Stories From The 6 Train

Sex.

Three.

That's how many times a day Mason and I have sex when I'm able to have sex. Seriously, who would think that he was in his late thirties by the way he fucks. He's like a pile driver powered by some sort of Energizer battery. But whereas the bunny would tire out and nap, Mason just keeps going and is ready for more at the drop of a hat, or the bending of a waist.

Ever since the fist night in his apartment where I began to go all out and call him Daddy, I haven't gotten it out of my head. I love pretending he's my stepdad. I mean, technically, I suppose he was, even though at 21 I'm fully emancipated from a woman who bears no familial relation to me.

But it gets me so wet. I can't even begin to describe how filthy I feel when I think about him spanking me as I beg him to smack my ass harder. I moan out "Daddy, don't stop" as he puts his massive cock inside of me. I groan "Daddy, cum all over my face" right before he sprays a quart of cum all over me. And then I lick it up and swap it with him.

Just thinking about him right now has my panties drenched. You remember how Mason told you back in the first chapter to take off your panties before diving into the book? I wish someone had told me to stop buying thongs before I met Mason. Because what's the point?

I mean, for someone on a budget, it's more cost effective for me to go commando. Saves on laundry costs.

But I want to make one thing clear though.

It's not just about the sex.

I think I'm falling in love with him.

One.

That's how many months I've been debating in my head whether I'm really falling in love with the bad boy of Wall Street. I mean this guy used to be a player. Yeah, I told you I know all about his MO. I've read everything about him and that Stacy Sawyer chick on

Market Pulse and how they fucked.

But he really does care for me.

Not just because he takes care of me when Lorna cut me off. But just spending time with me.

Take the other day, for example.

I wanted to go to Kittichai, the Thai place on the West Side.

"That place is overrated," Mason said to me when I broached the subject.

"But their chicken curry is so good!" I whined. He looked at me and I pouted. "After everything that's been going on, I could use something like Thai food to pick me up."

It was true. Sharing a meal was a way to forget about the impending vote of no confidence, the power that Mom was amassing in the Firm, or the fact that I was caught in the center of it.

Also, I knew he couldn't resist that pout.

So I was a little surprised when he said nothing more and headed to work.

I followed an hour later and all day it was business as usual, both sides of Kane Price desperately trying to make or break the Red Lion Aviation deal.

Around 6 pm, Mason came by my desk.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked me.

I looked at him with a stupid stare.

"The car's waiting to take us to Kittichai," he said.

It's not just the fact that Mason Kane had actually planned and gotten us into one of the hottest restaurants in New York City with a reservation list of at least a month.

It's that he was standing at my desk, telling me that the car was waiting.

That he was acknowledging me in full view of the people on my floor.