The attraction I couldn’t deny

Interracial sexworkplace sex  No comments

I first noticed him a little over two weeks ago. Well—seventeen days, if you want to get specific. Objectively, it’s a little ridiculous to have this much of a crush on a guy I don’t even know, and haven’t even spoken more than ten words to, but I can’t forget the way his smile lit a fire in my bones, the gentle brush of his hand against mine as he handed back the package I so stupidly dropped. “Thanks,” I said, and he’d replied with a simple, “No problem.”

It didn’t mean anything, of course not. And it can’t mean anything at all that he’s been there every morning, waiting for the same elevator, returning my shy, hesitant smile with his own broad, open one… No, it’s just my imagination, although somehow that thought never stopped me from thinking about him, wondering where he worked, what he did. He was always dressed impeccably, English-cut suits hugging his broad body, white shirt beneath crisp and polished. Even his cufflinks are perfect.

And it makes me want to… rumple him, take off that jacket and see just what it would take to make him feel as uncomfortable, as aroused, as I feel every time I have to stand next to him. Yesterday, the elevator had been overcrowded, and our bodies had been pressed up against each other, and I felt—

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open, a few people exiting and heading their own separate ways. Half-hoping for another crowded ride to the tenth floor, I blink in surprise when I realize that it’s just going to be him and I. Alone. Oh the possibilities, my wicked mind begins to suggest. But I attempt to push those thoughts down.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the elevator. He walks in beside me, and is it my imagination, or did he press the ‘Door Close’ button with a bit of haste? Probably eager to get to work, I reason. Of course it didn’t have anything at all to do with me…

I steal a sideways glance over at him, taking in his profile with more than a reasonable amount of pure, feminine appreciation. Maybe it was his confidence that drew me in, maybe his height—either way, I’ve had my fair share of uncomfortable dreams and fantasies starring this nameless stranger. Just recalling some of the more explicit ones made a blush warm my cheeks.

And then—as if he’d somehow guessed at the contents of my guilty thoughts—he turns, and looks right into my eyes.

“So, are we just going to keep doing this?” He says, a smile playing on the corners of his expressive mouth, his voice like smoke and spice. “Or are you going to tell me your name?”

“I—it’s, um—”

“That’s an interesting name…” His dark eyes hold mine transfixed by the intensity of his gaze.

I laugh, nervously, and correct him. And then he repeats my name back, playing with it on his tongue in a way that makes heat burst between my thighs. That crooked smile on his face, so disarming, so inviting, and the mouth that’s just begging to be kissed—I don’t even notice that I’m leaning into him, need and desire taking over, instinct making me greedy.

The elevator lurches to a stop; I stumble forward, falling into his chest and yelping in surprise.

“I’m so sorry!” I say. “Shit, I didn’t even—I think the elevator’s broken down!”

Half a heartbeat later, he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to mine and oh, these are lips that are made for kisses. Slow and deep and easy, his tongue teasing mine, tasting me. Out of the corner of my eye I see his hand slide away from the ‘Emergency Stop’ button on the control panel, but my brain doesn’t even care about that, or care about how late I know I am definitely going to be. This is crazy, this is insane, and it’s absolutely the rightest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Getting ahead in the workplace is about seeing opportunities, and this is probably the best opportunity in my entire life.

I break the kiss, panting, as I look down, heart pounding in my chest as I watch his hand slide up my leg. His dark skin is a vivid, erotic contrast against my own paler limbs, and I whimper softly, and lean into his touch.

“Mm, that’s nice.” He murmurs into my hair, slipping his fingers underneath my cotton panties. In the back of my mind I’m kicking myself for wearing the boring ones today, but come on, it’s not like I could’ve planned ahead for getting fingered in an elevator by a total stranger, so I cut myself some slack and go back to focusing on not falling down. His fingers circle my clit and my knees buckle slightly; with his other hand, he’s holding me up, pressing my back to the wall.

This is crazy; this is bliss. He kneels down before me and pushes up my sensible navy skirt, pressing a kiss to my most intimate center. Quickly pulling my panties to the side exposing my shaved, smooth lips. I’ve never had a guy do this before, let alone under this situation, but it feels amazing. He licks and nibbles and eases my folds apart, and I can do nothing but pull his head closer, feeling the smooth waves as my fingers grip tight. The elevator shudders back to life just as he moans against me, and the combination of urgency and need and the realization that I’m going to get caught in this position makes me come, hard, hard enough to nearly see stars.

“Oh!” I gasp, as he leans back on his heels, smirking up at me, not even a wrinkle in his suit. He slides my skirt back down as the elevator starts to move again, and, standing up, draws a white cloth handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his mouth. God, just the sight of my juices on his ebony skin is enough to make me nearly come again—and part of my brain (the rational, perfectly reasonable part that doesn’t have sex with hot strangers in elevators) is completely devoid of any explanation for what just happened.

“You all right?” He asks, voice tender, concern in his eyes. I nod.

The elevator dings, and I hastily straighten up, picking up my leather laptop bag from the floor. A curious maintenance worker peers in at the pair of us when the doors open, and I try to look innocent, but he just rolls his eyes like he’s seen everything before, and motions for the two of us to get out. It’s the tenth floor—his floor. The stranger hands me his business card, and gives me a warm, knowing smile. “I hope we’ll be seeing much more of each other soon.”

I nod. And then he’s striding confidently down the hallway.

With a shaking hand, I push the button for the twelfth floor, and when the door shuts, I tuck his card neatly into the lace strap of my bra, and grin.

Tags:  ,

Leave a reply

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>