**Chapter 7: The Metro Encounter**
**Leon's POV:**
I was on the metro again, my eyes roaming over the crowd. That was when I saw her: a woman, 33, wearing a tight skirt...
She was wearing a red blouse that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her skirt... well, let's just say it wasn't exactly modest.
I couldn't help but feel drawn to her. I moved closer, slowly at first—then with more purpose as my gaze lingered on her perfect ass.
*God, she's hot.*
And then… an idea hit me.
Not gentle. Not polite.
A slap.
Just one. A tease.
Would she scream?
Shove me?
Or…
…lean in?
I stepped up behind her—close enough to feel the warmth of her body through my clothes—and gave it: a soft *slap* on that round, firm cheek beneath the skirt.
She flinched—just slightly—but didn't turn.
Didn't shout.
Didn't even look back.
My heart jumped into my throat… and then straight into overdrive.
**Woman's POV:**
*Did he just…?*
I felt it—the sharp little smack against my backside—and for half a second, outrage flared inside me.
But then something else surfaced: curiosity.
He hadn't grabbed hard. Hadn't said anything crude or vulgar like some men did in these packed cars. Just… one playful tap?
And now he was standing so close behind me…
Warm breath on my neck…
His chest pressing gently against my back every time the train rocked…
*Hmm.*
I stayed still—not because I didn't notice,
but because maybe...
just maybe…
*I wanted to see what came next.*
**Third-Person POV:**
The air between them thickened like syrup under summer sun. Leon's fingers trembled—not from fear—but from sheer *want*. He let one hand rise again... slow as molasses this time...
Fingertip first...
Then palm sliding along the curve of hip...
Upward...
Under fabric...
Her breath hitched—but only he noticed beneath city noise and muffled music leaking from earbuds nearby.
When his finger finally brushed damp lace covering pussy lips below skirt hem,
she shivered—not away—
But *into* him like gravity had shifted directions overnight without warning signs or instruction manuals provided by city council (though honestly they probably should've).
Leon grinned devilishly into shoulder blade territory (which smelled mysteriously like jasmine and rebellion). "You're wet," he whispered directly into skin pores capable of understanding six languages fluently including sarcasm — "All this for little ol' me?"
"No," she murmured lowly while arching subtly backward onto thigh emerging front lines warzone action romance rated R+. "This is for whoever dares."
Cue dramatic pause worthy cinematic award nomination best subway-based flirtation scene ever filmed though technically zero cameras involved unless someone snuck phone out which statistically possible but unlikely due current lack facial recording evidence later prosecution purposes thank god privacy laws exist sometimes actually useful after all!
"You asked for it," he growled into her ear, one hand sliding beneath her skirt.
She gasped—not in protest, but anticipation—as his fingers brushed wet lace.
"Mmm… bold," she breathed. "But can you *handle* what you started?"
Challenge accepted.
With a swift tug, Leon pushed the flimsy fabric aside. His other hand guided himself—thick, pulsing—to her entrance. No more games.
**Third-Person POV:**
The metro rocked hard through the tunnel—rhythm and motion conspiring with lust.
One thrust.
Then another.
She bit her lip to stifle a cry as he filled her completely—deep, relentless strokes syncing with the train's clatter. Her back arched into his chest; hands clawed at the pole for balance while pleasure built like pressure about to burst.
**Leon's POV:**
*God… she's tight.* Every inch of me is alive — nerve endings screaming yes yes YES — not just from friction but power: I'm *fucking* this goddess in public and she's taking every inch like she was made for it!
I whisper low: "Tell me who owns this pussy."
"Yours!" She gasps. "Only yours!"
I grin — cocky? Damn right I am.
**Woman's POV:**
This shouldn't feel so good… shouldn't feel *this* intense… but oh god, how could something so wrong feel so perfectly right?
Each thrust hits deeper than shame or sense or safety ever did.
His size stretches me deliciously;
his confidence drives me wilder;
the risk? Addictive.
And when my climax hits—silent scream behind clenched teeth—I don't care who sees my trembling legs or glazed eyes.
He felt it too—I see it flash across his face—and seconds later…
Warmth floods deep inside as he pulses within me—
Ours now—even if only for these stolen moments beneath city streets lit by flickering bulbs and raw desire.
**Third-Person (Final):**
Breathing heavy, clothes hastily fixed in silence neither regrets a thing nor dares speak aloud what happened next:
She turns slowly... looks him dead in eyes that say *"call me."*
Slips number into palm like secret currency traded between rebels surviving emotional droughts using chemistry instead of water."
Walks off without looking back—
leaving Leon standing there,
dick still half-hard,
ego fully immortalized:
not average at all...
Just king-sized on life's wildest ride—in car seven heading downtown at exactly 9:43 AM on Tuesday morning (recorded officially by CCTV footage never reviewed thanks to budget cuts).