Free Strangers on a Train I by Nelle L'Amour

haven’t these since I was in college.” Lifting the bowl and chopsticks off the trunk, he sank into the couch, his back against an armrest and his long legs crisscrossed. His engorged dick and balls now rested on his folded ankles.
    I surveyed the room, wondering where I should sit. In addition to the couch, there were two funky armchairs facing the trunk.
    “Sit here,” growled Trainman, gesturing to the cushion next to him. “I want to look at you while I eat.”
    Hesitantly, I joined him, mimicking his cross-legged pose. With his free hand, he yanked down my makeshift toga, exposing my breasts. “Much better,” he smiled as he handed me the mug.
    I watched as Ari dipped his chopsticks into the bowl and expertly lifted the noodles to his parted lips. Obviously, he had mastered eating them in college. As he slurped them off the wooden sticks, I was very aware of the tingling inside me. How could a man eating ramen noodles be turning me on?
    “Open your mouth,” ordered Trainman.
    With his chopsticks, he lifted another portion of noodles and dangled them above me.
    “Eat.”
    I tilted my head back and slurped the noodles. Ari ran his deft fingers along my neck, stroking that one sensitive spot right below my chin that drove me crazy and added to the pleasure I was feeling in my groin.
    “Your neck is so long and graceful,” he said, his voice deep and sexy. “Like a ballerina’s.”
    I swallowed hard. It was hard to eat when this gorgeous beast was still turning me on.
    We continued this little game of eating and feeding until the bowl was emptied.
    Ari placed the bowl back on the trunk, then placed his hands firmly on my shoulders. A somber expression washed over his face.
    “Saarah, I haven’t fucked someone in bed for almost three years.”
    His words shocked me. I was sure he was someone who jumped from one supermodel’s bed to another. “I don’t believe you,” I countered, the image of the beautiful redhead filling my head.
    “It’s true. While I’m certainly not lacking sex, it’s been that long since I’ve come in any woman’s bed. Or mine—at least with a woman.”
    “Why?” I gazed at him, wide-eyed with curiosity.
    “I’ve had to be protective of my son. I’ve raised him as a single parent since he was three.”
    “Doesn’t your wife, I mean ex-wife, have joint custody?” I asked, glad that I’d quickly corrected myself.
    “I have sole custody of him.” Rage filled his eyes. “I paid my ex a shitload of money to stay away from him. And from me.”
    The anger in Ari’s eyes grew fierce, his features hardening into a wall that almost stopped me from asking any more questions.
    Bravely, I asked, “Where is she now?”
    “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” His voice was gruff. “The last thing I heard she was fucking her brains out in Europe.”
    Before I could probe further, he said, “Here’s the deal.” His voice became business-like. “If we continue to see each other, you must know that I will never spend the night with you here as I must go home for my son. He suffers from bad dreams, and I need to be there for him.”
    As much as his words unnerved me, I respected them and admired his love for his child. I had grown up with a loving single parent myself. In all the eighteen years I’d lived with her, my mother had never brought a man home, fearing he would disrupt our magical bond. Or that he would break her heart as did my hippy musician father when he abandoned her. With the advent of the Internet, she was able to trace him… only to discover he’d died all alone from a drug overdose.
    Ari continued, bringing me back to the moment. “And you shall never spend the night with me. In my bed. The last thing my son needs is to be confused by another woman. Or hurt.”
    Obviously, there was a lot he was not telling me about his ex. My curiosity was piqued, but a little voice in my head told me not to go there… yet.
    He paused. “One last thing. Don’t count