The Morning Ride
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Genre: Contemporary; Light BDSM; ExhibitionismM
On Sale: May 28, 2015
A New York commuter shares lustful daydreams with another subway passenger…
Note: This 5000-word short story was previously published in PASSION, but has been revised and expanded. It may be short in length, but it’s not short in passion!
THE MORNING RIDE is also part of the Passion: Erotic Romance for Women anthology.
Rachel Kramer Bussel (Editor)
Format: Trade Paperback
On Sale: November 1, 2010
Love and sex have always been intimately intertwined, and Passion shows just how well the two can merge. This collection of steamy stories combines rich and explicit imagery with tales of classic love, letting the best writers of erotic romance bring to life tales that can be read aloud in bed. From long lost lovers reunited to love at first sight to romance rekindled, Passion’s succulent stories quicken heartbeats and appeal to everyone, from the least to the most romantic of souls.
Note for Readers: You must be of legal age in your country of origin to read this excerpt.
With a schedule more predictable than the subway train she waited on, Sophie’s chest constricted as though a cinch slowly tightened around her ribs. Left breathless every morning as she waited on the platform beside the tracks, her odd affliction only intensified once she boarded. The journey never varied, beginning in Upper Manhattan and continuing southward. Her body had acquired the habit, reinforced not by some psychological disorder, but by the need for one specific miracle to occur every morning as she took her usual seat along the far wall of the car.
She sat, then rose and sat again to rearrange her skirt beneath her. She pulled at the hem, and then slid it just high enough to attract attention but not so high she looked like a slut. She ignored the low “mmm-mm” from the college-aged boy with bed-head who sat beside her.
Her attention remained focused on the stations. “125th Street.” She straightened her back and took a deeper breath, hoping to quell the heat entering her cheeks. “59th Street”. She unwrapped her fingers from around her purse straps because her knuckles were whitening. When the car slid to a stop at 42nd, she held her breath and averted her glance from the sliding doors, watching instead from the corner of her eye as passengers stepped inside, sought their seats and settled in for their morning commute.
She saw him, or at least from the knee on down. Shiny black loafers. Knife-edged creases on his charcoal trousers. Sweeping her gaze upward, but still not looking directly, she eyed his tall, lean body, embracing the quickening tattoo of her heart. Dark hair, still glossy from his shower curled close to his scalp. The scent of aftershave, spicy and fresh, followed him, and she inhaled sharply to catch it. When he took his seat along the opposite wall and two seats down, she let out the breath she’d held, the pinpricks of darkness that had narrowed her vision to a tunnel, fading back. All was right in her world again.
Never mind, she’d spent another restless night, fighting the blankets and the dreams that left her so hot and frustrated she’d retrieved the vibrator from under her bathroom sink to take off the edge. Last night had been the best, or the worst, depending on whether she wanted to sink into the dream or cry over the fact she was tired. Even now, the potency of the dream was so strong, the details so vivid, it was easy to slide back into the moment when she’d stumbled against him as they both debarked at Chambers Street and he’d slid his hand around her waist to steady her…
He’d caught her against his chest, and she’d been forced to glance up, staring into his face fully for the first time.
“Gotcha,” he said softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
When he didn’t release her, she didn’t comment, not even when people jostled past them. “I’ve noticed you before,” she said.
“I wanted to say something, but…”
“Yeah.” She pried her fingers from the lapel of his suit and backed away. His arms slid slowly from her as though he was reluctant to let her go, and she glanced up again.
He swallowed hard. “Coffee?”
She shook her head, not understanding for a moment then gasped. “Please.”
Only when he pushed through the glass doors of the coffee shop he led her to, they entered a bedroom. Hers. And it was pristine for once, covers turned down. Rose petals spread across the robin’s egg blue cotton sheets.
He bent to pick her up, and suddenly they were both nude. Climbing onto the mattress, he lowered her slowly to the bed. He didn’t give her time to savor the moment, coming over her, a knee between her thighs, opening her.
His hand cupped her pussy, and his lips pulled away from his teeth amid tight, reddened features. “Sorry, I can’t wait. Been waiting so long…”
She embraced him, pulling him closer as the round knob of his cock nudged her lips. When he thrust straight toward her womb, her back arched and her breasts tightened. A long thin moan ripped from her throat. It took only three strong thrusts before she came.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then followed her, giving a muffled shout as he hammered between her legs. Even when his arousal waned, he circled inside her, hips rolling and rolling, dragging on her heated walls until she groaned and rocked against him and he was hard again.
This time, he let his weight pin her to the mattress, bracketed her face between his large palms and held her while he rubbed his lips over hers then thrust his tongue inside.
She sucked on it, the way she wanted to suck on his cock, and he must have read her mind because he groaned into her mouth and then pulled away, backing onto his knees. His cock pulsed, tapping his belly. He stared down it, then aimed a hot glance her way.
Sophie got her elbows beneath her. “Fuck my mouth.”
He stepped over her until his knees were braced apart on either side of her chest, then he leaned over her, a hand against the wall as he guided his cock into her mouth.
Her tongue lapped at the smooth head. Her lips closed around the shaft, just beneath the glans and suctioned hard while he began to move in and out. Past her teeth, along her tongue, against the back of her throat. She swallowed, caressing the head.
A hand cupped the back of her head, giving her support, and his strokes quickened. “Swallow, baby. Take it,” he whispered.
Her muffled mewling cries vibrated around him, and he cried out, thick surges of cum splashing at the back of her throat.
When he pulled away, he scooted down until he could bend to kiss her mouth. “Baby, that was so goddamn hot.”
The dream had ended there with his wet cock digging into her belly—before they’d shared names, before they’d agreed to see each other again. Not the sort of dream she’d ever had before—or at least not so long and detailed. Like a scene from a smutty romance novel, rose petals and all.
Still, she’d been left wet, aching, and the dildo hadn’t filled the empty space inside her. If only she had the courage to approach him. Maybe he’d be as sexy, well-endowed and skilled as her dream-lover—or maybe he’d be a complete dick.
Either way, she’d bring an end to this wanting.