to heart. She wears no bra today, and I can feel her tits hardening through the silk fabric. It’s not hard to imagine me grasping those perfect breasts, squeezing them, and watching them bounce while I sink my dick into her slick pussy.
All fantasy of course, because this is all we do. We grind against each other, strangers on the train who need a pick-me-up. She touched me first by accident. The second time was intentional. The third, we struck a mutual agreement. It’s not exactly a romantic arrangement, but we make do.
I muffle a groan, and she hisses an unladylike word through her teeth. “Fuck.”
She rubs her body against me, challenging the limits of my control. Each time the curve of her ass rubs against my zipper, I imagine us somewhere else. Away from this eight o’clock train, and from the safety and familiarity of the crowd.
When I’m at the office all I think of is her. What’s her story, why she never misses this train—the questions are endless, but in the end, I draw one singular conclusion. She’s lonely just like me, too busy or impatient to form a connection with another human being.
I position my hands on her waist, and she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock, a needy moan, loud enough to catch the gaze of the middle-aged business man by the door. Improvising, I nuzzle her neck and flash the geezer an unfriendly look, although I can tell a little public exhibition does it for her and me.
She flushes, and I become distracted by how her creamy complexion turns pink. I wonder if her ass turns a nice shade of pink, too, once I decorate it with my handprints, but that’s going too far.
Too bad every reaction she makes gives away her body’s secret. We might not know even each other’s names, but I know she’ll yield to me beautifully. How can she not, when our bodies are a perfect fit?
“Tomorrow,” I whisper against her ear. “I want you to do something for me, dirty girl.”
“Yes, Sir?”
God. She knows calling me that turns me on.
“Don’t wear any panties.”
Dare I go further? I turn us, like we’re partners in a dance, so we’re facing the doors on the other side of the tracks. It’s the only privacy I can accord us.
This way, no one can see what other deeds I do to my dirty girl. The natural way she allows me to take control and the trust she shows me utterly blow me away, and make my balls draw tight against my body.
“What are you doing?” she asks, voice hardly a whisper.
“Tell me ‘no’ and I’ll let you go. Scream at the top of your lungs this isn’t what you want, beautiful girl.”
I do what I never did before. With one hand, I grab her chin, forcing her look at our reflections on the glass. The view outside is not what I want her to see. It’s us.
She doesn’t stop me from dipping my hand under the hem of her dress. I close my eyes, breath hitching as my fingers touch the lace trimming her panties. Thumbing the shape of her hardening clit under the silk, I find moisture. Me touching her in public like this turns her on, yet in a profound way, we’re in our own private heaven.
I catch her left earlobe with my teeth, careful of her pearl earring. This particular accessory holds special meaning to her. I know, because she wears it daily, even on days when she’s all dolled and dressed up for an office event.
“Beg me,” I demand.
“No.” A bare whisper, but I can practically taste her need with one word and know she means the exact opposite.
“I know you want it. Tell me what you want, dirty girl.”
She thrusts her ass against my raging hard-on, unable to hold back the moan. “Please.”
“What exactly are you begging me for, beautiful?”
“Please,” she repeats.
She reaches her limit, but that’s fine. I’m happy to comply. Pushing my fingers under the soaking fabric of her panties, I slide two fingers into her warm slick cunt, keeping my thumb over her clit. Christ, but the muscles of her pussy clench around my two fingers so hard, she’s practically begging for something bigger.
Thinking about slamming my dick into her tight little hole does it. I exhale, nostrils flaring as I explode all over my boxers—not a worry, since I keep a spare at work. She’s not far, rocking against me, humping my hand.
“Come all over my fingers. Now.”
/> “God,” she whispers, arching her back.
She sways slightly on her heels, but I’m there to make sure she doesn’t fall. Pressing her lips together, she whimpers. We’ve had practice. Neither of us is loud. The prospect of someone catching us is appealing and frightening at once.
“Not God, dirty girl, only us.”
I withdraw my fingers, and she blinks away the euphoria to stare at the glass. Her cheeks redden when I put my fingers, still wet with her cream, to my lips. Saving some for her, I put them to her mouth, certain this is the final straw, that I’m going too far.
Her pink tongue darts out, licking my digits dry, and the time comes to a sudden halt. Those few painful seconds—this is what heaven must feel like, and I want more.
“That’s the taste of you and me combined, baby. The next time I’ll be filling your cunt and ass with my cum.”
“I—”
It’s the first time I render her speechless, but I don’t give a fuck. Most women will run straight for the nearest exit hearing those words, but she doesn’t bolt. My woman possesses steel in her backbone, but can I even call her mine, when I never had her from the start?
She breaks free of my hold as the announcer says we’re arriving at the next station—her stop. I let her go. Where’s the fun in taking someone against their will when I know with a little push, I’ll get her consent?
I grab her arm, desperate—to make a connection, to turn things around.
“I need to go. I have an early morning meeting with my dick boss, whose name is Dick.” She giggles at the joke.
I can’t help noticing this is the greatest number of words we’ve exchanged. Reluctantly, I laugh. Will tomorrow be the same, or will I resort to something drastic again?
“Wait. What’s your name?” I yell, realizing she’s walking out of the train doors, slipping away from my grasp.
I can run after her, but that’s pushing the envelope too much. If I do this, I’m crossing the line and breaking all the rules. Rules matter. They hold the foundations of this—whatever the fuck it is we have. We’re peas in the pod, dirty strangers on the train getting each other off, but I can’t keep going like this.
She makes each day special and worth waking up to. Without knowing it, she helps me survive my boring routine.
Eat. Sleep. Work. Fuck. Those are the four things a human being needs, but she’s different somehow, like an unwanted harsh ray of light I never knew I needed.
“I’m Rob.”
The doors close, but she’s staring at me and mouths the syllables of her name.
Maddie.
God, it suits her.
****
Maddie
“Madison, what do you think about the latest applicants?” Dick’s voice wakes me from my fantasy.
I blink, realizing everyone at the table is looking at me. The print-outs in front of me hold no meaning. Since this morning, all I can think of is the stranger in the train.
No. I have a name now. Rob. Dangerous, I know, because names hold meanings. Since Dick’s giving me an expectant look, I let my mouth run, but Rob dominates my thoughts. Something about him felt different this morning.
Our other random encounters had always been crude. All grind and less talk, but his aggressive and domineering personality shone today. Even now, I can remember the firm authority in his voice and the way his iron-grey eyes turned hard in the glass. Moisture seeps through my pussy and I can’t help think of his fingers, thrusting in and out of me.
How can I not imagine how his cock will feel like inside me? He’s huge, I can tell by the bulge in his trousers each time I rub my ass against him.
“That’s all for today,” Dick says, and everyone begins rising from their seats except me. “Madison, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
I look up to see Dick standing beside my chair. An unpleasant shiver crawls down my spine. Aside from Dick, only my mother calls me Madison, and it’s always in that tone of hers that somehow makes me feel guilty, although I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Did something personal happen? You seemed out of it today,” he begins.
I don’t care for Dick’s fake sympathies today, or the way he places his huge hand over mine. His eyes narrow when I pull away quickly. Saying “fuck you” to my boss will get me fired right away, so I stay my tongue, gather my things and breeze past him, or attempt to.
Dick uses his body to block the only exit out of the conference. Tall, buff, good-looking and in his early thirties—Dick isn’t the kind of guy who understands the word “no”.
Rob’s a thousand times better. I can tell from a glance.
To Dick, I’m a conquest. Hell, I’m not even his type, being on the heavy side, but I always notice the way his gaze lingers on my tits when I’m speaking or on my ass when he thinks I’m not looking. Dick would drop me as soon as he gets what he wants.
Rob on the other hand … I didn’t know. Until today, I knew nuts about my partner in crime.
I square my shoulders and tell Dick, “Get the hell out of the way before I file for sexual harassment.”
“Why do you always have to be such a bitch, Madison?”
Dick’s voice rises a pitch higher. Over his shoulder, heads turn from their cubicles, eager to see the commotion. With no other firm hiring, I have no other choice but to stick it with my current job. I love meeting new people and finding the perfect fit for the publishing company’s respective departments.
Having Dick for a boss is the only drawback. It seems he’s reached his limit today. With the low book sales, rejection from me doesn’t seem part of his plan.
Usually, I’ll keep quiet, like every woman he hits on, but I had one rollercoaster of a morning. Being nice is hard to do after a stranger turned my entire world outside down.
“Because you’re such a dick?” I sass, unable to hold my tongue back.
Damn, but the prick practically turns purple.
“You’re out of line, Madison. One more and you’re out,” Dick says, calming down.
“You don’t have to worry about a little thing then, because I quit. I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice.” I push past him, feeling his warm breath on the back of my neck.
I shudder, repulsed. For a second, I worry about him losing his cool control. What a sight that would be and in front of the entire office, too, but I feel him retreating, rethinking his strategy perhaps.
Pride can apparently take a fall. Dick seems to values his job more than I do.
“You’re going to regret this, bitch,” he whispers loud enough for my ears alone.
Threat noted. Shaken, I smooth out the wrinkles of my dress. Stare fear in the eye and spit back—that had been the only valuable piece of advice my mother gave before her sanity and body took an awful turn for the worse.
It takes everything of me to keep my spine straight and not fall over my heels. I make it all the way to my desk without tripping or looking at anyone.
It’s impossible to focus on work for the rest of the day. Dick keeps giving me a hard time, but everyone knows the reason why. A real professional would suck it up until the end, so I focus on what I can do. Be the best I can be, unlike Dick, who probably spends the entire day complaining to Miriam, the head of Human Resources.
Time passes inhumanly slowly. When the clock strikes five, I’m the first one out of my seat. Normally, I’ll stay behind and wait for the crowd at the station to thin.
It feels like I’ve endured twenty rounds in the ring. How I’ll be able to stomach this for two more weeks, I don’t have a clue. All I want to do is wear my sweats, order takeout at my favorite Thai place, and snuggle into my couch with my Welsh Corgi, Sausage. I can waste some time in a book and forget about how I lost my temper today.
“It’s Rob’s damn fault,” I mutter.
I’m a creature of habit. Changes don’t sit well with me, but that’s an excuse. Before today, I’ve constantly thought about quitting, but comfort does strange things to people
.
It’s too easy to put off an unsavory task. Tomorrow. Next week. Never. Telling Dick I quit is one of the best moves I’ll ever make in my life. I can still remember his face purpling and the handsome lines of his face contorting. What a power rush.
Feeling surreal and strangely in a good mood, I catch the rush-hour train back home. My thoughts go back to Rob.
I remember how he looked, boyish almost, when he blurted out his name. We’re a step away from being more than strangers. That terrifies the hell out of me.
Relationships don’t sit well with me. After witnessing my parents’ messy divorce at eight, they ruined romance for me. My mom turned crazy, but Dad, God knew where he was. Hook-ups are a lot better, except I can’t even manage that. All I have is Rob.
Does that make me pathetic?
Voices rise and fall around me. Music thumps from the headphones of the kid next to me. I keep looking out the glass windows, hoping to catch Rob on his stop. Fat chance.
In a sea of people, it’s hard to signal out a particular stranger. Things like our gazes meeting unexpectedly—that happens in the romance novels I love to read. Reality, meanwhile, is cold and hard. It doesn’t matter. I have tomorrow.
I arrive home much earlier than usual. Sausage greets me at the door, and he’s the bright ray of sunshine I need after a gloomy day. My Corgi’s constant and unchanging at least. Predictable.
“Hey, bud.”
After locking the door behind me, I rub at his ears and he follows me to the kitchen. I pull out his favorite doggy bowl and open a can of pet food. Breathing a sigh of relief, I go about my familiar routine—Thai food, binge-watch Supergirl, and finish my latest favorite erotic romance novel.
In the privacy of my bedroom, it’s his dick I think of when I bring out my vibrator. His face I imagine and his sinfully sexy lips. Rob doesn’t kiss. He claims, wanting it all and leaving nothing behind. That terrifies me and excites me.
His Dirty Girl Page 1
