She's shaking—if not from Pesky Paul, then from whatever it was that had her so upset when she got on the bus before. All I want to do is help her, make her life better however I can.
"Irina, I'm Jackson." I gesture to the empty space on the seat beside her. "May I?"
She answers instantly. "Yes."
I don't know what I would have done if she'd said no, but I sure as hell wasn't about to just slide in there like Paul and make her feel uncomfortable if that wasn't what she'd wanted.
Even so, there's no denying the primal urge inside of me that has me wanting to strip her bare and f**k her right here on the seat, filthy and raw, let the bus driver see my bare ass pumping up and down. I couldn't care less.
I'd run my hands through her hair, pull up her shirt so I could lick and kiss her brea
