Lust Muscle: A Billionaire Revenge Romance

by Alexis Angel

  I’m falling.

  I’m about to land on my ass on the floor of a subway train. As if I don’t already have enough ruined clothing for one day.

  Realizing there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, I close my eyes and brace for the impact. But then they fly wide open.

  Big hands grasp my hips, and I find myself shifting in a new direction, the impact of my fall broken by a lap that is suddenly right under my ass. A very hard, very erect lap.

  My breath whooshes from my lungs in a gasp that is half shock, half lust. A gasp that sounds suspiciously like a moan. Because oh my god, I am totally sitting on some random stranger’s raging hard-on. And it feels really damn good.

  The people around us move, some getting off the train, some shifting to make room for new passengers.

  The hands on my hips clench as the train moves again, fingers digging into me, and I’m mortified to find myself wriggling, some naughty part of me hoping I might move just the right way to relieve some of the sudden pressure that’s quickly building between my legs.

  “You okay?” The deep, gravelly voice should pull me to my senses, but instead the sexy rasp only makes me wetter than I already am.

  Pull it together, Adrienne. Am I really getting off to some guy I haven’t even seen? Almost as if my body has a mind of its own, I twist slightly on his lap, the movement making my breath come faster as it pushes me harder against his dick.

  Then my eyes lock on his, dark, depthless and smoldering.

  Oh my god. It’s him.

  “Hey,” I say breathlessly, unable to move. Unable to think.

  Because it’s my train guy. The guy I’ve been eye-fucking for the past two months on my ride home after work.

  “Need some help?” he says, a smirk on his full lips that makes me want to dive in and suck them right into my mouth, bite down hard and then lick them better.

  “What?” I shake my head, not comprehending his words. Nothing making sense past the sudden throbbing in my pussy.

  He leans down and grabs my forgotten shoe, sliding it slowly onto my foot. His eyes never leave mine as he trails his fingers up my bare leg.

  I swallow hard, wondering if I’m dreaming. Because every late-night fantasy I’ve had lately stars this guy right here. This dark-haired mystery guy that I see on the train two or three times a week, his stubbled jaw inciting thoughts of what it might feel like scraping against my thighs as he licks me to orgasm.

  Oh yeah, I’m totally dreaming. Because when his hand reaches the bottom of my thigh, it travels over to the other leg to continue its journey upward. His eyes go impossibly darker before they drop down, and I follow his gaze.

  Somehow in my struggle to remove my stockings and my subsequent fall, my skirt got hiked up. Way up. I can see the lacy top of the other one where it is still held in place by my garter clips.

  His fingers trail higher still, brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he deftly unclasps the hook. Hooking a finger inside the thin silk, he drags it down my leg, removing and replacing the other shoe after he bares my legs completely.

  I can’t look away. This is probably the most erotically charged moment of my life, and it’s happening on an overcrowded rush hour train.

  “That better?” he murmurs, his breath warm on my neck, and I swear I feel him get even harder beneath me.

  I nod. But it’s not. I’m so wet that I wonder if even my skirt will be soaked through when I stand up. The only thing that would make me better right now is for him to do something about the fierce need taking over my body, making me lose all sense of propriety.

  The next span of time passes in a blur as the 6 Train flies through the dark tunnels of New York. I want so badly for him to touch me, to slide his hand back up my skirt. But he doesn’t. He keeps his hands firmly in place on my hips, though, not letting me leave the torturous pleasure of the hardness of his lap.

  When the train finally pulls into my stop, I remain seated, not wanting the moment to end. But somewhere in my mind I find my motivation. The apartment. Right.

  Staggering to my feet, I give my train guy one last regretful look. I can only hope we end up on the train together again tomorrow. Because I need to see where this could go.

  Almost as much as I need this new apartment.

  Reese

  I drag a hand over my face as I emerge from the Seventy-seventh Street station. What the hell was that?

  I almost want to cancel my appointment and hunt her down. But it’s certainly too late. She took off and was lost in the crowd before I could even get off the train. I scan the street and don’t see a trace of her anywhere.

  That’s fine, I think as I make my way down the street. There’s always tomorrow. After seeing one of the most intriguing women on the 6 Train a couple months back, I made a point of seeing if it was a chance encounter, or if she rode at that time regularly. It was the latter. Maybe it’s kind of creepy, but I try to time my afternoon commute with hers.

  I’ve never approached her because she doesn’t really look like my type. All prim and proper and cool perfection with her designer clothes and perfectly applied makeup. Long blond hair that gives the impression she’d be upset if a hair was out of place. And I definitely want to mess up all that perfect. Tangle my fingers in her hair as I smear her bright red lipstick all over my cock.

  I like my women a bit on the wild side. Up for anything. She doesn’t seem like the type to be down with getting dirty, so as much as I enjoy watching her watch me over the top of the Kindle she pretends to read on her commute, I just haven’t gone there.

  I thought I had her figured out. Now I’m rethinking everything. The last thing I expected was for there to be a sexy little minx under those designer clothes. But fuck, when she reached her hand up under her skirt and I caught a glimpse of that lingerie, all I wanted was to drag her off the train and see if there was a hidden little sex kitten dying to come out and play.

  My cock is aching by the time I get home, and I glance at the clock, cursing when I realize I don’t have much time to do anything about it. I change out of my suit quickly, unable to resist taking my throbbing dick in my fist as I remember the way she wiggled that sweet ass on top of me, imagining what it would have been like to slide inside of her right there on the train.

  I’m so fucking close already that it won’t take much, but I bite out another curse when the doorman buzzes.

  “Yeah?” I grit out through the intercom after I throw on jeans and a roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt, removing my tie and unbuttoning the collar.

  “Your appointment is here.”

  “Send him up.”

  I glance around the apartment, satisfied that the maid service did a good job today. I really hope this Adrian guy is a good fit. I don’t need a roommate, but I get bored easily being alone all the time. Yeah, I have plenty of women to keep me company, but they’re only interested in what I can give them. I just want someone around to keep the apartment from feeling less lonely. A guy that I don’t have to worry about trying to get to my bank account by way of getting into my pants.

  When the knock sounds, I stride over and open the door. The friendly smile falls in an instant as I struggle to comprehend how she is standing outside my apartment.

  My sexy as hell closet freak.

  She looks just as confused, her perfect mouth opening and closing a few times, her eyebrows drawing together.

  “Reese?” she finally says, doubt in her voice, and a hint of something else. Wariness?

  How does she know my name?

  “That’s me.” I give her a grin that should disarm her, but instead her eyes widen and she shakes her head.

  “Oh my god.” She closes her eyes. “I’m Adrienne.”

  Adrienne. A name that’s just as sexy as she is.

  “Well, how can I help you, Adrienne?” I have a few ideas.

  It’s almost a whisper, and I lean in closer. “I’m here to tour the apartment.”

  Shit. Adrien
ne. Not Adrian.

  My assistant booked the appointments and screened the candidates. Right now I’m wondering if I should fire her or give her a raise. Because how the hell did she not know it was a woman?

  I should be pissed. I don’t need another woman trying to edge her way into my life. But all I can think about right now is that I’m one damn lucky bastard. Because this woman living in my apartment? My mind goes straight to her prancing around in her underwear, late night movies turning into late night fuck fests. Because that’s totally what coed roomies do. Right?

  My irrational fantasies are shot down real fast when she backs up, shaking her head. “I thought Reese was a girl. I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

  Adrienne turns, her face stricken, and I move before I think.

  “The hell you will.”

  I grab her elbow and pull her toward me, into my apartment, and push the door shut, backing her against it.

  Her mouth falls open, blue eyes wide, and her breath hitches before resuming at a faster pace, her breasts heaving beneath the demure silk blouse that I want to rip off of her.

  I stand for a minute, pinning her between my arms as I rest a palm on either side of her face. All I know is that everything in me is screaming not to let this woman walk away.

  Lowering my head, I lean in to whisper in her ear, sensing the shudder that runs through her as my breath skates across her skin. “Now that I have you here, there is no fucking way you’re leaving.”

  Adrienne swallows hard. “I should leave.” Her tongue darts out nervously to moisten her lips, and I’m done. “But I don’t want to.”

  I don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. Everything that built up on the train just a little while ago is hanging right there between us, and I’m about to fucking do something about it.

  Adrienne

  Reese is my train guy? The person I’m only meeting as a formality because I desperately need this apartment is the very same guy I just ground myself against on a train until I was so wet all it would take was a touch to make me explode?

  I can’t even wrap my head around it because all I can process is that his mouth is inches from mine, the raw lust in his eyes making his intention clear.

  And then I can’t think at all, only feel, as his lips crash into mine.

  He crowds me up against the door, grabbing my wrists and pinning them with one hand above my head as his other hand grips my hip and holds me in place as he grinds his cock against me.

  I moan against the assault of his lips, responding to him instantly. I feel my pussy clench with need as Reese nips at my lips, then parts them with his tongue, thrusting it into my mouth in an urgent rhythm that mimics what I want him to do with his cock. His crazy big cock that I felt in all its hard thickness beneath the thin fabric of our clothes on the train.

  Reese keeps my arms pinned against the door as he drags his teeth down my neck. I arch against him as he sucks the sensitive flesh at the base of my neck.

  “Oh god,” I moan, losing myself completely. “Please.”

  He pulls his head back, a dark glint in his even darker eyes. “You want it, don’t you?” He grinds his hips against me. As if I could mistake what he means. “Are you a bad girl, Adrienne?”

  I feel a rush race through me at the sound of my name on his lips, as well as his insinuation. The excitement in the way he says it. Like he wants me to be a bad girl. And right now? I really, really want to be.

  Reese moves the hand from my hip around to my ass and squeezes, then reaches lower, bunching my skirt up in his hand yanking it up around my waist. He pulls back slightly, taking me in, then runs his hand back behind me, his hand meeting bare flesh and sending liquid desire straight to my core.

  My breath is ragged with anticipation as he traces the lacy waistband of my black thong over my hip and around, his finger running along the crease of my inner thigh. My hips buck involuntarily, searching for the touch I’m craving.

  “You are a bad girl. You want me to take you right up against this wall. Fuck you hard until you scream my name.”

  Is that what I want? I don’t even know this guy. But when he dips his finger inside the lace, brushing against my drenched folds, I know that I do.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “Fuck me, Reese.” I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. But when he hooks a finger in my thong and yanks it down, I no longer care.

  “So hot,” he murmurs, watching as he slides a finger inside me. Finishing what he started, what I wanted him to do on the train.

  I cry out as he adds a finger, thrusting deep into my pussy, and rolls his thumb over my clit. Shivers race up and down my spine, through my arms and legs, then shoot back to my core, igniting my body until I feel that I might burst into flames.

  Then his mouth is back on mine, teeth and tongue and lips urgent and demanding. I kiss him back, grinding against his hand, searching for release. I want to wrap my arms around him, wrap my entire body around him, but he still has me pinned to the door.

  “I want you so bad,” he grits out as he pumps his fingers into me faster and faster, sending me right up to the edge of ecstasy. “Do you have any idea what you did to me today when I saw that underneath all this you have a dirty side?” He flicks the strap of the garter belt with his thumb before going right back to my clit. “Because there’s no way someone wears something like this and doesn’t want to be fucked hard and dirty.”

  A whimper makes its way out of my chest. “Yes. Please.”

  He lowers his head to my chest, teasing me through my shirt with his lips, brushing them back and forth until my nipples become hard peaks straining against the lace of my bra.

  “You look so perfect in your fancy clothes. I just want to mess them up. Mess you up.”

  I never would have thought I’d be okay with someone wrinkling up my overpriced silk blouse, but as he clamps his mouth over my breast, sucking hard until I can feel the wetness of his mouth through the thin fabric separating us, it does nothing but make me wetter.

  Reese chuckles as if he knows what he’s doing to me. I can hear the sound of my juices on his hand as he continues to drive into me. And when he bites down on my nipple, I come apart.

  A million pinpricks of light fill my vision. I convulse, my body pushed to its limits by the intensity of the orgasm as it crashes over me. My pussy clenches around Reese’s fingers, as I ride wave after wave of pure pleasure.

  When I come down, aftershocks wracking my body, I open my eyes and stare at him. His cocky expression tells me he knows just how amazing he made me feel.

  “So, Adrienne,” he murmurs, finally releasing my wrists from above my head, “I was looking for a male roommate, but I think I might make an exception in your case.”

  His words bring me sharply back to reality. Oh my god. I just let a complete stranger rip my thong off and make me come against his door. The door of the apartment I thought would be mine up until fifteen minutes ago.

  Now, I’m just confused. I can’t live here. How could I? It’s all kinds of complicated, and I don’t have room for that in my life. What would that even make us? Roommates? Fuck buddies? Definitely not friends with benefits because I don’t even know the guy.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammer, pulling my thong up and shoving my skirt down as fast as I can. I reach for the doorknob as confusion washes over Reese’s face. His heartbreakingly gorgeous face.

  Yeah. I can’t do this. It’s just asking for heartbreak. Because there is no way I can live with this guy and keep my hands off him. Which means I can’t live with him at all. Even if that means after this week I’m effectively homeless.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat, twisting the knob and practically running out the door before he can stop me. I don’t look back.

  Reese

  I pace my office, my phone pressed against my ear. “What do you mean there’s no other address?”

  My assistant tries to respond calmly, but I can tell my outburst
has rattled her. “Exactly what it sounds like. Her application said her current lease ended last Saturday. And she didn’t have any forwarding address or anything.

  I rake my hand through my hair. It’s been almost two weeks since Adrienne ran from my apartment and I feel like I’m going crazy. I can’t get her out of my head. I pulled out all the stops trying to run into her on the 6 Train, but I know she has to be avoiding me, changing her schedule or something.

  I need to find her. No, I have to find her. Somehow she has totally taken over my waking—and sleeping—thoughts.

  “Well, I think we have enough resources to figure this out,” I say, trying to rein in my frustration. For fuck’s sake, I own one of the biggest real estate conglomerates in the city. Someone should be able to track her down. Then it hits me. Her job.

  “What did she list as her place of employment?”

  After a few minutes, she has the info together and I’m headed out of my office building and up Lexington. Yeah, I’m acting like a total stalker. I’m taking this meeting on the train thing way further than before. But I can’t explain it. I need to know why she ran out on me. Know what was going through her head.

  More than that, I actually want to know her. That’s a new one. I don’t do this. I don’t date women, get close to women. But that’s exactly where my mind has been. That I want to find out more about Adrienne Rhodes.

  She’s a total contradiction. Prim and proper exterior, sultry sex underneath. I’d like to think that it’s just curiosity. I’ve had a sample, and now I want the full meal.

  But I’m lying to myself. How else can I explain the fact that for two months I’ve watched this woman on the train, been curious about her?

  There’s obviously something about her that some part of me has responded to. And I need to figure it out.

  I glance at my watch as I approach the Dover Street Market. It’s nearing the time that I’d normally head for the train, so maybe she’s leaving work. I catch a glimpse of long blonde waves and feel a rush of adrenaline and desire.