His Dirty Girl Page 2

  Thinking about Rob finger-fucking my cunt and commanding me to come while he grinds his erection against my dress pushes me to the brink.

  Cheeks reddening, I scream out his name, and I hardly recognize the sound of my voice because this woman, this stranger, sounds wild and wanton, unfettered and free.

  Chapter Two

  Rob

  My phone starts to vibrate underneath my pillow, warning me I need to get the hell up and start the day. Some days, it’s tempting to fake a doctor’s appointment or pretend to be sick so I can stay in and spend the rest of the day, doing nothing. But it hits me.

  Today’s the day I can call Maddie by name. Command her to hiss my name in my ear when she comes all over my fingers again.

  The image is enough to get me out of bed and into the shower. It’s her face I see, her soft gorgeous body I imagine caging with mine. I get hard in seconds. I fuck my hand faster, harder, until my dick’s close to bursting.

  “Maddie.” It feels good, screaming out her name because she’s no longer that girl on the train I hump each morning.

  We share a special connection, or is that just what I like to tell myself each morning? Despite spurting my cum all over my shower tiles, the ache inside me remains and continues to throb. I work my cock again, until I’m spent, before turning the water on.

  After a cold shower, I don’t feel any better. Hunger strikes me twice as hard. I dress quickly, checking the wall clock in my bedroom a few times. Being late is not an option, not today.

  I don’t bother with breakfast. A cup of instant coffee later and I’m running out of the front door, nearly bumping into someone.

  “Watch where—” I catch myself, eyes narrowing.

  Alison, my ex-wife, straightens her silk blouse with long, painted fingers. She’s wearing that same long-suffering look that gets on my nerves, like it’s an inconvenience for her to be here.

  “Rob, you weren’t answering your phone. I thought something happened to you, but you’re fine,” she says, eying me from top to bottom. There’s only one reason Alison is here, and it’s to discuss our shared beachfront property.

  “Look, Ally—” I begin.

  “Alison,” she reminds me, cutting me off. Under the morning light, the blue eyes I fell in love with years ago feel devoid of warmth. They’re like chips of ice set into her thin porcelain face. The rest of her is fragile, too, breakable and untouchable, unlike Maddie.

  “Alison,” I said patiently, glancing at my wrist watch. “We’ll need to do this another time. I’m late for my train.”

  I pass by her, but she grabs my arm, sharp nails digging into the fabric of my work shirt. Panic sets in me. The longer I delay, the higher the chances I’ll miss my train, and that’s simply unacceptable.

  “In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve never cared about your job,” she says.

  I yank my arm away, not caring for the suspicion in her tone. “We’ll talk later. Better yet, make arrangements with your lawyer and mine.”

  “Rob, you’ve never been this cold,” she says in a scathing voice.

  I look at her over my shoulder. “If you caught me cheating with another woman, I think you’d be cold, too.”

  With that parting remark, I break into a sprint. Small consolation I know Alison won’t be able to catch up to me, not in those pricey six-inch heels she loves. She has a ton of them in her closet—a mountain of designer bags and shoes. Alison has plenty of stuff she doesn’t need, but buys.

  No wonder my monthly budget shrank and more of my salary goes to my savings account. I shake my head, recalling what an idiot I had been. College feels such a long time ago, when I did all I could to impress a girl like Alison—good family, perfect looks, and a plastic heart to match. The last, I didn’t see until much later.

  Heart racing, I barely make the platform in time. I breathe a sigh of relief. For a second, I don’t see her. I check the faces again, nearly jumping when a slender hand tentatively touches my shoulder.

  “Good morning, Maddie.” My voice sounds strange to my ears, full of excitement and longing.

  She beams, and the perfect tilt of her lips is my instant remedy from my clash with Alison a few minutes ago. “Rob.”

  Christ, even the way she says my name is perfect. We greet each other like old friends. In a way, we are. When I see her eyes light up, I can almost catch a glimpse of the soul. Hers, pure and good. Call me a romantic but I like to believe she sees me, too, and know we meet each other like this for a reason.

  “There’s more space over here,” I say.

  Maddie knows the drill. She steps in front of me, and I pull her into a tight embrace. Her breath catches in her throat, but she relaxes when I bury my face into the back of her neck. It’s only a day, but I miss the smell of her shampoo and the silken texture of her hair. Closing my eyes, I imagine her in my bed, her platinum blonde hair and creamy skin spread-eagle on my black sheets.

  For the longest time, I thought I was in love with Alison, but she never made me feel this way. A part of me knows this borders on obsession, but aren’t they one and the same thing? Maddie wakes a beast in me I never knew existed, and I want to own her in every way.

  She’s wearing a simple black pencil skirt today, but the moment she presses against my groin, my cock comes to life.

  “I did as you asked. I’m not wearing anything underneath,” she whispers.

  It drives me insane knowing only a single piece of fabric prevents my dick access from her ass and pussy. She pushes against me, knowing the gesture is a test of both our control, but the all the denial and teasing turns us both on. I slip a hand down the waistband of her skirt, loving the feel of her bare pussy lips against my hand.

  “So soaked already, dirty girl?” I whisper against her ear.

  “For you? Always.”

  “Shit, Maddie. You drive me insane.”

  She freezes when I mention her real name. I tense, anticipating rejection, a slap, or worse, she’ll babble an excuse, any excuse to get herself out of this trap.

  “That’s my name,” Maddie says, wonderment in her voice.

  “Call me by mine.”

  “Rob.” She turns, and I pull my hand from under her skirt.

  Instead, I settle them on her waist, relieved by the obstruction of fabric between us. I want to tell Maddie so many things, like all the times I’d been tempted to rip off the clothes covering her lovely body to finally see her and have our skin touch for the first time.

  Would the truth scare her off? That when I return home after a long day at work, all I think of is her? A cold shower, a hand job in bed, a random pick up in a bar—none of them can cure my fixation.

  I obsess about her hands, how delicate they seem, fragile and small against mine. When she grips me though, she shatters the illusion. There’s strength in her fingers, steel in her spine. I think about the other parts of her, too. Her lips, the perfect shape of them and how they would feel wrapped around my cock or the way they will tilt when I make her laugh.

  Unlike frigid dinners with Alison, I can imagine having a thousand conversations with Maddie, ranging from serious ones to silly ones. Once my curiosity’s sparked, I can’t stop. I yearn to know every minuscule detail about the woman standing in front of me.

  We know each other’s bodies, yet we know so little of each other.

  Dealing with my ex-wife killed any hope left in me about love. When Alison and I first met, I thought I’d finally found the perfect woman. Eager to sculpt me into a perfect blow-up husband doll, she demanded I change one aspect of my personality, then another. She couldn’t handle anything crass, anything unrefined.

  Perfection is overrated. Maddie knows I’m flawed the way I know she has imperfections, too. We carry our invisible crosses on backs every day, hoping someone will notice our pain.

  Not only dirty thoughts plague my mind.

  Maddie looks into my eyes now, shy and tentative, so unlike the passionate and sexy woman who unravels in my
arms every morning in the train.

  “What’s all this?” she suddenly asks. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m breaking the cycle, changing up things. There’s something more between us, and you know it.”

  “What if I don’t want more than what we have right now?”

  I shake my head. “I know you do. That’s why when the train doors closed yesterday, you broke our little rule and told me your name, too. Part of you wants more than a taste. Is Maddie short for Madeline?”

  Maddie regards me for a couple of seconds, and I wonder what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers. Her lips curve to a seductive smile. I imagine those lips swollen from my kisses, pleas spilling out from them—pleas for more. I gambled and took today a little further. The ball’s in Maddie’s court now. To get anywhere, both of us need to play this game.

  “Come find out. Ask me out on a date,” she says.

  I let out a breath, expecting her to tell me she’ll think about it, to give her more time. I won’t take “no” for an answer, but I’m capable of waiting. She’s worth it. There are few women in the world who interest me. I can’t let this one go. If I do, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. A tad dramatic, but I don’t care.

  You risk big, you win big, or so I hope.

  “Are you free this evening, beautiful girl?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Tomorrow night.”

  “You have plans?”

  “I need time to prepare myself mentally. Whether this will end badly or the exact opposite, it’s like a bomb close to detonation,” she says.

  “Nice metaphor. I’ll pick you up then, tomorrow night after work.”

  It’s a test to see if she’s willing to give more than a name. I know I’m asking a lot. Complete strangers don’t hand out freebies. For all she knows, I might be a psycho who means her harm, but I’ll prove her wrong.

  “You know my stop,” she says.

  “I do. I’m a stop away, but it’s still a big city.” I thumb the curve of her left hip, tracing it back and forth. She doesn’t seem to mind my touches. Instead she leans into them like a needy cat.

  Eventually, she clears her throat and asks, “Can you stop touching me for a second?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Daunted much?”

  “No. I have trouble thinking when you’re standing this close.”

  A laugh tears out of me. I take a step back, leaving an inch of space between us. “Don’t worry. I know what you mean.” When she falls silent, I continue, “We’re being honest with each other. Does this mean we’re having a good start?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” The train doors hiss open. She beams at me. “This is my stop.”

  “Do we still see each other tomorrow morning, Maddie?” I ask, desperate and not caring if I’m overdoing it.

  “Tomorrow night,” she corrects. Before she streams out the door, she says, “Maddie’s short for Madison.”

  I catch a glimpse of her gorgeous heart-shaped ass before the doors close again. Judging by her clothes, I presume she works a desk job. So many questions and too few answers.

  Where did the time go? I begin to curse myself for not asking more. Does she like Italian? Is Maddie allergic to anything?

  “Damn,” I mutter under my breath.

  Did I bite off more than I can chew?

  Chapter Three

  Maddie

  “Giving me your notice doesn’t mean you can slack until your last day.” Dick’s voice makes me jump in my chair.

  I glance at him then back to my empty Word document and shrug, unfazed.

  Dick glowers at me. “I want those reports on my desk tonight.”

  What will he do, fire me? I keep the comeback to myself though.

  Dick might continue being an overbearing asshole until my last day, but I pride myself on being a professional. If I keep worrying about my date with Rob, I won’t get anything done. Burying myself in reports, I push Rob out of my mind. I try to anyway, but Rob remains at the fringes of my mind.

  Lunch time passes. I miss it, but I’m too nervous to eat anyway. After leaving my reports with Dick’s PA around four-thirty, I return to my desk and go back to counting the time. It’s torture seeing every second slip by.

  Once my desktop tells me it’s five, I practically sprint out. I manage to catch the elevator doors.

  Hurry, a voice inside my head says, but I wonder what I’m running into?

  I slow down when I reach the street across the station. I turn my phone on and invert the camera to check my appearance. The woman gazing back me looks flustered, excited and young—unlike me at all. Embracing this new side of myself, I cross the street and enter the station.

  On the platform passengers elbow their way past me, eager to get home, to get to places and meet friends, family, and loved ones. I stay still, letting them surge past, feeling a little disconnected from reality.

  In a couple of days, I won’t be wearing the same cookie-cutter clothes, the same harried expression as they are. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. A passerby might call me crazy, but I don’t care.

  Being unemployed in a time when the economy’s unstable will scare off most people. I should be, too, but it’s time I live one day at a time. I’ll worry about things later. Something like this would drive my old self crazy, but I feel like I’m on the cusp of a metamorphosis.

  “What are you smiling at, beautiful?” Rob’s voice reaches me despite the din and the announcer saying there’s a train delay.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Rob extends a hand, and unthinkingly, I grab it. I let out a squeak when he pulls me close, claiming my lips. That’s right. It’s comforting to know we’ve crossed certain boundaries a long time ago. The feel of his body rubbing against mine isn’t strange or uncomfortable. We’re a perfect fit.

  When he releases me, I suck in a breath and still my beating heart. “It looks like there’s a delay.”

  “Fancy a walk, get the hell out of here?” he asks.

  “Sounds good.”

  Hand-in-hand like a couple who’s been together for decades, we walk out of the station. No longer packed like sardines with other commuters in a steel rectangular box, it’s easier to breathe.

  We start to walk. I let Rob lead, trusting he knows where to go. Somehow, he knows the city better than I do. He takes short cuts I don’t know, secret niches with charming antique shops and cafes.

  A woman with sense didn’t let a stranger lead the dance, but Rob’s something else.

  “You’ve been on mind all day like a drug,” Rob confesses.

  “Same.”

  He gives my hand a squeeze, and closes in to cut the distance between us. Inches really, but I relax when he threads an arm around my shoulders.

  Those hands have touched me a thousand times, during my waking moments and in my dreams. The familiar language of our bodies manages to cut through the awkward phrase of any new relationship, and that’s more than fine with me.

  I ask him about his day at the office. He reciprocates. This back and forth thing takes getting used to. I get distracted by the sound of his voice, the rub of his flesh against mine. I can’t wait for our clothes to come off and we can truly bare ourselves to each other.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” I ask, teasing.

  “Sure. You like Italian?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Of course, who doesn’t?”

  “My ex-wife.” Rob hesitates, curses himself for letting something like that slip out.

  “You were married?”

  “Yeah, but see.” Rob shows me his fingers. No demarcation of the wedding band so it must be some time since they’ve been apart. “I can show you a copy of my divorce papers, too.”

  That gets a laugh out of me. “You don’t need to do that. I believe you.”

  Rob grabs me by the shoulders and turns me, until he’s pinning me against the brick wall. He places my wrists above my head. Alarm bells should be ringing
in my head, but they don’t. Excitement laces through my system, making me aware of every single thing he does.

  “That’s not it. I want no lies between us,” Rob says. He moves his hands until they’re no longer gripping my wrists, but holding mine. The undiluted look of hunger in his eyes makes me shiver. “God, Maddie. I can’t think when you’re so close.”

  Then skip this. Take me back to your place, or we can go to mine. I leave the words unsaid. Christ. What will Rob think of me?

  I’m no slut, but when I’m with him, my body reacts so strongly to him, like there’s a magnetic pole drawing us close. There’s a knot of fire in me every time he comes close. God knows we’ve teased each other so long, prolonged each other’s torment, touching and grinding against each other every morning.

  “We’ll go on this date,” I say, keeping my voice firm. “Do what normal couples do, not everything is about sex.”

  He nods in agreement. With reluctance, he lets me go. “Shit, you must think I’m insane.”

  “No. If you are, I’m the same. Like calls to like, right?”

  Rob grins. We start walking again. Inevitably his fingers find mine again. “We’re here.”

  I blink, looking around.

  We’re walking along a dirty alley way sprayed with graffiti. I catch the sound of voices up ahead and a surprising find—a homey Italian restaurant whose tables spill out the street. It feels like I’m transported to a little town in Italy.

  The head waitress greets Rob by name and gives me a curious little wink. I learn later that Rob eats here at least twice a week. I also learn this is the first time he’s brought a girl over. That makes me feel special.

  Despite how full the place is, the waitress leads out to a secluded table against the wall. We sit on charming wooden crates, repainted in bright lime-green color. The waitress brings out a box of matches from pocket of her apron and lights up the candle sitting in a wine bottle. It also illuminates Rob’s handsome face.

  “I’m Michaela, and I’ll be your server this evening.”

  I flip the menu on the table. The number of choices overwhelms me, and there’s no English translation underneath.