by Eden Bradley
Night Moves
Eden Bradley
Something about trains had always brought out Kate’s wild side. So far it had been her own dirty little secret—until a sexy stranger catches her sneaking into his compartment looking to indulge her fantasy. But instead of throwing her out, Ian is turned on…and he’s ready to give Kate the ride of her life!
Contents
Begin Reading
Kate leaned into the hard edge of the metal-framed window as the train pulled out of the station. Klamath Falls, Oregon. The least exciting town in existence. But her pulse was thrumming, anyway.
She always felt that lovely anticipation, that thrill, when she was on a train. But the biggest thrill lay ahead, after the other passengers had fallen asleep. She could hardly wait.
Her gaze caught the flash of lights on the slowly retreating platform, then there was nothing but the velvet night. Nothing to see in this part of the country. No scenery, no city lights. Didn’t matter. What mattered was being there, feeling that motion, that sense of possibility, of going.
It was nearly midnight: far too late for the dining car. The train had been delayed, leaving her sitting in the quiet, small-town station for hours. Good thing she’d stopped to eat as soon as she’d arrived from Ashland. Klamath Falls shut down early, and there was nothing but an old candy machine wedged between the ancient rows of wooden benches inside the station.
But that part was over now. Now there was just the luxurious idea of the long, slow ride ahead.
Something sexy about trains. She wasn’t sure what it was. But she always swore she could feel that rocking motion hum through her entire body like one enormous vibrator. She was beginning to melt a little all over at the thought.
Have to be alone soon.
Thank God it was late. The lights were kept low, and most of the other passengers would be asleep soon.
She leaned back in her seat, allowed the rolling sensation to lull her, felt it pulse between her thighs.
This part was almost as good as the rest, the anticipation of her little adventures. She’d done this on trains all over the country; she never tired of it. Didn’t even matter too much where she was going. Going was the important thing. The motion, the smooth, forward thrust of iron.
She stayed in her seat for another half hour, absorbing the hard whisper of tons of metal moving beneath her. Finally, she couldn’t stay still any longer.
It’s time.
She got up, hefted her overnight bag over her shoulder and moved silently down the center aisle, passing between row after row of passengers nested in for the night. But for her, the night was just beginning.
She pulled open the door, stepped onto the noisy platform between cars, opened the next door and slipped inside as quietly as she could, kept going until she reached the sleeper compartments.
She took a deep breath before opening that last door. Then she moved through, easy as water, sliding the heavy door shut behind her.
She stood in the hallway, getting her sea legs, listening, her heart a loud thrumming in her own ears. And the longer she stood there, the more the heat built between her thighs, the seam of her worn jeans rubbing there as she swayed with the motion of the train.
Soon…
The car was empty. She moved down the row, quietly trying the first doorknob. Locked. Damn.
She moved on, tried the next one. Locked. One by one, she made her way down to the other end of the car, slipped out with a sigh of frustration and went on to the next car.
Just as quiet. Her head was filled with the gentle roar of the engines, the snick of the wheels on the tracks. She stood a moment, savoring the sound, the sensation, before moving on. The first door was locked. But the second turned under the gentle pressure of her hand.
Ah-ha!
She pulled the door back, peered into the small, darkened compartment, her pulse hammering in triumph and the flickering idea of getting caught. There was nothing on the floor or the padded bench seat, no luggage, nothing to indicate anyone was in there. She stopped anyway, listening, but all she heard was the night rushing by outside the window. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
Her skin was heating all over now, her body humming with need. Dropping her bag onto the bench seat, she moved to the window, leaning her weight against the cold glass so she could really feel the motion. She stayed there for several moments, perfectly still, absorbing it all: the rumbling of the train, the vibration of it moving though her body. She pressed her breasts against the glass, the cold of the hard, sleek surface bringing her nipples up through the cotton of her T-shirt.
She was wet already. Had been for the last half hour.
With a quiet sigh, she unzipped her jeans, slipped one hand down between her thighs, beneath the lace of her panties.
Oh, yes.
She brushed at her mound, but the ache was too strong, too insistent. Like an eager lover, she pressed on her clitoris, the nub of it hard against her palm. Leaning harder into the window, she let the motion of the train move through the back of her hand. Pleasure swam in her system, hot, insistent. And when she slid two fingers into her soaking wet slit, between the swollen folds, she gasped.
Then it was too late for any show of teasing, any restraint. She plunged her fingers in deeper, rubbed the heel of her hand hard against her clit, the train moving beneath her like some monolithic lover. Pleasure rammed into her, even as her fingers did, deep, deeper.
Yes…
She rubbed harder, her body arcing into her hand, into the side of the car. She was hot all over, melting, her legs weak. And still she worked herself mercilessly, her hand and the rocking of the train drawing her climax into her. Pleasure rose, crested, and she pressed hard onto her clit, thrust her fingers in deep, and came into her hand. Moaning, gasping, as sensation overwhelmed her.
So good, always, her secret perversion. She smiled to herself.
A quiet voice came out of the dark. “Nice. Beautiful.”
“Jesus!” She yanked her hand out of her pants, nearly fell onto the vinyl-covered bench.
“I’m sorry. But you came in here while I was sleeping, and I woke up…and then I couldn’t interrupt you.”
Her face was burning. With embarrassment, with anger, with fear. And her heart was racing at a thousand miles an hour.
“You scared the shit out of me!” She zipped her jeans with clumsy fingers. “Look, I’m…I’m going. Okay? I’ll just…disappear.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” The voice was calm, soothing. “I’m going to turn on the light. Don’t be scared, okay?”
Kate grabbed her big bag, was backing up to the door.
“I’m going to go. You…you don’t need to tell anyone I was here, all right?”
God, what if this guy was some sort of pervert? But what was she, then?
The light flicked on; just a small amber glow lighting up the sleeping bunk. She blinked.
He was sitting on the edge of the bunk, all classic California surfer guy, his tousled, dirty blond hair sweeping the top of his shoulders, his neatly trimmed goatee a few shades darker. He was wearing a pair of wrinkled cargo pants and nothing else. And he was beautiful.
She couldn’t move.
“Wow,” he said.
“What?”
He smiled at her, blinking his eyes. They were pale, but there wasn’t enough light for her to make out the shade. Gray? Green?
“What?” she repeated, her hand tightening on the strap of her heavy bag.
Why didn’t she just get the hell out of there?
“You’re pretty.”
She laughed. “You sound surprised. But I’m not pretty.”
“You are. And I guess I didn’t expect you to be when it was dark and I was…watching you. Exc
ept that I could see the silhouette of your hair.”
She reached a self-conscious hand to her long, unruly blond curls. “What about my hair?”
“It’s beautiful.” His voice was deep and husky with sleep. Sexy. Or maybe it was just her body still simmering with the last threads of her orgasm. Or his beautiful face, his hard body…
“You must be blind.”
“No, I saw everything.”
“Shit. Look, I’m going to go.”
She reached for the doorknob, pulled on it.
“I liked it.”
Why did that stop her cold?
He pushed off from the bunk, the tiny train cabin too small for him to do anything but stand right behind her. She swore she could feel the heat emanating from his body, carrying his scent. Patchouli. Classic surfer scent. It made her shiver.
“Don’t go,” he said again. “My name’s Ian.”
She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him, and he was right there. Too close. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. It was all about her and the train. And he’d ruined it.
Hadn’t he?
But her body was still loose and warm from her climax, and Ian was making her heat up all over again.
“Tell me your name,” he said quietly. Gently.
“You’re not going to report me?”
“I’d be an idiot if I did.”
He was grinning at her now, but even though his eyes glittering in the half dark were all heat, there was nothing leering in his gaze.
She smiled back at him. “So, have you always been a voyeur?”
“Not until tonight. Have you always been an exhibitionist?”
“Yes. Always.”
“I think I’ve just discovered that I like that in a girl.”
They stood for a moment, silent, smiling, while desire hummed in the air between them like piano wire strung tight, sending out one long, lovely note.
I want you.
Oh, yes, she wanted him. Wanted him, and wanted it to be on the train. Too perfect. Too strange.
She wasn’t usually one for casual sex. Not that it had never happened. She’d met a few guys in her travels. But it had only been five months since she’d broken things off with Dominic, and she’d sworn off men since then.
Now might be a good time to break her vow.
“So, you’re staying?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she admitted.
I must be losing my mind.
“Tell me your name,” he asked her again.
“Kate.”
“Kate. Nice.” He put a hand on her bag. “Why don’t you put this down?”
She nodded, let him take the heavy bag from her and set it on the bench. Watched as he straightened up. He wasn’t quite six feet tall, maybe five foot ten, five-eleven, but since she was five four, it didn’t matter. She didn’t like a guy to be too tall. And he had one of those surfer bodies, all long, lean muscle, heavier around the chest and shoulders. On his left forearm was a tattoo. She reached out, ran one fingertip over the design.
“What’s this?”
“A motherboard. I’m a computer tech.”
“Really?”
“Really. Why? What did you expect?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. You look a lot like one of the guys who works at this little coffee place by my house.”
He took a step closer. “And do you like the guy at your coffee place?”
“Sure.” She could smell him again, could almost feel his tan skin beneath her hands. She flexed her fingers. “But not as much as I think I could like you.”
“Really? How much is that?”
“Enough that I’m not running out of here the way I should.”
“Yeah, this is kinda crazy. Meeting like this.”
“It is.”
Insane, really, that she wasn’t running out the door. But she wasn’t the kind of girl who played it safe. That had been one of Dominic’s complaints: she was too spontaneous, he couldn’t ever pin her down. Not that she wanted anyone to do that. But this…this was a little extreme, even for her. Which made being here with Ian all the more appealing.
“Kate…” he stopped, shook his head.
“What?”
“I really want to kiss you.”
He was looking right at her, his gaze steady. His eyes were green, she was almost positive now. Beautiful against his tanned skin.
“I really want you to.”
“You don’t know me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t. There’s even sort of something…great about that. Mysterious. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“So, are you going to kiss me, Ian?”
“Yeah, I am.”
He lowered his head. Yes, she must have lost her mind, to be here with this stranger. But she didn’t want to think about that now. No, all she wanted to think about was how lush his mouth was up close, how good his skin smelled. She reached up, slid her hand around the back of his neck, under his long hair, and pulled him down to her.
His lips met hers, soft at first. So soft. She went warm all over, just heating up like crazy even before he slid his tongue into her mouth. And then there was nothing soft about what was happening between them. It was all need, hunger. He pressed his mouth to hers, hard, bruising, but it was exactly what she needed. Even better when he slid his arm around her and pulled her in close, until she could feel his erection through the fabric of his clothes and hers.
His mouth was so sweet. The guy could kiss, that was for damn sure. Her breath was just going out of her body.
He pulled back, whispered, “Damn, girl. I need to touch you. Okay?”
“Yes. Please.”
He pulled her T-shirt over her head, then stood and stared. “Perfect,” he whispered. Reaching out, he stroked her stomach with one finger, making her pulse flutter, sending heat like warm, wet lightning to her sex. Sharp. Electric. And the train rumbling beneath them, carrying them through the night, a heavy undercurrent of tension, of pure sex.
“Come on, Ian,” she pleaded.
“Come on, what?”
“Let’s get naked. It’s too good to wait.”
He nodded, his face tight with need. He slipped one of her bra straps down, then the other, before stepping back in close to her. Reaching behind her, he rested his head on her shoulder, his goatee a little rough against her skin as he unsnapped her bra. It fell away, and he pressed closer, bare skin to bare skin.
“Yes, just like that,” she breathed.
He pressed harder, crushing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest, moving her body until her back was up against the cool metal of the door. He was kissing her again, his mouth on hers, his tongue slipping between her lips, thrusting into her mouth in some primal rhythm, his hips grinding into hers in the same tempo. And the hushed roar of the train like music. Like sex itself.
She groaned. Let her hands wander, smoothing over his skin, feeling the rise and curve of muscle in his shoulders, his back. Even the sensation of his skin under her hands was erotic to her.
He moved back then, just an inch or two, enough to get his hands in between them, to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples immediately with his thumbs into two hard, aching points.
“Ah, you like that.”
“Yes.”
He took her nipples between his thumbs and his forefingers, pinched a little, drew them out.
“And that?”
“Yes. Oh…”
“You’re so hot, Kate,” he said, his voice low, nearly a whisper. “Your skin, your breasts, your mouth.” He squeezed her nipples, hard, and she moaned softly. “So hot. So responsive. I can barely stand it. I’m so damn hard. Feel me, Kate.”
He pushed against her, the hard ridge of his cock pressing into her belly.
“Ian…come on.”
“Yeah…”
He worked quickly, slipping out of his cargo shorts, then a pair of dark box
ers. His cock was fully erect, thick. Beautiful. She felt her mouth water. Felt her pussy go tight.
Need it. Need him. Yes…
And the fact that this was happening here, on the train. Like every fantasy she’d ever had, all of those nights getting herself off while a train going somewhere, anywhere, moved beneath her. Drove her. Made her come as much as her hand moving frantically between her thighs.
Ian went down on his knees, slipping her jeans off, then her panties. Still on his knees before her, just breathing on the narrow strip of hair between her thighs. Warm. Excruciating, to make her wait.
She buried her fingers in his hair, pulled a little, spread her thighs, inviting him. And gasped when he planted a single, small kiss there.
“Don’t tease me, Ian. I can’t take it right now.”
“Yes, you can. I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Fuck, Ian.”
“Yeah, we’ll get to that. But you’re too good to rush through.”
She groaned, forcing herself to still while he used his fingers to hold her pussy lips apart. While he held her open like that and just breathed on her.
God…
She waited, her juices trickling down the inside of one thigh. The sight of his beautiful body bent before her, his silky blond hair tickling her skin, was almost too much for her. That and the lovely, smooth motion of the wheels against the tracks.
Finally, he moved his fingers, massaging her nether lips. Slowly, slowly, working one finger toward her waiting hole, and then, dipping inside.
“Oh!”
“Yeah, girl. It’s good, isn’t it?” he murmured. “I want to see you squirm before I make you come.”
“Yes, Ian…”
He leaned in, and she could feel his warm breath on her again, before he flicked his tongue at her clit.
She arced her hips.
He did it again, and again, his tongue like some tiny, wet lance, driving pleasure deep into her body. And his fingers still holding her apart, one buried deeper inside her.
Her legs were shaking, need like some sort of drug coursing through her veins. And when he took her clit into his hot, wet mouth and sucked, she exploded.
Pleasure shafted into her, deep, deeper, leaving her shuddering.