by Amanda Jones
The waiter reappeared with a carton and handed it to the man, breaking his intense stare in my direction. He turned his head and handed the man payment for the meal, while I tried to compose myself now that I no longer felt hunted.
I wrapped my hand around my beer and tried to look like I was intently busy with the small computer I was working on.
A shadow fell over my table. My body suddenly on alert as I felt him looming over me.
"Howdy."
The deep rumble of his voice sent a shock wave through me that nearly caused me to slide off my chair. Fortunately, the Texas in the perfect English took me by such surprise I forgot the sexy just long enough to welcome the hint of home.
"Come on." He hadn't even given me time to respond. When I turned to look up at him, he was holding his hand out to me as though to pull me out of my chair. I thought I surely misinterpreted the gesture and gave him my hand expecting him to shake it or do one of those little squeeze greetings that men sometimes do instead of shaking a woman's hand.
Instead, he gave me a gentle tug and pulled me unexpectedly to my feet. In one movement he'd set me beside him and snatched my belongings from the table. Before I understood what was going on, he had his hand on my shoulder and was propelling me out of the car in front of him.
"Where's yer berth?" The drawl was evident but not overpowering. Combined with the deep baritone of his voice it sounded like a purr and vibrated through me.
I pointed toward the compartment that was serving as my home address.
"Go get yer stuff then." He nodded toward the compartment door.
Despite the command implied by his words, he didn't come across as bossy, just matter of fact. As though we'd discussed this prior and had come to an agreement already.
I still hadn't come to my senses and I started to follow his directions without a second thought. It wasn't until I'd emerged back into narrow hallway with my backpack in hand and he'd started steering me toward the rear of the car that I found my voice.
"Where are we going?" I realized that I wasn't in the least bit afraid of this guy and I trusted him instinctively. The thought crossed my mind that that would probably prove to be very poor judgment later but right here, right now, I was horny out of my mind for this stranger and curious as hell about what was coming next.
"My coach. Sorry, it's back a few cars, we got a ways to go yet."
We moved from car to car, traveling toward the rear of the train. My hands stretched out to the sides to brace myself against the walls of the narrow hall, my companion easily walking behind me without so much as a missed step. Still carrying his dinner in one hand, his other gently resting on my shoulder sending shivers down my spine as I willed it to travel further down my body.
Finally, we opened the rear door of one carriage, crossed to the next car and opened the door to reveal an entirely different sight.
A private car. We entered in through a dining area, where he stopped and took my things from me, setting them on the small table. Then I watched as he entered a small kitchenette and put his food in the refrigerator.
Returning to where I stood, transfixed by the opulent coach and sorting through the how did I get heres running through my mind, he took hold of my hand and led me into the main living quarters. "Now then," he said in a near whisper that rumbled through me, "My name is Evan."
Then his hands were on the sides of my face as he tilted my head upward and brought his mouth down against mine. Rational thought escaped me and I was lost in a fog of lust. His hands were firm and commanding but not rough. I could have pulled away at any point if I'd wanted to.
I didn't want to.
His lips were hot against mine, his tongue seeking inside my mouth as his hands traveled down my back.
His palms flattened against my skin, his hands as big as dinner plates pulling me against his broad chest.
Everything about the way he touched me, the way he breathed against me, told me he needed me. As though he'd been looking for me his whole life and had found me by surprise and now he couldn't hold back.
Being the object of that sort of desperate hunger was intoxicating. Empowering. I found myself surrendering wholly and unconditionally to Evan's touch. Allowing him complete access to my body without my usual self consciousness over the lights being left on or keeping my shirt on.
Evan ran his hands along my back, drawing his finger through the creases along my waist as though he was dragging them through icing on a cake. His hands reached under my shirt and moved around to my stomach, caressing the contours of my flesh with genuine appreciation on their way toward my breasts.
My shirt was gone, pulled over my head suddenly in an impatient effort to gain better access to my skin. My bra hit the floor too and I stood in the center of the private car as it's rocking motion moved me back and forth, unintentionally swaying against Evan's greedy mouth.
While standing, Evan was a good foot taller than me. That must have put him in the vicinity of 6'6" or so, I realized through the veil of pleasure that enveloped me. He was on his knees in front of me now, licking and sucking on each nipple with those massive hands wrapped around each breast.
I wrapped my hands around his neck to steady myself against the rocking of the train and the eagerness of his mouth, but also to pull him tighter to me. His hair was short, clippered up the nape of his neck with just enough length above his forehead to be able to run a comb through. It didn't give me much to grab on to or run my hands through.
One hand began the journey south, taking its time to trace each contour and crevice of my body along the way, snaking around my back and grasping my ass firmly. My lightweight travel pants were nothing but a memory as he tore through the fly and yanked them off of me.
As though the feel of my flesh filling his hand to overflowing had ignited a new fire, his other hand flew to the other cheek and his mouth buried itself in the valley between my legs. I spread my feet wider apart for better balance but Evan provided my sole support at this point, holding me firmly while his tongue searched my sex.
He had his hands around my thighs, holding them apart with his fingers digging into the tender flesh just under my bottom. Pulling me onto his face so he could get a better angle, I had no choice but to drape one leg over his shoulder.
That wasn't enough for him. He wanted all of me and all at once. And I wanted to give it to him. I wrapped my leg over his shoulder and held on to him with my heel dug into the thick muscle of his back. My hands grasped at his head, my other foot still on the soft, thick royal blue carpeting while he held me steady with one hand remaining around my upper thigh.
The other hand had moved into the slick space between my legs, sliding easily through my swollen folds dipping inside me and then back out to flicker softly across my clit. His mouth and his fingers taking turns.
It was torture. Sweet, wonderful torture that threatened to drive me over the edge. I tugged at his head, I groaned and moved against his mouth in an attempt to hasten the climax.
His lips locked on to my clit, his tongue circling and flicking as his fingers dove deep inside my, pumping in and out with firm pressure against my interior walls. His hands holding me up with a secure grip on my hips.
The combination of sensations was exactly what I'd been waiting for, I felt my body tighten and then convulse around his fingers while my head rolled back on my shoulders. I heard my voice from far away, shouting incoherently at the chandelier that hung from the ceiling above us.
He held me tightly until my body stopped shivering against his mouth and then, without hesitation, he stood back up and effortlessly picked my up. Holding me by my waist so that my legs naturally wrapped around his, I could feel the bulge hard against my throbbing sex with nothing but the soft fabric of those pajamas between us.
He was kissing me deeply again, the flavor of my arousal still tangy on his tongue, as he carried me into the bedroom.
Evan dropped us onto the big bed. A real bed, not the flattened seat
s of the berths in the 2nd class compartment.
Now I was on my back, my hands free to roam over his body. His pajama shirt had long ago been forgotten beside my discarded clothes, leaving only the pants to go.
I ran my hands over him as though I was trying to make sure he was real. He felt real. I reached down to wrap my hand around the rigid flesh that had been pressed between my legs on our short walk to the bed.
Evan looked down at me, a loving look of wonder and contentment mixing with the lust in his eyes. When I wrapped my hand around his shaft his eyes closed and he drew his breath in in a sharp gasp.
I almost did the same. My fingers couldn't close completely around the girth of him, I worked my hand down to the base of his shaft and back up in a long, firm stroke. I needed to feel him inside of me. I began yanking the pajamas off of his hips until finally he was nothing but hard, hot flesh pressing against me from nipples to knees.
Urgency flashed across his face as I rocked my hips up to grind my mound against his hardness. Without any more hesitation, he positioned himself at my opening and pushed into me.
I could see the effort he was putting into restraining himself, moving slowly to allow my body to adjust to him instead of sinking it all the way to the hilt in the single movement that he would have liked. That we both would have liked. I wanted to feel him filling me so badly but he was probably used to having to take it slow with as big as he was.
I was surprised that he fit all the way inside me when he came to rest against my pelvis but we fit together like we were made for each other. The sensation of him inside of me felt amazing. Neither of us could stay still, we began moving almost immediately. My hips rocking to meet each thrust as he pistoned into me and then pulled back to do it again.
He was bracing the bulk of his weight with his elbows on either side of my shoulders. His body covering mine, pinning me against the bedspread, his head above mine, my face even with his collarbones. I reached my hands up under his arms and held on to his back as his body slammed into me with a rhythm I was able to match easily.
I felt his body begin to tighten as his speed increased. I felt him swell inside of me, growing even bigger if it was possible. He buried his face into my neck and a deep growl began to escape his throat.
It was too late, the change in pace caught me by surprise and once again I was floating weightless through a haze of ecstasy, spiraling through another body-rocking orgasm as I felt him release inside me.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us sweat-covered and gasping for breath before he began showering me with soft kisses.
"I'm Kerri." I panted beneath him.
"Nice to finally meet you, Kerri." He murmured into my skin.
Finally? He said it as though he'd been waiting a long time to meet up. Like we'd been pen pals or chatting online for years before finally coming face to face. I wanted to ask about his choice of words. I wanted to ask him a lot of things. I expected to suddenly feel self conscious, lying here with my soft rolls and cottage cheese thighs completely exposed to this gorgeous, perfect man who would probably come to his senses at any moment and shove me out of his fancy private train car with an arm full of my clothes.
That moment didn't come. Neither the part where he came to his senses, nor the part where I suddenly felt the need to cover up. Instead, I lay beneath Evan and absently stroked his head while he curled up tightly around me and we both dozed off.
I don't know how long I'd been asleep, but I was suddenly aware that I was much chillier than I had been a minute ago. I rolled over and finally opened one eye.
The room didn't look familiar.
My mind scrambled to piece together what I remembered about my day. Oh yeah. The train. I was on the Trans-Siberian train, heading to Irkutsk.
This didn't fit together with the king size bed I was laying on, the gold leaf in the floral wall paper or the velvet curtains framing the window of the car.
Or why I was stark raving naked.
Then I remembered Evan. Oh yeah. The memory of Evan made me relax immediately. I felt perfectly safe. Mmm. Evan. I felt a new tingle creep into the parts of my body that hadn't forgot him.
Where was he?
All my clothes had been left out in the main living quarters. I looked around and found his pajamas pants and a bath robe draped over a chair.
Outside the window the sky was a deep blue, but lightening. I slid the pajama bottoms over my hips and laughed. They were far too big for me. That was a first. But the legs of the pants lay at an awkward angle beneath my feet where I hadn't pulled them far enough up my legs and even when I pulled the drawstring as tight as I could, the fabric gathered up too tight to go any farther and the waist band hung dangerous low on my hips.
Evan really was a big guy.
I gave up on the pants and pulled the equally over sized bathrobe on and headed out of the bedroom.
Evan was leaning against the table in the dining area, still naked as the day he was born without a shred of self consciousness, eating something that looked like egg rolls out of the carton he'd picked up in the dining car the night before.
"Good morning," Evan smiled at me warmly and held out one of the small burritos.
I accepted it and looked at it suspiciously, "What is it?"
"Egg roll. Pork."
I wasn't sure I believed him, "Egg rolls? That wasn't on the menu."
Evan shrugged and gestured around the coach, "It's Russia, everything is available for the right price."
I bit into it, still half expecting the fried shell to be filled with something unrecognizable. It was, indeed, an egg roll. Not bad either.
Evan smiled and added a playful, "told you so" in that deep rumble of a voice with the soft touch of Texas in it. He reached out and pulled me toward him, holding me close to his side with a heavy arm draped over my shoulder.
He seemed wholly unaware that he was completely without apparel. Of course, I supposed if I looked like that without my clothes on I'd be hard pressed to bother with them myself. It seemed silly to be uncomfortable about it at this point in our relationship.
Still, I couldn't help but notice that Evan's behavior seemed to suggest that he felt we were farther along in the how-well-we-knew-each-other game than I thought we were.
"So, you're American?" I ventured.
"Yeah. Texas born and raised." He was stroking my arm softly as he set the empty carton on the table and steered me toward the leather couch in the main room. He motioned for me to sit and then he disappeared back into the bedroom, returning seconds later wearing his pajamas pants.
He sat down beside me and turned sideways to face me, "Tell me about you."
"Umm, well. I'm from California. The Bay Area." I wasn't sure where to begin. His directive wasn't very specific. Did he want to know where I was from? What's a nice girl like me doing in a place like...? Did he want to know about my emotional state? Why would a girl just follow a strange man to his room and fuck him without a proper introduction?
I decided to start with the simple stuff, "I got downsized at the company about 2 years ago, so I decided to explore the world."
Evan was nodding knowingly at me, "You're not married?"
I shook my head back and forth.
"Children?"
I scrunched up my eyebrows but shook my head back and forth again.
Evan nodded seemingly with approval and smiled, "Good."
"I don't get it?" I didn't want to ruin the fantasy of playing fairy tale with this god of a man for the rest of the train trip, but he seemed to be in on something and I hadn't read the memo yet, "Who are you?" was about the best I could boil it down to as I gestured around at the private car.
Evan's eyebrows raised as though he hadn't even realized that I might be out of the loop. "I'm Evan Anatolyevich Sebantsev from Marshall, Texas, USA, ma'am." He dipped his head as though he was tipping a hat.
"Evan Ana-toll-ye-vick-Seventy? That doesn't sound very American at all." I laughed.
> Evan's entire face broke in to a smile, the wide grin spread across his mouth and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Evan was originally 'Ivan' but Mama put a stop to that right away," he chuckled, "She told Daddy that her boy was gonna have at least one American name."
"So you're Russian?" I asked tentatively.
"Nah. My grand-daddy is Russian. He and grandma escaped their homeland back in the early 1900s when the czars got all uppity. That's how Grandpa puts it." His smile widened at the recollection, then dropped suddenly, "I'm here taking care of the estate."
Did that mean Grandpa had passed away? I wasn't quite clear on that part and I wasn't sure how to bring it up. I mostly just stared at Evan with an expression that I hoped was both confused and sympathetic.
"Oh! No." Evan must have caught on, "Grandpa's still alive and kickin. Don't you worry about that old coot!" The smile was back, "He just swore he'd never set foot in the motherland again. Somehow the whole ordeal came down to me. I've been working on it for 2 years now, this is my 4th trip to Siberia."