The door to the unisex lavatory located at the back of the Amtrak cabin was locked. That meant someone was inside. I tapped my foot impatiently, my head filling with the image of the blond, blue-eyed Adonis sitting next to me. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? These kinds of things never happened to geeky me. They were the stuff of novels and movies. Not my mundane all-work-no-play life.

“Hi.”

A familiar velvety voice catapulted me out of my thoughts, and a waft of warm breath blew across the nape of my neck. I spun around and gasped. My mysterious stranger! His crisp blue eyes burned into mine, making my temperature soar and my bones turn to liquid. What was he doing here? I suppose he had to go. I couldn’t stop that.

I turned my head away, and stared squarely at the bathroom door, praying silently that whoever was in there would hurry up. As I stood stiff as a board, my devastating companion blew hot air on my neck again and wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing me tight against his rock-hard body. A warm, hard bulge pressed against my buttocks. I was all twisted up with nerves and might need the bathroom more than I’d originally thought.

Finally, the door burst open in my face; a sour-faced matron barged out. Calling on every muscle in my body, I broke free of Trainman’s grip and hastily dashed inside. My hands shaky, I fumbled to slide the latch, but before I could get it through the lock, the door forcefully swung open.

“I couldn’t wait,” Trainman muttered, pushing me against the edge of the sink. He pressed his hips tight against mine. I was trapped.

He leaned in close to me. A mix of his warm, minty breath and expensive cologne with its musky scent rushed up my nose. His eyes narrowed, turning into collectible slivers of blue sea glass. His mouth descended on the right side of my neck, then slowly trailed upward to my earlobe. He clamped his warm, soft lips on the cartilage, alternating between nipping and sucking it. Oh my God! I didn’t know my earlobes could feel so much. The last time they felt anything was when I got them pierced in eighth grade. And that was pain. Pure pain. Now what I was feeling was bliss. Pure, tingly bliss…and the sensation was coursing through my entire body.

Still pressing me hard against the sink with his hipbones, he pinched my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and then began twirling them in small circles, each rotation harder than the one before. Magically, the delicate buds puckered and peaked beneath my cotton tee. A new I-want-to-burst-out-of-my skin sensation gathered in the triangle between my legs. It was if my tits and clit were connected by a power cord. I moaned softly.

“You don’t wear a bra,” he murmured in my ear.

I rarely wore a bra because I really didn’t need one. My boobs never got past a small A-cup, the size of old-fashioned champagne saucers. Before I could say a word, that is if I could utter a word, he whispered one word.

“Sexy.”

Me, Sarah, plain and tall, sexy? And this coming from this gorgeous beast? Pinch me. I must be dreaming this entire fantasy. As if on cue, he pinched one of my nipples again. My girl bits roared in delight. No, this was real. And it was happening to me. Sarah Greene. Art school graduate. Aspiring toy designer. Twenty-five-year-old virgin.

I stared at his breathtaking face. His eyes were on me. The cocky smile on his lips both aroused and unnerved me. While one hand continued to play with a nipple, the other slid down my torso past my tight, twisted abdomen and under the elastic waistbands of both my skirt and pantyhose. His hands felt like hot velvet as they explored my inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he purred. “No panties?”

I never wore panties with pantyhose. Why bother? They were called pantyhose for a reason. And I confess, not buying expensive panties—and bras—saved me a lot of money. Money I needed desperately to visit my ailing mother. 

“Very sexy,” he said, enunciating each syllable as his fingertips made their way to the triangle between my legs. They stopped to caress my mound, stroking it as if it were a beloved pussy…cat.

“So soft and silky,” Trainman purred again as if I were auditioning for one of those bouncy hair Pantene commercials.

After a tug of a curled clump, his fingers crawled to the sensitive folds between my legs. They explored this new territory eagerly like someone who was searching for gold. And then he discovered it. The nugget. Greedily, he rubbed the pad of this thumb around his discovery with intense little circles that were driving me insane. I squirmed against the sink as a loud moan escaped my lips.

“Do you like this?” he crooned, picking up his pace and applying more pressure.

“It feels good.”

That was an understatement. Holy cow! It felt amazing! Buzzing with intense pleasure, I wanted to jump out of my skin. My eyes caught a glimpse of him. A wicked smile crossed his gorgeous face, and his piercing blue eyes glistened.

“Saarah, I can’t help myself,” his voice all hot and breathy. “I want you.”

And despite myself, I wanted him. So badly I was panting like a dog in heat.

“I want to fuck you senseless. Will you let me?”

“Yeah, cool.” Cool? What was wrong with me? I was anything but cool. I was a total hot mess who couldn’t add one and one.

 A pleased, sexy as sin smile played on his face. Still massaging my clit with his thumb, he plunged his long thick middle finger inside me. I gasped, not prepared for the shock of penetration. Shockwaves spread through my body as his finger slid up and down the soaked walls, each thrust deeper than the one before.

“Jesus,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking hot and wet for me. And you’re as tight as a virgin.”

I gulped. Should I tell him? Was I supposed to? Or would this confession turn him off? As I contemplated what to do, he continued his ministrations, pumping me harder.

Dripping with my own wet heat, I gasped again, still not sure this was really happening. My core was aching for more. Desperate for it. Why was I not resisting?

“I’m going to take you now,” he bit out.

Take me where? I didn’t want to be anywhere, any place but here in this cramped bathroom with this sinfully sexy mysterious sorcerer who was doing his magic on me.

Nelle L’Amour is a  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Los Angeles with her Prince Charming-ish husband, twin teenage princesses, and a bevy of royal pain-in-the-butt pets. A former executive in the entertainment industry with a prestigious Humanatis Prize for promoting human dignity and freedom to her credit, she gave up playing with Barbies a long time ago, but still enjoys playing with toys…with her husband. While she writes in her PJ’s, she loves to get dressed up and pretend she’s Hollywood royalty. She aspires to write steamy stories with characters that will make you laugh, cry, and swoon and stay in your heart forever.

Her bestselling series include Unforgettable, THAT MAN, Gloria’s Secret, Seduced by the Park Avenue Millionaire and critically acclaimed Undying Love. Writing under another pen name, she is also the author of the bestselling fantasy romance series, Dewitched: The Untold Story of the Evil Queen.

To learn about her new releases, sales, and giveaways, please sign up for her newsletter and follow her on social media. Nelle loves to hear from her readers.

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