I studied his feet as we glided down floor after floor. They were almost oafish in his long loafers. My gaze traveled up to his legs, thin yet well defined through his slacks. He had one thumb dangling on the edge of his front pocket, and a rolled up magazine jammed in his back pocket. His hands were slender, firm, and veiny, and I resisted the urge to grab one just to feel it flex.
He'd opened his collared shirt, and the plain white tank underneath revealed a toned torso. I shivered when he stretched slightly, cracking his knuckles as he raised his arms above his head, allowing me to catch a glance of his muscles flexing and releasing. He was so effortlessly cool and collected, the type of man that I'd only read about in books.
Little did I know, he was doing a little inspection of his own.
His eyes grazed my lips, then my collarbone, exposed in my silk blouse. He stared at the beauty mark on my upper chest, blinking fast as if willing it to disappear, willing it to stop tempting him. His eyes traveled to my breasts, then my waist, and rested on the little bit of paunch showing between my shirt and pants. He exhaled slightly, eyes practically glazing over. He glanced at my ass and thighs, clenching his jaw. He moved his gaze to my ankles, fully visible above my flats, and suddenly he felt like quite fully understood the desires of a 19th century man.
The tense silence was interrupted by a loud thump, an amplified version of the ones we'd heard in the morning. Then a slight lurch. We were suspended.
After helplessly pushing buttons for a while, with no response due to the completely vacant building, he managed to call a colleague, with whom we entrusted the responsibility of contacting building maintenance.
In the meantime, I collapsed onto the ground, retrieving some emergency snacks (trail mix and clementines, how romantic) from my purse and leaning my head against the wall. He paced for a while, muttering something about a dog (not a black cat, to my surprise), and calling who I presumed was a roommate. Meanwhile, I tore into the trail mix, anxiously nibbling on each individual nut and raisin to distract myself from impending doom.
Finally, he collapsed next to me and extended a hand for some trail mix. I reluctantly shook some into his palm, and to my dismay, he tipped his head back and ate the whole pile in one bite. He brushed his hands on his inevitably expensive pants and held his hand out for another palmful. I drew the bag closer to my chest.
"No," I shot, picking a peanut out and slowly chewing it. "You just ate, like, a quarter of the bag in one bite."
"It's more enjoyable that way."
I snorted. "We need it to last. What if we're stuck here until the morning?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
I scowled and turned away from him slightly. He huffed and walked to the other side of the elevator, eyes stormy.
I ended up putting the trail mix back into my bag, as I didn't want to torture him. He stupidly messed around with Angry Birds until his phone died, then threw a cursing fit and discarded it in his briefcase.
"You're a dumbass," I quipped.
"You're pissy."
"You're impulsive."
"You're—shivering?"
He was right. I was freezing cold. Sometime in the quiet fuming period, I'd noticed how cold it was the elevator and reached into my purse, just to realize I'd left my sweater draped over my chair at the reception desk. I had been trying to hide my chattering teeth and rising goosebumps, but obviously, my efforts were unsuccessful.
"No," I scowled, willing myself to stop shaking. "I'm fine."
Of course, my body decide to tremble violently at that very moment. He smirked and theatrically caressed the sleeves of his own collared shirt. I frowned and looked away, unamused and still freezing my ass off.
A moment later, his crumpled shirt landed by my feet. I contemplated ignoring it, but took one look at his expectant face and pulled it on. It smelled like cucumber deodorant and aftershave, and was extremely warm despite being thin.
I looked at him, at his tank top with a little stain on one sleeve, at the way it hugged his chest, and noted that he suddenly looked casual and friendly.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Wouldn't want you to freeze," He replied nonchalantly. He stared at me for a moment, then smiled and looked at the ceiling.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I stared at him. I could tell he still wanted to laugh, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.
"No, seriously, what?"
He cocked his head, considering something, then stood and ambled back over to me. I looked up at him, his towering figure, confused and excited and warm. He squatted in front of me and grabbed the collar of my, well, his shirt.
"It's backwards," he said, releasing it, but not moving. I wished he'd left his hand there.
"Oh," I breathed. I didn't move to fix it, my eyes transfixed on his, his on mine. I thought I saw his pupils dilate, that I felt his breath on my chest. I wondered if he felt mine on his.
His expression softened into a more natural one, instead of his confident smirk, then changed to confusion. I mirrored his expression, my heart racing. I hated the term butterflies; The way I'd describe the feeling in my stomach was lightheaded, but in my gut.
He began to lean in, then caught himself and leaned out.
"May I..."
"May you what?" I said, testing him.
"You know..." The playful smile returned to his face, and I melted. "Kiss you?"
I bursted out in laughter, and his throaty chuckle followed.
"Yes. You can—"
"Good."
He leaned in and planted and soft kiss to my lips, then pulled away and raised his eyebrows.
"7/10," I muttered sheepishly.
"A C? I was a straight A student, you know. I don't do Cs."
"I mean, retakes are open," I suggested.
He grinned and leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper, tugging lightly at my bottom lip. I placed a hand to the back of his head, letting my hand sink into his hair, willing him to come closer. He did come closer, pressing my back harder against the elevator wall, continuing to deepen the kiss as he slowly slid a hand up my thigh, settling it on my waist. I pulled away after a moment.
"Wait—" He defiantly placed another kiss on my nose, my cheek, my neck.
"Wait!" I laughed, to let him know he wasn't doing anything wrong while grabbing his attention. He pulled away reluctantly, lips puffy. "Can we move into a more comfortable position?"
We settled on him sitting with his back on the closed elevator doors, so the pesky bar wasn't there, and me straddling his lap, taking control, gripping his face as he cupped my ass.
We went on for about 10 minutes, caressing and kissing and gasping for breath.
Suddenly, he stopped reciprocating the kiss, letting his lips go limp. I pulled back and frowned.
"What's up?" I asked, probably a bit too impatiently.
"How far do you want to go?" he asked. He'd already snaked his hand up my shirt, and his hands now rested on my bra.
There was a brief silence as we both considered this. I sighed, and he pulled me in to plant a kiss on my temple, then lay my head against his chest.
"I, um..." I knew the truth. I wanted to go all the way, I wanted to explore every single part of him. But, questions had to be asked, communication had to take place. "Have you been tested for STD's?"
"Yup."
"Do you have a condom?"
"Uh..." He glanced at his briefcase across the room.
"Don't worry, I might have one," I said, rising to fetch one from my backpack. I returned and kneeled across from him, gripping it between two fingers.
"So, is that an...all the way?" He asked, staring at me with a desperate intensity. I nodded, and he gave me an impatient tilt of his head.
"Yes." I said. He nodded.
"Okay. Me too."
We sat in silence for a moment, then, with a sudden burst of passion, continued right where we'd left off.
I felt it soon after, against my thigh. I tried to remember the last time I'd done this, played this dangerous, wild, passionate game. He tensed when I felt it, and I knew it was time.
I unwrapped the condom as quickly as possible, and avoided eye contact as I slid it on, suddenly feeling shy. As soon as it was on, he planted a couple quick kisses to my chest, then slid off my (his) shirt and my blouse, not even meeting my eyes as the glorious chest area encapsulated him. He smiled up at me, almost grateful, before tugging me closer and unclipping my bra with amazing ease (usually it took guys a few tries). His eyebrows shot up uncontrollably, and he grabbed them roughly, glancing up at me to see my reaction. I didn't try to hide my pleasure.
He pulled off his shirt and spread it across the ground, laying me on top of it and himself on top of me. He kissed down my neck, my chest, my stomach (he took extra care with his kisses there, massaging my breasts), and finally lifted his head to check in with me before going in for the kill.
He was good, hitting all the right spots, checking off all of the right boxes, even grabbing my hand when he knew I was getting close, and kissing my extremely sensitive inner thigh when I finished.
I was still shivering as he slowly rose back up to kiss my lips, rougher than before. I could tell he was itching to make the big jump, itching to be inside. I grabbed his face and gave him a nod. he knew exactly what that meant, and gave me one last sloppy kiss before positioning himself and looking right into my eyes.
I've never been much of a moaner. I never felt the need to moan, and guys didn't like that. But something about his intense grunts, his muttering, his "oh, yes, y/n"s egged me on. I wanted to tell him how good a job he was doing, wanted to tell his to keep thrusting, harder, faster, rougher. I wanted him to know how much I liked it when he grabbed my face, and pressed his nose to mine, and closed his eyes, jaw clenched. And I did.
As we both got close, he strung his fingers through mine, closed his eyes, and pounded on. Man, did I moan. At a certain point, even though the building was empty, he reached up to cover my mouth with his palm, and I almost finished right there and then.
It was a perfect dismount, his forehead against mine, his hips bucking against mine, his hands intertwined with mine. We were perfectly in sync, connected in a beautiful mess of sweat and tears and moans.
We remained in that position for a bit, his head against my chest, my hand in his hair, both of us breathing heavily. But finally, he lifted himself off of me and started putting his clothes back on. I pretended I wasn't sore as I put mine back on too. He sat down next to me when I was fully dressed once again and pulled out his phone. I glanced at the battery percentage. 35%.
He dialed his colleague again. "Matt? Hey, yeah. It isn't working. The doors closed before we could climb out. Why don't you send them over."
He glanced at me, smirking, delighted that I'd fallen for his little scheme. Strangely, I wasn't upset. I leaned my head on his shoulder and listened to it vibrate as he said:
"Yeah. Thanks, man. Who, Y/N? Yeah, she's alright."
I was more than alright.
"Okay, see you."
He turned off the phone.
"How do you know my name?" I asked suddenly, aware that we'd never exchanged personal information. He reached into his briefcase and passed me a paper. My receipt for birth control, the one I'd stuffed in my purse after leaving the doctors office just yesterday.
I sighed and looked at him.
"You sly bastard."