Page 41 of Cream
At least the recovery was over now. We would soon be heading for the train station, and I fully intended to spend the majority of the train ride home with Morton’s dick inside me.
This time, the four days on the train didn’t feel daunting at all. I couldn’t wait to be cozied up in the crammed little carriage, with nothing else to do but fuck and cuddle.
The porter left our bags in the front coupé, and we waited politely until the sliding door closed behind him. The next second, Morton was tearing at my clothes.
“Off. All of this, off. I don’t want you to wear anything until we arrive.”
“And if we want to have dinner in the skyline car, am I supposed to go naked too?”
He only growled in response. I helped him to unbutton my shirt and unzip my pants. He pushed me through the open door into the left bedroom, and I flopped on the bed with a gasp.
It felt so different to have him inside me outside of heat. It was less intense physically, but not being overwhelmed with arousal and multiple orgasms meant there was room in my brain for other things—beautiful, profound things, more important than simple lust.
Morton moved slowly, gazing at my face in earnest, and I got transfixed by the emotion in his eyes.
“You really love me, don’t you?” I asked.
He smiled crookedly and rubbed his nose against mine. “Jamie, I adore you. Always have.”
He didn’t let me reply. Instead, he kissed me and thrust harder, sending sparks through my guts.
All these years, he’s been in love with me.
A part of me was frustrated about the wasted time, but then again, maybe I wouldn’t have appreciated him as he deserved, had I not been through a few failed relationships first.
I lifted my legs higher and hooked them around his back. I wanted to feel the weight of his body.
We came together in a long and peaceful climax, our groans of pleasure muffled in a deep kiss. I hadn’t yet told him I loved him back, but I didn’t want him to think I only said it because he did. I’d wait for the right moment.
We did put on clothes eventually. The second night on the train, Morton asked me to get dressed and go to the skyline car with him.
“It’s eleven already,” I said. “Aren’t they closed?”
“Nah. Not today.”
I was tempted to double-check the information folder we’d received with our tickets, but Morton told me to trust him. Worst case, we’d just come back.
We made our way through the narrow corridor of a sleeping car along a row of closed coupés. Morton went first and waited for me by the sliding door to the skyline car.
It looked empty, with subdued lighting.
“Are you sure…” I never finished the sentence.
The car was indeed empty, except for one server and one set table. A burning candle and a bucket with a chilled bottle sat in the middle.
The server wordlessly opened the bottle and poured us each a glass of bubbly. He uncovered a fancy cheese plate, nodded at us politely, and withdrew.
“Did you book the entire car?” I whisper-shouted. “Just to have a late-night snack?”
Morton grinned, all smug. “It wasn’t such a big deal. They do close at eleven, so it was just a matter of convincing them to keep it open for us for one more hour. The server is getting a good tip, I promise. Oh, and the wine is low on alcohol. One small glass is fine for you.”
We clinked glasses, and I sipped the arguably excellent wine. Then I eyed the cheeses. I was partial to English cheddar, which Morton knew.
“This looks amazing. Thank you.”
“Glad you approve.” To my confusion, he blew out the candle, then pointed upward. “The sky is clear, great weather for stargazing.”
I glanced up and gasped.
