There I was sitting across from him on the train, steeling myself like every evening this week. Our eyes had met, lingered. He was gorgeous, all dark hair and brooding eyes. A Brit, no doubt, not a surprise riding a train in Great Britain, but the way he carried himself was more than telling on its own.

That day, he surprised me as he walked towards me and slowly slid into the seat next to me.

My heart quickened, and I couldn't help the shy smile playing on my lips. I was heading back to the States in a few months. Short on meeting new people, to say it mildly.

"Hi," he said, the word a husky caress. His eyes plunged into mine, a nervous energy thrumming beneath the surface. But there was boldness there too, a spark of challenge that ignited a fire in my belly I hadn't felt in years. I was so turned on.

"Hi," I managed, my voice a breathy whisper. Maintaining eye contact proved a Herculean task, my gaze darting to his mouth, then back to those dark depths that held me captive.

His hand moved deliberately, a slow burn across the seat back, inching closer. The anticipation was tangible, prickling my skin and making my breath hitch. Would he dare?

A jolt went through me as his fingers lightly grazed my skin. My breath caught. Excuse me. I looked at him in a way that must have looked like I was panicking.

"Oh, sorry," he said, starting to get up, stammering.

"No, no, stay," I said, my hand dabbing his arm, a nervous laugh escaping, "I didn't mean for you to leave."

He smiled, sitting back, his hand tentatively moving back to my face. I glanced down. Shit, I had pulled up my skirt, slightly exposing my thighs.

My eyes widened, and I bit my lip. "I've seen you looking at me the last few days."

"Oh, was I that obvious? He said with a smirk forming on his lips, "You are beautiful, and my eyes just draw to you. I guess."

I could feel my head turn tomato red at his words.

"You are from around here, aren't you?" I asked, trying to get my head back in the game.

His hand carefully picked and played with a strand of my hair as he spoke. "Yes, of course."

I could not believe how confident he was suddenly, and how I just let him in.

His eyes danced with amusement as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an indistinct murmur only I could hear above the train's rhythmic rumble. "And you're… not!"

His fingers drifted from my hair, tracing the curve of my jaw. I closed my eyes and tilted my head into his touch, as if controlled by his will.

"So bold, aren't you?" I managed, trying to sound grounded even though every nerve ending was firing like a goddamn pinball machine. My thighs felt like jelly, and a flush crept up my neck. He was close, so close. I could smell his cologne, a musky scent. I pressed on.

"Your accent is lovely."

"I love your accent, also," he said as he let his hand wander to the hem of my skirt.

"It's not your stop for a while, is it?"

"No, I have some time. Plenty of time, actually. But I'm sure you know that, don't you?" My hand covered his, pressing it to my thigh.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "Perhaps. Tell me, love, what brings an American girl like you to our little island?"

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Work, mostly. But I needed a change of scenery. Needed to get away from… everything."

"Everything?" He raised an eyebrow, his hand now gently caressing my thigh.

"Life," I said with a sigh. "You know, the usual. Job stress, relationship drama, the whole shebang."

"Ah, yes. Life. It has a way of doing that, doesn't it?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Everybody needs… distraction from all that at some point, am I right?"

I swallowed hard, my gaze locking with his.

We had reached that point, a crossroads teetering between polite conversation and something else entirely. My breath grew shallow.

"Distraction sounds perfect right now," I admitted, my voice a shade above a whisper.

He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light of the train car. "Then allow me to distract you."

His thumb traced circles on my thigh, sending shivers up my spine. I sucked in a breath, tilting my head back slightly, offering him access, silently pleading.

"Tell me about this 'everything' you are running from. I am good with secrets."

I hesitated, a flicker of apprehension warring with the desire that pulsed through me. How much did I want to reveal to this stranger, this captivating enigma who had so effortlessly breached my defenses? I decided to go with it.

"It's nothing special, really." I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just a general feeling of being stuck in a rut. I needed a change."

"And did you find it here?" He asked, his gaze intense, his hand still tracing my thigh.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice laced with uncertainty. "Maybe. It's too soon to tell. I guess, giving him an inviting smile."

"Well, let's hope you find something you like," he said, his smile sending shivers down my spine.

The absurdity of the situation hit us both at once. Here we were, two strangers, sitting in an empty train carriage, practically vibrating with pent-up sexual energy. It was ridiculous, exhilarating, and incredibly hot.

We chuckled at each other before he moved closer to me, his lips brushing against my ear. "I wonder," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that sent a shockwave straight to my core, "how far we could go before my stop." His hand tightened on my thigh, a silent question, a bold challenge hanging in the charged air between us.

I felt his hand creep further up my thigh, inching under the hem of my skirt. A thrill shot through me, and I bit back a moan, deciding to let it happen, to see where this would lead.

His hand rested on the edge of my panties, a light pressure that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. Every nerve ending screamed. I stared into his eyes, daring him to continue. The air crackled with unspoken desire, thick in the small space between us.

I could feel the heat pooling between my legs, pressing closer to him, my body yearning for contact. I tilted my head, offering him my neck, and he didn't hesitate.

His lips grazed my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Oh, you are incredibly naughty," I whispered, my breath catching as his lips brushed my ear. My hips instinctively shifted closer to him, pressing against his hand.

"I have never kissed on a train, you know," I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. I needed to break the tension, if only for a moment.

He chuckled softly, his fingers still working their magic on my thigh.

"Let me change that."

His right hand gently clasped my chin, tilting my face up to his, and without hesitation, pressed his lips against mine.

Tentative at first, then growing bolder. My lips parted slightly, melting into his kiss. A thrill shot through me, a potent mix of nervousness and pure excitement. This was so naughty, so public, and so incredibly arousing. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed the desire coursing through my veins.

My thighs clamp onto his hand resting on my panties still, sending another wave of heat through me.

Our kiss deepened, tongues dancing and exploring, a silent conversation of lust and longing. A soft moan escaped my lips, a sound I couldn't suppress.

My thighs clamped down harder on his hand, feeling his heat through my panties.

I can't believe we're doing this!

Pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

My inner thighs quivered, and I couldn't help but press closer to his touch.

He was reading me like a book, a dangerous game I was more than willing to play. The train clattered along the tracks, each bump and sway amplifying the tension that coiled tighter and tighter within me.

As he tugged me closer, our bodies brushed against each other, igniting a wildfire. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard angles of his body pressing into mine. I could barely breathe.

He moved like a predator, his eyes never leaving mine as he shifted our positions. There was a hunger in his gaze that mirrored my own, a silent agreement to abandon all inhibitions.

Instinctively, we broke the kiss and scanned the carriage. Empty, not another soul who would disturb whatever this is we were doing.

His eyes returned to mine, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Hungry lips crashed down on mine, demanding even more. My lips parted willingly, and I met his passion with a fervor of my own.

Lost in the kiss, I could barely register his hand moving between my legs, but the moment his fingers brushed against the fabric covering my pulsing clit, I lost it.

My back arched involuntarily, my hips pressing harder against his hand. Every nerve ending was alight, begging for more.

"Oh, you are so bad." I moaned, the words tumbling from my lips without conscious thought.

Shifting my weight, grinding against his fingers, reveling in the exquisite torture. Completely lost in the moment, consumed by the raw, primal desire that coursed through me.

My hand slipped down, tracing the insistent, hard bulge in his trousers. I needed to touch him. "Wow, you're throbbing, all for me?" I teased.

His breath hitched as my fingers grazed his hardness. A groan rumbled in his chest, a sound that vibrated through my entire body.

"Whenever I spotted you, it twitched in my trousers; it was so aggressive, you must have seen it."

He said before he tangled a hand in my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access to my lips.

I let out a soft moan as I felt his throbbing cock even more. "Mmh… I thought I was seeing things."

His body clenched, a silent testament to the pleasure I was giving him. It fueled my desire, pushing me closer to the edge while he kissed my neck.

I couldn't help it. My hand slipped lower, my fingers clumsy and desperate as they fumbled with the cold metal of his zipper. I needed to feel his skin, to know the true measure of his hardness. My knuckles brushed against the coarse denim, searching for the pull tab, my breath catching in my throat with a desperate need.

His breath hitched as my fingers found the zipper of his trousers, the sound nearly drowned out by the rhythmic clatter of the train. The heat radiating from his cock through the fabric made my pulse stutter. My fingers trembled, brushing against the rigid length straining against the confines of his pants.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, his voice gravelly with need as his hips jerked forward, pressing harder into my touch.

I flicked the button free, my fingertips ghosting over the waistband of his briefs. The damp heat of his arousal seeped through, teasing me before I even had him fully exposed.

"Fuck, you're thick," I breathed, dragging my palm down the length of him through the fabric.

His hand fisted in my hair, tugging my head back just enough to claim my mouth again—hot, devouring. The kiss was filthy, tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that matched the slow grind of his hips against my hand.

I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, nails scraping his skin as I tugged them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang free, stiff and flushed, the tip already slick. My throat tightened.

"Christ," he gasped as my fingers wrapped around him, stroking from root to tip in one slow, deliberate motion. His hips bucked, a ragged sound tearing from his chest. "Fucking—fuck."

"You like that, huh?" I breathed at him, giving him a dirty smile. I had lost all of my restraint at that point.

The train rocked around us, the metallic screech of the wheels hitting a sharp turn muffling my own shaky exhale. I tightened my grip, thumb swiping over the swollen head, smearing pre-cum down its length. He shuddered, his breath coming in short, uneven gusts against my lips.

His free hand found my thigh again, fingers slipping beneath the soaked lace of my panties. The second his fingertips grazed my clit, my knees instinctively pressed together, trapping his hand.

Then, his fingers pushed deeper. Two, circling my entrance, gathering the slickness there before sliding inside with a groan. My back arched, a strangled noise catching in my throat as he curled them just right.

I stroked him faster, matching the filthy rhythm of his fingers inside me. The carriage was too quiet, the air thick with the sound of skin on skin, wet and desperate. His forehead pressed against mine, breath mingling as we fought to keep quiet.

"You feel—" His voice, wrecked, a low rasp as my thumb circled the tip of his cock. "Jesus, love. Tighter."

I answered by twisting my wrist on the upstroke, the way I knew would make his whole body tense. He hissed, his fingers fucking me deeper. The tension coiled between us, unbearably close to snapping.

My throat tightened with a sudden, desperate hunger. The weight of him in my palm, the way his breath stuttered when I squeezed, the salty musk of pre-cum on my fingers. I was in love with the sight of his cock. I could not stop myself from imagining him inside my mouth.

But the ache between my legs was deeper, more insistent, making me say things I did not think I would ever say to a stranger on a train.

"I need to ride you now," I said, scanning the carriage once more, before locking onto his eyes again.

His fingers stilled inside me, but his hips rocked forward, his cock twitching against my palm.

I didn't wait for an answer, shoved my skirt up higher, my knees digging into the seat as I straddled him. The hard length of him pressed against my soaked panties, making me gasp in anticipation. His hands gripped my hips, fingers biting into my skin as I reached between us, tugging my damp lace aside.

"Look at you," he groaned, watching as I lifted myself just enough to guide him. The blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance, and that wonderful tingly feeling. I sank in one slow, shuddering motion, letting him enter me.

My head fell back as he filled me, the stretch sharp and perfect. His breath hissed out between his teeth, hands sliding up to grip my ass. "Fuck, you feel amazing."

I rolled my hips, taking him deeper, my inner muscles clamping around him. His fingertips dug into my flesh as I began to move, riding him in slow, deliberate circles. The stretch burned—so good it made my thighs tremble.

His mouth found my neck, teeth scraping my pulse point before eventually his lips wandered between my breasts, kissing the exposed skin between the fabric of my half-open blouse.

A jolt of pleasure shot straight to my core when he pushed the cup of my bra aside, claiming my nipple with his mouth. I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair.

"You like that?" His voice was rough, breath hot against my skin. His tongue flicked over my nipple before he sucked hard, pulling a whimper from my throat.

"Yes, fuck—" I ground down harder, the pace turning erratic.

His hands tightened on my ass, yanking me closer as he thrust up into me, matching my rhythm. The slap of skin, the creak of the train seat—every sound was filthy, raw. His teeth grazed my collarbone, and I gasped, nails raking down his shoulders.

The frantic pace melted away, replaced by a slow, intimate rhythm. I rose and fell, my eyes locked with his. A smile bloomed on my lips, mirroring the one on his own. Our moans mingled in the air, soft sounds of shared pleasure that felt less like strangers and more like lovers.

"Close," he gritted out, his hips snapped up harder.

"Me too—god—" My thighs clenched as the heat coiled tighter, my vision hazing at the edges. His fingers kneaded my ass, urging me faster, and I obeyed, riding him with abandon.

And then—nothing existed but the white-hot burst of pleasure as I came, my body locking around him. A ragged moan tore from my throat, drowned out only by his own as he gave one last, deep thrust and spilled inside me, his cock pulsing.

Panting, I sagged against him, his arms wrapping around my back. The warmth of his release seeped into me, a dizzying aftershock.

My cheek pressed against his shoulder, my breath still ragged and hot. My eyes drifted open, unfocused, staring into the dimness of the carriage ahead. Then—movement. Through the glass of the connecting door, a shadow detached itself from the gloom. It wasn't a trick of the light. It was a person.

The train shuddered, brakes screeching as it began to slow.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the train's screeching halt. A jolt of pure adrenaline shot through me. We broke apart, a mess of tangled limbs and hurried breaths.

"Shit."

I scrambled off his lap, my own legs feeling like water. The cool air hit the dampness between my thighs, a shocking contrast to the heat of him. I yanked my skirt down, my fingers fumbling with the soaked lace of my panties. My blouse was twisted, and I could still feel the phantom pressure of his mouth on my nipple.

He was faster, more practiced. Tucking himself away, zipped his trousers with a sharp, decisive sound and smoothed a hand through his disheveled hair. He stood, grabbing my purse from the floor and pressing it into my hands. His touch was brief, electric.

"Here."

He leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a soft, fleeting kiss. It was a punctuation mark, a promise, and an ending all at once.

"That's my stop!"

Then he was gone, striding down the aisle and disappearing through the connecting door just as the train settled into a full stop.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, my breath fogging a small circle. The platform outside was poorly lit, a world of shifting grays. I saw him. His tall, familiar frame stepped onto the concrete, his stride confident as if he had just been reading the paper.

A woman emerged from the shadows. She moved toward him, her shape indistinct in the gloom. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he embraced her, his hand resting on the small of her back. A familiar gesture that could mean everything and nothing.

The train doors hissed shut. I leaned back in the seat, the ghost of him still warming my skin. I couldn't wait to see him again.

***

Five months. I had taken this same line, in this same carriage, home from work every evening since. I was a creature of habit, or maybe just a fool. My flight back to the States was in a couple of months. The contract was up. My life abroad, this strange, suspended year, was over.

I stared at my reflection in the dark window—a pale, ghostly woman superimposed over the passing lights of the city. My hand rested on my stomach.

I never saw him again. Not on the platform, not in this carriage, not in the small town he disembarked at, not anywhere. It was as if he had been a specter, a figment of my deepest, most hidden desires made flesh for one hour only.

My fingers pressed a little harder against my belly. The train swayed, a rhythmic lullaby that had once been the soundtrack to our passion.

"Don't worry," I whispered into the quiet hum of the carriage. "I'll find him."