by Kitty French
‘Imagine it’s my hand.’ He closes the gap between us to kiss me again, slow, deep and french. ‘Christ, you’re so wet,’ he whispers. ‘I’m fingering your clit right now. You’ve just spread your legs wide so I can kneel between them and I can see how soaking you are.’
I writhe surreptitiously in my seat and the pen slides up and down over my clitoris, pushing me closer to coming with every move. I’m not on the train anymore. I’m naked on a sugar white beach with a champagne cocktail in my hand, legs akimbo with Jude between them.
He’s kissing me again now, and those circles he’s rubbing into my wrists are getting smaller and faster and firmer and harder.
‘Jesus, Stacy,’ he says. ‘I’m licking you and you taste like nothing on earth.’
Yes, yes, he’s licking me; I can feel his tongue in my mouth and on my clit all at the same time.
‘Rub yourself against it,’ he says, his words quickened and thick. ‘Rub yourself all over my mouth, I want you to feel me sucking on your clit as I spread you wide and finger you.’
The bottom of the pen nudges almost inside me as I push my hips down hard into the seat.
‘That’s it,’ he says, as if he can feel me, and I think he actually can. He’s tracking my orgasm as it builds; he knows he’s got me almost there. I’m desperate, and I can feel prickles of damp sweat on my forehead as I clutch his hands hard with my clammy ones and hold my gasps in. I rock my hips and squeeze the pen tightly to find the best way of stimulating my clit.
‘So close,’ I murmur, and his eyes urge me on. He suddenly lets go of one of my hands and clasps the back of my neck, his fingers tangled in my hair, clamping my mouth to his.
‘I’m fucking you right now,’ he mouths. ‘I’m so hard for you, and I’m feeding my big, stiff cock all the way inside you while I finger your hot, drenched clit, right there, like this,’ he says, showing me precisely how with his fingers on my wrist. I feel it all the way to my core, and it isn’t a pen against my clit anymore it’s Jude’s fingers, rubbing, insistent, making me crazy and reckless, and desperate and oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, yes, yes, thank you dear sweet God, YES. The beginning glitters of my orgasm rush through my body, and my eyes fly wide open and stare into his as I grip his hand hard and grit my teeth to stop myself from yelling out with pure pleasure, sky-high relief, and absolute sheer shock at the ferocity of the orgasm he’s giving me.
He catches his top lip between his teeth as he watches me come, his face a study of concentration almost as ferocious as my own.
‘I can feel your clit throbbing against my tongue,’ he whispers, his hand more gentle on my neck now. ‘My mouth is full of you. You look utterly fucking beautiful when you come.’
It’s the best sex I’ve ever had and he hasn’t even touched me. He kisses me again, less urgent, melting my bones as my heartbeat begins to settle. Behind my neck his fingers loosen the band holding my hair, letting it fall back down around my shoulders, stroking over it a couple of times. He’s smoothing me, readying me for the normal world again.
‘You should keep my pen,’ he says, that small smile crooking his mouth again as I discreetly slide the silver pen out of my waistband. ‘Use it often.’
I don’t know if he’s suggesting I write with it or frig myself off with it. I think I might do both. The train is slowing. A glance at his watch tells me my stop is coming up.
‘This is me,’ I whisper.
He doesn’t look surprised.
‘Go.' He squeezes my fingers around the pen before he releases my hand. ‘Go rule your kingdom.’
With a shaky smile, I reach for my coat and shrug into it, smoothing my skirt down over my thighs as I stand up. I’m glad to find my legs actually hold me up. It was by no means a sure thing.
‘You too,’ I say softly, and then I leave him there, because there isn’t really anything I can say that will mean more than what has already passed between us.
I stand and watch the train pull out of the station even though I can't see him from the platform, and then I look down at the silver pen in my hand. After a moment I look closer, because there is something engraved on the case.
His telephone number.
Copyright © 2015 Kitty French
All rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
The Lucien Knight Trilogy:
Knight & Play
Knight & Stay
Knight & Day
(Also available as a box set)
The Complete Knight Trilogy - The USA Today Best-selling Lucien Knight Erotic Series
Knight & Sleigh – An erotic Lucien Knight Christmas novella
Genie - A Burlesque Erotic Romance
Wanderlust
Kitty also writes romantic comedies under the pseudonym Kat French
Undertaking Love
Blaze
The Stained Glass Heart
The Piano Man Project
One Hot Summer (May 2016)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling author Kitty French lives in the UK with her husband and two young sons.
She also writes romantic comedy under the pseudonym Kat French.
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