Subway Girl by Adela Knight

I sat on the train and read my trashy novel on my e-reader. I hated the subway. It smelled like body odor and urine, with a little vomit thrown in for good measure. The floors were sticky with only God knows what, and there were always seats covered in gum—I’d found those the hard way.
    Worst of all, I hated the way people bumped against me, invading my personal space. On a busy day it was like we were a can of sardines shoved against each other. People totally got all up in my personal bubble. But it just wasn’t worth having a car in the city. So I rode the subway and walked the short way from the stop to my apartment. It really wasn’t a bad set-up.
    Generally, there were the same people on the train as always. Me, a grandmotherly type, a couple of business dudes, a soccer mom and an artist looking guy. We all smiled at each other every day in greeting, but otherwise kept to ourselves.
    But then one Friday he showed up. I tried not to stare, but it was damn hard not to. The man was gorgeous. He sat across from me with his legs stretched out. Long legs—he had to be tall. He’s lean from what I could see, but tight.
    The car slow ed to a stop and Grandma stands to get off. Mystery Man helped her gather her things and held her hand while she walked down the steep steps of the car. A group of rowdy teenagers pushed their way into the car. They knocked into Grandma and she dropped some of her things.
    Bunch of brats.
    But Mystery Man to the rescue. He scooped up the items and handed them to her with a smile.
    “Oh, thank you,” she says.
    “Anytime.” He smiled and sat down. And damn. He’s nearly perfect.
    I got a good view of his ass when he bent down to help Grandma down the s teps. Perfect. I was right, he was lean, but his body was ripped. I got a glance at his abs when he picked up the woman’s things.  Yeah, I looked up his shirt. What of it? Plenty of men have looked up my skirt. Consider it karma.
    And his smile. That’s enough to give me an instant orgasm.
    Jenny’s right, I need a man.
    I haven’t been with anyone since my break-up with Jackass. Yes, Jackass is his name. Officially. Once we broke up he was deemed Jackass and has been referred to by that name ever since, even to his face. We’d been together for two years. We’d just gotten engaged when I came home from work one Monday and found him banging my next door neighbor six ways from Sunday in my bed. That’d been eight months ago. Jenny, my best friend, had been hounding me to find someone to replace Jackass ever since.
    “If you don’t want to date the guys , don’t,” Jenny said. “Just fuck their brains out and move on. But you need to get laid.”
    Looking at Mystery Man sitting in the seat across from me, I started to think Jenny had the right idea. His black hair was stylishly messy and fell over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. His lips were full, but not feminine. Just the right fullness. I felt a familiar heaviness settle between my thighs as I wondered how they’d feel sucking on certain areas of my body.
    I shift ed in my seat. The movement caused my thong to pull against my clit and send waves of heat through my body. I closed my eyes and squeezed my legs together willing the feeling to subside.
    When I open ed my eyes, he was staring at me. A small grin touched his lips. He stood and motioned with his head that I should follow. I hesitated for a beat and he arched his eyebrow at me. I smiled, grabbed my things, and followed him to the last seat in the train.
    We were alone. Well, alone as we could get. The rest of the passengers were sitting in the front of the car.
    “Here, let me take that,” he murmur ed, and, shit, even his voice was sexy. Raspy, but warm, like aged brandy.
    He took my purse and e-reader and set them on the seat second to the last. “You sit here.” His hands barely touched my waist as he guided me into the last seat. I scooted all the way in, until I was pressed against the wall of the