In Transit

When I get off the plane, I’m exhausted. It’s been a hell of a long day, having gotten up in the wee hours of the morning to prepare for the long trip home, and then spending literally hours in various lines at the airport before finally spending almost eight hours on the plane itself.

And I’m still not done. After waiting another hour at the airport, I’m finally getting on the bus that will take me the rest of the way home, a couple of hours away from here. I’m so close, and I’m so tired. I absolutely cannot wait to get home and into my own bed. I swear I’m going to sleep for at least 12 hours straight.

I groan when I step onto the bus. It’s packed. I’m the last to get on, and at first, there doesn’t seem to be even one empty seat on this thing, until movement in the very back catches my eye. A man makes brief eye contact, then moves from the outer seat to the window seat. With a sigh, I make my way to the back, stashing my carry on and backpack in the compartment above the seat.

“Thank you,” I tell him softly as I sit down next to him, trying to dispel the slight discomfort I feel at sitting next to a stranger when I’m so tired. I’d been hoping to have a seat to myself so I could take a little nap on the way, but I suppose I can wait a little while longer. He gives me a bland smile in return, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before we both turn away, and I settle into my seat.

I’m just getting into the new novel I had just downloaded onto my phone when I hear a shrill voice coming from several seats ahead. “Sean! Sean!”

Whoever she is, she sounds angry.

The man beside me groans, and a glance at him tells me he knows the woman. His head drops forward, and he shakes it, eyes closed, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Goddammit,” she echoes in an irritated voice a moment later. I hear rustling from further up and lean out to take a look up the aisle. A plump, dark-haired woman in what looks like her 40s pushes her way toward the back of the bus, looking pissed off. I immediately sit back in my seat, not wanting to be caught gawking. I get the feeling she would have no qualms about snapping at a stranger.

She comes all the way back and stops right next to me. I deliberately avoid eye-contact and force myself not to cringe away from her, both because I don’t want to draw her attention and because I don’t want to press closer to the man, who I’m sure is her partner.

“Did you not hear me calling to you?” She asks the man—Sean—angrily.

“Yes, Tricia, but I’m not going to yell across the whole goddamn bus just to talk to you,” he says with obvious forced calm, his voice hushed to try to avoid the scene she’s apparently trying to make.

“Well, if you’d asked the people behind us to switch seats so we could sit together, I wouldn’t have had to yell across the bus,” she counters, and a furtive glance up the aisle tells me that the people in question can hear everything she’s saying. The 20-something man stares back here incredulously and rolls his eyes when we make eye contact. Another woman, younger-looking but clearly related to Tricia, glances apologetically back towards us from the seat in front of him.

“And I’m not going to ask someone to switch seats when the one back here is perfectly fine for a couple of hours. It’s not a big deal.” Sounds like he’d be happy to spend the time away from her too. Yikes.

She starts to sputter; I don’t even need to look at her to know he’s angered her further. He cuts her off before she can say anything though, his voice flat, resigned. “What do you need?”

“Chrissy and I are going to try to get some sleep after that horrid flight, all cramped in together like that. Honestly, Sean, it’s beyond me why you couldn’t have upgraded our seats—”

He cuts her off, clearly losing patience. “We’ve had this conversation numerous times, Tricia. I was not going to pay double the price just so you could stretch out a little more, and besides, I was the one who was cramped, not you. The trip is over. We’re not talking about this again. Now, what do you need?”

“Just stay awake, alright?” she demands in a snarky tone. “I won’t have us missing our stop because you’ve gone and fallen asleep.”

Wow. Seriously? It takes everything in me not to let out the scoff that’s clogging my throat. The nerve of this woman, demanding he stay awake just so she can sleep!

“We won’t miss it, Tricia,” he argues, his tone now as incredulous as the other man’s stare. I swear I can hear him roll his eyes. “It’s not like a fucking city bus. He’s got to remove luggage when we stop; there’s no way we’re gonna miss it.”

“Just fucking humour me, okay? I just want to get home, and I’m not taking the chance of missing our stop just so that you can ’rest your eyes.’” Then, as an apparent afterthought, “I’m sure this woman can occupy your time. Try not to put her to sleep.”

I can’t stop the scoff that escapes my mouth this time, so shocked by her hurtful words to him, but she pays no attention to me. I glance up at her just in time to see her turn away and head back up the aisle to her own seat. The woman up there disappears from view, but not before Tricia catches her.

“Chrissy, get back in your seat. I’m your sister, but that doesn’t mean I can’t whup you like I always did when we were kids.”

I glance at the man next to me, and he looks back at me apologetically. “I’m sorry about that,” he says in a hushed tone.

I give him a sympathetic smile and can’t help but rest my hand on top of his on the armrest between us, flabbergasted by the fact that he apparently has to deal with that on a daily basis. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He glances down at my hand and, embarrassed, I remove it and place it back into my lap, feeling myself blush. His lips turn up in a smile though, and I feel my own widening as we make eye contact again. He really is a good-looking guy. Definitely my type, with short light brown hair and glasses. Nerdy looking, but fit, and I can tell he’s tall, even from his seated position. His knees press right up against the seat in front of us. I can’t imagine it’s that comfortable for him. In fact, the very back of the bus is probably the worst spot for him.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing,” he says after a few moments, and I realize, embarrassed again, that I’d been staring at him. My smile turns flustered, and I give him a nod before turning back to the book on my phone, though I know I’ll never be able to concentrate on it.

The bus driver comes onboard and gives everyone the rundown on the trip, noting all the stops he’ll make, and I giggle quietly when Sean breathes out a barely-there “See?” in response to his wife’s earlier concerns. He glances at me again, and we share a little laugh over the ridiculousness of it all. The lights are turned off a moment later, plunging us into near darkness.

I lean over closer to him as the bus begins to move and whisper to him, “Remember, don’t fall asleep.”

I’m rewarded with his low chuckle. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I could anyway.”

His voice has a tone to it, an undercurrent, that makes my heartbeat speed up. I bite my lip and look at him in the near dark. Details are lost to me as we ride down the highway, but I can see that he’s looking back at me, his gaze intense, pulling me in...

A bump in the road jostles me enough to break me out of my daze, and I take a deep breath, breaking eye contact once again and sitting back in my seat. The man has a wife. Or a girlfriend, or whatever. A partner. Even if she’s a raging bitch, he’s still taken. Nothing is going to happen here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him settling back as well. I exhale and then force my eyes to the book on my phone, determined to occupy myself with anything except the handsome man next to me. It doesn’t help that I can feel his thigh against mine, feel the heat radiating off him, hear him breathing. What the hell is wrong with me? I met this man ten minutes ago, and it’s like my body is perfectly attuned to him, aware of everything about him. This is not good. If there were any other empty seat on this bus, I’d take it. I’m strongly considering asking the woman in the seat in front of me to switch, just to be a little further away from the dark, spicy scent of him.

This is ridiculous. Pull yourself together, Wren. Stop focusing on this guy you’ll never see again a couple of hours from now. The guy who will be going home with his WIFE. Even if the chemistry is out of this world...

“You know, you’re never going to be able to sleep if you don’t relax,” he whispers to me a moment later. The sudden sound of his low voice and the feel of his breath against my ear makes me jump a little in surprise as I realize just how close he is to me.

I breathe out again, letting out the tension I hadn’t even noticed had been building inside me with all my musings about my sexy seatmate. Yes, sexy. I shouldn’t admit it, even to myself, but I can’t seem to help it. You can’t fight facts.

And I can’t just ignore him either. That would just be rude. I lean in toward him, close enough that I can see the playful glint in his eyes in the darkness. A matching smile spreads across my lips. “Who says I was going to sleep?” I whisper back.

“You looked like you were ready to pass out when you got on the bus.”

He’d noticed that? And he’d noticed how tense I was a moment ago too. I can’t help but blush a little in the darkness. Has he been...musing about me too, since I sat down beside him?

“Suddenly, I don’t feel so tired anymore,” I tell him truthfully. My interest in him has apparently given me extra energy tonight.

“Me neither,” he whispers flirtatiously, his smile growing wider, making my stomach do a flip flop. He leans in closer to me, his lips only inches from my ear. “In fact, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt so...awake.”

Heat suddenly floods between my legs at his words and the way he says them. Did he mean it like that, or am I just imagining things? Wishful thinking on my part because I’m so attracted to him? Exhaustion should cancel out my horniness, but apparently my body hasn’t gotten that memo yet.

“Same here,” I find myself whispering back, my voice embarrassingly breathless. Even in the dark, he has to see how affected I am.

But...he’s married. Or at least taken. The thought knocks some of the wind out of my sails, and I sigh a little, my shoulders drooping. Nothing can happen, no matter how much I might want it to.

The bus suddenly swerves right, throwing me against him. Instinctively, I put my hand out to brace myself, and as a cacophony of gasps and murmurs explodes from the seats in front of us, followed by the chagrined apology of the driver, I realize my hand has landed on his thigh.

And my fingertips have landed on a very obvious bulge in his pants.

I gasp and move to pull my hand away, but he quickly covers it with his own, pressing my fingers more firmly against the hardness in his jeans. My gaze snaps to his, and I find him looking back at me, his face inches from mine, the tiniest of groans escaping his lips.

“I told you I’ve never been more awake.”

His whispered words and the feel of him against my fingers have heat pulsing between my legs again, especially when my fingers begin to slowly rub the bulge of their own accord. The feel of him twitching beneath the material has me so wet, so turned on, I have to fight the moan struggling to escape my mouth.

He doesn’t quite succeed in his own effort, uttering another quiet little grunt as I give the bulge a light, little squeeze. “Fuck. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this.”

His words surprise me, and my heart goes out to him, especially after witnessing the way his wife had spoken to him earlier. I can hear the unhappiness behind the need in his voice, and it makes me want to help him, even just in this little way. I shouldn’t, but I already know I’m going to.

I only hesitate for a moment when he fumbles with his fly, looking around to make sure no one can see. There is no seat across the aisle from us; the bathroom sits there instead. The woman in the seat in front of us it would have to crane her head back to be able to see us, and the dark blue upholstered seats on this bus are more than high enough to make looking back here very difficult, so we should be safe.

I turn back toward him to find him pulling his hard cock from the confines of his boxers, and my mouth suddenly waters at the sight of it. It looks good and thick in the dim light from the passing stream of cars traveling in the other direction. He’s uncut, with the head emerging eagerly from the foreskin. Before I can even think, my hand is in his lap, fingers wrapping around the shaft and stroking him slowly.

“Fuck,” he breathes as he raises his hips a little to push his pants and boxers down over his ass, giving me greater access to his cock. I take it, giving him long, slow strokes from base to tip and back again, my eyes alternating between his face to gauge his reaction, and my own hand, unable to look away from his beautiful cock for long.

But stroking isn’t enough for either of us. I need to taste him, and even in the dim light, I can see the raw need in his eyes. I let go of him just long enough to push the armrest between us up out of the way, and then I’m right back there, stroking again as I lean down over him.

“Oh God,” I hear him breathe as my mouth nears his cock. I pause for just a moment, exhaling and letting my breath waft down over the sensitive head, and then, with a deep breath, I lower my mouth further and wrap my lips around him. He cuts off the gasp that tries to force its way out of him, and I have to stifle my own moan as I take him down into my mouth. He tastes and feels even better than I’d imagined, hard steel covered in silky soft skin, salty precum leaking from the tip. I lap it up and savour it, already addicted.

I feel his hand on the back of my neck as I take him down deeper into my mouth, his fingers caressing my upper back, encouraging me onward. It does the trick. My mouth slides further down onto his cock, my tongue sliding along his shaft and up over the head with every upward movement. The angle is awkward, but it doesn’t stop me. It only serves to remind me that what we’re doing is forbidden, which only makes me more eager for him.

His touch turns me on, increasing the wetness between my thighs as his hand travels down my back and beneath the waistband of my loose, comfy sweatpants. His fingers slip between my cheeks and slide down as far as they can go in this position, his fingertips bypassing the back door and just barely grazing over my pussy and across my entrance. The feel of them there sends a shock of pleasure through me, and I have to stifle a strangled groan around his cock.

He lifts his hips and pushes deeper into my mouth, and I take as much as I can, gagging a little when he hits the back of my throat. He seems to like that, breathing out another little groan, his fingers at my entrance twitching, making me gasp again and take him deeper, which makes me gag once more. We both chuckle quietly as I pull off to catch my breath.

I glance up again and then have to bite my lip hard to stifle another moan as he slides his hand further down the back of my pants and presses two fingers shallowly inside me. It’s something unexpected but so fucking hot that I can’t help but immediately lower my head and take him back into my mouth again with renewed vigour, overwhelmed with the need to make him feel good. This time, I shift my body, lifting my ass out of my seat a little, giving him greater access to me.

He takes it immediately. “God, so wet,” he whispers as he presses his fingers deeper inside me and starts to thrust them in and out slowly, in rhythm with the movement of my mouth on his cock.

It takes everything I have not to whimper around him as he drives sensation through me. I force all of my focus into what I’m doing, tightening my lips around his shaft, closing my eyes as I start to suck harder, the fingers of my right hand moving up to cup and caress his balls.

“Oh fuck.” The words are barely audible, but I feel them shoot all the way through my body as he thrusts his fingers in deep, his other hand moving to the back of my head and pressing it down, forcing his cock deeper into my mouth. I love every second of it, working to suppress my gag reflex as he holds me there, his cock nudging my throat. I stay there for as long as I can, and then I resume movement, sucking hard, fingers lightly squeezing his balls.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” He utters the words, and a moment later, he goes rigid, hot, thick cum spurting into my mouth. I eagerly swallow it all down, continuing to suck until he has nothing left to give me.

He pulls his hand from my pants as I lift my head, and then he’s pressing me back against the seat and sliding his hand down the front of my pants, instead, and between my legs. I bite back a moan and spread them wider for him, and his fingers immediately find my clit, expertly rubbing circles around it. I close my eyes as the pleasure hits me hard, but a moment later, he grips my chin with his other hand and turns my head towards him, and my eyes spring open again in surprise. His gaze is intense, and I can’t look away, even as he drives my pleasure higher and higher with his fingers.

Within moments, I’m on the edge, but I struggle to keep control, not ready for this to end yet. He seems to see this and doubles his efforts, sliding two fingers down to my entrance and deep inside, thrusting hard while his thumb takes up the responsibility of rubbing my clit. Immediately, I’m thrown over the edge, and he surges forward and claims my lips in an intense kiss, trapping the cry that had been about to burst forth. His mouth sucks up the sound as he plunges his tongue into my mouth, and I ride out the powerful orgasm, kissing him back with abandon, my hands reaching out and clinging to him, clenching his shirt, my hips rocking as the pleasure shoots through me. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, his fingers still thrusting, his thumb still circling, drawing out my orgasm for an eternity. Maybe it’s even more than one. My brain can’t comprehend anything beyond the pleasure rocketing continuously through my body.

Finally, when I don’t think I can take anymore, his fingers and thumb slow to a stop, and he pulls away from me, eyes on me again as he pulls his hand from between my legs and brings it to his mouth. I have to stifle a whimper as I watch him suck my juices from his fingers. I’ve never seen that done in real life before, but God, it’s just as hot as all my novels make it out to be. I’m still trembling as he pulls me close again and presses his lips to mine once more in another intense but curiously tender kiss. I return it, sliding my tongue against his, sighing at the taste of myself in his mouth. It’s a kiss I won’t forget for the rest of my life.

After several long moments, he ends it and rests his forehead against mine as we both quietly catch our breath. He doesn’t speak, but I can feel the emotion flowing from him to me. He’s grateful for what we’ve just done, and so am I. Finally, he pulls away, sitting back in his seat, pulling his pants back up and then wordlessly inviting me to rest my head on his shoulder. I happily oblige, halfway to passing out already, and he rests his head on top of mine. I close my eyes and snuggle in, hearing and feeling his breathing even out just moments before I, too, drift off to sleep.