by Ember Cole
She stares at me. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and I know that’s a bad sign. Something’s boiling up inside her, and the blowup is going to be massive. I know a thing or two about redirecting pent-up energy, but there’s no weight bench in this elevator, and push-ups take up too much room.
You know other ways to blow off steam.
My dick is on board with all of them.
“How dare you!” Bekka fumes, flinging the granola bar aside. “Of all the condescending—”
I lunge for her with all the grace of a mortar, silencing the rest of the tirade with my mouth. Her lips are softer than I expected, and she tastes like ripe strawberries.
I keep it slow, threading my fingers into her hair, feeling out how she’s going to react.
For a second I think she might bite or punch me in the nuts.
But her response is the opposite. She melts against me, kissing back with a fierceness that sucks the breath from my lungs. What started as a gentle kiss careens into turbulent territory as her mouth opens and I graze her tongue with mine. Jesus, she’s soft. Soft, but fierce, if that’s even a thing. She rakes her nails across my scalp, angling my head to deepen the kiss.
I’m not complaining.
I kiss her back, sliding my hands down her shoulder blades and into the curve of her waist. Her whole body vibrates with energy, and she’s kissing like she wants to devour me. Like she’s been starving for this for years.
She frees one fist from my hair and scrapes her fingers down my chest, clawing at my shirt while she digs her nails into my scalp. Her hands are everywhere at once, grabbing my chest, squeezing my ass, pawing at the growing bulge in the front of my jeans. The frantic energy of her hands is making me mindless and dizzy and pretty fucking turned on.
She’s panting when she breaks the kiss, and her eyes are on fire. Her breasts rise and fall in the open vee of her blouse, and I catch a faint whiff of flowers.
She licks her lips, and I know what’s coming. The words shoot straight to my dick before she says them out loud.
“I want you,” she says. “Now.”
Hoo-fucking-ah.
3
BEKKA
Holy fireballs, what the hell is happening?
One second I’m pissed off that the hot-as-lava son of the super—the one I recently tried to get my best friend to seduce, for fuck’s sake—is being a condescending jerk about letting me escape this tin can dangling twenty feet off the ground.
The next second I’m attacking him like he’s the last man on the planet and I’ve been ordered to help repopulate said planet.
It’s way hotter than that, though. Hotter than any kiss I’ve experienced for years, truth be told. Good Lord, the man can kiss, nailing that perfect blend of gentle and rough, slow and frenzied.
I’m the one who can’t seem to control the pace. I’ve gone from zero to sixty-bajillion in a heartbeat, my fingers clawing at his shirt like I’m trying to tear through the fabric with my nails. His palms are huge and solid on my back, and he moves them in firm, possessive circles. The heel of one hand skims the side of my breast, and I moan into his mouth like it’s the first time someone’s felt me up.
Hardly, but somehow it feels like that. I press against him, craving more. Craving all of him. I’m up on my knees now, half crouching so our mouths line up perfectly, but I need more. I know I’ve only just met him, but maybe that’s best. No thinking, no talking, just doing.
I throw one leg over his so I’m straddling him. He doesn’t look surprised to find me sitting on his lap. Just stares into my eyes with an electric energy that sends a zap of heat straight to my clit.
“Hello,” he says like we’ve just met in a bar.
“Hi.”
He has nice eyes, deep and brown and alert. I shift on his lap, hiking my skirt up around my hips, and I say a silent prayer I’m wearing a cute lacy thong.
What am I saying? I always wear cute lacy thongs, and this one’s slipping to the side just a little. I groan and shift my hips, rubbing my sensitive core against the rough denim of his fly.
“Jesus,” I gasp out loud, throwing my head back as sensation floods my system.
Adam wastes no time kissing his way down my throat. He moves with slow deliberateness, driving me mindless with each brush of his tongue against my skin, against every pulse point, against the nerve-laden spot where my earlobe meets my neck.
The rage that bubbled inside me only minutes ago has shifted to something way more pleasurable, and I grab hold of it with both hands. I spear my fingers through Adam’s short dark hair, clutching at the surprisingly soft strands. I’m riding his lap like a teenager dry-humping in a steamy-windowed Toyota, savoring those breathless moments before saying to hell with it and just fucking each other silly in the back seat.
That’s what I want with Adam. The fucking-each-other silly bit, anyway. I want him now, right here, right in this goddamn elevator. It’s been a day from hell, and his mouth on my throat is the best thing I’ve felt in ages.
I reach between my legs and make a grab for his zipper.
Adam draws back, gripping the back of my head in one massive hand. “Whoa there,” he says. “Slow down.”
I lick my lips as my head pounds with lust. “No.”
He glances up at the control panel like he’s expecting direction from a maintenance team on the other side of the wall. Shit, is there some kind of audio system in this thing?
I frown at him. “No one can hear us, right?”
“That’s not it.” He shifts his weight, making me moan again as his impressive hard-on grazes my molten center. His jeans are still fully zipped, but I can feel that anaconda fighting to get out. I grind against it, rewarded by a flash of fire in his eyes.
But then he reins it in. “You’re, uh, compromised.”
I blink. “Compromised? What the fuck does that mean?”
He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to get some airflow to his lust-addled brain. I should probably do the same, but I don’t want to.
“It means ten minutes ago you were in here alone all brokenhearted about some dude,” he says slowly. “I’m not the sort of guy to take advantage of that.”
“Brokenhearted?” I laugh, but it comes out sounding a little hysterical. “That wasn’t heartbreak, buddy. That was rage. And right now, you’re going to help me burn it off.”
He stares at me a moment. “Like a grudge fuck.”
I can’t tell if that’s a question or a statement, but I nod. “Exactly. A grudge fuck.”
He stares me right in the eye for so long I almost look away. But I force myself to hold eye contact, determined to show him I’m not compromised or brokenhearted or anything except really, really horny.
Judging by the bulge in his jeans, I’m not the only one. I squirm against it again, and he makes a low growly sound in the back of his throat. His eyes start to close, but snap open again. “I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
I grit my teeth as fury bubbles up inside me again. “The only regret I’m likely to have is if you don’t make me come before the goddamn elevator repair guys get here.”
He looks me in the eye, like he’s considering something. Then he nods. “That I can do.”
Before I know what’s happening, he shifts me off his lap and pushes me to my feet. I start to turn, ready to brace myself on the handrail so he can lift my skirt and drive into me from behind.
But Adam doesn’t stand up. He gets to his knees and grabs me by the hips, then turns me so my back is pressed against the wall. I grip the handrail, not sure what’s happening, but pretty sure I like it. Adam Black is a take-charge kinda guy, and I’m digging it.
“I’ll make you come.” The low rumble of his voice sends a shiver through me. “But on my terms.”
I don’t know what to say to that, which is just as well since my voice doesn’t seem to be working. He shoves my skirt up, baring me to the waist. I glance down, grateful to see I’m wearing my
favorite turquoise La Perla panties. My blouse has come unbuttoned, but I leave it like that. Hell, I undo one more button, just for the fun of it.
Adam growls again, this time with approval as he sits back on his heels and nuzzles the damp scrap of lace between my thighs. I grip the back of his head as his breath seeps warm and hungry through the thin fabric that separates my clit from his mouth. His hands clamp my hips like vise grips, holding me in place as he uses his lips and chin and nose to drive me mindless through the wispy lace.
I’m going to come. Just like that, with my panties still on. My body stiffens, and I grasp at the short strands of his hair.
“Not yet,” he says, drawing back to smile at me. “I haven’t even started on this pretty little pussy.”
I moan and my entire body shivers. He’s drop-dead gorgeous and talks dirty? Could there be a more perfect man?
“Unghuh,” I manage, having lost all power of speech. Is that his goal here? If he’s looking to shut me up, he sure as hell found a way to do it.
He hooks his thumbs in the edges of my panties and drags them down my thighs and over my shins. Holding on to his shoulders, I somehow find the coordination to step out of them, my heels wobbling only a little in the plush carpet. God, he’s got great shoulders. Solid and broad and rippling with muscles even though he doesn’t strike me as one of those bro-brah gym guys.
You know nothing about him, my subconscious chides.
But my subconscious shuts the fuck up as Adam gives a soft groan of approval. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, planting a gentle kiss about half an inch above my pussy. I don’t know if he’s admiring my Brazilian wax or something else, but I stop caring the second his tongue grazes my clit.
“Oh God,” I groan, clutching the back of his head.
He makes slow circles at first. Still clutching my hip with one hand, he grabs my other leg and flings it over his shoulder like it’s weightless. I fumble backward with one hand, clutching the handrail for balance and clinging to his shoulder with the other.
Then his mouth is on me again and I cry out. Adam Black is an animal, devouring, licking, sucking, making me crazy. I’m completely exposed to a guy I barely know, but I don’t feel embarrassed. Just really, really fucking good. Sensation pulses through me as his tongue circles my sensitive nub. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall of the elevator.
Please God, don’t let them fix this bucket of bolts anytime soon.
Adam shoulders his way under my other thigh, and I lose my balance for a second. But his hands on my hips keeps me steady, giving me a chance to grab the railing with my other hand as he holds my thighs open with the span of those broad shoulders. I’m spread for him like a dirty book, and he’s primed to lick every word off the page.
He lets go of my hip and brings one hand between my thighs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he says. His breath is warm against my pussy as he skims my folds open with the tip of his finger.
I gasp as he slides one long digit into me. He lifts his gaze to mine and smiles. “And so fucking wet. I’m going to eat the hell out of this pussy.”
His hot as fuck words nearly push me over the edge, but he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. Just buries his face again, working me with his mouth while his finger slides inside me in a hypnotic rhythm.
A twinge of guilt twists the back of my brain, and I feel myself slipping off the pleasure train.
What are you doing, using this guy you don’t even know?
But his tongue strokes me again, and I’m right back on the locomotive, chugging my way toward the release I urgently crave.
He adds a second finger, and I yelp with pleasure. How does he know? Some sort of voodoo sex magic must have told him there’s nothing I love more than this delicious mix of sensations. The slick thrust of penetration, the feather-soft graze of a tongue. My breath comes faster, and my palms are slick on the handrail. Adam devours me like he was born to do this. Like his brain was hardwired with the secret code to get me off.
The orgasm hits hard, throwing me back against the wall as I cry out. He drives his fingers deeper, curling so the pads of them stroke my G-spot while his tongue works my clit. The explosions keep coming and so do I, screaming and bucking and panting and wringing every last drop of pleasure out of this ride.
It goes on like that forever, but it’s probably only a few seconds. I’ve never come so hard in my life, and I can’t catch my breath. My whole body buzzes, and I feel like a pleasure-soaked noodle as my legs slide off his shoulders and I slip off of him.
He seems to know there’s no way my legs will support me. Still gripping my hips, he takes my whole weight onto his chest as he lowers me slowly to the ground.
I let him hold me, savoring the afterglow of one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. Every inch of my flesh is tingling as he lays me back on the carpet and strokes the hair from my face. His eyes lock with mine, searching. There’s lust in those warm brown depths, but something else, too.
Concern.
Compassion.
Caring.
Three Cs I’ve craved from every botched Tinder date I’ve ever had.
Emotion wells up inside me, and I do the one thing I swear I’ll never do with a man I’ve just hooked up with.
I burst into tears.
4
ADAM
Oh shit.
Bekka’s crying.
Panic wells in my chest, and I kick myself for taking advantage of her in a vulnerable state. I knew it was a bad idea.
She struggles to sit up, dashing the tears from her face with the backs of her hands. “God, I’m so sorry,” she says as she does up the buttons on her shirt.
“You’re sorry?” I shake my head and stroke a thumb over her cheekbone, wiping a tear she missed. “Bekka, no. It’s my fault for pushing you. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you should have,” she insists, yanking her skirt down as she struggles to rearrange her legs beneath her. “I’m fine, really, I’m fine.”
She doesn’t sound fine. She doesn’t look fine, either. But she gives me a watery smile like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me. She stretches a hand out to grab her panties, but they’re too far away. I pick them up and hand them to her, still reeling from what just happened.
What we did was fucking amazing. I didn’t even get off and it was still one of the hottest sexual encounters of my life. Was it good for her, too?
Judging by the fact that she’s crying, my guess is no. But if her screaming was any indication, the answer is a definite yes. Bekka’s not the kind of girl to fake it, and even if she were, there’s no way in hell she could fake the way her whole body clenched tight around my fingers just now. She came hard, and is it wrong to feel proud about that?
I should stop patting myself on the back and pay attention.
She’s muttering something as she wriggles back into her panties, and I avert my eyes to give her some measure of privacy. I suppose privacy’s beside the point, considering where my mouth was less than a minute ago.
“…think I’m a total loser,” Bekka mutters.
I jerk my attention back to her face, floored by the flush in her cheeks and the vulnerability in those sea-glass eyes. It wasn’t there ten minutes ago, and something about the contrast between this Bekka and the furious, fiery one gives me pause.
“You’re definitely not a loser.” I brush some stray hair behind her ear, surprised by the softness of it. “You’re sexy and delicious and totally fucking hot.”
She manages a laugh, but still looks a little shaky. “You must think I’m totally nuts.”
“Not totally.” I smile to let her know I’m kidding, but she just bites her lip.
“First I throw a tantrum in the elevator by myself,” she says. “Then I practically throw myself at you—”
“Which I warmly welcomed.”
That gets a smile out of her. She uncurls her legs and stretches them out in front of her, and I order myself not to g
et distracted.
“If that’s your version of a warm welcome,” she says, “it’s no wonder there are so many women lining up to move into this building.”
I laugh and tuck the loose hair behind her ear again. There has been an uptick in women looking to rent a place in my dad’s building, but I have no idea if it has anything to do with me. I’ve always assumed it was the added security of there being so many military personnel around.
My dad bought the old Hamilton Heights building a couple years ago to give service members a home base during deployments, and a safe place to come after they get out. The seven-story building was in shambles and the guy trying to offload it was former military himself, otherwise there’s no way Dad could’ve afforded it. It took almost a year to renovate the whole thing, but it turned out pretty nice. I jokingly call it “the barracks,” but it’s true. Half the tenants served under my dad or know someone who did. We rent out the rest of the units to younger civilians like Bekka and Kymber.
I let my thumb ghost across Bekka’s cheek. It’s just an excuse to touch her, and fortunately, she doesn’t protest. Instead, she reaches up and fusses with her ponytail, fixing all that glorious red hair in place again. God, she’s gorgeous.
“Want to talk about it?” I offer.
“Talk?”
“Yes, talk.” I study her face, trying to get a sense of where her head is.
“About what?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Net neutrality and the role of the Federal Communications Commission in US politics? Whether Super Mario Odyssey is better than the original? What do you want to talk about?”
She gives a shaky laugh and leans back on her hands. There’s that fiery bravado in her eyes again, but something about it seems forced. “Maybe I just want to fuck. How about that?”
I can’t pretend the words don’t send a jolt of desire through my still-throbbing cock, but that’s not what she needs right now. The words coming out of her mouth say one thing, but the vulnerability in her eyes says something else.