by Unknown
“That’s one sexy smile,” her husband said between heavy breaths.
She jerked her gaze down to his and winked at him before slamming her body down, taking his cock deep inside in one swift motion. They both groaned at the sensation. Her hips rocked back and forth, grinding harder as she chanced a peak at the fence again. Paul still watched and pulled his cock with long, sure strokes. She‘d love to see him come. See the come spurt from his dick in ropey bands, making his cock glisten.
Ripping her shirt the rest of the way open, her husband reached up to cup and knead her breasts, gently pinching and tugging at her nipples until they were painfully tight. She fingered her clit as she rode him, as he bucked against her and stretched her.
After seven years of marriage, she knew the signs that signaled her husband’s climax and he was almost there, but she wasn’t ready for it to end. She jerked her hips up, his cock slipping from her pussy. She said, “Not yet,” in answer to his shocked gasp.
Keeping her ass elevated, she leaned down, pressing her lips to his, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth in a teasing kiss. Once satisfied he’d calmed enough, she lowered her pussy and rubbed it slowly against his straining cock.
“You’re killing me, Astral.”
She angled herself so that on her next down stroke, his cock slid back into her. He groaned, sat up and slipped his arms under her knees and stood. “I need to fuck you.” Using the force of his hips, he pushed her pussy back and started a pendulum-like motion. She held on tightly, arms wrapped around his neck.
From this angle, she could watch Paul without worry. The light moved from his cock to his face. He mouthed the words, “I’m going to come,” then spotlighted his masturbation scene again. His strokes became faster, frenzied. Astral panted, mouth watering, her pussy clenching tight around her husband’s cock as he slammed into her again and again.
As the first spurt of semen shot from Paul’s cock, her muscles tensed and contracted. She watched as the thick jets spewed, ran over his hand and dripped off it. Her husband stilled and roared and Astral’s body joined his and Paul’s in a shattering release, pleasure thundering through her, making her gasp and wail as her husband’s come filled her.
He turned and sat her on the table, kissing her deeply, then rested his forehead against hers. “Goddamn, that was good,” he said between ragged breaths.
“Yes,” she breathed, heart still pounding, “it was.”
She sighed when Dane pulled free of her.
He turned around and gazed toward the fence before turning back to her. “You think anyone saw?” He took her hand and led her inside. “I thought I saw a flash of light.”
Testing the water, Astral asked, “Who cares if they did?”
He stopped and looked at her, a lusty glint in his eyes. “It wouldn’t bother you?”
She shrugged. “Might be kinda sexy.”
He swung her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom and covered her body with his as he laid her on the bed. “My wife is such a dirty girl. I like it.”
“Would it bother you--someone seeing? Watching? Getting off to it?”
Dane hesitated only a second before brushing a light kiss to her neck. “No. Someone seeing me pleasure you, you pleasure me…it was insanely hot.” He pressed his erection against her pussy. “You think our neighbor’s friend will be available for another show soon?”
Astral blanched. Had she heard him correctly? “Wh-what?”
He chuckled. “I know my wife, I smelled cigarette smoke, and I saw a light.” Mortified, she tried to cover her face with her hands, but Dane pried them away. “I’m not mad, hot stuff. But next time you have a fantasy, don’t be afraid to tell me. Okay?”
Relieved, a whoosh of breath escaped her as she nodded emphatically. “Okay. Promise.”
“Good. And we’re definitely doing that again.” He nipped at her earlobe. “It was damned sexy.”
She laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist. She’d definitely married the right man. “Is tomorrow good for you?”
“Anytime is good for me.” He treated her to a stunning smile as he shoved into her. “I love you.”
She gasped and met her husband thrust for thrust. “I love you more.”
The End
About the Author
Jocelyn was born in Iowa and currently resides in hot-as-hell Texas. She shares her home with her very own 6'4" alpha male and varying numbers of spoiled cats and dogs.
She thinks dragonflies are awesome, spiders are creepy and it’s rumored that she sleeps with a machete by her bed in case zombies attack in the middle of the night.
Jocelyn writes paranormal and contemporary romances that include humor, lust, love, and four-letter words on the way to a Happily-Ever-After.
Visit Jocelyn Dex:
http://www.JocelynDex.com
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Blackout
Sofia Grey
It was the white jeans that did it.
Anton had seen the guy dozens of times before, wondered for most of them if Mr Hottie could be gay, and finally he knew. No self-respecting straight man would ride the Emerald City Magline looking like an extra from a dance video.
Of course, it’d have to be tonight when he had confirmation. Any other night and he’d probably bite the bullet and strike up a conversation—especially since they were the only two people in the carriage—but not after the day he’d had.
Thinking about work again he slumped in his seat. Ten months he’d been working on the project. Almost a goddamn year. And as of today it’d been canned. Shut down. Anton felt as though he’d been tossed on the scrap heap with it too.
Project Morepork, named after an obscure New Zealand owl of all things, had been Anton’s opportunity to shine. Now he’d be back with the other data specialists, while he waited to be reassigned. Really, the only thing that might cheer him up would be a bottle of ice-cold vodka, and even that would be denied him. He was out of booze, and the chance of the liquor shop still being open was slim at best.
Would anything go right today?
He snuck a glance at Mr Hottie, sprawled in the seat across the aisle. His short, dark blond hair looked rumpled, as though he’d been dragging his hands through it. The faded gray T-shirt clearly outlined a set of abs that Anton longed to stroke, and the white jeans were deliciously tight.
The contrast to his usual style was total. Anton had only ever seen him before in suits. Expensive-looking, perfectly tailored business suits, with polished shoes, crisp white shirts and elegant ties. He was usually groomed to within an inch of his life—sparking Anton’s interest—but tonight was very different. Mind you, this was a late train home for him. For all he knew, the guy might dress like this every night, and wasn’t that a tempting thought?
He didn’t know much about him at all. The guy was already on the train when Anton joined, and left at the stop prior to his own, and he had the perfect ass. High, firm and tight-cheeked. He’d been the subject of many late-night jack-off sessions, and even more sticky, sultry dreams.
A discreet ping sounded from the PA system, followed by one of the many and varied automated announcements.
We regret to advise you of delays on this section of track. These are due to essential maintenance. Your patience is requested.
Yeah, right. It wasn’t as if the passengers could leave in search of other transport, as they were deep underground. There’d been delays for most of the last month, ever since a terrorist bomb ripped one of the main stations apart. They were still reconstructing sections of track, and that meant unavoidable delays. Goddamn it
His mood didn’t improve when the Magline carriage lurched to a halt.
Across the aisle, Mr Hottie sat up straighter, and tugged a pair of near-invisible earbuds from his ears. His puzzled glance out the window told Anton he’d missed the announcement.
“Essential maintenance,” he explained,
and gestured toward the PA speaker with his thumb.
The guy frowned, his grey eyes darkening. “Thanks. Jesus. It’s been that kind of day. I should have expected it.”
“I hear you.” Anton almost said please keep talking, but managed to bite the words back. Mr Hottie had a voice to match the looks. Deep, slightly husky, and with an English accent. Oh my God. Anton’s first lover had been English, and ever since, he’d had a weakness for it.
He had to keep him talking.
“Where are you from? I mean, where in England?”
For a second, Anton feared the guy would just replace his earbuds, and ignore him, but he didn’t. Instead, he opened his mouth to reply—just as the lights went out.
“Fuck,” snapped Mr Hottie.
“That anywhere near London?” There was a silent moment while Anton cringed in the blackness. Badly-timed jokes were his speciality, and he just couldn’t help himself. They popped out, as unwelcome as a parent accompanying a teenager to a rave.
To his relief, the guy laughed. It sounded surprised, but was a laugh none the less. “The fucking lights have just gone out, and you’re making a joke about my accent?”
“Sorry.” Anton sighed. “Don’t suppose you have a light, do you?”
“Nope. No light. No nothing. My jacket was nicked, and with it my phone, my wallet and my bloody keycard. I had just enough loose change to buy a ticket home.” He blew out a noisy breath. “And now we’re stuck in a fucking empty carriage, in the middle of fucking nowhere.” His voice rose as he spoke. “And yeah, shoot me now but I hate the fucking dark. Like, seriously freakin’ hate it. There aren’t even any emergency lights. What kind of fucking Magline service is this, when it doesn’t even have the light-up strips in the floor?”
“Bad day, huh?”
“Are you trying to be funny?” The guy sounded about ten seconds from losing his shit, and Anton had a revelation. For once today, maybe forever, he could be the hero.
“Yes. I was trying to distract you. Hang on, while I grab my phone.” Digging into his pocket, Anton pulled out his phone, only to remember it was almost dead. He hadn’t bothered recharging it before he left work. It wasn’t as though he’d need it. He was only going home, after all.
“Umm, it might not last long.” He thumbed the screen and it leapt to life, a bright blue glow illuminating the area around Anton’s seat.
“Thank fuck.” Without waiting to be invited, the guy strode across the gap and parked his perfect ass next to Anton. “Thank you.”
Anton tried not to notice how close the guy sat, or that he smelled like heaven wrapped up in clothes. The faint mingled scents of coffee and something smoky, were intoxicating. He wondered what the guy’s skin would taste like.
“I’m Joel, by the way. Joel Merchant. And yeah, sorry I snapped. Does this happen often?”
Anton was momentarily confused. Did gorgeous guys sit next to him often? Joel waited, and Anton forced himself to focus. “No, not as far as I know. I travel the Magline every day. As you do. I mean, I’ve see you on here before.” Aw, shit, he’d gone into babble-mode. Way to go, Anton. Scare him off, why don’t you?
“I’m Anton,” he added, and then stared at his cellphone screen, glad of the darkness. It hid his no-doubt-bright-red cheeks. “I need to turn the brightness down, otherwise the battery will all be gone.” It would soon go anyway, but he didn’t tell Joel that. With luck, the lights would be back on before that happened. He thumbed the screen again, and the glow dimmed to a low pool of light around them. “We can’t even call for help. There’s no signal down here. Not since, you know.” He didn’t want to mention the bombing. Didn’t want to think about the possibility of being trapped down here for hours.
Joel edged a fraction closer, and Anton heard his rapid breathing. “I feel like a dick,” the stranger muttered, “but I really don’t like the dark. My dumbass sister locked me in the wardrobe as a kid, and forgot I was there.” He gave a short, bark of a laugh. “Stupid, huh?”
“Naw, not at all.” Anton felt as though he should reply with a confidence of his own, but he was enjoying Joel’s voice too much. “You said your jacket was stolen?”
“Yeah. This just puts the icing on the crap-cake of my day.”
It was the perfect opening for Anton’s near breathless, “what happened?”
There was a pause. Joel rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “My sister had been giving me shit about being single, and set me up on a date, only they didn’t show. And yeah, I’m in this club and I’m freakin’ melting, so I put my jacket over the back of my chair for a minute. Next thing, some idiot knocks over my drink, and while I’m mopping up the mess, my fucking jacket disappears.”
“Ouch.” Anton pulled a face. “You cancelled your phone? Made sure nobody can hack into your bank account?”
“Yeah. The chick behind the bar let me use the club phone.”
“That’s something, I suppose. How will you get in your house without a key though?”
Joel shrugged. “Break a window, I suppose. Can’t call the locksmith. No phone.”
“I could come with you. Call the locksmith on mine.” Anton hoped he didn’t sound too eager.
“Would you? Thanks, man. I don’t even know you.”
Anton balanced the phone on his knee, and held out a hand. “I’m Anton. I’m twenty-four, a Virgo, and I like long walks on the beach and going to the movies.” He held his breath. Please shake my hand. Please. To his utter delight, Joel gave it a firm, confident squeeze. No limp-wristed shake from this guy. Thank you, God. “And if it’s any consolation, I’ve had a fucked up day too. The project I’ve been working on has just been cancelled. They told us this afternoon, and the paperwork to shut it down is colossal.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah. I thought about hitting a bar on the way home, but I couldn’t be bothered. I kinda wish I had now. Hey, which club did you go to?”
“Oh, umm.” There was a weighted pause, and then Joel mumbled something.
“Huh?”
“It was X.S. on Bonneville Street.”
A gay club. Anton wanted to punch the air in delight. Did he need any further confirmation? “I’ve been there.” He managed to sound casual, and not as though he wanted to dance in his seat. “It’s not my favourite. Gray’s Tavern has a better atmosphere. Better music too.”
He could feel Joel staring at him. Hell. He had nothing to lose. “I’m probably heading up to Gray’s at the weekend, if you wanna come.”
The pause was shorter this time. “Yeah, I might.”
It wasn’t an outright refusal, and was almost a yes. Anton was happy with that. Further conversation went on hold, when the dim blue light flickered on his knee, and then sputtered out.
“Shit,” whispered Joel. “What do we do now?”
Anton knew what he wanted to do. Whether or not the delicious Joel would let him was another matter. “I’ll distract you.” What? Where had that come from?
“How?” Joel’s voice was scathing, but Anton guessed he was covering up his fear, and that gave him courage too.
“You talk to me.” He made it sound obvious. “And, I’ll massage your shoulders.”
“My shoulders?”
“Dude.” It was Anton’s turn to lace his words with a liberal dose of scathing. “My last boyfriend would positively beg me to work the knots out of his shoulders.”
The darkness was absolute, so dense it wrapped around him like a blanket, thick and heavy. He’d never thought of the dark having a sound before, but now he changed his mind. It boomed inside his head, or that might have been his pulse.
“Okay.” Joel spoke so quietly he almost missed it. There was a shuffling noise, and movement. “I’m turning around,” he explained. “My back is to you.”
The breath jammed in Anton’s chest. Such trust. And so much potential to really fuck this up. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the seat he knew to be in front of him, then removed his cuffli
nks, and rolled up his sleeves to the elbow.
He reached out with both hands and found Joel right away. The T-shirt was soft and fine-textured, and he could feel the heat from his skin through the fabric.
There was his spine. He traced the line up the center of Joel’s back and then slid both hands onto his shoulders, familiarizing himself with the feel of the man’s body. “Don’t forget,” he murmured. “You’re supposed to be talking to me.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where do you work?”
“In banking. I’m a customer account handler at Northern United.”
Anton could feel the tension vibrating in the other man’s body. With a precision developed through hours of practice, he began to work the knots with his thumbs. “Uh huh. Sounds like hard work. You like it?” He pushed hard with the heel of his hands and was rewarded with a low groan.
“I like this.”
“Talk to me, Joel. What did you think of X.S.? Apart from the jacket thing of course.”
“Uh, it was noisy. And they played techno-rap, which I hate.”
“Me too.” Anton moved up to the base of Joel’s neck, and stroked up to his hairline, thrilled when he heard Joel’s breath hitch.
“That’s good. I mean, really good. Where did you learn this?”
Anton grinned in the darkness. “My sister. She was training to be a massage therapist and needed a willing victim to practice on. And in return, she taught me some easy moves.” He managed to keep his voice calm and confident, as though he was in control.
He was anything but. Joel’s hair was thick and soft, and smelled delicious. What Anton really wanted to do, was bury his nose in the man’s nape, and lick every inch of skin he could. It’s just as well he was wearing his work suit, as these pants gave his overexcited cock a little room.
“Is it me, or is it getting hot in here?” Joel didn’t sound so stressed now.
Anton considered his words, and then realised, yes, it was. “Yeah. I think the A/C went offline when we lost the power.”