“Is it near here?”
“There’s one four blocks away from the theater.” She started looking around. “But it’s just a block away from where we are now.”
“You prefer the Subway?”
“Me? Oh, yeah. New York cab drivers will gouge you every time. They don’t get a penny from me.”
Mick considered Roz. It was no secret to either one of them that his cock was still hardening as her ass sat on top of it. But oddly enough, it wasn’t sex that was driving his interest in her. That connection he felt for her was. That sudden feeling that no way in hell was he going to let her ride some grimy Subway train, or even ride a smelly cab, alone.
“Let’s go catch us a train,” he said, and Roz, pleased, finally got off of him. She glanced at the package between his legs as Deuce helped her out of the limousine. It was still so aroused, so thick, that she began to feel a tingle in her vagina just from looking at the size of it. She glanced into his eyes as she moved out of the vehicle. They both felt the heat of their attraction, which led Roz to wonder how she was able to turn him down so easily earlier. But she trusted her earlier instinct more. Right now, just after something as traumatic as a car accident, they were in the fog of war. She trusted nothing in fog. She got out of the limousine.
Mick was so aroused that he had to wait a few seconds, to go back down a tad. Then he secured the gun on his person, and got out too.
Deuce immediately placed the huge umbrella over both Mick and Roz, but Mick took possession of it. “Miss Graham and I will be riding the Subway, Deuce,” he said to his driver.
Roz smiled at the prospect of a man like Mick taking the train, but Deuce looked alarmed. “The Subway, sir?”
“The Subway,” Mick said.
“You mean, to be clear, she will be riding the Subway, sir?” Deuce asked.
Mick smiled. He knew it had been years, decades even, since he rode anything except an expensive car or a limousine, but he was no pampered idiot. He knew his way around. “I mean, to be clear,” Mick responded, “we will be riding the Subway. She and I. You stay here, deal with the police, and call me when you’re done and backup has arrived. I’ll alert you to my location at that time.”
Deuce couldn’t believe it. Mick Sinatra on the Subway? Wait until the guys heard about this! “Yes, sir,” he said.
And Mick pulled Roz closer as they began to make their way toward the station. They could hear police sirens drawing nearer, as they walked away.
And Roz couldn’t help it. She felt like a queen walking beside Mick Sinatra. He held her close, with his hand on the small of her back, as they braved the rain with brisk steps. He was even able to handle the umbrella magnificently. It didn’t balloon upwards not one time. She was impressed.
She was also extremely aware of his closeness. From the press of his strong hand on her back, to his wonderful cologne scent, to the way he walked with such swag, she felt him. And the way women were giving him that assessing look as they walked pass, as if he was definitely the grand prize on these streets, made her feel special in his presence. She was still a little peeved with him, but at least she got the chance to explain where her anger was coming from. She felt good.
When they arrived at the station, paid for tickets and made their way onto the platform, all eyes seemed to be on them. Roz was reasonably certain they weren’t staring because she and Mick were an interracial twosome. This was New York, after all. But they were staring, she believed, because of Mick. A man who dressed like him, a man who had his look and style, a limousine man, rarely rode the Subway. It wasn’t impossible, and it did happen, but not usually. Add to that the fact that Mick was drop dead gorgeous to boot, and Roz knew he was the center of their attention more so than she.