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We’re silent for a moment, Mira leaning into my hard dick, my hand pressing her closer. I can feel the fabric sliding against her skin and can’t help but imagine what it would feel like if my fingers were skating across her soft, hot flesh instead. I could reach under her dress and touch her. Slide her panties to one side. Something tells me she’d invite it right now, and I can almost feel her clenching around my fingers, soft and wet and hungry for my—
She moves against me again, and a groan escapes my lips.
“Danny.” She says my name on a whisper, and the sound of it weaves through me. “Are you hard because it’s been a long time, or because you want me?”
“Both,” I say, blood beating hot in my veins, to my dick. The thought of feeling her slick around my fingers is stuck in my mind, not just with masking tape but glue. Nails, maybe. “Definitely both. I want to touch you. I want to reach under your dress and feel you. I’ve been imagining it for a while now.”
She shifts in my lap so she’s sideways. I can’t see her in the dark, but Ifeelher. I’m attuned to her every movement, to the sound and feel and scent of her. Especially to the needy ache of my dick, which feels every single shift and sigh she makes. I can sense her head tipping up to me more than I can see it.
“I don’t know what this means,” I tell her, because honesty is the best policy.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she says. “We can pretend it never happened after we get out of here, but I think I need you to touch me. Ihaveto feel something, Danny. Otherwise I’m going to be lost in here.”
“Your ankle, does it hurt?”
“Like hell, but I want to feel something other than pain. I think I need to. I mean it, we don’t need to talk about this ever again. This is…a place out of time…a Big Unknown.”
In some ways she’s right, in some ways she’s wrong. But I’m not in the mood for a discussion of the Big Unknowns. She just gave me a green light to touch her, and I want to touch her. Truthfully, I can’t think of when I last wanted something so badly.
I dip my head closer to her, so I can feel her breath on my face, the soft puffs of air, the feeling of warmth. I dip closer, and I feel her skin against my lips—her cheek, so soft and warm. I nuzzle it with my lips, feeling more than thinking, and a sound escapes her as she swivels a little more in my lap, her good and bad leg both on one side of my body now, angled toward the back wall so she can face me. Her lips find mine, and I’m lost. They’re soft and eager and demanding, and her mouth opens for me, our tongues finding each other. Pausing to suck on her bottom lip, I weave my hand into her silky hair—a deep black that blends in perfectly with the darkness swallowing us—to bring her closer. It feels like I need her everywhere, wrapped around me. I need it with a deep ache I don’t understand.
The pitch black of the elevator makes me experience everything else so much more—the warm weight of her on my lap, squirming against my dick, those soft lips consuming and wanting to be consumed by me. I can’t take it anymore, and I flip up the skirt of her dress with my free hand and then seek her wet heat while my mouth moves over hers.
She gasps into my mouth, then bites my lip, wringing a sound out of me while my fingers reach under her panties—thin and lacy, I can feel them under my fingers, and find her. She’s wet for me, just like I’d hoped she would be, and the sensation of stroking her there, of finding the spot where she buds like a flower and making her squirm harder against me, is better than figuring out a way to break into a system after weeks of trying. It’s better than watching the sunrise over the mountains. It’s—
“Oh,Danny—”
Her mouth has pulled away from mine, which feels unacceptable. Then she shocks me into laughter when she pulls off my glasses.
“You figured this was your big opportunity, huh? Distract me so you could give me your glasses makeover.” I circle her clit again and then curl a finger inside of her, needing to feel her clamping around me. My mind is fixed on it, fixed on bringing her pleasure and making her forget the shit-show of this elevator. I want her to remember this moment even if she’s determined to forget about it the instant we’re free. I want her to wake up at night whispering my name, wet with wanting.
I’m sure I’ll question my sanity later, but right now, this is what matters. It’s the only thing that matters.
“I’m not giving them back,” she says, her voice breathy. She lifts her hips a little as I stroke her, fucking her with my fingers, and I’m so hard that my brain is living in my dick for what is probably the first time in my life. “I’m going to hide them, and I’ll only give them back when Ruthie visits. It’s for your own good.”
I lean in and kiss her neck, sucking in her hot, perfumed flesh as I keep moving my fingers. She presses back into my dick, and there’s a very real chance I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager.
“This doesn’t feel fair,” she says. “You’re not getting anything out of it.”
“Oh, I definitely wouldn’t say that,” I tell her before placing a kiss over the damp place I just sucked. “I was imagining what it would feel like for you to clench around my fingers, but sometimes a person’s imagination is just too small to comprehend the reality. But that’s not to say I’ll stop trying. When we get out of here, I’m going to stroke my dick and pretend it’s sinking into your sweet, sucking heat.”
“Jesus,” she says. I hear her swallow, I feel her move her hips. I feel it in my hand, in my dick, and in the mouth that wants to kiss her everywhere. Finding her mouth, I suck on her lip, then move down to her jaw, her long, fragrant neck, and then the swell of her breasts. I noticed earlier the way her dress rides low, showing them off like a present ready to be opened, freed. I dip my head to kiss across them, loving how soft they are against my lips, how it makes her writhe even harder against me.
There’s no way I’m removing my hand from between her legs, but I have one perfectly good hand left. I use it to tug down the soft fabric of her dress and the lace of her bra, lowering them enough that I can claim her nipple in my mouth and suck on it while I curl my fingers up inside of her and grind the heel of my palm against her clit. I feel her clenching around me, getting closer, and it’s almost enough to make me come myself.
“That feels so damn good,” she says, her voice tight. And then she’s bucking her hips against my hand, getting my fingers where she wants them, and if possible, I get harder. I’m harder, I think, than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s the darkness, I think. It’s this woman.
I shift to her other nipple, still moving my hand inside of her, feeling her clenching around my fingers, soft and wet and tight. Everything is by feel, not sight, but I can see her in my head—dress pushed up at the bottom and down on top, splayed in my lap and riding my hand, her nipple in my mouth.
“Danny,” she says, and I decide I have nothing at all against my nickname. Child’s name or not, I like it perfectly fine when she says it with that thread of longing and wonder. “Danny.”
I release her nipple and kiss her, because I need to claim her lips too. She kisses me back with intention, her lips moving against mine in a dance that isn’t the slightest bit boring. I pull back, unmoored.
“You’re beautiful when you fall apart,” I say into her ear as she clenches around my fingers one last time. Then I pull back and adjust her dress up top. Because I don’t like the thought of anyone seeing her like that if the elevator should unexpectedly decide to work again.
“How do you know I look beautiful?” she asks with a laugh. “You can’t see me.”
“I know.”
