Girl For Rent: A Dark Romantic Comedy

by Dark Angel

  Then he slams his cock right back into my tight heat, hitting just the right spot as he pounds into me over and over.

  I arch my back and look back at him. His eyes are burning with lust. But I see more there, something that makes me think what he said on the train about being crazy about me might just be true.

  I reach for him, and he pulls me up, my back against his chest, his hands gripping my tits as he continues to fuck me from behind. I lean my head back on his shoulder, and he rains hot, wet kisses down my neck.

  Dropping a hand to my clit, he teases me there while he pinches my nipple with his other hand. And just like that, I fly over the edge, a scream ripping from my throat as my orgasm tears through me. I feel his cock swell inside of me, hot jets shooting from him as my pussy grips him over and over and over.

  We collapse on the bed in a satisfied haze. Everything I ever fantasized about my train guy was nothing compared to the reality.

  After a while of drifting in the afterglow, I prop my hand on my head and give him a teasing smile. “So, about that roomie situation.”

  He gives me that sexy, cocky smirk and arches an eyebrow. “Let me guess. I convinced you.”

  I purse my lips, and he laughs. “Come on, baby. Where else can you move where you are guaranteed earth-shattering orgasms anytime you want?”

  “Anytime?” I grin.

  “Hell yeah. I’m at your service. All day and night.” Reese rolls me over until I’m lying on top of him, and I can feel him hardening again already.

  “Sounds pretty tempting.”

  He tilts his head up and kisses me, his eyes growing serious. “That’s not the only reason I want you here, though. I don’t know what it is, Adrienne, but there’s something about you…”

  He trails off as if he suddenly feels unsure of himself, and I decide to put him out of his misery.

  “Reese, I don’t get it either. But I want to figure it out. With you.”

  He grins, flipping me onto my back and pinning my hands above my head. “Good. Because I was going to have to resort to bribing you with cooking gourmet meals.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You cook?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? You, my friend, have a new roommate.” I can’t help laughing at his expression. “So when is dinner?”

  He gives me a wicked grin as he starts kissing down my stomach. My satisfied body is suddenly needy all over again as his mouth settles on my pussy.

  I moan as he expertly drives me wild with his tongue, crying out in frustration when he lifts his head.

  “What?” he asks innocently. “I thought you wanted dinner.”

  I push his head back down, laughing. “I’ll settle for dessert.”

  He practically growls. “Me too.”

  Ginger & Blaze

  Ginger

  “To hot sex on the train,” I laugh, holding up my shot glass to my ex-roommate Adrienne.

  She giggles, shaking her blonde head at me, then we toss back the Lemon Drops we were just served.

  “So, tell me,” I say, planting my palms on the high-top table we’re sitting at in the trendy SoHo bar. It’s Friday night, and the place is packed. “How the hell did you do it on the train without getting caught?”

  This girl has turned into a wild woman in the few weeks since she moved out of our apartment and into her new boyfriend’s Upper East Side place. I’m totes jealous. I mean, sex on the 6 Train? Hell yeah, I want some of that. Unfortunately, my life isn’t half as exciting as hers lately.

  Adrienne’s face turns almost as red as my hair, but I see the wicked gleam in her eyes. “Why? You planning on getting you some on the way home, Ginger?”

  I scoff. Right. “If only. But seriously. Spill.”

  “Well, you have to wear a skirt, obviously.”

  I look down at my leather miniskirt. Check. “If it were that easy, I think I’d be a pro by now.” Short skirts and boots are kind of my thing.

  “It also helps if the train is crowded.”

  I lift my eyebrows, staring at her as if she’s lost her mind. “You’re joking. And here I thought you were a good girl. Who knew you were a closet exhibitionist.”

  She bites her lip. “Well, if you’re one of just a few people in the car then it’s kind of obvious if you’re moving around on someone’s lap. When it’s crowded, you can play it off that there’s nowhere else to sit.”

  We break into a fit of giggles. Just…wow. Who would have thought that my prim and proper ex-roomie has a wild streak that puts me to shame?

  “I’ll have to remember that,” I joke, though the idea of me having sex on a train is about as far out of the realm of possibility as me hitting the jackpot in Vegas. I’m having a bit of a dry spell lately. Which is why I have to live vicariously through Adrienne.

  We have a few more drinks over the next couple hours as we catch up. I notice the time and sigh. “I hate to ditch this party, but I have an early morning tomorrow.”

  I’m the event director at a conference center in Midtown, and tomorrow is going to be huge. We’re hosting one of the biggest bike shows of the year. I’ve been working my ass off for weeks, and the last thing I need is a hangover on the big day. Especially since I’m hoping I might make some connections that will get me out of the generic conference business and more specifically into the bike show arena.

  We say our goodbyes, and I make my way outside and head east. Just as I’m approaching the subway, I see a freaking huge guy in a black leather jacket pacing by the stairs that lead underground.

  But it’s not the look of pure rage or the stream of profanity spewing from his mouth that stops me in my tracks. Nope. That would be the hit of straight up lust that comes out of nowhere as I take in this insanely hot male specimen.

  Too-long jet black hair that falls over his forehead into eyes that are nearly as dark. A sharp, angled jaw, so defined that it isn’t obscured by the scruff covering it. And lips that were made to sin. The filthy words coming out of them as he kicks the tire of a motorcycle only make it that much sexier.

  I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat as I drag my eyes down his body. I’m not the least bit surprised that his black shirt and dark jeans cling to him, highlighting the fact that his bulk is made up of pure muscle.

  Sexy as fuck biker man spins around again, then stops, his eyes locking on mine. And oh my god. Is it crazy to say that my knees feel weak? Because the heat in his stare is enough to make me swoon. Especially when that mouth curves up in a knowing smirk.

  I jolt out of my lust-filled stupor, trying to jump start my brain. There is no way this guy doesn’t know I’m totally checking him out. And why wouldn’t I? He’s everything my inner wannabe biker chick fantasizes about.

  So I do exactly what I always do. I take off.

  Ripping my gaze from his, I fly down the stairs as fast as my four-inch boot heels will carry me, knowing that he’ll be the one I think about tonight when I’m alone in my bed.

  You know, when I’m wishing I had the nerve to be like Adrienne and do something wild and crazy for a change.

  Blaze

  I don’t stop to think about it. I don’t even care if it’s a bad idea. All I know is that chick was hot as fuck and she just took off down the stairs into the metro station.

  I grind my teeth as I look at my bike, broken down yet again on the side of the road. Then I throw it into neutral and push it over to the stairs, straddle it, and let gravity do its thing as I tip the front wheel over the first step.

  Shocked gasps and curses hit my ears as I maneuver through the handicap access gate and toward the train platform, my eyes scanning for that bright red hair. A smirk crosses my mouth as I see her, and I coast straight into the car of the train she’s in and park my bike. I stay sitting on it, leaning forward on the handlebars as she turns toward me, green eyes wide.

  “What the hell?”

  I laugh. She almost looks indignant. Like my bike on the train i
s offensive. Shrugging, I let my eyes roam her body. Black boots, black skirt, faded t-shirt that hugs her like a second skin. Hot.

  The flush that travels up her pale neck makes me want to rake my teeth across that perfect skin and leave marks. And when I see the edge of some intricate ink peeking out of the low neckline of that shirt, all I want to do is rip it off her and see what else is hiding under there.

  “You can’t have that thing on here,” she bites out, her eyes a mix of irritation and intrigue. And possibly a bit of lust—or maybe that’s me.

  “That thing,” I throw back, “is my true love.” I caress the body of my bike. I don’t expect her to get it. Most chicks don’t. “Ain’t no way I’m leaving her out on the street all night.”

  She bites her lip, and fuck! All I want to do is drag her onto my lap and take those lips between my own teeth, biting down until she’s writhing in my arms.

  “I guess I don’t blame you. She’s gorgeous.” Little Miss Sex on a Stick takes a step toward me and shocks the hell out of me when she runs her hands over the tank of my baby.

  “You know bikes?”

  Her eyes flick up to mine briefly, then down to my leather jacket, where the emblem of my club is inscribed, along with my name. “Maybe…Blaze?”

  I nod, now intrigued myself. From the way she’s now checking out my bike more than me, it’s obvious she’s a biker chick. Or maybe was once.

  “Wanna take a ride?”

  Now those green eyes are back on mine, confused.

  “Isn’t it broken down?”

  I watch her intently until she starts to shift, uncomfortable by my scrutiny. And that flush is back.

  I can’t resist. I reach out and trail a finger down that smooth throat, my fingertips brushing the edge of her tattoo. Her breath comes a little faster, and I smile.

  “What makes you think I’m talking about the bike?”

  Her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip as her eyes glance around the nearly empty car. Just then, the train whips around a corner and she loses her balance, her arms flying out to grasp my bike to keep from falling.

  Without a second thought, my hands wrap around her hips and haul her toward me, spinning her around until she’s seated sideways in front of me on my bike.

  Her breath comes out on a gasp, and the little sound makes me hard in an instant. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her eyes now focused on me alone. Just the way I want it.

  I smile, not bothering to move my hands from her hips. Not wanting her to move from where she is.

  “What’s your name, Red?”

  “Ginger.” Her voice comes out low and throaty. And there is no doubt she is just as turned on as I am.

  “Ginger.” I grin wickedly. Of course she is. “Now, how about that ride?”

  Ginger

  Holy shit.

  Is this really happening right now? Surely I’m already back home and dreaming about this sexy biker that has me wrapped in his arms, his fingers digging into my hips, dangerously close to my ass. Because my skirt is also riding dangerously high.

  There is no way this can be real. My train fantasy, courtesy of Adrienne, is not only coming true but with the kind of guy I only let myself pretend I can have? No way that’s real.

  But his warm breath brushing across my neck and the shivers it sends down my spine feel pretty damn real.

  “Now, how about that ride?” Blaze says.

  Oh god. Yes, please!

  To my total shock, I find myself grinning teasingly up at him. “Only if I get to be in charge.”

  Something growly rises up his throat, and I feel it right at the top of my thighs, a pulsing throb of need making me lose all good sense.

  His fingers tighten on me in response. “Ride away, baby.”

  I swing a leg over the bike, shifting with his hands still on me until I’m straddling the bike in front of him. He’s pushed right up against my ass, and holy shit, he is hard.

  I barely manage to keep the excited gasp contained, and to my complete embarrassment, I find myself pushing back against him and wiggling.

  “There you go,” he chuckles. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I can’t even wrap my head around what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to stop, so I go with it. Somehow this fantasy man come to life is too much for me and I can’t make myself think rationally.

  “Have you ridden before?” Blaze murmurs against my neck, sending another shiver through me.

  Not sure if he’s talking about the bike or…well, other things, I go with an answer that covers both bases. “It’s been a while.”

  “Hmm.” He takes his hands from my hips and runs them down my arms until his huge hands grip mine and stretch them out until I’m leaning way, way forward on the bike to reach the handles. The movement has my back arched and my ass pushed even further back into him.

  “Let me refresh your memory, then,” Blaze continues. He grabs first one booted foot, then the other, and places them up on the bike until the only thing keeping us upright is him. But I’m not worried. I got a good look at those muscular thighs. This guy is big, in every way. And somehow, against every bit of reason, against everything about him that screams danger, I trust that he’s got me.

  Once my legs are in place, thighs gripping the body of the bike, he lets his hands run up from my boots, trailing roughly along my thighs until they come to rest right at the top.

  “There you go,” he says, squeezing my thighs, “grip it just like that between your legs.”

  I do what he says, squeezing my legs even tighter, glad at the moment that I have something between my legs. Because the pressure building in my core is out of control. I wiggle around a little, trying to get a little friction from the bike on my clit, nearly out of my mind with desire as his thick cock presses against my ass when I move.

  “So, Ginger.” The way my name rolls off his tongue, as if it’s a tease, has me turning my head to look at him over my shoulder. I can’t decide if that’s a mistake or not because the depths of his eyes have gone totally black with the same lust that I feel.

  “Yeah?” I breathe, not sure what is actually going on. I’m trading innuendos with a total stranger, not so subtly grinding on his cock, and hoping his fingers on my thighs inch their way a little higher. And I can’t remember why it’s a bad idea.

  “You often take rides from strangers?”

  I laugh, his double meaning not lost on me. “Well, this isn’t actually a ride, is it?” I tease. “But yeah, rides from strangers are supposed to be bad.”

  He grunts, his fingers digging into my legs again, the tips trailing under the hem of my skirt. “So bad.”

  His lips aren’t even an inch from my neck, and I tilt my head, inviting him in. He doesn’t hesitate. And his teeth nip at my sensitive skin, followed my the tease of his tongue, my eyes flutter closed, blocking out the sight of the other passengers on the train.

  I moan, shamelessly grinding on him and his bike, and his fingertips move stealthily under my skirt, brushing against my panties.

  Blaze hisses, lifting his lips to my ear. “You are so fucking wet.”

  His words only make me wetter, and I’m about to lose all sense of time and place as he continues to stroke me through the lacy fabric.

  But then the train jerks to a stop, throwing me forward on the bike. The doors whoosh open, and there’s movement as people exit and board the train. I’m jerked back to my senses just as quickly.

  What the hell was I thinking? I was about to let this total stranger make me cum on the train? Holy shit.

  My face flaming, I jump from the bike, looking around frantically. This is so not me. I must have just gotten carried away after hearing about Adrienne’s crazy antics.

  With one last look at that ruggedly gorgeous face that’s now twisted in confusion, I bolt, so glad that I live in a city of millions of people where I will certainly never see any of the people on this train again.

  Blaze

  Walking around the
bike show, I laugh and joke with people, trying to focus on doing my job of networking. But it’s really fucking hard when all I can think about is Ginger and her tight little body pressed up against me on the train last night.

  She left me staring after her in shock, the look of panic on her face confusing me after the brazen way she’d acted just moments before.

  My eyes scan the crowd as I talk to one of the show sponsors, barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Something about partnering for an ad campaign later in the year. I know I should be listening—that’s what I’m here for, to network and grow my bike brand—but I can’t help hoping I’ll see her here.

  I know it’s a long shot. I mean, what are the chances of her being at the show? But I could tell that girl had a thing for bikes. The way she climbed on board and hugged the body of my bike? It definitely wasn’t her first ride.

  I grin at the memory of trading innuendos with her. Then get hard all over again as I recall just how fucking sexy she was grinding against me, her pussy so wet when I ran my fingers over her lacy panties.

  Gritting my teeth, I try to tamp down the desire coursing through my body and zero in on this dude who is spouting something about commercials and television and some other shit.

  But it doesn’t last long when I see a flash of bright red hair about fifty feet away.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the guy, clapping him on the back and not even looking at him as I start to walk away. “I’ll have my people get back to you.”

  I should be more concerned that I leave him gaping after me, but I’m not. All I can focus on is covering the distance between me and the sexy redhead that I’m now sure is Ginger.

  Long legs, spike-heeled boots, short leather skirt? Hell fucking yeah.

  Her back is to me, but I know it’s her. That throaty laugh would be a dead giveaway if that body wasn’t enough. I feel it go straight through me, inciting some kind of primitive lust to claim her that I can’t begin to understand.