by Katy Connor
Christ, I could come from that clinical look in her eyes alone. And when she reaches inside my underwear and pulls out my cock, I seriously almost do. Everything from my inner thighs to my buttocks to my belly button clenches tight.
“Oh yes.” She stares at it, eyes wide, a dull flush to her cheeks. Her mouth parts temptingly. Her gaze flicks up and meshes with mine. “That does look painful.”
I lever myself up onto my bent elbows so I can look down at myself. My breath is so hot and thick in my throat it’s almost choking me. My fly gapes wide and my cock sprouts hard and thick and long from the middle of it and her hand looks good around my girth. She grips it just right, too—firm and sure.
“What do you suggest, Doc?”
“Well…I’m a big believer in the power of massage.”
Jesus. My heart is beating like a gong against my ribs and I swallow. “Really? Me too.”
“It’s important to rub lightly, though. To start with.”
Her gaze drifts back to where she holds me and her hand performs a slow slide down then an equally slow one all the way up. I groan and it’s so deep and low I swear it comes all the way from my toes. She stops, her hand poised back where it started as she glances at me. “Too hard?” She smiles an innocent smile. “Should I stop? I could prescribe rest, maybe?”
I give a half-laugh, the muscles that funnel to my cock so tight they’d need a diamond-tipped saw to cut through them. “Only if you want to see a grown man cry.”
Or beg, for that matter.
She laughs too, her eyes glittering down at me as she tosses her head with the confidence of a woman who has a man by the balls. Her hair swishes around her head and settles on the slopes of her tits. My mouth waters as I think about sucking on those sweet, flushed tips. On pushing them together and thrusting my cock through them, watching my come splatter all over them, massaging it in, tasting its musky flavor on those sweet taut nipples.
“I could go a little faster. If you think you can handle it?”
A strangled kind of noise comes from somewhere at the back of my throat as she slides her hand up and down my dick again. My fingers dig into the duvet beside me. “I can handle it.”
Christ, I’ll fucking die if she doesn’t.
She does, her hand picks up the pace, not just moving but squeezing as well, her thumb swiping over the head of my cock as it nears the top. Her gaze drops to what she’s doing and I almost groan out loud again as her pink tongue wets her bottom lip.
I don’t think she’s aware she’s done it but fuck, I’ve been hard for her for two months and pretty much most of the last two hours and she’s so beautiful straddling me like that, her legs wide, the lips of her pussy brushing against the denim of my jeans as she pumps my cock. Her tits rock with the movement and her hair brushes her shoulders and I am dangerously close to the edge.
Already the nerves deep inside my butt cheeks are sparking and there’s a pulsing around the base of my spine. It’s an exercise in control not to touch her. Not to mash my lips into hers, not to take a nipple in my mouth, not to drag her right on top of my dick and grind.
She flicks a glance at me and finds me watching her. I can’t tear my eyes off her. “It’s quite tense still.”
I choke out a half-laugh as the pulsing intensifies and my breath chugs in and out of my chest. “Not for much longer.”
She drops her gaze briefly to her hand before returning to me. “It seems to be leaking.” She’s all round-eyed and innocent, but she’s not fooling me for a second—she’s teasing and I fucking love it.
I grin despite the pressure spiking in my balls. “Keep doing that and it’ll do more than leak. It’ll start to spit.” I curl up then, I can’t help myself—that sassy mouth of hers is like a candy apple and I want to bite into it.
But she shakes her head, places a stilling hand on my pec. “A deal’s a deal, Danny.”
I groan and drop to my elbows again, my head falling back between my shoulder blades. I should have known that was going to come back and bite me in the ass.
“I think it can take a more vigorous technique now, don’t you think?”
My permission is clearly not required. By the time I’ve lifted my head, her hand is a blur on me and sensation floods my body. Her gaze is glued to my cock, her total concentration dizzying. The head is all purple and engorged, and when she slides her other hand inside my jeans to cup my balls, I’m lost.
She squeezes them. “Fuck.” I grunt as her hot hand clamps tight around them, torturous and goddamn miraculous all at once. A hot ripple contracts my ass as she rolls them and works my cock with her fingers like they were made especially for me—my own personal handmaiden—and it’s more than I can stand. The climax hits me like a cattle prod shoved right at the root of my dick. My hips jerk and I cry out but it’s cut off in my throat as the muscles in my balls and thighs and ass seize up and everything stops.
My pulse, my breathing, even my sight as everything goes a blinding white.
“Yesss.”
I vaguely hear her triumphant whisper, her hand a fury against me now, as the wave of paralysis releases me from its grip and everything returns. The clatter of my heart, the saw of my breathing, and a rainbow of color as pleasure rips through me, turning me around, turning me upside down, turning me inside out.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Her voice is raspy and her eyes are wide as she watches the first jet of come shoot from my cock and splatter on my belly. More follow and she tracks them too, until my balls have nothing left to give, until the final ripple of my orgasm recedes and I collapse against the duvet, my elbows no longer able to keep me upright, my heart pounding.
But she’s not done with me yet and I rouse a little as her fingers release their death grip from my cock and start to wander, sliding through my come. I raise my head to watch her as she finger paints with my spunk, swirling it around, pushing it over my stomach and ribs and higher. Just as I had fantasized about doing to her.
Surprisingly, it’s a turn-on watching her do it to me, too. Watching her getting off on it. And she is. Her nipples are as hard as bullets and she’s rocking on me a little, her pussy lips rubbing against the denim of my jeans as she bites on her bottom lip.
“Having fun there?”
She doesn’t look at me. It’s as if she’s mesmerized by the patterns she’s drawing. “It’s important to complete the treatment,” she says, her voice high yet husky, and I wonder if she’s even aware of the increasing grind of her pussy on my thigh.
I tuck both hands under my head and settle in for the show. “You’re the doctor.”
The pads of her fingers, wet with my come, push hard against my nipples. It feels fucking incredible and my dick, previously spent, twitches. “Put some on yours,” I say, my voice almost a growl at the thought of it. I tense my thigh and push it up hard against her pussy and she sucks in a breath.
Her glittering eyes meet mine and she moans, rocking her hips a little faster. She shakes her hair back, her tits thrusting, and she doesn’t look like the prim and capable young doctor too tired and busy for life anymore. She’s just a woman. A sexy, wanton woman. Hell, she looks like every supermodel I used to fantasize about fucking when I was fifteen all rolled into one.
The fact she doesn’t even know how breathtaking she is right now only makes her hotter.
Her tits rock to the rhythm of her hips and her mouth is slightly parted as she slides her index fingers through a puddle of spunk. She lifts her hands to her tits and paints her impossibly erect nipples with my come, drawing in a ragged breath, obviously aroused by her own touch. They shine with moisture even in the low light of the elevator, and the feral beast inside my head growls mine.
There’s no way I can just watch any longer. I want to taste my come on her tits, lick it all off, and I want her to come while I’m doing it. I lift up, grabbing her hands off my chest and pushing them down, sliding her fingers between her legs, keeping my hands on top of hers. “Ma
ke yourself come.”
It’s not a suggestion, not a request. It’s a command. She’s desperate for another orgasm and close, too, if I’m not very much mistaken. I want her to get herself off while I suck her titties. I want to listen to it, I want to hold her through it.
I grunt as her hand obeys, her fingers knocking against mine as they rub frantically between her legs.
Oh fuck yes.
I leave her to it, my mouth already salivating for a taste of her as it zeroes in on the nearest nipple, thrust right in front of my face, begging for tongue. My hands push her tits together and hold them that way as I suck a hard nub into my mouth. She gasps and arches her back, one hand sliding onto my shoulder for purchase as the other works her clit. Her moans and the taste and smell of me on her fill my head and shoot like an arrow straight to my groin, setting it on fire.
My cock is hard for her again, stiff against my belly, as I devour her tits, switching from one to the other, sucking hard, scraping my teeth against the tips before soothing them with my tongue and starting all over again. Her hips are rocking like crazy now, her hand a blur, the denim practically on fire from the friction.
I don’t have to look to know there’s a wet patch on my jeans—I can smell how wet she is, how close she is as her hand slides down my back and anchors mid-way, pulling me closer.
“Danny.”
“Yeah, Doc,” I murmur around a mouthful of nipple, my heart beating like a drum through my ears. “Come for me, baby. Get yourself off.”
She gasps and cries out then, throwing her head back, smooshing her titties into my face, almost suffocating me. I take my punishment like a man, taking full advantage, lashing her stiff nipples with my tongue as her body jerks and convulses on my leg and she gasps and grinds her way right to the end of her orgasm.
She falls into me as it spirals away and we collapse against the floor in a tangled heap and there’s nothing but hard breathing between us for long, long moments.
“Well…” she says after a while, when she can talk again, “in my medical opinion, that treatment seemed to work.” Her lips brush my shoulder. “It’s probably going to be a recurring condition, however.”
I laugh as a warm buzz hums through my body, making me forget about my throbbing cock, the hard floor against my shoulder blades, and the blizzard raging outside. And the fact Holly and I aren’t in a relationship. “Will you be available for future treatment?”
I’m too blissed out to realize I’ve referred to life outside the elevator again. Thankfully, so is she. “No need,” she murmurs in a sleepy voice. “I’m pretty sure you know how to self-administer.”
I smile. I’d rather have my own personal physician. But the thought is lost in the growing heaviness of my limbs and eyelids despite the state of my dick. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone to sleep with a woody. I’m only vaguely coordinated enough to grab my t-shirt and make some attempt to wipe the remaining come off my chest before I, too, drift to sleep.
5
HOLLY
The warm body beside me moves and I wake to a ringing phone. A paneled ceiling and dim lighting remind me instantly where I am. I hear Danny’s low voice as he picks up the phone. I listen to the one-sided conversation because it’s preferable to thinking about what I’ve done with him and wondering how on earth I’m ever going to go back to my old life after such a…climatic day.
“She thinks they’ll be another hour,” he says as he hangs up the phone. His face looms from on high as he looks down, a smile warming his sexy face. My gaze drifts up his legs—they’re very long from this vantage point. He’s tucked himself away at some stage but the button above his zipper had been left temptingly open.
“Hey sleepy head.” My heart does a funny little jiggle at his smile and the very familiar way his gaze runs over my body.
An hour. One more hour of being Elevator Holly. It stretches in front of me with possibilities but perversely doesn’t seem long enough.
“Are you hungry?”
I’m pretty sure he’s actually talking about food this time. So the answer would be no. Not hungry. For food, anyway. I’m hungry for more of him. For more of us. Even the thought of him and me being an us is preposterous. I don’t have time for an us. Being an us with anyone is not part of my short-term plan. But I’m lying here naked in front of him—in front of Danny the building manager—and nothing else matters but touching him. Him touching me.
I’m scarily obsessed.
“A little, sure.” I lie because the last thing he wants is to hear that crazy kind of talk from me. He’s made the best of a crappy situation here, of which I am the grateful recipient. The last thing he needs is for accommodating elevator chick going all bunny boiler on him. “But I can wait an hour.”
“Not me.” He grins. “I’ve worked up a real appetite. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Bob has a little something in his bag.”
He shuffles off to the bag, which was discarded in the corner when the elevator first shuddered to a halt. In all the…activity, I’d forgotten about its existence. I watch as he sits his ass down next to it and hauls it into his lap. The muscles in his arms move nicely under the ink of his skin. He really is a pleasure to watch.
“It’s like the fucking Tardis in here.” His head is practically in the bag as he hunts around, the shaggy fall of his hair obscuring his face from me. It doesn’t matter, those cheekbones and the deep groves of his dimples are burned into my retinas. I’ll never forget his face, not as long as I live.
“There’s everything in here, bar the kitchen sink,” he mutters as he starts to pull things out. “There has to be food.”
I’ll never forget making him come either. His cock—the way he casually uses that term melts me on the inside—is beautiful. It’s hard to be impressed by genitals when I see so many of them in my day-to-day job—in all their variations. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
I’ve become desensitized to them. For me they’re functional. Anatomical. And frankly unattractively.
But Danny’s…I shiver thinking about it. It’s beautiful. Long and thick in my hand, the petal-soft skin stretched tight over a shaft of forged steel, the veins a work of art. It had taken all my willpower not to bend and wrap my lips around it.
My mouth waters and my nipples tighten just thinking about how he might taste. About whether I could take him all the way to the back of my throat. About what technique he prefers when a woman goes down on him.
My gut burns at the thought there will be more women after today. After me. I hate all of them and suddenly want to keep him trapped in here with me.
Bunny boiler alert!
“Doc.” His voice is a low rumble and my pulse spikes. “Stop looking at me like that.” He glances up. His hot gaze sweeps over me like the beam of a flashlight. It treks back to linger on my aroused nipples.
The sudden tension in his frame, like he might pounce on me any second, stirs my belly and it quivers at the flare of heat in his eyes. My breath is thick in my throat and I don’t know enough about guys like Danny to play games, but Elevator Holly is keen to push some boundaries.
Or jealous enough to, anyway.
“Like what?” I ask, breathy and high.
“Like you’re trying to figure out how I like my cock sucked.”
His words slice straight to the slickness between my legs and heat floods my face. The man may not have x-ray vision but he can obviously read minds. He grins, knowing he’s hit the nail on the head.
“It’s very distracting,” he says as he returns to his search while my heart rate rattles away. “And I need some sustenance before we go again.” Muscles deep inside clench at the thought there’s more to come and a host of possibilities flood my mind but suddenly he pulls something from the bag with an, “Aha!”
“What is it?”
“It’s a Hershey’s bar. It looks older than God but who ever heard of chocolate going bad, right?” I laugh as he rips the packet open. He’s obviously never been
in an ER.
He snaps the bar in two. “For you.”
The thought of old chocolate doesn’t appeal. Not when I have three packets of brand new Hershey’s almond kisses in the apartment and besides, I’d rather watch him eat. “I couldn’t possibly deprive you of the sustenance.”
He grins. “We still have an hour. You’re going to need it as much as me.” My clitoris pulses at the promise in his voice, but I shake my head as he waggles it at me. He shrugs and eats the half he offered me in three bites.
He takes his time with the second half. His head rests back against the wall as he slowly savors each square, his gaze savoring my body at the same time. It drifts up and down me and lingers in all the good places. It throbs between my thighs and my nipples tingle and elongate beneath his rapt attention.
Suddenly self-conscious, I look around for my shirt. It’s near his thigh. I could probably just reach over and pluck it up but my bones are dissolving. “Throw me my shirt.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his mouth. “I like looking at you naked.”
My breath hitches at his frankness, but I am acutely aware of my nudity now, and I draw the leg closest to him into a bend in an attempt to lessen my exposure. The slick, swollen flesh between my legs quivers deliciously at the action.
“Don’t.” His voice is soft but steely and my thigh trembles. “I like looking at your pussy best of all.”
My thigh trembles some more at his choice of words and how he says that word in particular. It shouldn’t turn me on but it does and I blush. God…part of me wants to pull the duvet over me. Part of me wants to spread my legs so he can look his fill.
Who am I?
The thought makes me jittery and confusion makes me disagreeable. “You think I should just lay here buck naked and let you inspect every inch of me while you’re in a pair of jeans.”
He grins in such a knowing way. “Uh huh.” And he slips the last square of chocolate into his mouth.
