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“What is it with us and elevators?” I groan, head thrown back while Chase kisses, sucks, and bites down the column of my neck.
“Elevators are naughty,” he manages between kisses. “Getting it up, going down.” His hand squeezes my breast. “Otis was a dirty fuck.”
I lift my leg to wrap around his waist. “Otis?”
The hand that’s not on my breast glides up the side of my leg, disappearing under the dress shirt of his I’m wearing. “Yeah. Otis.” His fingertips trace the edge of my panties along my ass cheek. “Ever notice the name Otis is stamped in every elevator?” He turns his head toward the doors and over to the row of floor buttons. Sure enough, OTIS is stamped above.
“Huh.”
“He invented the elevator safety break.” He slides his hand around and cups me over my panties. “To stop people in his elevators from going down too fast.” His kisses continue down between my breasts.
I groan when he nips at my cleavage. We’re back on track.
Everything’s back on track.
No more childhood stories. No more family drama. No more feelings.
Just sex.
Okay, so I’m not so coldhearted that I don’t feel something for Chase. Those feelings obviously led me to the museum today. But it’s a dangerous slope. Feelings beget more feelings. I’m going to focus on the feelings he’s stirring in my panties rather than in my chest.
I don’t want to wonder at Chase’s family dynamic or risk my job by defending him to his shareholder brother. Or unearth memories of my parents, long locked away.
The elevator doors ding, and like boxers heading into the ring, we both charge out, ready to take our latest elevator tryst to the bedroom. Hell, I’m so ready, the hardwood floor seems like a good option.
A beige missile leaps past me and detonates on Chase’s crotch.
Chase sucks air in some sort of weird guttural inhale, sinking to his knees.
Mike lands gracefully and circles around Chase, who’s still on his knees, bent at the waist, one hand cupping himself, the other bracing himself on the floor.
“Damn it, Mikey,” he manages to choke out. “This is the second time you’ve tried to break my dick.”
His words break me from my frozen shock. “Second time?” And then I’m laughing. Hard-to-breathe, tears-in-my-eyes laughter. “He’s… tried to… break your dick… before?” At his nod I fall forward, unable to stay upright while laughing so hard. My palms brace on my knees, and tears of laughter fall to the floor before I manage a few deep breaths.
A glance up shows Chase looking a little green, so I try harder to rein it in.
“Are you okay?” I ease down on my knees beside him, awkward in tall boots and a short dress. He leans toward me slightly, so I run my hand over his back in circles.
“No.” His voice is still strangled.
Poor Chase. A minute ago, he’d been well on his way to his happy place, only to be sidelined by a dive-bombing, claws out, hairless pussy.
The image replays in my mind—the wild meow, the blur of skin, the wide-eyed shock in Chase’s eyes, and the sudden, hard drop to the floor. Mikey and Chase. A giggle escapes, and I do my best to shut down the waves of laughter threatening to break free again.
“Is there… can I do anything?” I’m careful not to make eye contact. I may have stifled the laughter, but I haven’t yet managed to wipe the grin off my face.
Chase grunts, and I’m not sure if it’s an affirmative grunt or negatory.
Before I can translate Chase’s junk-punched sounds, Mikey sashays between us, pushing me back from Chase.
The little menace looks so innocent, blinking up at me, rubbing his body against my hip. Unable to stop myself, I reach down to pet him. “Why’d you do that, Mikey, huh?” I ask, unclear if cats are known to crotch-bomb people or not. I haven’t seen that video on YouTube before. I ask Chase, “Is that normal cat behavior?”
“No.” His voice is stronger now, though his hand is still cupping his dick. “Nothing is normal about that cat.” Chase heaves a sigh, settling back on his heels. “It may not excuse his psychotic behavior”—he eyes the cat I’m now giving a belly rub to— “but he’s probably pissed because Saturdays are usually our day to go to the park, and I didn’t take him.”
Not quite so pale now, he pushes himself off the floor, hobbles over to the couch, and collapses, one hand still at his crotch, protecting his man bits from his ninja sphynx.
I follow, more gracefully than Chase, slip off my boots, and curl up on the cushion next to him. “So… up for a quickie?” I tease.
