We got clear right before the doors closed again.
"I'd prefer to fuck in an elevator than get fucked by one," he remarked.
I responded with a breathless laugh. "No argument there." I was still trying to get my head straight after feeling his weight on me.
My mind couldn't even babble, all the blood was in my belly and between my legs.
"What number?" he asked.
"Huh?" I blinked. He was definitely a ten, and I assumed he knew that.
"Apartment," he said. "What number?"
"Ohhh. Seventy."
"So close to the magic number." He grinned.
I choked back a laugh. It was juvenile to laugh at sixty-nine, but I did it anyway.
I shook my head at him. "Some people never grow up," I teased.
"I've noticed that about you," he said, deliberately misunderstanding.
While he was calling me childish, I might as well live up to it. I stuck out my tongue at him.
Before I could pull it back in, he closed his lips over it and sucked it, gentle but insistent.
Oh. My. God.
I was going to melt out here in the corridor. All they'd find later was a puddle. And a smile. Like the Cheshire Cat got turned to liquid.
I ran my tongue over his teeth and lips, tasting him, hungry for more.
I finally pulled my tongue back in and drew back. "We should get inside my place before someone comes."
"Right," he agreed. "That could get messy. Very messy."
I glanced down toward the bulge—big bulge—in his pants. Holy shit. I wanted to feel him inside me so bad it almost hurt.
"Um." I swallowed. "Yeah, very." I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward my door. I took the key out of my pocket and, after fumbling the first time, somehow managed to get it in the lock.
The door swung inward. Only his hand in mine kept me from tumbling head first onto the floor.
I dragged him inside, closed the door and locked it firmly behind us before placing my keys and handbag on a table near the door.
The moment my hands were empty, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing himself against my back. His erection was hard against my hip.
"I want you so fucking bad," he rasped in my ear. He rucked up the front of my dress and ran his hands over the bare skin of my belly. The touch was soft, in contrast to his roughened voice.
"I want you too," I whispered.
He worked his hands up higher, cupping my breasts. Through the fabric of my bra, he ran the pads of his thumbs over my nipples.
"Perfect." He kissed the side of my neck and teased it with the tip of his tongue. He ground his erection against me until I groaned out loud at the mix of sensations.
He slid his hands back down to grip the hem of my dress. With a single yank, he tugged it over my head, the cool air a blessing on my heated, flushed skin. He tossed it to the side and unhooked my bra. Almost painfully slow, he slid the straps down my arms. They dropped off past my hands and it landed on the floor with a plop.
"Turn around," he whispered in my ear.
