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“Don’t make yourself come today. Whatever happens tonight, this is how I need you so we match when we’re back together. Do you understand?” His voice is hard, but his expression is vulnerable.
“Yes, Darren. I understand.”
His smile turns soft and his lips are softer still as they brush over mine. He releases my wrists and steps back, setting me free. I feel like I’ve been shot up with adrenaline and tranqued at the same time.
“Come on, baby. The girls are waiting for you, and I’m going to be in trouble with my team if we don’t move our asses.” He extends a hand and winks.
“You’re an asshole,” I gripe, but take his hand because I don’t think I’m capable of standing on my own.
His chuckle is dark as he pulls me to my feet. I stumble and end up mashed against his chest. I might try to rub myself on him during that brief contact. He kisses my temple. “But I’m your asshole.”
I snort, but he’s right. He hands me my purse and phone, then pockets his own and grabs his bag. I’m less than coordinated as he opens the door and ushers me into the hall. I have to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other rather than slamming him into a wall so I can hump him until I come.
He punches the elevator button, and I stare at the numbers as they rise. The churning in my stomach grows the closer it gets to our floor. I don’t know what I want more—the elevator to be empty or full. If it’s empty he’s going to torment me, as he sometimes likes to do. I’m aware that this is tied to his stress level over the game tonight.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Shit. It’s empty.
“Come on, firefly.” Darren links our pinkies and tugs. I stumble forward, my mouth dry. Expectation and anxiety make the ache between my legs flare. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored walls. My eyes are wide and glassy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his kisses.
He presses the button that will take us to the lobby, and I watch as the doors slide closed. Darren drops his bag on the floor and crowds me into the corner, pressing his hips into mine.
I groan and let my head fall back against the glass, waiting for him to do something, anything. His lips find my neck and trail up to my ear. “Feeling trapped?”
I shake my head.
“Still needy?” Now his lips are on my cheek.
I exhale a shuddering breath and nod.
His smile makes the harsh angles of his face even more severe rather than softening them. “I bet your panties are already soaked through.”
I swallow hard and clench my thighs harder. His knee presses against mine, and I open, letting him in. I glance up. We have thirty more floors, but the elevator could stop anytime to pick up people. He rolls his hips, his erection pressed against my stomach, his thigh providing the friction I’m so very desperate for.
The orgasm is like an aura in the air, the glitter of a sunrise on the water—close but not quite within reach.
“What are you waiting for? Chase it. See if you can catch it before it’s too late.”
I fist his shirt and grind shamelessly on his leg, not caring how desperate I must look and sound as I whimper and roll my hips while he stands immobile, one hand gripping the bar on either side of me, eyes fixed on mine. He’s not helping, but he’s giving me a chance to help myself.
I glance over his shoulder. Shit. Only fifteen more floors to go. I grind harder, moaning loudly as sensation builds and funnels, a tornado gaining momentum.
His gaze follows mine in the mirror. “Better hurry. Time is running out.”
I’m right there—bliss a lit firecracker ready to explode in my clit—when the elevator dings. Darren covers my hand with his and steps back, even as I try to follow his thigh. He shakes his head, his expression almost remorseful, and he uncurls my fingers from his shirt and brings my knuckles to his lips. He kicks his bag to the wall and leans against it.
He’s quick to wrap an arm around my shoulder and pull me into his side. He drops his head, lips finding my temple as he whispers, “Sorry, firefly, you almost had it.”
The doors slide open and a family enters, giving us half smiles while their kids press their faces against the glass and the youngest one tries to push all the buttons. My knees feel weak all over again, and I want to cry. My clit is still singing “I was that close.”
When the elevator finally reaches the lobby, Darren laces our fingers together and guides me to where his bus is waiting and the girls are huddled around their phones.
