The Morning Ride (an erotic short story with exhibitionism, light BDSM)
Read The Morning Ride (an erotic short story with exhibitionism, light BDSM) Online
Authors: Delilah Devlin
Tags: #Short Story
Delilah Devlin
Copyright © 2015 Delilah Devlin
Kindle Edition
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!
For more short stories by Delilah Devlin, check out:
If you love vampires, werewolves, and things that go bump in the night, check out her NIGHT FALL series:
And coming soon:
Truly, Madly…Deadly
To those of you who’ve read me before—hello, friends! To new readers, welcome to my world!
As you’ll discover, I tend to bounce around in different genres, from contemporary to historical to paranormal to sci-fi—all are very sexy,
so be warned
. I also write in many lengths from short story to full-length novel. If you can’t tell, I love to write. And when a story is fast, it’s short. If my characters need more pages, well, you get the picture. I’m a slave to my muses (I have three—or so three different psychics have told me!).
I love hearing from readers and have a very active blog and Facebook friend page. I run contests, talk about my favorite TV shows, what I collect, what drives me crazy. I ramble a bit. I’m doing it right now. But if you’d like to learn more about me and what I’m doing or writing about, be sure to check out the “About Delilah Devlin” page after the story.
And if you enjoy
this
story, please consider leaving a review on your favorite retail site or simply tell a friend. Readers do influence other readers. We have to trust someone to tell us whether we’ll have fun when we open a new story!
Sincerely,
Delilah Devlin
Visit
www.DelilahDevlin.com
for more titles and release dates and subscribe to Delilah’s newsletter at
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.
‡
W
ith 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, and then rose and sat again to rearrange her skirt beneath her. She pulled at the hem and 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…”
Realizing they shared a mutual attraction, she sighed inside. 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, she preferred tea, then understanding washed over her and she blurted, “Please.”
The dream segued to the place he brought her.
Only when he pushed through the glass doors of her favorite coffee shop, they instead 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 jaw tightened. “Sorry, I can’t wait. Been waiting so long…”
She embraced him, pulling him closer as the broad knob of his cock nudged her pussy. When he thrust straight toward her womb, her back arched and her breasts grew hard. 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.
It was her dream after all.
This time, he let his weight pin her to the mattress. He 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. 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 at it, then aimed a hot glance her way.
Sophie placed two pillows under her head. “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 come splashing at the back of her throat.
When he pulled away, he scooted down until he could 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.
Daniel settled onto
his seat in the subway car and raked a hand through his wet hair. He’d woken late and flown through his morning routine, skipping breakfast because he hadn’t wanted to wait on the next train. He’d have missed her, and for some strange reason, seeing the sexy little redhead in her plain dark skirts, button-down blouses, and running shoes ensured a pleasant start to his mornings.
He flipped open the newspaper he’d swiped from in front of his apartment door before he’d run down the stairs and pretended to read the headlines while his gaze followed the length of her pale, sturdy legs.
They weren’t the longest or the sleekest, and that hint of muscle at the back of her calf wasn’t all that noteworthy, but they drew his gaze up to her thighs. Her miniskirts were modest and her thighs were rounded—not fat, but feminine. And just like he did every morning, he wondered how soft the skin cloaking those luscious thighs would be.
That thought was all it took to send him straight into arousal so strong he had to place both feet on the floor and spread his legs slightly, the newspaper the only thing shielding his interest from the other passengers crowding into the car.
The woman was an obsession, his daily good-luck charm. If her gaze fanned him once and lingered for even a moment, his whole body warmed. He hadn’t approached her yet, hadn’t wanted to let his anticipation tarnish these morning moments, because she’d fed every wet dream he’d had the past few weeks. Since he’d broken up with Jen, “subway girl” was the closest thing he’d had to a date. Every day when he counted down the cars until he found the one she always sat inside, he wondered if the thrill would still be there. Today, it was definitely alive.
Her legs turned to the side, and she slid one thigh over the other, the quick split teasing him. If she were his, if they’d been alone, he’d have snuck a hand between her thighs, preventing her from closing them tight, and sunk his fingers into her cunt.
Her lush mouth would open, her teeth biting into her lip, her lids sliding down over her wide brown eyes to give him a dreamy, sex-starved look that would have him on his knees in a second and spreading those thighs wide. Daniel breathed evenly but deeply and sank deeper into his fantasy.
The people around them faded to shadows; the rumble of the train quieted so that all he could hear were her moans and the succulent clasping of her pussy.
His hands smoothed up the inside of her thighs. She lifted her butt off the seat, and he pushed up her skirt to expose the modest white panties that covered her sex and bottom.
Rather than closing her legs to pull down her underwear, he tucked a finger under the banding at one side and pulled her panties aside to expose her folds. Then he bent close, noting the way her fingers grabbed the edge of the seat and she fell back, scooting her butt closer to the edge and her pussy against his mouth.
