The Hotel Elevator Encounter

She was dressed to seduce, though she hadn’t planned to. A fitted black dress that hugged her like second skin, heels that clicked seductively against the marble floors, and red lips daring anyone to speak.

The party upstairs had bored her. Too many fake smiles, too many men who looked at her like a prize and not a person. She pressed the elevator button, eager to escape it all.

That’s when he stepped in.

Tall. Smooth. Charcoal suit. Loosened tie. A stranger with dark, lazy eyes that slowly drank her in.

Their eyes locked. No words.

The doors slid shut.

And the air changed.

In that tight space, with mirrors watching from all sides, heat bloomed between them. He stepped closer, not touching, but close enough for her nipples to harden under her dress.

“Going down?” he asked, his voice deep and dangerous.

She licked her lips. “Not yet.”

His hand slid around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She didn’t resist. The heat of him seared through her dress. Her breath hitched as his mouth brushed her ear.

“Anyone could walk in.”

“That’s the thrill, isn’t it?” she whispered.

He kissed her then—rough, consuming, tongue plunging past her lips like he’d been dying to taste her. She moaned, grinding against the bulge hardening in his pants. Her hands found his belt, unbuckling it as the elevator descended floor by floor.

He didn’t stop her.

She dropped to her knees, the carpeted floor digging into her skin, as she freed his cock—thick, long, already dripping at the tip. Without hesitation, she took him into her mouth, deep and slow. His hands clutched her head, hips jerking forward as he muttered a sharp curse.

The elevator dinged at a floor—empty.

She didn’t stop. She sucked harder.

Another floor.

He grunted, pulling her up, pinning her against the mirrored wall. He lifted her leg, yanked her thong to the side, and pushed in with a groan that echoed in the metal walls.

Her moan bounced back at her. Loud. Raw.

He thrust into her, fast, like he needed to come or die trying. Her reflection stared back at her—face flushed, lips parted, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other clawing at glass.

She came first. Shuddering. Gasping.

He followed, spilling inside her with a groan that made her knees go weak.

The elevator dinged at the lobby. They straightened quickly, catching breath.

He looked at her and smirked. “Same time tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Next floor.”

And walked away.

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