Exhibition (2 page)

And nothing. She went limp, waiting.

His own need surged inside him. The station was only moments away, far too close to give him time to capture her completely. It was obviously against the rules—his father would be furious—but, by the gods, the girl
needed
this. Just look at her! Her cheeks had flushed as pink as her lips. Her eyelids were half-mast. Her nipples painfully hard.
 

With a thought, he halted the train. Nothing violent; the man in the front car just got confused for a moment, for some reason believing there was another car in front of him, and made an emergency stop.

A few passengers looked up from their electronic toys and groaned, but most ignored the delay, used to such irritating inefficiencies in their modern lives.

Ashley froze, eyes wide, more alert than ever.

He let his finger trail down her body, over her belly, her pelvis, lower. The loose fabric of her skirt made her so accessible. Never breaking contact, he slipped his hand over the mound between her legs.

Her lips parted to suck in a breath. He increased the pressure of his hand, stroked the moistening fabric. His palm covered her roundness, circling gently to tease the nub of pleasure hidden beneath. So many walls that needed to be torn down.

 
To his deep satisfaction, she widened her stance on the floor of the train. Rewarding her, he pressed his middle finger harder, gritting his teeth to stop himself from removing the fabric altogether. He’d stopped the train; he had another minute to get her fully on his hook.

Good girl,
he said, smiling to see the way the businessman—Oliver, his name was Oliver—was finally distracted away from the maze of capitalist strategy in his thoughts and now stared at Ashley with a slight frown. He’d noticed the blond girl on the train was suddenly panting like a porn star.

Only Oliver had noticed. For now, he’d be their exclusive audience. Well, maybe a little more than that.

Marcus stroked her more firmly and ducked his head to kiss her. He barely brushed her lips with his, just enough to sample the moisture glistening in that wet, rosy mouth.

Ah, yes,
he thought, momentarily stunned with the taste of her. Innocent, untouched. He barely noticed as the subway car began moving again.

Who are you?
she asked. Her internal voice was soft and feminine, timid but curious. Hungry.

For a moment, Marcus just inhaled her scent and caressed the mound between her legs, too intoxicated with the feel of her to register his shock at her ability to talk to him.

She was getting hotter, wetter.

The clothes had to come off.

Are you going to hurt me?
she asked.

He drew back and looked into her eyes. She couldn’t see him, of course, not unless he let her. The arousal was plain in her face, blended with the uncertainty. His own desire surged.

I never hurt my pets
, he told her as he caressed her. This time he let his hand pass through the layers of fabric and tease the soft folds of her flesh.

She blinked, eyes darting around for a moment before closing completely. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. Her tongue darted out and swept over her lips.

But then the train rattled into the next station. With a lurch, the car came to a stop and, as people jostled into new positions, the doors slid open. Snapping out of her daze, Ashley drew away from Marcus and squeezed her thighs together, sucking in a deep breath.

If she could to talk to him, she had the power to walk away. But would she?

Marcus looked at Oliver. To his amusement, all thoughts of business had fled from his thoughts; hungry gaze locked on Ashley, Oliver now sat in his seat imagining his cock sliding in and out between the shy blonde’s moistened, puckered lips.

Three more people stepped onto the train, none of interest to Marcus, so he compelled them to walk past and find seats and standing room elsewhere. For a moment Ashley eyed the open doors, and even dropped her hand from the handrail to step closer to the exit.
 

He knew she wouldn’t go. She’d tasted something so sweet, so delicious, so naughty—she couldn’t possibly walk away from the promise of more.

But as he smiled, imagining the noises her body would make for him when he pleasured her, she walked out onto the platform. And then the doors slid shut.

She was gone.

* * *

I’ve finally lost it
,
Ashley thought, hurrying up the broken escalator to the middle floor of the station. At the top stair, she tripped and nearly fell on her face.
 

The shock of leaving the world she knew for this stressful, alien, modern life had finally caught up to her. When Shane had violently rejected her two months earlier, she’d been paralyzed with shame. Except for her part-time data-entry job, she'd stopped leaving the apartment she shared with two other women. She wore her conservative clothes, stayed off of the Internet, and saved her money. She’d build a life for herself, by herself. She’d stay away from men, all of them, until she had outgrown the desires that plagued her.

She pushed through the turnstile and jogged up the stairs into the fading daylight. A crosstown bus could take her home from here.

Her cheeks felt hot; her hands shook. She could avoid men, but how could she stay away from a
thought
? It was as if her lust had taken form and began talking to her.
Touching
her.

She was losing her mind.

Her father would say her body was overripe, longing for children. She’d defied natural law. Of course she was breaking under the strain.

But what if…

What if he was real?

C
H
A
P
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3

THE NEXT EVENING, Ashley took the same train. The same car from the same station at the same time, and she stood in the same corner and gripped the same railing.

All night she’d dreamed about him. He’d felt so real, as real as her own body. When she’d woken in the morning, twisted in the damp sheets, her body was tense and unsatisfied. Her hands roamed over her overheated, tingling skin, not knowing how to ease her suffering.

He had to be real. Real the way a demon or an angel was real.

And God help her, she didn’t care which he might be.

Palms sweating, she stared into the glass on the train door, searching for his reflection. He was there; she could feel him. She’d do anything to see him.

Anything?
a low, masculine voice said in her mind. She wasn’t sure, but she thought the single word sounded a little angry.

She closed her eyes. Dizzily, she reached out to him with her thoughts.
Who are you?
she asked.
Are you really there?

For two long minutes, she waited, barely breathing, desperate for an answer.

Nothing.

She opened her eyes.
I really have gone crazy
, she thought, wiping her damp palms on her skirt. Leaving home was a mistake; here in the city, surrounded by strangers, nobody would take care of her when she lost the remains of her mind.

What if I
am
a demon?
the voice asked.

Her mouth went dry. Insanity wouldn’t sound so… sure of itself, would it?

She licked her lips, scanning the bored faces around her, none of them his.
Are you?

Labels, labels,
he said.

The hair rose on the back of her neck. She should fall to her knees and pray to the heavens for guidance, but…

She adjusted her stance on the rolling train and held on. Waves of shimmering heat floated down her spine, between her legs, and into her belly. She felt something brush her neck below her left ear, something soft, and then her skin was wet and a rush of air brought an electrifying chill.

It felt like a kiss. If she closed her eyes—and she didn’t dare, not yet—it would feel exactly as if a man had his mouth against the pulse of her neck and was slowly kissing her, open-mouthed. Then she felt—was that his tongue?

Oh, God.
Her knees were shaking.

Sit down next to your friend,
the voice said.

Her confusion distracted her enough to regain some of her composure.
My what?

His name is Oliver. Don’t you see him watching you?

Heart pounding, Ashley looked around at her fellow passengers—office workers, college students, maintenance men, retail clerks, security guards—

Oh—there.
 
Lounging in the seat across the aisle, a dark, good-looking man in the most elegant suit she’d ever seen was staring right at her.

A fresh heat warmed her cheeks. How could she have missed him? She was usually so self-conscious, always uncomfortable if anyone looked at her for more than a moment—yet this stunning man had been watching her and she hadn’t even noticed.

He met her eyes for a long, unblinking moment. Then he tilted his head slightly to one side and raked his gaze down her body.

Is that you?
she asked silently.
Are you that man?

No, I told you,
the voice said.
That’s Oliver.

I’ve never seen him before in my life
, she said.

How ironic. His fantasies about you cost him a business deal today.

Ashley felt Oliver’s gaze linger over her breasts. Something—someone—brushed her nipples gently and they hardened painfully. She’d worn a plain cream-colored cardigan that didn’t do anything to hide them as they pushed through the fabric.

He’d like to fuck you.

She pivoted away, her whole body shaking now.

The invisible mouth found her nape and tickled the fine hairs there with delicate, humid kisses.
Don’t you find him attractive?
the voice asked.

In spite of herself, she glanced at the dark man. Of course she found him attractive. He was tall and muscular, exuding masculine confidence, with a strong jaw, a sensual mouth, and beautiful, almond-shaped eyes. He leaned back in his seat, his long, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, and Ashley couldn’t resist wondering what he’d look like without his expensive clothes. Without any clothes at all. A newspaper was spread open in his lap, but he wasn’t looking at it.

He’s touching himself right now, wishing it were you,
the voice said.

At first she didn’t understand. Then she saw the man had his right hand under the newspaper and his elbow was rocking slowly. When he saw the direction of her gaze, his lips parted slightly and he nodded.

She should’ve been disgusted, afraid, offended. They were on a subway car with dozens of other people. They were strangers.

Shall I introduce you?
the voice said.

Her body quivered with anticipation. But what did her invisible tormenter have in mind?

Maybe he’s shy. Let’s show him you’re interested,
the voice said.

She felt a light touch at her collarbone: a fingertip, traveling down between her breasts. Suddenly, the top button popped open, exposing the lace edge of her bra.

She lifted her hand to draw the edges of her sweater back together, but strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and another button slipped free of the buttonhole. Then another. The pale knit fabric fell away, or was pushed, leaving only the thin nylon of her bra to cover her breasts. Her hard nipples were visible through the fabric.

Oliver’s lips parted. She could see him stroke more obviously now as he nodded at her, his lips parted.

Ashley let go of the railing to button her sweater with the hand not locked in the unseen grip.
This is crazy! They’ll think I’m crazy!

Nobody is paying any attention,
the voice said.
Except for Oliver, of course.

Oh, God,
she said.

He wants you badly.

Everyone can see me!

Only if I let them,
he said.

She closed her eyes, struggling for calm, but her awareness of her unseen tormentor heightened with the elimination of sight. Now she could feel his fingers around her wrist, his knuckles on her breastbone, his breath in her ear.

She wanted him, she wanted Oliver, she wanted everything. It was too overwhelming. “Leave me alone,” she whispered.

Ah, my dear,
he said.
Have I gone to fast for you?

“Yes!” she said.

She opened her eyes and saw Olive’s dark eyes grow black with desire as he shifted in his seat. He sat up straighter, leaned into the hungry look he was giving her.

I’m sorry,
the voice said.
I’ll give you a moment to get used to the idea.

She bit back an unbalanced giggle.
A moment? That’s all?

You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want it.

Swallowing over the dryness in her throat, still clutching her sweater together, Ashley looked down at the floor.

He was right.

The subway car was screeching into the next station; people were rising from their seats and jostling to the doors on the other side of the car. Although the path was clear, none tried to exit from to the doors that were sliding open in front of her, and none tried to enter.

A moment
, the voice said. She felt a swift, soft pressure on her lips that sent tendrils of hot electricity into her core and then—

The sensations disappeared. Not gradually, like the shock of a burn fading, but suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown. No tingling, no warmth, no moisture, no pressure. Even her legs were steady and strong. Her mind was clear. Silent.

Timidly, she peeked up under her eyelashes at the man Oliver.

He’d fallen asleep! The newspaper was drawn up to his chin like a blanket and his—the rest of him—was decently hidden under the gray wool of his trousers.