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"What a beautiful creature," she thought. She watched as he picked up his backpack and stepped into the waiting train. He was light footed today, so gracious it almost looked feral. Swiftly, she entered the train a few doors down and made her way through the adjoining coaches to where he sat, listening to his iPod while gazing into the suddenly fast paced scenery. Leaning against the doorway, she studied him for a second. He looked serene, blurry, almost like he had a talent for blending into his surroundings.


He had been keeping himself out of her grasp lately. Until now. The coach was empty, save for him. If she was waiting for a sign, this was it.

She made a show of occupying the seat in front of him and watched with interest as his eyes grew wide and his Adam's apple bobbed nervously when he took in the sight of her dark red lips and the black fitted dress that hugged her in all the place that mattered. He pulled on an earphone, his gaze still frozen on her and called her name as acknowledgement.

So she called his back, tilting her chin upwards. She knew her extremely relaxed attitude bothered him.

She knew she bothered him.

As if on cue, he grabbed his backpack and started to stand up, but she put her foot down on one of the straps, trapping him in his seat. There was no running away now. He froze and stared at her delicate heel, before lifting his eyes to meet hers straight on.

"Please remove your foot," he said quietly and the sound of his voice made her insides swoon slightly. Nonetheless, she kept her posture and only pressed down on the backpack a little more. She was feeling defiant.

But so was he.

She felt a flicker of panic when he wrapped his hand around her small ankle, tighter than necessary, and forced her foot to the side. He stood up taller this time, but, much to her surprise, didn't make a move to leave. He towered over her, looking down at her, studying her for what seemed to be forever.

"Aren't you an unpredictable little thing," he finally let out.

He turned his back to her and she was sure he was going to walk away but he caught her by surprise again when he closed the door of the coach gently.

"Get on your knees," he ordered, his back still to her. He was undoing his belt and she felt herself slink onto the wagon floor against her better judgement. "And for the love of fuck, wipe off that god awful lipstick."

She obeyed. It was like when he was around, she couldn't think for herself anymore. One second she walks into the coach determined to dominate him and the next, she finds herself at his beck and call. Where did she end, and where did he begin?

She had bowed her head down when she'd knelt, her hair tucked behind her ears and pushed behind her shoulders. Her ankles were crossed under her butt and her hands flat on her knees, just like he liked. She could hear him shuffle around but never looked up. She knew he liked to make her wait. Anticipation was where she lived.

Perfectly polished Gucci dress shoes entered her field of vision before she felt him lay a hand on her head. He caressed her hair gently, almost tenderly, before grabbing a fistful of it and yanking her head back. Her mouth opened slightly with the roughness of the movement and she felt her panties get all flooded with desire. She watched his face through her half open eyes, relishing in the sight in front of her. Boy, was he sculptural.

"Use your hands," he instructed, his breath fanning over her cheeks. He needn't say it twice.

She was eager. He straightened up, standing tall before her kneeling figure, his eyes still on her, as she started running her small hands up his legs and towards his waist band. He'd gotten rid of his belt, that was one less layer to go through, and the button of this dressy pants was easy to unclasp. The bump in his crotch was apparent and she bit her lip when she realized she was already hard. He always was when she submitted to him.

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