One Night With the College Girl From the Train novel · Chapter 3 of 12
Chapter 3: The Rails
The platform lights slipped between the curtains and bathed us in yellow.
Neither of us moved.
Standing beside my bunk, Ivan had one hand on my thigh and the other braced on the edge of the bed.
I was naked from the waist down, my flannel shirt open, with just one blanket between us and the world.
Outside, a worker’s hammer struck the wheels with a dry metallic clang.
Someone coughed right by the window.
A shadow passed across the glass.
I held my breath.
Ivan bent down slowly until his face was inches from mine.
“If they open the curtain,” he whispered, “you’re asleep.”
“I’m asleep.”
“And I came to cover you up.”
“How kind.”
He pulled the blanket up to my neck and left his hand there, pressed against my skin.
I felt his thumb at my throat, right over my pulse.
The shadow moved away.
The train whistle sounded twice.
With a jolt, the car started rolling, and the yellow light slid across the sleeper compartment and disappeared.
Darkness closed around us again like a gentle fist.
Ivan let out a breath.
“That was close,” he said.
“Too close.”
“You’re crazy.”
“A little.”
I propped myself up on one elbow, grabbed him by the nape, and kissed him.
It was a hungry kiss, without the slowness from before, all teeth and tongues.
He moaned into my mouth and pushed me against the pillow.
He climbed onto my bunk, kneeling between my legs, and pulled his pants all the way down.
His cock brushed my thigh, hot, hard, slick.
“Wara,” he whispered against my lips. “I don’t have...”
“I know.”
“Then?”
“I’m on the pill. Have been for two years.”
“You sure?”
“As sure as I am that I sleepwalk.”
He smiled in the dark.
He turned me onto my side, facing away from him, the way people lie when they share a narrow bed.
He pressed himself against my back, his chest against my shoulder blades and his erection between my cheeks.
He slipped one arm beneath my head and lifted my leg with his other hand.
“This way we both fit,” he whispered.
“This way.”
The tip of his cock slid between my lips, wet and slick.
He traced me once, from bottom to top, brushing my clit.
I moaned.
“Shh.”
“It’s just...”
He covered my mouth with his hand.
A long hand, with slender fingers and the scent of soap.
I bit the base of his thumb.
“Good sleepwalker,” he murmured in my ear.
He entered me slowly, inch by inch.
It was the slowest and deepest thing I’d ever felt in my life.
I felt him opening me, filling me, settling inside me with a patience that made me cry from sheer pleasure.
When he was all the way inside, we both went still.
The train swayed.
Every sway moved him a little inside me, without him doing a thing.
“God,” he whispered. “This feels so good.”
“Tell me again.”
“It feels so good to be inside you.”
“Again.”
“It feels so good that you didn’t fall asleep.”
“Move.”
“I can’t make noise in here.”
“Then do it slowly.”
“I can’t do that either.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
I laughed against his hand.
He started moving.
First with long, slow thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt.
Then faster, his hips pressed against mine, while the train kept the rhythm beneath us: click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.
His breath burned against my neck.
He smelled of wool and clean sweat, and a pine-scented soap that had already lodged itself in my memory.
A long shiver ran down my arms.
His hand over my mouth muffled my moans, turning them into broken sighs.
With his other hand, he grabbed my breast, my nipple, my waist.
He made me feel small and huge at the same time.
“So tight,” he growled. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”
“More.”
“I can’t go any deeper. There’s no room.”
“Then change positions.”
He pulled out with a gasp.
He took me by the hips and lowered me from the bunk, barefoot on the sleeper compartment’s rough carpet.
The floor vibrated with the train.
“Lean on this,” he said, placing my hands on the edge of the lower bunk, where the blanket was rumpled.
I bent over, my ass toward him, my flannel hanging open and my breasts swaying.
Cold air brushed my wet pussy.
Ivan stood behind me, knees bent.
His hand traced my back, from the nape of my neck to my waist, then stopped at my hip.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “With your little bell and everything.”
The little bell jingled at my ankle with every tremor.
“Take it off.”
“No.”
“It’s going to make noise.”
“I know. Let it ring.”
He thrust into me in one stroke.
I choked on a moan that disappeared into the blanket.
With both hands on my hips, he started pounding into me, firm and deep, and the little bell answered every thrust—ting, ting, ting, ting—a cheerful, obscene little sound that made me laugh and moan at the same time.
“Make it stop,” I panted.
“I can’t.”
“Ivan, they’re going to hear us.”
“Let them hear a bell.”
He gathered my hair into a ponytail and gently pulled my head back.
My back arched.
I felt his chest against my spine, his breath at my ear, his cock pounding inside me at an angle that made me see stars.
“Harder,” I whispered.
"More?"
"Yes."
He gave me more.
My whole body shook against the edge of the bunk.
The fogged-up window reflected a blurry image of us, our silhouettes pressed together, my hair loose, his arm around my waist.
I bit my forearm.
His hand slid between my thighs and stroked my clit, and I almost came right then and there.
"Not yet," he said, and pulled out.
"Ivan!"
"I want to see your face."
He turned me around, lifted me against his chest, and set me down on the bunk. Then he lay down on his back beside me.
"Get on top," he said.
"On top?"
"You're in charge. You move. That way, you're quieter than I am."
"You're a genius."
"I'm studying medicine."
I straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips.
The bunk was so narrow that my head almost touched the ceiling.
I had to bend over, my hands braced on his chest.
He held my hips and guided me down.
I sank onto his cock, inch by inch, with a long sigh.
We both closed our eyes.
"You're everywhere," I whispered.
"And you..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
I started rocking on top of him, moving slowly, in a rolling rhythm that blended with the train's motion.
Every time the car swayed, I sank a little deeper.
Ivan's mouth was open, his eyes half-lidded behind his crooked glasses.
I took them off and set them on the shelf.
Without them, his gaze was even more raw.
He touched my breasts, my waist, my thighs, as if he wanted to memorize every inch.
"You're incredible," he murmured. "You're the best thing that's happened to me on this train."
"This is our first trip."
"Exactly."
Speeding up was instinctive.
I started moving up and down, rolling my hips, my thighs burning as my moans muffled against my own forearm.
He slipped a hand between us and found my clit with his thumb.
He rubbed it in circles, in time with my thrusts.
"Ivan..."
"I'm right here."
"I'm gonna..."
"Do it. Quietly."
I bit my lower lip until I tasted blood.
I felt the orgasm coming, a slow, enormous wave rising from my feet.
"Now," I managed to say.
"Now."
I came in a long, deep shudder, squeezing Ivan with my whole body, my head thrown back and my mouth open in a silent scream.
He followed almost immediately.
I felt him tense beneath me, his cock pulsing inside me, spilling hot and thick.
A low groan escaped between his clenched teeth.
He pulled me against his chest so tightly I could barely breathe.
We stayed like that, pressed together and sweaty, our hearts pounding.
Outside, the cold of the high plateau brushed against the glass.
Inside, the bunk smelled of sex, wool, and my perfume.
He stroked my back, slowly.
He kissed my hair.
"Wara."
"Mm."
"Are you still asleep?"
"I think I woke up a little."
"And how was it?"
"Better than being asleep."
He smiled.
"I thought sleepwalkers forgot," I whispered.
"What?"
"What they do. When they wake up."
"And you?"
"I'm not going to forget this."
He kissed my temple.
We lay quiet for a long time, staring at the ceiling.
Then I felt something cold brush my cheek.
A drop of water, or ice.
I looked up.
Through the window, between the curtains, I saw a huge snowflake drift by, slow and heavy, sticking to the glass.
Then another.
And another.
The train slowed down.
The brakes let out a long, agonized screech, and the whole car stopped with a jolt.
Ivan sat bolt upright.
"This isn't a station."
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