Night Moves Read online

  “Fuck, Ian!”

  He worked her hard with his fingers, his mouth, until she was breathless, spent. Then he pulled away.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m going to fuck you.”

  Before the last waves of her climax had faded, he had her on the edge of the small bunk.

  “Wait here.”

  He fumbled in a backpack on the bed, pulled out a small foil pouch, and she watched as he sheathed himself.

  “Spread for me, beautiful girl. Yeah, that’s it.”

  Her thighs fell open wide, and as he stood before her, she reached for him, pulling his hips into hers. He stopped at the entrance to her sex. She could feel the tip against her wet opening.

  “Come on, Ian. Come on and fuck me.”

  He let out a long breath. Slid in an inch. Pleasure pulsed in her blood, in her sex.

  “Deeper.”

  Another inch, and his cock was already beginning to fill her up. She surged against him.

  “You want it all?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He reached out a hand, caught her hair up in his fingers, twined them there, pulling tight, and plunged deep, burying himself inside her.

  “Oh!”

  “Jesus, you feel good,” he murmured, before he began to move.

  Her fingers dug into the flesh of his hips as he drove into her, over and over, pleasure burrowing into her with every sharp thrust. Her legs were wrapped around his narrow waist, holding him tight against her. And when she looked up at him, his face, drawn in ecstasy, was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

  “I just need to fuck you, Kate. Just fuck you.”

  “Yes, do it. Do it hard.”

  He slammed into her, the wool blanket on the bunk scratching her skin, the metal frame below the thin mattress biting into her spine. She didn’t care. All she knew was she had never felt so taken over, never been fucked so hard in her life. Never been fucked to the rhythm of the train that was pure sex to her. And she loved every minute of it.

  She rocked against him, rocked with the turning of heavy iron wheels over solid iron tracks. Something so primal, so basic. And the scent of sex was all around her. The scent of sex, of Ian’s skin, of her own juices.

  “Fuck me harder, Ian. Come on, you can do it.”

  He drove into her, pummeling her, his pubic bone crashing into hers, and she was coming again, panting, her pussy clenching in pleasure. It spread, deep into her body, into her mind, while a thousand stars went off in her head. Blinding. Beautiful.

  He was still fucking her, his body going hard all over. Then he tensed, shuddered, muttered, “Jesus, girl, have to fuck you, fuck you, yeah…”

  The train kept moving, sliding over the rails, while they breathed together, the air pungent with their sweat, with the tangy scent of sex, the earthier scent of come as he pulled the condom off.

  He pulled her with him onto the narrow bunk while they caught their breath. His body was warm, felt good against hers. One arm was looped beneath her shoulder, and he idly played with her hair.

  “That was perfect,” she told him.

  “Yeah it was.”

  “Ian…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I want to tell you something. It’s easier because I don’t know you.”

  He laughed softly, a deep chuckle. “You know me now, girl.”

  “Maybe. But I still want to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I have a…fetish. It’s about the trains.”

  “Ah, so that’s what it was all about earlier, you making yourself come like that.”

  “Yes. I’ve done it before. As often as I can. I love to ride the train, but even more, I love to wait until it’s night, then find an unlocked compartment, and bring myself off.”

  He was quiet a moment, then, “And? Is that all?”

  “Yes. No. Part of it is sneaking in here like this, you know? Doing something I’m not supposed to do. It’s fucking thrilling as hell, if you want to know the truth. I’ve done it a few times now. And it gets better every time. It starts sooner each time. I was wet the moment I got on the train tonight. I had to find a place to be alone, had to get myself off.”

  He groaned. “I’m getting hard again just hearing you tell me these things. But that’s not the only reason why I’m glad you told me.”

  They were both quiet for a while. Then she said, “This is…almost magical for me. Like something I made up.”

  “Maybe you did.”

  “Maybe. But you’re real. You’re experiencing this, too. My fantasy.”

  “Yeah. But it’s mine, too. Meeting a beautiful girl on the train in the middle of the night. How often does that happen to anyone?”

  “I’m not beautiful.”

  “It’s true. I don’t know why you don’t think so.”

  “I’m too skinny and my hair is totally out of control.”

  “That’s what I like about it. It’s wild. Like you. And your skin is like fucking silk. Like pale silk.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “Yeah, and you didn’t have to stay here. Didn’t have to sleep with me. But you did.”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “That’s right.”

  She was quiet a moment. “Okay.”

  She smiled to herself, and he pulled her chin up, kissed her, his tongue slipping between her lips. She was hot all over again immediately.

  “Kiss me like that and I’ll believe anything you say,” she told him when he pulled away. “I’ll do anything you say.”

  “That’s very tempting.”

  “I mean it.”

  And she did. Maybe it was the train. Maybe it was something about him. She didn’t even know him. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was how much she wanted him, craved his touch. His mouth, his hands on her flesh.

  “Why do you trust me so much?” he asked her.

  “I don’t know. But I do.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Sure I do. I know you’re a tech geek.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Do you want to know more? Or do you want to just be strangers who fucked on a train?” There was nothing bitter in his question. He was simply asking her.

  “Yes. I want to know more.” She did, she realized. “Tell me where you’re from. Are you going home?”

  “Yeah, heading home from Bend, to Huntington Beach.”

  “Ah, do you surf?”

  “Everyone in Huntington surfs.”

  “And what were you doing in a nowhere town like Bend, Oregon?”

  “I went to my uncle’s funeral.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I never liked him much. I went because I thought I should. Because my family expected it.”

  “Do you always do what other people expect of you?”

  “Almost never. But this time…I don’t know. I knew it’d make my mother happy. And no, I’m not a mama’s boy.”

  “I don’t think mama’s boys can fuck like that.”

  He laughed. “So, what about you? Where are you off to? Did you get on in Klamath Falls, or were you already on the train?”

  “Yes, I got on in Klamath. I was in Ashland for a week with some friends at the Shakespeare Festival. Have you ever been?”

  “No. But I’ve heard about it.”

  “It’s a pretty amazing thing, if you like theater. Do you?”

  “Yeah, I do. I um…I played Puck in my high school production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “I like that. A guy who knows Shakespeare.”

  “We’re not all football-playing jarheads.”

  “Maybe not all of you.”

  He grinned at her, smoothed her hair from her face.

  “So, where’s home? And what do you do there besides read Shakespeare?”

  “San Francisco. I’m a graphic artist. I work freelance. It lets me travel.”r />
  “I love San Francisco. Love the food there. And they have some of the best beer bars.”

  “Have you ever been to Zeitgeist?”

  “Yeah, that biker bar? The best ale anywhere.”

  She nodded. “I love living in San Francisco. I have a place down by the ocean. I love the fog, the loneliness of it. The grayness.” She stopped, laughed. “You probably think that’s strange.”

  “No, not at all. I like to go out surfing in the morning, and I mean really early. Five, six a.m. It’s always foggy that early. Peaceful. Like it’s just me and the ocean out there. And the ocean is endless and powerful. It wipes everything else away. Whatever is on my mind. Job stress, whatever. I take my dog with me, and he just sits on the sand and watches me.”

  “I like dogs. What’s his name?”

  “Petey. Do you know the dog in that old show, The Little Rascals? He’s a pit bull and he looks just like that—white with a black ring around one eye.”

  “Yes, of course I know that show. I love old black-and-white television. All those shows from the fifties and sixties. I Love Lucy. The Honeymooners. Everything was so simple. These days, everyone wants everything at once.”

  He was watching her again, his pale eyes all dark pupil now, glittering. “All I want right now is to kiss you. To make you come again.”

  She smiled as he rolled her onto her back, laid his long body on top of hers. Straddling her, he bent so he didn’t hit his head on the top bunk. He started by running his hands over her skin: her stomach, her throat, her shoulders, making her nipples peak hard, wanting to be touched.

  “Come in, Ian,” she said quietly.

  He laughed. “You’re impatient, girl.”

  “I am. You said you’d make me come.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  He took both nipples in his fingers and pinched hard, making her gasp.

  “Good?” His eyes were gleaming in the half dark.

  “Oh, yes.”

  He pushed her breasts together, leaned in and traced his tongue over one hard tip. She moaned, pleasure filling her up, spreading into her arms, her legs, her sex.

  “Oh, I like that. Don’t stop.” It came out a quiet, breathless whisper.

  He paused, looked up at her, his lush mouth crooked in a half smile. “I won’t. Not since you asked so nicely.” He bent his head once more, his hair falling onto her chest, stroking her skin as his tongue went back to work, lapping, licking.

  He went from one nipple to the other, his hands hot on her skin, his tongue wet, unbelievable. Desire ran like a current through her body, lighting up her sex with need. She arced her hips, but he stayed focused on her breasts, his tongue like some lovely sort of torture.

  “God, Ian.”

  He pulled one nipple into his mouth, just letting it rest against the softness of his tongue, not moving.

  “Ian. I need…I need more.”

  But he held still, the wet texture of his mouth on her making her crazy with need, lust pulsing between her thighs, aching.

  “Ian…suck, please.”

  He took the hard nub between his teeth, grazing the surface, and even that brought a sharp twinge of pleasure. He moved to the other breast, took her nipple between his teeth, this time biting into the flesh a little.

  “Oh, yes…”

  Then he went still again. She was panting, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She couldn’t believe what he was doing to her. Her pussy was drenched, hurting, hungry. She almost felt as though she could come like this: just his hands, his mouth, on her breasts.

  Her hips arced, and she wanted to squeeze her thighs together, but Ian’s body was in between them. If only he’d shift the tiniest bit, just press on her mound with one strong thigh. With his hard, lovely cock.

  He lifted his head. “Patience, Kate.” He laughed a little, a husky sound low in his throat. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

  She groaned as he squeezed both nipples in his fingers.

  “You like that.”

  “Yes!”

  He was watching her, his gaze on hers as he squeezed again.

  “Oh!”

  “So beautiful…”

  He kept twisting, tugging, pulling on the pink flesh, and she felt her nipples swell impossibly. Her sex pulsed, hot and wet. And his face over her, his teeth coming down on his lush lower lip, concentrated lust making his features soft.

  Too good…

  She was going to come.

  “Yeah, that’s it. I can feel it, girl. Your body going tight. I bet if I slipped my hand between your thighs your pussy would be so damn wet, I could slide right in. Like silk.”

  “Yes…please, Ian.”

  “But I’m not going to do it. I’m going to make you come, just like this. I know you can do it.”

  “Yes…oh, God…”

  He twisted again, pain and pleasure mingling in some unfathomable way, making her shiver, making her sex clench. So close…

  “Come on, girl, you can do it. Come for me.”

  He tugged hard, her nipples stinging in pain. But the pleasure was so intense, surging into her body, shafting deep inside her sex, like his cock, like his fingers inside her, like his mouth sucking, sucking. Except it was only his clever hands, every sensation carrying from her tortured nipples, screaming through her system, until…

  “Oh! Fuck, Ian!”

  Her climax ripped through her, shuddering, explosive. And she shook all over with it, hardly believing it was happening in some dark corner of her mind. Then she was just melting, her muscles going lax, pleasure still humming through her like the thundering motion of the train beneath them.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, fought to catch her breath.

  “That was good,” he murmured. “So damn good, just watching your face. Fucking beautiful.”

  He let her lay there for a few minutes, quiet. Then he lifted her chin. “Hey, girl.”

  “Hmm, what?” She let her eyes flutter open.

  “I need to fuck you. Now.”

  Before she could answer he was lifting her, his hands circling her waist. He pulled her upright, off the bunk and onto her feet, pushed her up against the window so she could see the velvet sky racing by, a sliver of moon shining through the clouds. He was right up against her, his warm body pressed against her spine. Using his thigh, he made her spread her legs, pulled her hips back toward his until she felt the swollen head of his cock against her buttocks, then between her thighs.

  She was still drenched from her orgasm, but the lips of her sex were swelling with need already.

  “Yes, do it, Ian.”

  “I will, girl.”

  She heard the small, metallic rip of a condom packet, waited while he pulled away to sheath himself. Then his big body was up against her once more, and he slid into her, hard and sleek, filling her.

  God, she needed this. Needed it rough and hard, with no time to catch her breath as he began to pump into her right away. He used his body to press her up against the side of the train, her bare breasts on the icy glass of the window. It felt good on her sore nipples. It all felt good. Unbelievable.

  “You love the feel of the train, don’t you? The vibration.”

  “Yes…” Even hearing him say it sent a shiver of pleasure through her, beating hot and urgent in her thready pulse.

  He slipped one hand around her waist, dipped down until the heel of his hand was flat against her mound. He found her clit, pressed there.

  “Yes, just like that.”

  He pushed her with his hips, until her body was hard against the side of the train, the metal wall pressing against the back of his hand. And that vibration carried through his hand to her clit, like the enormous vibrator she’d imagined earlier. Only so much better this time, with his cock thrusting in and out of her.

  “Ah, Ian, it’s almost too much,” she panted.

  “You can take it, girl.”

  His voice was rough with pleasure, and she loved hearing it; loved to hear him on
that brink, where control was so easily lost. Lovely. Intense.

  “Fuck me harder, Ian.”

  “Yeah…”

  He drove into her, his cock shafting deep, pushing pleasure through her sex and deep into her body, like something heavy and liquid. Pleasure like lava, flowing, spreading. In moments she was coming again, falling over that lovely, keen edge, pleasure a dazzling flash of light. Blinding. Stark.

  He tensed, rammed harder into her, called out, even as she shook with her own climax still. He was holding her so tightly, his fingers digging into her skin. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but his cock inside her, his hand, the rocking of the train.

  Iron and come and flesh.

  Her legs were weak, and his thighs trembled behind her. But he held her up. As her eyes refocused, she saw a moonlit field flash by in a dark watercolor stream, the silhouette of mountains in the distance. Beautiful.

  His body was so warm against hers. And the train seemed almost like a living beast, like some creature that was part of the sex, or maybe some driving force behind it. She couldn’t seem to separate it all, somehow. Not now; she was too dazed.

  “Come on, Kate.”

  He took her with him as he rolled onto the bunk, held her against his side. He was all heat and smooth, bare skin. He smelled like sex.

  She curled into his heat, his half-hard cock pressed against the small of her back. He felt good. She was relaxed, loose. More comfortable than she’d been in a long time.

  She’d never been this comfortable with Dominic. Never been so unself-conscious, so much herself with him. Maybe it was something about not really knowing Ian? About understanding that she’d get off this train and never see him again.

  It seemed important to her suddenly, being who she was, finally. Maybe the universe had conspired to put her here with Ian for this purpose? Or was she being melodramatic, reading more into the situation than was really there?

  But she was too tired to think about it. She inhaled deeply, pulling in the scent of Ian’s skin, that dark patchouli, along with the distant scent of the countryside rushing past the windows. Soon, she slept.

  Early sunlight behind her closed eyelids, invading her easy sleep. She stretched, felt the solid weight and heat of Ian’s body still lying beside her.

  Nice.

  His voice was rough with too little sleep. “Hey, morning, girl.” He ran a hand through her tangled hair, tugging on it.