They all take turns piling into the elevator, but Luke tightens his arm around my shoulders when I go to step forward. I pick up on his hint and wait as car after car goes up.
In time, it’s just him and me standing alone in the garage. It’s quiet and warm, and I take slow, steady breaths as I feel the faint edge of claustrophobia creeping in. Parking garages have always confused me; they feel like some type of Escher drawing, so going down into an underground one tickles several of my fears.
I’m a little claustrophobic, but this feels tomb-like, kicking my usually mild distress up a notch. Strong emotions can trigger my waking dreams. I try to will them away—now would be a terrible time. I’d become lax as it had been so long since I had one, but the bombardment by them this week and their newly evolving nature prompts me to be more vigilant going forward.
I focus on standing here under his arm, his heat radiating toward me. I wait to see what he will do, willing to follow his lead. I’m happy to be pressed into his side, a perfect fit, breathing him in, and if I just zero in on that, I can forget about being deep underground while we wait.
I stay blissfully in the present as the elevator doors open and we step in, alone. He pulls a card out of his jacket pocket and scans it, hitting the only button on the panel.
The mirrored elevator reflects us into infinity, showing me every angle. I’m happy for a peek at my hair, which surprisingly looks great, softly waving around me.
I’m busy enjoying seeing the reflection of Luke’s leather clad body, discreetly trying to check out the back of him in the mirror when he surprises me by walking me back, caging me against the elevator wall with a hand on either side of my head.
I meet his unflinching yellow-green gaze and feel myself blush, filled with heat at his proximity. He steps forward, bringing his hips into mine, nudging a leg between my thighs. He reaches one hand into my hair at the base of my skull and tugs sharply, angling my face up to his.
He grips my entire lower jaw with his other hand, fingers over my mouth. He slowly drags his hand down, eyes following its path. He tugs my lower lip down as his fingers slide over it. I hear it pop back up, shockingly loud in the elevator's silence, interrupted only by my heavy breathing.
He continues to drag his hand heavily down my throat, pausing to squeeze directly over my pulse points ever so slightly. My pulse races in response as he continues his heavy-handed caress straight down the center of my chest.
I’m fervently hoping he takes a detour, my breasts aching for his touch, but he firmly continues his descent. A frustrated whimper escapes my lips, pulling his heated stare back to my face.
He devours me with his eyes as finally his hand trails down to grip the front waistband of my jeans, while the other tightens in my hair, startling a gasp out of me. He twists the fabric in his fist, pulling it even tighter into my apex, the seam of my jeans highlighting the throbbing pulse of my sex.
Hitching his thigh further into my apex, he uses his grip on my jeans to push and pull me along his hard thigh. My jeans slide easily along his leather encased leg, and I greedily wish for more friction. That damn seam of my jeans presses directly against my clit, making me frustrated and needy.
I move to slide my hands up his chest, desperate to touch him, find an anchor. Seeking a way to gain some semblance of control while chasing this orgasm.
Instead, he growls, “Grab the railing.”
I’m impatient to feel his skin below my fingertips, but eager to comply, I reach to my sides and grip the railing that runs the perimeter of the elevator walls, the metal cold in my heated grasp.
He gives me his wicked smile and leans into my ear, sinfully murmuring, “Good girls get rewarded.Bonne fille.”
He releases his grip on my jeans, sneaking his hand around to grab a handful of my ass, using that instead to grind me into his hard thigh. I feel torn between the savage grip at the base of my skull, tugging delightfully on my hair, and the harsh handful of ass he is using to grind me into his leg, delivering delicious friction into my core.
My loud breathing echoes in the small enclosed space. The sensations are incredible and I’m loving the erotic novelty of making out in an elevator, but it’s just not enough.
I ride his thigh, grasping for a way to get more pressure on my throbbing pussy. All I can think about, though, is being filled by him, the sensations from the stairwell dream teasing me with their absence.
All too soon, he chuckles and says, “Out of time,mon petit chou.Bientôt, je réaliserai tous tes rêves les plus sombres.”
He steps back just as the doors open, leaving me sprawled against the elevator wall, panting. I'm thankful for my grip on the railing, or I think I would have fallen forward with his abrupt departure. What I wouldn’t give to understand the damn sexy French he keeps caressing me with.
Asshole.
He holds a hand out to me, like he didn’t just tease the shit out of me. I ignore it, brushing past him as I step out and try to covertly pull my jeans back out of my crotch.
We’ve arrived in an enormous penthouse, where a raucous party is in full swing. I’m amazed at the diverse crowd of people. I stand there awkwardly, not quite sure what to do now that we have arrived. Thankfully, Luke takes my hand and leads me over to the small kitchen.
“Hungry?”
I shake my head at him mutely. I couldn’t eat with all this excitement and don’t want to risk eating the wrong thing and getting sick.
“Drink?”
I nod, my mouth feeling dry from all the heavy breathing I was doing in the elevator. He hovers his hand over various bottles and then reaches up into a cupboard, pulling down a bottle of bourbon.
“How did you like this earlier?”
