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He snuck a look at my panties. He saw what I was wearing, and he had the nerve to comment on them. I don’t know who raised such a hopeless moron, but it definitely wasn’t a woman. He has zero respect for them.
I let out a long breath, relieved that I’ll never have to see him again. I won’t even have a chance of running into him by chance at the grocery store because tomorrow, I’m hopping on a train and driving it all the way to Chicago.
Life as a train engineer isn’t always glamorous, but it pays well and it allows me to get away from men like Jasha when I need to.
Now that he’s away, the only thing I can think of doing to relieve the tension that has formed in my shoulders is to stick my hand into my panties and pretend I’m not picturing his face while I pleasure myself.
It’s not like he’d know, and something about using him to relieve the tension that he’s responsible for is gratifying.
I’m almost about to finish when there’s a heavy knock on the door to my rental.
I yank my hand out from under my dress and tuck my hair behind my ears as I hurry to the door. I hope it’s nothing important, but occasionally, I’m forced to start my shift early. I hope I didn’t miss any calls and force the conductor, Troy, to pay me a visit. He’s about as sweet and cuddly as a porcupine.
“Coming!” I call as I check myself in the mirror by the shoes rack. My cheeks are a bit pink, but it’s nothing that would give away what I was just doing on the couch.
I check myself once more before twisting the bolt and pulling the door open. A zap of electric adrenaline hits me when I see who it is.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Jasha purrs, stepping past me into the living room. “Nice place.”
I ball my fists, turning to him as he meanders past the couch. “What the fuck are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
“I have eyes all over this side of Texas,” he replies, waving his hand up in the air dismissively. “Don’t worry about the how. You should be more concerned with the why.”
“Yeah, I was going to ask that next,” I say, staying by the open door in case I need to make a run for it.
“Because you took my apples,” he replies, looking around for what I assume to be my basket. It’s right by the door with me, where I left it.
“Um, I took my own apples home, thank you very much,” I reply. “So, you can leave now.”
He peeks into the kitchen. “No, I think you took mine. I had a couple of Granny Smiths on the bottom. I need those for thesharlotka.”
I take a deep breath to keep myself from exploding. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” he says, moving back toward me and grinning wildly.
“But you can get those at any grocery store.”
“Ah, but they wouldn’t have that charming, hand-picked taste,” he says, holding up his finger. “Plus, I told my niece I’d get her ones from the local orchard. Can’t be a bad uncle, now, can I?”
I couldn’t imagine him as anythingbuta bad uncle. I’m surprised he even has family that wants to visit him. He’s a walking, talking nightmare, and he’s standing in my living room!
“Take your apples and leave. I’ve lost my appetite, anyway,” I say, trying to sound firm even as he walks up to me. My voice dies in my throat halfway through. “You can’t just…”
“I can’t justwhat?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. “I can’t just walk into your house and take whatever I want?”
I nod, unable to say anything as he towers over me. His energy is high, but his voice is low. Oh, so deliciously low. It makes my entire body vibrate from the inside out, and I’m afraid if I open my mouth, he’ll hear my insides humming.
Maybe even a whimper.
Or possibly a moan?
“Well, my sweet little Lola,” he begins, moving his hand over the buckle of his snug fitting slacks, “I wouldn’t want to just take things from you and not leave anything in return. That wouldn’t be fair.”
I nod again, but I really shouldn’t. I know what he’s implying, but I’m pretending not to so that I can continue lying to myself about my attraction to him. I should despise him, and most of me does, but the part that’s between my legs seems to want him so badly that my desire is soaking through my panties.
“There’s another little apple, right here,” Jasha says, his hand falling down to the hem of my dress. “I’d like to have a taste. They’re so sweet this time of year.”
His height is cut in half as he drops to his knees, putting the power back in my hands. He’s not so intimidating from down there. I think I prefer him that way.
