The concrete pulse of New York City throbbed beneath Elizabeth’s heels as she laughed, her arm looped loosely through a friend’s while they stumbled out of the bar, flushed and breathless from vodka sodas and dancing to early 2000s throwbacks. The city was a warm glow of yellow taxis and neon signs, a living thing that didn’t know how to sleep—and neither did she.

“I’m gonna take the train,” she said, peeling off from the group with a flirty wave. Her friends groaned dramatically, but she didn’t wait for objections. Her building wasn’t far, and truthfully, she didn’t mind the solitude. The buzz in her veins was heady, warm, and dangerous.

The subway station was half-empty, the late hour thinning the crowd. She clicked down the steps, the short hem of her black skirt teasing the tops of her thighs, her tight crop top doing little to hide the bounce of her full chest. She felt the eyes of the occasional straggler, but ignored them—used to it. She loved the attention. Fed off it, really.

A train pulled in with a mechanical whine and sigh of brakes. She stepped into the car, and found it nearly empty—except for him.

He was slumped in the corner, hoodie pulled halfway over his dark hair, jaw sharp and shadowed with stubble. One long leg stretched out in front of him, muscles outlined beneath faded jeans. His chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths. Asleep. Or maybe just pretending.

Elizabeth smirked.

She sat down across from him, angled slightly sideways, knees together but feet splayed apart in her strappy heels. She crossed her arms under her chest, pushing her breasts up just a little more. She wasn’t quiet about sitting—let her thigh brush the seat with a soft rustle of fabric, the jingle of her bracelets catching the fluorescent light.

Still asleep.

Or not.

She bit her lower lip and let her eyes travel slowly over his body. Broad chest, lean waist, the hint of definition where his t-shirt clung to his torso. Her gaze slid down to his hands—large, veined, resting palm-up in his lap. She imagined those hands. On her thighs. Between them.

Her thighs shifted slightly, pressed together now.

She told herself it was the alcohol. The leftover heat from dancing. But her body was aching, her skin hypersensitive, her thoughts fuzzed and filthy. The train rocked gently, and her breath hitched with the motion.

And then—his eyes opened.

Slow. Heavy-lidded. Dark as ink.

He stared right at her.

Elizabeth didn’t flinch. She held his gaze, tilted her chin slightly, lips parting just enough to make it clear: she was not sorry.

He blinked once. Slowly. Then the corner of his mouth curled.

He shifted in his seat, raking a hand through his tousled dark hair as his eyes trailed over her bare legs with slow, deliberate interest.

“Fun night?” he asked, voice dipped in that wry New York sarcasm, but there was something warm behind it too. The corner of his mouth twitched like he already knew the answer.

Elizabeth gave a low, almost secretive laugh. “Something like that,” she said coyly.

She brought her knees to her chest, arms circling her shins like she was just stretching. The hem of her skirt crept dangerously high. She didn’t stop it. The cold air of the subway brushed the underside of her thighs—then higher. Her soft tan skin glowed under the fluorescent lights, and the tiny black string of her thong flashed into view for half a second—maybe longer.

His eyes darkened.

He didn’t look away.

She could feel his gaze on her like a physical touch. Her core throbbed.

“Yeah,” she added, pretending not to notice the way his jaw flexed. “Just blowing off steam—drinking, dancing, letting strangers put their hands on me after a hellish finals week. You know, the usual.”

He let out a low, amused breath, eyes fixed on the space between her thighs.

“Damn,” he said. “Wish I’d been one of those strangers.”

Elizabeth’s mouth curled as she slowly uncrossed her legs and leaned back against the window behind her, spine arching ever so slightly. Her body felt electric—still pulsing from the bass of the club, from hands on her hips, from the heat of those dark eyes now devouring her.

“How was your night?” she asked, tilting her head, voice smoky.

He shrugged, still watching her like a predator who hadn’t decided if he was going to pounce. “Pretty boring. Was just heading home.”

“Alone?” she asked, her tone laced with invitation.

His tongue flicked across his bottom lip. “So far.”

The train rumbled on, the car empty but for the two of them and the thick, undeniable tension stretching between the seats.

Elizabeth’s thighs clenched. Her skin burned under his gaze. She wondered what it would feel like to straddle him right there, hoodie bunched in her fists, his mouth on her neck, his hands finally giving in to the look in his eyes.

Elizabeth let her gaze drop to his mouth, then lower—slow and lingering—before meeting his eyes again. He was watching her like a man trying very hard not to touch something he knew he’d devour the second he did.

She bit her lip.

Then, slowly, she brought one red-painted nail to the top of her chest and dragged it down the soft swell of one breast, just grazing the sensitive skin through the thin fabric of her top. The movement was lazy, like she was simply lost in thought—but it wasn’t accidental.

His eyes followed it without shame.

“I’m curious,” she said, voice breathy, teasing. “What do you do for work?”

He exhaled, sharp and quiet, and lifted his gaze to meet hers with a slight smirk. “I’m a chef,” he said. “High-end spot downtown.”

Elizabeth’s brows lifted, clearly impressed. She leaned forward slightly, as if hanging on to every word—only her cleavage spilled fully into view, framed perfectly by her barely-there crop top. The subway car’s flickering light caught the sheen of her skin, the way the tops of her breasts rose and fell with each breath.

“Oh,” she purred, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. “That sounds… stressful.”

His jaw tensed. His gaze didn’t budge.

“It can be,” he said, voice lower now, rougher. “Late nights, pressure, heat. You get used to sweating through your clothes.”

Elizabeth gave a little breathy laugh and tilted her head, her blonde hair spilling over one shoulder like liquid gold.

“Mm,” she murmured. “Sounds hot.”

The train rocked again, a lazy turn down into the tunnels. Her knee bumped his. Neither of them moved.

She let her tongue brush her bottom lip. “I bet you work with your hands a lot.”

“Every night,” he said, eyes burning now.

Elizabeth shifted forward another inch, until her knees brushed his, until there was nothing polite or innocent left in the space between them. Her skin was flushed, her pulse loud in her ears, her thong soaked against her slick heat. The thought of his hands—large, skilled, rough from hours in a kitchen—on her bare skin made her thighs clench tighter.

“I love a man who’s good with his hands,” she whispered.

The train clattered through the tunnels, the rhythm of steel on steel filling the silence between them. The hum vibrated through the seats, through their bodies.

He turned fully toward her now, one arm resting lazily along the back of the seat, his legs open, claiming space like he owned it.

“I love a woman,” he said, voice low and threaded with unmistakable heat, “who appreciates a good meal.”

The way he said it—slow, suggestive, loaded—sent a jolt straight to her core. It wasn’t the words. It was the way he said them. Like he wasn’t talking about food at all.

Elizabeth’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin.

She held his gaze—brazen, hungry—and with a little sigh of mock innocence, she lifted her top. Just a few inches. Just enough.

Her black lace bra came into view, sheer and scandalous, hugging her full breasts. The dark circles of her nipples were visible through the thin fabric, tight and pebbled from the cold air and arousal.

She brushed her fingers across them, teasing, twisting gently as her breath caught. Her thighs pressed together again, and she let a soft, wicked moan escape her lips.

“I love to be full,” she said, voice breathy and dripping with layered meaning.

The man’s eyes darkened like storm clouds, jaw flexing hard as he watched her fingers toy with her nipples. His hand twitched, just slightly, like he was barely keeping it at his side instead of reaching across and grabbing her.

The train shuddered again.

“I bet you do,” he said, voice hoarse now. “And I bet you’re starving.”

Elizabeth let her top drop just enough to cover her bra again—barely. Her pupils were blown wide with desire, skin burning.

“I’ve been thinking about it all night,” she whispered.

There were no other passengers. No stops for a few more minutes.

His gaze didn’t leave hers. His voice, when it came, was low and commanding—no more teasing.

“Show me.”

Elizabeth’s breath hitched. Her nipples throbbed beneath her lace bra, still aching from her own touch. She leaned back against the cool subway window, her skin electric with anticipation, her eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.

“Mm,” she murmured, lips parted. “You sure you can handle it?”

That smirk was gone now. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on her like he was already imagining how she tasted.

She lifted her top again, slowly, until the entire smooth swell of her breasts spilled out. This time, she reached behind her, unhooking her black lace bra and letting it slide down her arms, letting it fall to the floor between them. Her nipples were hard and dark, pebbled from the air and arousal, and she brought one hand up to cup a breast, fingers rolling the nipple while she moaned softly.

But she didn’t stop there.

Her other hand moved lower.

With deliberate ease, Elizabeth spread her legs wide, the hem of her skirt riding up over her thighs. She hooked her finger under the side of her tiny black thong—so flimsy, it may as well not have been there at all—and tugged it aside. She was soaked, glistening, heat radiating from her core.

She slid two fingers through her folds, sighing at the slick sound it made, the electric pleasure shooting up her spine. She circled her clit slowly, never looking away from him.

His chest rose and fell harder now, his hoodie hiding nothing of the tension in his body. He didn’t speak. He didn’t blink.

He just watched.

Watched as she dipped her fingers into herself, as her moans echoed faintly off the walls of the train. Her hips rocked against her hand, legs spread wide, her breasts bouncing lightly with every movement.

“Ohh…” she gasped, head falling back for a moment. “Fuck…”

She glanced back at him, breathless, pupils blown.

“You’re gonna sit there and watch,” she panted, “or are you gonna feed me?”

He didn’t hesitate.

The second her breathy challenge left her lips, he pushed off his seat. His steps were slow but deliberate, the tension in his body radiating off him in waves. She watched him approach with dark, hooded eyes, fingers still slick and working between her thighs, nipples stiff and bare in the cold air.

As he moved, his hand dropped to his waistband.

He unzipped his pants.

Freed himself.

Her breath caught in her throat.

God.

He was thick. Hard. Heavy in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around the base and gave one slow stroke. Veins traced along the shaft, flushed with blood, the head swollen and glistening with arousal.

Elizabeth’s mouth parted in greedy awe.

She leaned forward on instinct, knees pressing together and shoulders rolling in as she dropped to the floor between the subway seats. Her skirt bunched high at her hips, her thong still pulled to the side, leaving nothing to the imagination.

He grabbed the back of her head, not rough—yet—but firm.

“Suck hard,” he growled, eyes burning. “Help me take the edge off.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

Her lips wrapped around him, her mouth hot and eager as she took him deep. The taste of him was addictive—salty, masculine, intoxicating. He was thick enough to stretch her jaw wide, to make her throat clench and her eyes water as she bobbed forward, determined to take as much of him as she could.

She moaned around him, the vibration making him grunt low in his chest.

Her fingers snaked back between her legs. She rubbed her clit faster now, shamelessly, wildly, moaning louder around his cock as her own pleasure built in a tight spiral. Her eyes looked up at him, glassy with arousal and devotion, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed his sharp features.

“Just like that,” he hissed, hand tightening in her hair. “Fuck, that mouth…”

She sucked harder. Her thighs trembled. Her own orgasm teased the edges of her nerves.

The train kept moving. But they were the only two people in the world.

His fingers curled tighter in her hair, guiding her rhythm—slow at first, then faster, rougher. He worked her head up and down his cock, groaning low and deep, the sound like thunder in his chest.

“Fuck… just like that,” he muttered, hips rocking forward as he lost himself in her heat. “God, your mouth…”

She choked softly as he hit the back of her throat, spit clinging to the corners of her lips, eyes still locked on his face, watching the strain in his jaw, the way his brows furrowed with pleasure.

The car rocked around them.

His breath caught.

“Come for me,” he growled suddenly. “Now. I want to hear it.”

The command lit something deep inside her.

Elizabeth moaned around him, desperate and aching, her fingers working furiously between her thighs. Her clit was so swollen, so sensitive, the pressure so tight it almost hurt. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t. She chased the edge with wild need, thighs trembling, her whole body tightening like a live wire about to snap.

And then she did.

He pulled his cock from her mouth just in time to hear it.

She cried out, high and helpless, her mouth slick and open, her moans echoing in the empty car as her orgasm ripped through her. Her hips bucked against her hand, thighs shaking as pleasure slammed into her in pulsing waves, soaking her fingers, her skin hot and shivering.

“Fuck, yes…” he whispered, staring down at her like she was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

Her chest heaved, hair a wild mess, mouth parted, still dripping with need as she looked up at him.

He looked down at her—bare-chested, flushed, glistening between her legs, still panting from her orgasm—and a dark, ravenous smile curled across his lips.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his voice raw with lust. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

His fingers brushed her cheek, tender for just a moment, then down to her lips where he wiped away a trail of spit, slow and possessive.

“You don’t even know me,” he said with a crooked grin, cock still hard and slick, resting between them. “And you’re on your knees with my dick in your throat. What does that say about you?”

Elizabeth smirked, still breathless, her eyes full of that same wicked fire. “Says I’m exactly what you need.”

He chuckled, low and dark.

“Damn right.”

Without another word, he reached down and lifted her easily—her small, toned frame weightless in his strong hands. She gave a soft gasp as he pulled her into his lap, straddling him, her bare thighs brushing the denim at his hips. Her body was still trembling with aftershocks, and now she was right where she craved to be—hovering over him, soaked and throbbing.

He guided her hand to wrap around his thick length again, and she bit her lip, aligning him at her entrance.

“Get ready,” he growled into her ear, his hands gripping her ass hard, fingers digging into her round, perfect cheeks. “I’m gonna make your tight little body scream.”

Her nails scraped his shoulders in anticipation.

He slid her up once, letting the head of his cock stroke her slick folds, teasing her entrance—and then, with a guttural growl, he slammed her down onto him in one brutal, fluid motion.

Elizabeth cried out, loud and raw, her whole body arching as he filled her completely, the sudden stretch making her shudder and cling to him.

“Fuuuck,” she whimpered, burying her face in his neck. “Oh my god…”

“That’s it,” he groaned, holding her hips tight, already starting to move her up and down, grinding her against him with slow, powerful thrusts. “Ride me, baby. I want to feel every inch of you clench.”

Still buried deep inside her, he leaned back against the subway seat and peeled off his hoodie in one swift motion. Elizabeth’s breath caught.

His body was sculpted—broad chest, firm abs carved from long shifts in the heat of a kitchen, every inch of him radiating power. Her hands roamed up his bare torso hungrily, then raked down his chest with her nails, dragging over his pecs and abs until red lines bloomed across his skin.

He groaned, head dropping back, loving the sting.

“Yeah,” he growled. “Make sure to leave fucking marks on me.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. His hands clamped down on her hips again, fingers digging into her skin as he took full control—driving her up and down his cock in relentless, punishing strokes. Her cries bounced off the walls of the empty subway car as he used her body like he owned it, like she was made for him.

“That’s it,” he panted, watching her bounce. “Scream for me.”

Her back arched, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. He grinned like a man starved.

“Take my huge cock, baby. Come on,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Look at you—taking me like this, out in the fucking open. You love it, don’t you?”

She moaned, eyes wild, nails digging into his shoulders now, her pussy clenching tight around him.

“I bet you love being seen,” he snarled, pounding up into her so hard her thighs trembled. “I bet the thought of someone walking in right now just makes you wetter.”

She couldn’t answer. Could only gasp, her body on fire, overwhelmed and out of control.

He felt it.

The way her walls clamped down on him—tight, wet, desperate. Her rhythm faltered, thighs trembling on either side of him, hips stuttering as her body went rigid with pleasure.

He grinned—darker now, hungrier. His voice dropped into a growl at her ear.

“You do love it, don’t you?” he rasped, thrusting up into her even harder. “You want someone to walk in. You want them to see you riding a stranger’s cock like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

Her gasp tore out of her throat—sharp, shattered, broken open by the truth of it. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails sinking deep into muscle, and then—

She came.

Hard.

Her moan ripped from her lips, loud and filthy and uncontrolled, echoing off the subway walls as her body convulsed around him. Her pussy clenched tight, pulsing, dragging him deeper with every wave of her orgasm. Her head dropped to his shoulder, breath hot and shaking, sweat slick on her skin.

He didn’t stop moving.

Didn’t let her breathe.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, watching her unravel. “So fucking tight when you come… You feel that? You’re milking my cock, baby. Making me lose my mind.”

She whimpered, still rocking, still twitching, her climax rolling through her in endless crashing waves.

His rhythm slowed, but his thrusts grew deeper—harder—his cock slamming up into her with enough force to send sharp slaps of her skin against the rough denim of his jeans. The sound echoed through the train, wet and obscene, a rhythm of lust that didn’t care about time or place.

Elizabeth’s breath caught as he leaned in, his mouth claiming one of her breasts.

He bit down.

Hard enough to make her cry out.

Then he sucked, hot and possessive, pulling the stiff peak between his lips and rolling it with his tongue as her hips stuttered wildly in his lap.

“Yes,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, grinding harder. “Fuck, yes, so good… mark me. I want to feel it again tomorrow.”

He groaned into her chest, then nipped at her other nipple, teasing it between his teeth before flicking it with his tongue, leaving red bite marks in his wake. She was his canvas, and he painted her in bruises and heat.

They were so lost in each other, in the filthy dance of their bodies, they didn’t feel the train slide to a stop.

But they both heard the heavy clunk of the car doors opening.

Footsteps.

Two sets.

He stilled—only for a second—then looked up at her with a dark grin, his fingers sliding up to pinch both of her breasts, holding them up proudly.

“We’ve got company,” he said, voice low and wicked. “Two older men. Two rows up. They haven’t seen us yet.”

Elizabeth gasped, her back arching in his lap, her skin flushed, heart pounding harder than before.

She tilted her head back—exposed, vulnerable, on fire—and moaned louder.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, trembling. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He thrust up into her again, harder now—measured, deliberate—watching as her full breasts bounced with each movement, still slick from his mouth. His hands gripped her ass, guiding her rhythm, forcing her to ride him even faster, louder, more obscene.

Her moans filled the air.

The older men glanced over—startled at first—and then locked in place, realizing what they were seeing unfold just a few seats behind them.

And Elizabeth?

She only moaned louder.

“Faster,” she begged, her voice ragged. “Please—fuck me faster. Let them see. I want them to see.”

The moment Elizabeth moaned louder, hips grinding hard into his lap, the two men turned fully.

They didn’t leave the car.

They didn’t speak at first.

But they stood—just a few steps away now—silent witnesses to the raw display playing out in the corner of the subway car.

The taller of the two, a dark chocolate, rugged man with dark eyes and a lean build, let out a low whistle, eyes glued to Elizabeth’s bouncing breasts, her flushed face, her soaked thighs spread wide around the man beneath her.

“Damn,” he said finally, voice low and thick. “She’s taking that cock like she was made for it.”

Elizabeth shivered. Her eyes fluttered open, locking on the man’s stare.

She didn’t stop riding. If anything, she moved faster.

The other man,  skin the color of caramel , broader with full lips and a sharper jaw, watched with arms crossed, his eyes burning with heat. He stepped forward just slightly, his gaze trailing over Elizabeth’s glistening body.

“Put that ass on display, man,” he said, voice rough with desire. “Bend her over. Let her show off what she’s working with.”

The man beneath her grinned, his hands gripping her hips tighter.

“You hear that, baby?” he whispered into her ear. “They want a better view.”

Elizabeth’s breath hitched—equal parts thrill and lust. She looked over her shoulder at the two men watching her and bit her lip, moaning as her body clenched again.

“You want to show them?” he asked, voice gravelly now, already pulling her hips upward.

She nodded, dazed and hungry. “Yes,” she breathed. “Show them everything.”

The man beneath her growled as he shifted her effortlessly in his lap, her slick body pliant and eager in his grip. He turned her around to face the two men who had stepped closer—now just feet away, eyes dark with hunger, breath slow and heavy.

Elizabeth gasped as her skirt rode high again, thighs spread wide as she faced them. Her eyes raked over their tall, sculpted bodies—the rich warmth of their skin reminding her of something sweet and sinful. Chocolate-covered caramel cake. Her mouth watered. Her body clenched around the cock still buried inside her.

She wanted to taste them. All of them.

Behind her, her first lover’s hands gripped the hem of her top, and with one quick motion, the thin fabric tore open at the back, falling from her shoulders. Her bare breasts bounced free—full, flushed, and gleaming with sweat—as he bent her forward and thrust into her again, deeper, harder.

“Take it, take my cock as they watch.”

Elizabeth cried out, the force of it echoing across the subway car.

One of the men stepped closer—the taller one with smooth, dark skin and bold, confident eyes. He reached out, his hand hovering near her breast, respectful even as his arousal pulsed in his stance.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, voice low and reverent, but thick with heat.

Elizabeth’s entire body trembled.

“Please,” she gasped, voice ragged with lust. “Touch me. Everyone touch me.Use me. I need it so bad.”

The men exchanged dark, hungry grins.

Her lover thrust into her harder, hands locked around her hips, watching her full breasts sway as the other man finally made contact—palming her chest, fingers teasing her sensitive nipples with practiced pressure.

The second man came up behind his friend, his eyes locked on Elizabeth’s face. His hand caressed her jaw, thumb brushing her lips.

“You’re something else,” he murmured. “So fucking eager. So fucking needy.”

She moaned, overwhelmed by the hands on her body, the cock driving into her, the heat of being seen, touched, wanted by all of them.

Her lover grunted behind her. “Look at you,” he growled. “Put on a show, baby. Let them see how wet and wild you get when you’re being taken.”

Elizabeth’s cries grew louder as she lost herself in the rhythm—her body on fire, surrounded by hands, gazes, heat. Her skin burned with every touch. She was dripping, delirious, high on lust and attention.

And she wanted more.

Elizabeth’s moans turned ragged as her body trembled, overwhelmed by the hands and mouths and heat all around her.

The darker man—tall, lean, with a glint of mischief in his eyes—bent low and captured one of her nipples in his mouth. His lips were hot, tongue circling, teeth scraping just enough to make her cry out. She arched into him, back bowed like a bowstring, desperate for more.

“Mmm,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m Calvin, baby. Remember that name when you’re screaming again.”

Behind her, her first lover thrust deeper, harder, her slick heat gripping him like a vice. He was close, she could feel it—but he was holding back, letting her take center stage, watching her unravel.

A second mouth met hers—rougher, commanding. The caramel-toned man cupped her jaw and dragged her face to his, his kiss hard and hungry, all teeth and tongue and heat. His fingers curled at the back of her neck, possessive.

“I’m Jorge,” he growled into her mouth. “And I’ve been waiting to taste that pretty little tongue since the second I saw you.”

Elizabeth’s hands gripped both of their chests, her nails dragging along warm skin, trying to ground herself as her body was lost in sensation.

And then—

Her back snapped straight.

Her eyes rolled back.

She clamped down tight on the thick cock buried inside her, her thighs trembling violently as her orgasm slammed through her like lightning.

“FUCK,” she cried out, voice sharp, wild, undone.

The men surrounded her, encouraging, grinning like devils.

“That’s it,” Calvin growled, still sucking at her nipple. “Let it out.”

“Come for us,” Jorge whispered in her ear, fingers teasing her throat.

“Show us how this sweet little pussy works,” her first lover groaned, thrusting harder as she clenched him like a fist.

Her body convulsed, sweat slicked down her spine, her moans raw and feral as they surrounded her—worshipped her, used her, praised her.

Three men.

Three sets of hands and mouths and cocks and voices.

And her, at the center of it all.

Begging for more.

Her body was still trembling, overstimulated and soaked with release when she felt it—his grip on her hips tightening, his breath turning ragged, his rhythm turning brutal.

“Fuck…” he growled into her shoulder.

And then he bit her.

Not too hard—but just enough to make her cry out again, her voice echoing in the subway car as he slammed into her one last time and came with a guttural groan. His cock pulsed deep inside her, spilling everything he had into her heat, his body shuddering with each release.

He didn’t slow.

Even as he came, he kept moving, hips hammering up into her, milking every last wave of his orgasm inside her soaked, twitching pussy.

Elizabeth gasped, her body seizing around him again, nearly pushed into another climax just from the pressure, from the stretch, from the feeling of him filling her so deep it made her legs shake.

“Shit—yes,” she whimpered.

The two other men moved in tighter, both of them now kneeling beside her, their hands roaming over her trembling form.

Calvin kissed her throat, his tongue trailing down to her breasts, his mouth latching onto one nipple again while Jorge claimed the other, biting and sucking until she cried out in overstimulated pleasure.

They kissed her skin, her chest, her jaw—feverish, ravenous.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Calvin growled, his voice deep and rough as he palmed her breast. “Take all that come, girl.”

“Such a good little subway slut,” Jorge added, his lips hot against her ear, his fingers pinching her nipple until she gasped. “So ready. So willing.”

Their words hit her like sparks, reigniting every nerve in her body. Her lover beneath her was still groaning, still twitching inside her, still gripping her hips like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Elizabeth’s head rolled back.

Heath was still breathing hard, a lazy grin spreading across his flushed face. He reached up and brushed a few strands of hair from Elizabeth’s damp forehead, chuckling low as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“And my name,” he panted, voice rough with satisfaction, “is Heath.”

All three of them laughed—deep, dark, knowing.

Elizabeth gave a weak, breathless giggle, her body still trembling, clenching with aftershocks. She gasped softly as Heath slowly slid out of her, and the feeling left her momentarily hollow, stretched and aching and soaked.

His release spilled from her in a slow, glistening drip, running down her inner thighs.

She moaned at the loss.

“God…” she whimpered, voice barely there.

Heath wiped the sweat from his brow and knelt beside her, strong hands massaging her trembling thighs, then her stomach, grounding her with every gentle stroke. His touch was reverent now, a stark contrast to the rawness of moments before.

Jorge and Calvin shared a look. A silent exchange.

Then Calvin stepped forward.

Heath eased back, pressing a kiss to Elizabeth’s hip as he gave her over.

Calvin’s presence was commanding—bigger, broader, darker. His hands found her waist as he knelt in front of her, and she moaned the moment she felt the thick heat of his black cock brush against her slick, spent entrance.

Jorge kissed her neck, fingers stroking her sides as Calvin aligned himself.

“Touch her,” Calvin growled low to Jorge. “Keep her open for me.”

Jorge’s hands slid to her thighs, spreading her gently. She was soaked, stretched, still dripping from Heath’s orgasm—but still so ready.

“She’s so pretty like this,” Jorge murmured, voice thick with lust. “All open… stretched and leaking with another man’s come.”

Elizabeth cried out as Calvin slowly pressed into her—inch by inch—his cock stretching her again, deeper, wider.

Her back arched, and her mouth dropped open in a desperate moan.

“Oh my god,” she gasped.

Calvin gritted his teeth, his brow furrowing as her tight heat gripped him.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking tight. Tightest pussy I’ve ever been in.”

She clenched around him instinctively, her breath catching at the sheer fullness. Her thighs shook, her body trying to adjust to him, to the new rhythm, the new sensation of being taken again—while still raw and filled from the first. Calvin was fully seated inside her now—deep, thick, stretching her to her limit. Elizabeth could barely breathe, every inch of her body trembling with overstimulation and bliss. But she wanted it. Needed it. Her moans were long and unfiltered, raw with need.

Heath knelt beside her again, one hand stroking her tangled hair back from her flushed face. His eyes locked with hers, steady and burning.

“Look at me,” he said, voice firm but tender. “Keep your eyes on me while you take that big cock. You feel that, baby? Another man stretching that little pussy?”

Her hips rocked involuntarily, and a loud moan tore from her throat as her eyes fluttered open—fixing on Heath’s dark, green gaze.

Jorge moved behind her, sliding his hands along her hips, then lower—gripping her ass and spreading her wide.

Elizabeth gasped, her cheeks burning, but she didn’t look away from Heath. She couldn’t.

Jorge’s voice came low and hot in her ear. “Look at you,” he said with a sinful smirk. “I wish you could see how desperate your pussy looks for more cock. Greedy little hole.”

Calvin groaned behind her, hips shifting, his cock buried deep and tight inside her. He started to move—slow at first, deliberate—grinding into her in long, punishing strokes.

“Yes,” he growled, his voice climbing with every thrust. “Yes, yes, yes. So good. Best little white girl pussy. Fuck yes.”

Elizabeth’s eyes watered from the stretch, from the pleasure, from the overwhelming fullness of it all. Her body rocked with each thrust, her breasts swaying between Heath’s hands, her breath breaking in short, helpless gasps.

Heath cupped her jaw, his voice dropping to a whisper just for her.

“That’s it, baby. Take him. Show us how badly you want it.”

Elizabeth was already moaning as Calvin pounded into her from behind, her body stretched tight around his thick cock. The rhythm of his thrusts shook through her spine, raw pleasure building again deep in her belly.

Then Jorge stepped forward, towering over her—his cock thick, hard, and inches from her lips. She looked up at him through heavy lashes, her mouth already parting in invitation.

He smirked.

“Suck my cock, girlie,” he said, tone teasing but firm. “Let’s see how this desperate little mouth feels.”

She didn’t hesitate. She wanted it—all of it. She leaned forward and took him fast, lips wrapping around his length, her throat welcoming the stretch like it was exactly what it had been craving.

She bobbed eagerly, letting him slide deep, her moans vibrating against him, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth. Jorge groaned, hands cradling her head as he guided her gently but firmly.

“Fuck, just like that…”

Behind her, Calvin’s grip tightened on her hips, his rhythm relentless now. The wet slap of skin-on-skin echoed in the car, along with the deep, grunted curses from both men she pleasured at once.

Heath sat back, stroking himself slowly now as he watched the scene unfold—Elizabeth, bent forward, stretched around Calvin’s thick cock while her mouth worked Jorge with fevered hunger.

“Goddamn,” Calvin groaned. “So good at taking my big cock. You love this, don’t you?”

Elizabeth moaned in answer, her throat full, her body shaking as another wave of pleasure built beneath the surface.

Heath grinned, voice low and thick with heat.

“I fucking love New York college sluts.”

Calvin’s thrusts grew heavier, faster—his thick cock driving into her with deep, punishing strokes. The sound of his hips meeting her ass was sharp and rhythmic, his heavy balls slapping wetly against her skin with each deep plunge.

But then his hand slid lower.

Around her hips.

Between her legs.

And found her clit.

“Yeah,” he growled, breath hot against her back. “Suck that cock good. Suck it good while you come on mine.”

His fingers circled her swollen nub, rubbing tight, merciless circles that made her cry out around Jorge’s cock. Her whole body jerked, overwhelmed—too full, too stimulated, too needy.

“Take him deep, baby. Show us how greedy this body really is.”

Elizabeth moaned loudly, choking softly on Jorge as her throat took him deeper.

Jorge’s head tilted back, a long groan rumbling from his chest as her lips sealed tighter around him. His fingers twisted in her hair, but his voice stayed low, taunting, thick with lust.

“Good little fucktoy,” he groaned. “Mouth made for cock. Filthy little cockslut—look at you, drooling, choking, loving every second.”

Her body was spiraling again—pleasure flooding her, trembling around Calvin’s cock as he kept pounding, fingers relentless on her clit, eyes locked on the way her mouth devoured his friend.

Calvin grunted hard, still working her over.

“There it is,” he hissed. “Come for us again. Come with your mouth stuffed full and your pussy wringing me dry.”

Elizabeth’s vision blurred. Her knees buckled.

And the orgasm hit—again.

Harder.

Faster.

Louder.

Calvin’s thrusts turned erratic—harder, deeper, his grip on her hips turning bruising. His body tensed behind her, muscles flexed, jaw clenched as he drove into her one final time.

“Fuuuck,” he roared, the sound raw, guttural.

He came with a sharp grunt, his cock pulsing deep inside her, filling her with thick, hot release. The sensation made her cry out, body clenching down on him as wave after wave of his orgasm spilled into her soaked, aching core.

And still—he didn’t stop.

He kept pounding into her, his release making every thrust wetter, messier, more primal. Then his hand cracked down across her ass with a sharp slap, her skin stinging in the best way as he groaned through the last pulses of pleasure.

“Take it,” he hissed. “Take all of it.”

Jorge, still thick and dripping in front of her, pulled his cock from her mouth with a slick pop—just so he could hear her.

And Elizabeth didn’t disappoint.

Her head tipped back, her voice ragged and wild, the words pouring out of her throat between moans:

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me— fuck me— fuck me! Come in my pussy!”

Her whole body trembled, trembling around Calvin as his come leaked out of her, dripping between her thighs.

Jorge ran a hand through her hair, groaning low.

“You want more?” he asked, voice dark with promise.

Her eyes were wild. Her lips swollen.

“Yes,” she gasped. “More.”

Jorge’s hands were already on her—firm, commanding—as he pulled her from between the others and into his lap. He sat back against the subway seat, broad thighs spread, and lifted her effortlessly to straddle him.

Elizabeth whimpered at the shift, her legs still shaking, her body wet and stretched and so ready for more.

He gripped her chin with one strong hand, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he growled, his voice low, hard. “You look at me when I take you.”

Her breath caught—his gaze was fire, deep and dark, flooding her body with heat even before he moved.

He spanked her once—sharp, hot—and her hips jerked in his lap, Calvin’s still-warm release dripping from her, running down the backs of her thighs. The sound of the slap echoed through the empty subway car.

She moaned, long and wanton, loving the sting and the filth of it all.

“Fuck,” Jorge breathed, staring at her soaked, flushed body, his cock already positioned and ready. “You’re the best cock whore I’ve ever come across.”

He rubbed the head of his cock against her soaked entrance, spreading the slick mess Calvin left behind.

“You should be proud,” he murmured, almost reverent now. “Look at what you’re doing. Taking every inch. Begging for more. We’ll be thinking about you for the rest of our lives.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

With a sudden thrust, he slammed up into her—deep and hard.

Elizabeth cried out, her head falling forward, hands gripping his shoulders as her body clenched tight around him. She was already close again—sensitive, soaked, and stretched.

Jorge grunted, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move—rougher than the others, unrelenting, pure power behind every motion.

“Show me,” he growled. “Show me how you come for me.”

Jorge’s grip on her hips tightened as he began to bounce her on his cock—lifting and slamming her down over and over with raw, powerful force. Each thrust knocked the breath from her lungs, her slick body rocking with the motion, soaked from the men before and burning for more.

“Fucking scream for me,” he growled, voice rough and possessive. “For them. For me. Make the whole fucking world hear how much you love strangers’ cock.”

He spanked her again—harder this time—and Elizabeth’s cry echoed down the length of the train car, her head thrown back, mouth open in a desperate, shameless scream.

“YES!” she cried, her voice ragged. “Fuck me—fuck me harder!”

Her legs shook around him, her moans dissolving into helpless whimpers as the rough rhythm pushed her closer again, her entire body a pulsing coil of pleasure and overstimulation.

Jorge leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, his cock slamming up into her deeper than she thought possible.

“You ever done anal before?” he asked, voice low and filthy, but laced with something darker—curiosity, desire, challenge.

Elizabeth moaned louder at the question, trembling as the thought lit up in her mind—wild, forbidden, perfect.

Jorge’s rhythm faltered for a moment—his cock still buried deep inside her as he leaned close to Elizabeth’s flushed face. Her lips were swollen, her skin slick with sweat, her whole body trembling from the endless waves of pleasure and use.

“Answer me,” he growled into her mouth. “You ever taken it in the ass before?”

Elizabeth whimpered—then moaned, the sound long, desperate, and raw.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice cracking with need. “I love it—please…”

The way she said it—begged for it—made Jorge groan deep in his chest.

Behind her, Heath was already standing again, stroking his cock with purpose, his body ready, his eyes dark with hunger as he approached.

Jorge glanced up, locking eyes with him.

A silent look.

Then a nod.

Heath stepped in close behind Elizabeth, running a hand down the curve of her spine as Jorge slowed the rhythm of his thrusts inside her soaked pussy. Her body jerked, sensitive and wide open, gasping as Heath guided himself lower, teasing the tight ring of her ass.

Elizabeth moaned again, the sound needy and helpless as her head fell forward against Jorge’s chest.

And then—

Heath entered her.

Slow at first, pressing forward, stretching her around his cock until he bottomed out with a deep groan, completely filling her.

All three of them let out ragged, guttural sounds at once.

Elizabeth’s body arched violently, stretched to the absolute edge, her breath catching as the double sensation overwhelmed her.

“Fuck…” she moaned, voice half-broken, eyes wild with ecstasy.

“Good girl,” Jorge whispered, gripping her jaw, his cock still deep inside her. “So greedy. So fucking full.”

Heath groaned behind her, hands tight on her waist. “Tightest little ass I’ve ever felt.”

And between them, Elizabeth could only moan—completely filled, completely taken.

Heath grunted behind her, hips grinding as he pressed even deeper into her tightest hole. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her open so he could watch everything—the way her body was stretched to the edge, taking both of them like she was made for it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, watching the slick mess of it all. “Look at that… watching us both fill you up—shit, it’s perfect.”

Elizabeth trembled between them, suspended by strong hands and thick cocks, overwhelmed by the fullness, the burn, the heat of it all. Her breath came in ragged sobs of pleasure, her core clenching around Jorge while her ass squeezed Heath tight behind her.

Jorge grabbed her face again, hand firm but not cruel—gripping her jaw, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Tell me,” he growled, his voice vibrating through her body. “Tell us how good it feels to be stuffed full like this.”

She whimpered, eyes glassy and wild, lips parted in a desperate moan.

“Tell me, slut. Tell us how much you love taking cocks in all your filthy, slutty little holes.”

She gasped, body shaking as her hips rolled without thought, chasing every thrust.

“I love it,” she cried, voice raw. “I love being full—I love it so much. You feel sogood. I love your cocks—I love being used, fucked like this!”

Heath groaned behind her, his fingers digging into her hips.

“Good girl,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking tight, you’re gonna milk us both dry.”

They began to move in rhythm—slow at first, controlled—Jorge thrusting into her soaked pussy as Heath rocked into her ass. Their hands kept her steady, guiding her, owning every inch of her body with expert control.

And Elizabeth?

She surrendered to it completely.

Held between them. Stretched. Worshipped.

Fucked in every way a woman could be fucked.

Calvin stood just feet away in the aisle, his hand stroking his thick cock slowly, deliberately, watching the scene unfold with open hunger. The glint in his eye was dark, electric, as he soaked in every second of it—Elizabeth, sandwiched between Jorge and Heath, her body stretched and glistening, her moans ragged and constant.

“That’s it,” Calvin growled, breath hitching as he stroked faster. “Fuck that pussy good, Jorge. Show her what it means to be split open right.”

Heath slammed forward again, groaning behind her, his grip white-knuckled on her hips.

“Fuck that whore’s tight little ass, Heath,” Calvin added with a grin. “She needs it. She’s starving for it.”

Both men started to move faster—deeper. Their bodies working in sync, stuffing Elizabeth full with every punishing, perfect thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoed off the metal walls, mixed with panting, groans, and Elizabeth’s breathless cries.

Her full breasts bounced wildly with every motion, swaying in Jorge’s face. He leaned forward between thrusts, taking one in his mouth, sucking hard as she screamed.

Then—the train slowed.

A mechanical groan, a faint chime.

The subway rolled to a stop.

Somewhere beyond their car, passengers were boarding—doors sliding open in the other sections, feet stepping on, muffled voices talking. But not their car.

Not yet.

Elizabeth’s eyes shot open, wide and wild, her body trembling with overstimulation and anticipation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh my god—I’m gonna come!” she screamed, her hands clawing at Jorge’s shoulders, her body quaking between them.

Calvin’s eyes gleamed.

He stepped closer, still stroking himself.

“Do it,” he rasped. “Come all over their cocks, baby. Soak them. Milk them.”

“Come for us,” Jorge grunted, thrusting deep.

“Yeah,” Heath hissed, his cock pounding into her tighter. “Let us feel that slutty body squeeze down. Show us how bad you need it.”

Elizabeth’s mind fractured.

Her thoughts slipped from sensation to exposure—the idea that just feet away, behind one thin train door, people were waiting. Listening. Maybe hearing the wet rhythm of her body being wrecked by two men. Maybe hearing her screams. Maybe even seeing through the scratched glass.

Calvin leaned in, his voice low and filthy.

“Come, girl. Come hard. Scream for the people outside. Let them know what it sounds like when you come on two cocks.”

That did it.

She shattered.

Her body locked up between them, muscles clenching down on both men at once as she screamed, her voice ragged and impossible to ignore. Her pussy pulsed around Jorge, her ass squeezing Heath’s cock like a vice, her orgasm crashing through her like fire.

She cried out again—louder—her scream echoing down the subway car as the train began to hum back to life.

And maybe, just maybe, someone out there heard.

“FUCK MEEEEEEE!!!”

Jorge’s pace turned savage.

Each thrust slammed up into Elizabeth’s dripping core with a force that shook through her spine. His hands gripped her waist like he was holding on for dear life, his eyes locked on the way her breasts bounced with every slap of his hips.

“Fuck—fuck, this pussy’s made to be used,” he growled, sweat beading on his forehead. “Just look at her. Taking it all. Taking everything.”

Behind her, Heath spanked her again—hard—the sound cracking through the subway car.

Elizabeth cried out, body jerking from the impact, but her moan only deepened, louder and more desperate. Her ass clenched around him in response, pulling him in deeper.

“That’s it,” Heath grunted. “Squeeze me. You like being a toy, don’t you? Stuffed full while we ruin you.”

Then—Calvin stepped forward.

Still stroking himself.

Still watching.

And ready.

His dark cock was already hard and leaking, thick and flushed in his hand. He stepped around Jorge, close enough for Elizabeth to see the hunger on his face.

“Open up, bitch,” he said darkly. “Let me fill that mouth while they wreck the rest of you.”

Elizabeth opened wide, eager, already reaching with both hands—one wrapped around the base of his cock, the other stroking his length as she took him in.

Her lips wrapped around him, her moans humming against his skin.

Calvin groaned, his hand sliding into her hair, gripping it tight as he fed her more.

“Fuck, yeah,” he hissed. “That’s it. Suck my black cock good. Show me how nasty that  white-girl mouth is.”

The train slowed.

The lights shifted.

And suddenly, through the smudged windows, the car coasted slowly past a platform.

People were standing there—waiting, talking, scrolling through their phones.

Some looked up.

And through the glass, they could see.

Elizabeth on her knees, breasts bare, body trembling. Jorge still pounding up into her dripping pussy. Heath gripping her ass as he thrust into her from behind. And Calvin—his cock stuffed in her mouth, holding her hair like reins.

Her eyes fluttered open just long enough to see the blurred faces on the platform.

The rush of it sent another tremble through her thighs.

Calvin grinned down at her, teeth bared.

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Give them a show. Let them see the subway slut in action.”

She moaned around him, louder, sloppier, her hands stroking him as her throat worked him deeper.

Three men.

One wrecked, moaning, dripping woman.

And an audience who’d never forget what they saw through those scratched subway windows.

The subway car was still.

Silent, except for them.

The wet slap of skin. The ragged moans. The obscene rhythm of three men using one trembling, wrecked woman like she was theirs—because in this moment, she was.

Outside, behind the smudged glass, voices stirred. People were gathered. Watching. Listening. Hearing everything.

Elizabeth was past shame. She was moaning, crying out, every nerve in her body alight as Jorge, Calvin, and Heath pushed her past her limits.

Calvin gripped her jaw, stroking himself fast, cock glistening with pre-come. His voice was filthy and sharp.

“Come on, little cockslut,” he snarled. “Open that mouth—show them what it’s for.”

She obeyed instantly, tongue out, eyes wild.

Behind her, Heath was a savage rhythm of force, his cock slamming deep into her ass, hands locked tight on her hips.

“Fuck, this ass is perfect,” he groaned. “Tight little hole was made to be fucked raw.”

Jorge thrust into her harder, his pace turning brutal. He gripped her hair, yanked her head back to bare her throat, then bit down on the swell of her breast hard enough to make her cry out.

“You hear those people outside?” he hissed. “They want to see you. See the filthy little whore with a cock in every hole.”

Calvin slapped her cheek—sharp, firm, not cruel.

“You love this,” he growled. “You’re just a cum rag, aren’t you? A perfect little fuckdoll.”

“Say it,” Heath panted behind her. “Say what you are.”

Elizabeth gasped, breath shattering. “I’m—I’m your slut,” she cried. “Your cockslut. Fuck—please—I’m gonna come—!”

“Oh yeah?” Jorge grunted, reaching down to rub her clit viciously. “Do it. Fucking come on our cocks, you messy little bitch.”

Heath spanked her ass again—hard. Calvin moaned, stroking faster.

“Yeah, scream for them,” Calvin growled. “Make the whole platform know you’re just a public-use little slut.”

That was it.

Elizabeth screamed—high, broken, feral—as her orgasm tore through her like fire, her body shaking between them. Her pussy clenched around Jorge’s cock, her ass tight around Heath, her throat raw from the moan that ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Calvin groaned, cock twitching.

He came hard—thick, hot ropes across her lips, her chin, her flushed cheeks.

“Take it,” he hissed. “Wear it, slut.”

Jorge let out a ragged growl as he shoved deep, filling her with his load.

“Fucking milk it,” he snarled. “That’s a good little cum dump.”

Heath cursed behind her as he slammed deep one last time and came again—groaning through clenched teeth as he emptied himself inside her ass.

And then—

From the platform outside, the noise broke.

A cheer.

Shouting.

Applause.

“Yeah!” a man yelled through the window. “Fuck her harder! That’s the hottest slut in the city!”

Elizabeth collapsed forward, covered in come, wrecked, used, and soaked in pleasure.

And smiling.