It was rush hour at its worst. The chime sounded as the doors parted, and the mass of humanity waiting on the platform parted like a chasm to allow passengers to disembark before surging forward like a single entity. The bulk of the rush hour commuters had no where else to go but stand, squashed together like books pressed together on shelves. There was little fear of falling with the weight of many others shoved so tightly together, spine to spine. A literal sea of arms rose to grasp anything that offered purchase or support as the passengers anticipated the chime of the closing door and the first lurch of the train as it left the station.

She found herself crushed into the corner of the opposite exit facing the door she'd just been carried through by the movement of the throng, clutching the overhead rail with her left arm, maintaining a death-grip on the handbag slung over her right shoulder with the other where it pressed uncomfortably against the door. The back of a towering man wearing a backpack was jammed against her left shoulder, and she recognized the faint repetitive beat of rap music blasting from his ear buds. The back of his head bobbed in unison with the beat. The steel barrier bracketing the exit was cold and hard against her back, and the warmth of the chest pressing against her front took a few moments to register. Her light overcoat was parted, and her entire body was pressed from breast to thigh with the man who had been shoved up against her as the passengers crowded in. His right hand was raised to grasp the overhead rail next to hers, and a briefcase was gripped in his left hand. His own coat was unbuttoned, and she could feel the heat of his chest through his shirt and her own dress.

She glanced up to examine the squared jaw of the businessman with whom she shared the uncompromising position, and her gaze faltered. His eyes were very blue beneath two dark brows drawn together in a curiously arrested expression. The sweep of his eyelashes raised a little as his eyes drifted upwards from their intent, downcast concentration and met hers with an unnerving, masculine stare. The scent of his skin and the heat of his body blended with the subtle perfume she'd worn to work that morning, and she breathed it in softly, feeling her heartbeat accelerate a little as they stared at one another. He was incredibly male, from the faint shadow darkening his jaw, to the straight, blunt shape of his nose and the mobile slash of his lips as they formed the suggestion of an inscrutable smile. Her breath caught as his gaze slid slowly, deliberately back down, and her own eyes followed. The position of her raised arm allowed the bodice of her dress to gape a little, and the proximity of the full shape of her breasts crushed against his chest had lifted them slightly from the push-up demi-bra. From the advantage of his height and the angle of his inclined head, she suddenly realized that he could clearly see the pink crests of both nipples where they had lifted from the confines of the thin veil of her bra.

The realization instantly stained her cheeks red with a hot wave of embarrassment. A simultaneous sharp intake of breath filled her lungs, inadvertently pressing the suddenly burning tips of her breasts more fully against his chest. The combination of the heat, humiliation and sudden awareness tightened the flesh into two tingling, painfully erect spears, and the cringing flesh rose fully into view from the protection of the lacy edge of the bra. She felt more than heard the vibration of a half-suppressed groan rise deep in his chest as her now erect nipples thrust against the light fabric, riding the broad expanse of his chest. They were separated only by the thin barrier of their respective clothing. She felt the straining peaks rubbing his chest like a brand, excruciatingly sensitive to the motion of the train, the friction of the fabric, the vibration transmitting from his body and hers to make it seem as if every nerve in her body had settled there. His eyes were still riveted by the gaping neckline and the sight of her bared, ripe nipples suspended against the edge of the bra, protruding like erect fruit against his chest. The train lurched, and she became aware of the incredibly hard, hot ridge of his erection pressing against the lower half of her belly. A liquid sensation of something hot and carnal erupted in the pit of her stomach and began to slide rhythmically to the pulse that was suddenly roaring in her ears. Her hips moved involuntarily against the bulge riding against her belly, and she felt the full length of him pressing back, for her. Her eyes rose in shock, humiliation and the unexpected awareness that she was wet, quivering, and there was no way to hide the betrayal of her body from the response in his.

She stared at him, face upturned, cheeks flaming, eyes gleaming with suppressed sexual tension and shame, and he stared back, not breaking the contact. The door chime sounded again, and the doors thumped open as they gazed at one another. The crush of humanity thinned briefly as passengers exited, but neither moved. She realized that she was still holding her breath. More passengers pushed forward onto the train, jostling for position, and she exhaled brokenly, softly. He shrugged gently, and the sides of his overcoat fell around them on both sides, obscuring them from the neck down. She felt the shape of his briefcase as he bent slightly to lower it, and the position brought his mouth almost parallel with the straining, aching spear of her right nipple through the fabric as the case dropped to the floor, freeing his left hand. He took his time rising, allowing his mouth to draw close enough to let her experience a single hot exhalation that covered her gasp as his freed hand closed over her right breast. The nipple filled his fingers through the fabric and she felt her knees buckle with the sheer ecstasy of it. Her eyes glazed as he gathered the bulging, aching knot of flesh in his fingers and crushed it gently, still holding her captive with his own hot, unrelenting direct gaze.

She would have fallen if his body wasn't holding her upright. The heat of his erection burned against her belly, and the overwhelming desire to yield to the barely contained promise of penetration despite the barrier was so powerful that she felt deprived without it. She abandoned her grip on her purse and her palm was filled with a handful of his shirt, then found his belt. Her fingers tucked into his waistband for leverage, and pulled him gently so that the ridge of his shaft rocked against her. Her lips parted helplessly as she tried to stifle the gasp. It sounded instead like panting, the breath escaping in wanton, audible wisps of frustration as he accepted the unspoken invitation and moved firmly against her. He understood her frustration ...the size and heat of his cock straining for release felt like a missile...ready to explode. But in a public place with a sea of people crushed against them...

His knee had insinuated between her thighs, spreading her slightly, and the hard shape of his thigh pressed into the cradle of her pelvis at the apex of her thighs, but there was no way to gain access to the pressure she craved in the place she wanted it. He was too tall, and even the heels she'd worn to work that day offered no advantage. His hand lifted the weight of her breast from beneath, freeing it completely from the confines of the bra beneath her dress, and his thumb passed reverently over the distended, sensitive peak as she shivered helplessly. She felt his knee slide deeper between her legs and suddenly she was pinned open, the scent of her own excitement unmistakable as the oxygen between them thinned. Her hand moved up his chest, felt the drum of his heart pounding furiously against her fingers as he stood, breathing her scent, his own hand filled with the yielding shape of her breast. Everything he wanted was already in her eyes, open, hot, willing, pressed against him... his control and the public surroundings were all that contained it, and they both knew it.

Reluctantly, slowly...his hand slid from her breast, and she felt the heat of his fingers splayed above the neckline of the dress, finding the curve of her throat, the shape of her neck where the soft fountain of her hair met her shoulder. His fingers cupped the sensitive area below her ear as his thumb tracked forward, lifting the angle of her jaw to meet the downward descent of his mouth. He paused, hovering over her, waiting for her to break the anticipated contact or complete it. Instead, the incline of her jaw changed to prolong the caress. Her lips parted as he found his thumb pressed against her bottom lip, hovering in the broken exhalation of yearning as her gaze finally dropped to his mouth. He kissed her, his hand gently bracketing the side of her jaw, his fingertips tangling in the hair against the side of her neck, and felt the cool, hesitant shape of her own hand as it rose to cup the shape of his jaw, stroking sweetly...willing to give more if he demanded it, receiving all of the pent yearning still burning between the two of them.

The door chimed again as their lips parted and she murmured, "My" She was charged, trembling under his hand, barely in control, full of conflicting needs.

She felt his fingers drop to her neckline, dip inside and his knuckle against the swell of her breast as he rearranged the displaced cups of her bra, reluctantly concealing the still erect peak of each straining nipple. The gentleness and intimacy of the action despite the inescapable heat of his erection still burning hard and as full as before against her body made another spear of need constrict in her belly.

She realized that she was holding her breath again, and that the tension in her body was being braced and absorbed by his. "Don't go." His thigh withdrew from between her legs, and she felt his weight shift as he attempted to regain something resembling control, even though their combined awareness was still heightened by the kiss and the sweet pressure of where he had been pressed hard and hot against her mere seconds before. "Have dinner with me. A drink ... coffee... anything. Just don't go."

She hesitated only a moment, color still staining her cheeks, then put her hand in his.

"Not just anything. But coffee could be a good place to start."

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byMilage4Mischief© 7 comments/ 36899 views/ 4 favorites

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by Anonymous05/04/14


This is the most well written story I've ever read. fantastic job!!

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