Stories From The 6 Train

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Stories From The 6 Train Page 120

by Alexis Angel


  Whitney

  “Dax, what if this is a bad idea?”

  I look at him seated next to me on the train, his eyes blazing with barely contained desire. I can’t believe he’s looking at me like this. Like he has to have me right the fuck now or he’s going to go out of his mind.

  And I really can’t believe what went down in the dressing room backstage. Part of me feels like I must be dreaming. Because there’s no way the man I’ve fantasized about for months and months is just as desperate to fuck me as I am to let him do it.

  He watches me for a minute, then says, “Do you want me?”

  I nod before I can think better of it. “So much.”

  His lips tip up. “Then I don’t think it can be a bad idea. Because, Whitney? I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you do what you did on that stage for longer than you would believe.

  I gasp. Is he for real? But he keeps going, and his words have me squirming and pressing my thighs together, wishing there weren’t other people on this train with us.

  “Seeing you up there dancing made me so hard, baby. All I wanted to do was pull my cock out and come all over the place.”

  That turns me on so much. “I want to watch you do that.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

  I nod, suddenly feeling that same sense of power knowing that I can drive him crazy. “Every night I touch myself, imagining you doing the same.”

  Dax groans. “Fuck, Whitney, that’s so hot. When we get home, you’re going to strip for me again. And this time you’re going to watch what it does to me. And when you’re so wet and needy, wanting to come so badly you can’t stand it, you’re going to sit on my cock and ride me like I’ve wanted you to since you first moved in.”

  Oh my god. Him talking like that is so hot. And when we get home, barely making it through the door because we can’t keep our hands to ourselves, he rips his shirt off, making me moan. Even though I’ve seen him without his shirt a million times, this time I can actually touch him. I run my fingernails down his chiseled chest, loving the way a shiver runs through him.

  Dax presses another searing kiss to my mouth before swatting me on the ass. “Okay, Whit. Strip for me.”

  He leads me into the living room and leaves me standing in the center while he settles on the couch and undoes his pants, taking his cock—so long and thick and perfect—in his fist and giving it a few slow pulls. He nods at me. “Strip.”

  Holy shit this is the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Earlier I just fantasized about stripping for him, making him come, but now I’m actually doing it, and the reality is so much better.

  As I begin to move, peeling my clothes off as slowly as I can—not easy considering I want to rip them off so I can get it over with and climb up on his lap—I watch him stroke himself. His eyes burn with need as he drops his head back, watching me through slitted eyes as he jerks faster and harder.

  “Touch yourself,” he demands.

  My hand immediately goes to my pussy, my fingers circling around my clit before they dip into my drenched center.

  “Fuck, yes,” he grits out, eyes nearly black with lust.

  I pinch my nipple, rolling it around with the fingers of my other hand.

  “Now come for me.”

  Dax telling me to come is all I need. I obey instantly, pleasure ripping through me as our eyes stay locked. I convulse and jerk, clamping down on my own fingers that feel so good, but still aren’t enough.

  “Need your cock,” I whimper through my stuttered breath.

  Looking at it makes me nearly come again. So big, so engorged, throbbing with his own impending orgasm. Slowly, tauntingly, he continues to stroke himself, making me want it more every second.

  After a minute, he pulls a condom from his pocket and rolls it on. I lick my lips in anticipation.

  He reaches out for me, and I’m straddling him in seconds, his big cock teasing at my entrance.

  This will change everything. What we’ve already done together has already pushed us beyond a line that means we can never go back to being just roommates, at least not like we were before. But this ups the stakes.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask, barely able to get the words out because I’m panting with need. “We live together you know.”

  He smirks at me. “Sounds like it’s win-win to me. Baby, you don’t have to get off by yourself anymore if you don’t want to. I’m more than happy to take care of that every single night.”

  I bite my lip, fighting a grin. “I think I can get down with that.”

  Who knew that all this time we both wanted the same thing?

  He grips my hips and winks. “Now be the best roommate ever and sink down on this cock.”

  Finally.

  I lower myself onto him, gasping at the thickness that stretches me so, so good.

  “God, it feels good to have your pussy wrapped around my cock,” Dax growls.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  I ride him hard, loving how he fills me up. He drops a hand to my clit, rubbing it with his thumb until I’m dizzy and lightheaded, clutching his shoulders as I bury my head in his neck and come so fucking hard, clenching and gripping him until I feel him begin to throb too.

  “Whitney,” he bites out as he digs his fingers into my hips even harder, fucking me all the way through both of our orgasms.

  Then we collapse, sated, on the couch.

  “Best. Roommate. Ever.”

  I giggle at his words, stroking his cock lightly. I’m so glad that after all this time I made the mistake of thinking he wasn’t home this afternoon. Who knows where we’d be if I hadn’t walked out naked? Certainly not here. And as his cock stirs to life again, I don’t think there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.

  About the Author

  Alexis Angel writes steamy contemporary romance about bad boys for the bad girl in all of us. She is still single at 30, in case anyone is interested to know, and still very much looking for love.

  Her favorite things in the world are flowers, chocolate, lingerie, high heels, lipstick, perfume, and the credit card award miles that she gets from buying all that.

  Prior to writing, Alexis used to be a financial analyst in New York City. She quickly decided that working for a faceless corporation run by men was not her dream job. So she began to write. And as she began to write, she began to use those credit card award miles to travel all over the world.

  Alexis is still single, in case you forgot from above. She spends winters in California, fall and spring in New York City, and summers in Europe. You can join her mailing list at http://eepurl.com/csXC2P or email her at [email protected]

 

 

 


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