Page 18

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 realise 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 panelled 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… climactic 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 has 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’mhungry 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 caramel tone 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 downright ugly.