The Commute (Regular Sex Issue 1) (2 page)

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Authors: Kitty French

BOOK: The Commute (Regular Sex Issue 1)

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‘You taste
sexy,’ he whispers, savouring me. ‘Like sun cream and champagne.’

God, I want him
to kiss me again, more deeply, more tongue, more, more, more. I can feel the
sun-warmed sand, sugar soft against my skin.

‘You’re
overdressed for the beach,’ I say, my words quiet into his mouth. ‘Hot as you
look in this shirt, it needs to go right now.’ I move my hand from cupping my
own jaw to cupping his. I don’t give a fuck what anyone else on this train
thinks anymore. There’s no one here but us.

‘Can you feel me
unbuttoning your shirt, Jude? I’m going to slide my hands inside now.’

He closes his
eyes for a second, and I know he can feel my hands on his chest as surely as I
can feel the gentle tug of his teeth on my nipples.

When he opens
them again, the dark filth I see there thrills me.

‘Your bikini
bottoms tie with strings on your hips,’ he says, and this time when he kisses
me he lingers long enough to open my lips with his own and whisper into my
mouth. ‘Can you feel my hands on your hips, Stacy? I’m tugging on those strings
right now, and they’ve just fallen open. I’m going to slowly drag the material
between your legs so I can see you glorious and naked for me.’

Fuck, I truly
can feel it. My knickers slide against me as I uncross my legs beneath the
table, and I whimper, actually fucking whimper because I want this to be real
so very much.

Jude sits back a
little, putting mere inches of space between us. It’s probably a good thing,
because if he’d deepened the kiss instead I wouldn’t have been able to stop
myself. I wonder if that’s why he’s moved back, and I both admire and resent
his control. Then he pauses, reaches for his jacket and extracts an expensive-looking
silver pen. I’m confused, and about to panic and yell 'Christ, don't stop now,'
because I don’t want his number, I want an orgasm, and then he slowly pushes
the pen across the table towards me and folds my fingers over it. I’m still
confused, until he leans in and turns my jaw gently with his fingers so he can
whisper in my ear.

‘I want you to
slide this inside your knickers right now,’ he mouths, smooching the
screamingly sensitive skin just below my ear. ‘Open yourself and make sure you
position it right against your clit, then give me your hands on the table top
again.’

I’m shaking, and
then he turns my face back to his and kisses me again, his thumb stroking my
bottom lip between our mouths. ‘Do it right now, Stacy. My cock is so fucking
hard for you.’

I’m
uncharacteristically desperate to do as I’m told, and I risk a glance around to
make sure no one is watching.

‘No one’s
looking at you but me,’ he says. ‘Do it now, and then tell me how it feels.’

I swallow
painfully hard in my dry throat, and then I clasp the metal pen and move
slightly so I can slide my hand inside the waistband of my skirt. I almost
falter because somewhere in my brain I know this is wrong, but I also know that
nothing in my life has even felt more right, so I move my hand inside the top
edge of my knickers and sink the pen down between my lips. I suck in air
sharply as the cold metal touches me, hard and intimate where I am overheated
and soft. I close my eyes, overcome with the need to leave my hand there and
touch myself.

‘Now open your
eyes and give me your hands.’

Jude’s voice
makes my eyelids snap open, and I find him looking at me with those hot, turned
on eyes, his lips slightly parted, his breathing pattern a little shallower
than it had been a few seconds before. He takes my hands when I offer them to
him across the table, his grip warm and firm, his thumbs massaging over the
pulse points of my wrists.

‘Tell me how it
feels, Stacy.’

The regular jolting
motion of the train has never been more welcome.

‘It’s cold,
Jude, and I’m so very hot,’ I whisper. ‘And it’s hard, and pressing into me.’

His thumbs draw
firm circles on my wrists.

‘Cross your
legs,’ he tells me, watching me carefully. ‘Feel it sliding against your clit.’

I press my mouth
into a straight line to hold the gasps in as I do as he says. The pen moves in
my slickness.

‘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.

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