Anything He Wants

1

The
high point of my work days lately was when I saw the gorgeous stranger every
morning.

Late
this morning, I hurried through the lobby toward the elevators as fast as my
heels and decorum would allow. The dark haired man was like clockwork, arriving
at the elevator at 8:20am every day, and this morning proved no exception. I
jockeyed my way through the crowd until I stood close to the stranger but not
right beside him, then stared at the elevator doors pretending to ignore him. I
wasn’t playing a game, although sometimes it felt that way. Men this handsome always
stayed several steps outside my sphere of influence and even now as an adult
that hadn't changed.

Didn't
mean a girl couldn’t dream.

The
doors opened and I moved with the small crowd onto the elevator, making sure my
floor was pressed. The old building– or “historic” as some liked to say instead
– was renovated a few years back but they'd kept the older elevators. Smaller
and slower than its more modern iterations, the metal box nevertheless did its
job as it chugged its way up to the floors above.

I
rearranged the large satchel in my arm, sliding a glance sideways and catching
his eye.
Does he know I watch him?
Flushing, I turned back to face
forward as the elevator opened to let another string of people off to their
floors. My stop was still eleven floors away where I did data entry as temp
work for Hamilton Industries. The company spanned several levels, but my small
cubicle and office was tucked away in a forgotten corner at the lowest level.

I
loved the clean cut, suited look and the dark man was always impeccably dressed
in suits and ties that probably cost more than I made a month. Everything about
him screamed high society, far out of my leagues, but that didn’t stop my
fantasy life from including him. The handsome stranger was part of my dreams,
the face I saw when I closed my eyes for bed. As I'd had nothing between my
legs not run by batteries in well over a year, my fantasies were getting pretty
kinky. I took a moment to think about them now and a slow smile spread across
my face. It didn’t take much to get me going, but the image in my mind of being
pushed against a wall and ravaged...
Oh yeah.

Passengers
continued to disembark and as the elevator doors shut, I pulled myself out of
my reverie as I realized that, for the first time, I was actually alone with
the dark stranger. Clearing my throat nervously, I smoothed down the pencil
skirt with my free hand as the old elevator began its trek up to my work.
Breathe,
Lucy, just breath.
Desire curled in my belly, fueled by thoughts of all sorts
of naughty things in elevators.
I wonder if this one has cameras...

I
heard a faint rustle behind me, then a thick arm appeared beside me and pressed
a red button on the panel. Immediately the elevator ground to a halt and before
I could say anything twin arms appeared on either side of my head and a low
voice next to my ear murmured, "I see you on this elevator every morning.
Your doing I take it?"

Shocked
into silence, I could only blink in wide-eyed confusion.
Should I pinch
myself? Is this really happening?

The
cool metal against my suddenly hard and sensitive nipples elicited a breathy
moan as I was pressed against the elevator doors by a hard body behind me. “What,”
I started, immediately forgetting whatever I was going to say as I felt his
hard length press against my hip.

“I
can smell your arousal,” he growled, that low sexy voice making my stomach
tighten. “Every morning you get on this elevator and I can smell your need.”
One hand moved down and entwined with mine as he dipped his head toward my
neck. “What’s your name?”

My
mind went blank for a moment, forgetting the simplest of answers.
Oh God,
that voice is pure sex,
I thought wildly, lifting my hands to brace against
the hard surface before me. It was low and had a lilt I couldn’t place, and my chest
grew tight with need. “Lucy,” I finally managed, my brain short circuiting.

“Lucy,”
he repeated, and I drew in a shaky breath hearing my name said in that too-sexy
voice. “I need to see if you taste as good as you smell.”

There
was no request for permission in his voice only an implacable demand, and I
rolled my head sideways to allow him access. His lips slid across the soft skin
behind my ear, tongue flicking out to touch me; his teeth nipped the lobe and I
moaned, pressing back against him. He rotated his hips and my breathing sped
up, needy pants a staccato in the silence.

“God
you're so fucking hot.” His hand trailed down the side of my body, across my
hip and down my thigh until he found the hem of my skirt. His hand then
retraced its steps back up, skimming lightly across the smooth skin of my inner
thigh, pulling the material of my skirt up toward my hips. Unthinking, I spread
my legs to give him access and gasped loudly as fingers slid along the outside
of my soaked panties, pressing against my aching core.

Was
this really happening?
My body bucked, trapped between the metal doors and the hot
body behind me. It was like every fantasy I’d ever had was being played out in
person, and I was helpless to stop my conditioned response.

His
fingers pulsed, sliding across my clit with increasing frequency, and my hips
moved of their own volition, craving more of his touch. I cried out when his
teeth sank into my shoulder, then his fingers slid beneath the thin cotton and
lace and stroked my wet skin, pulling at my tender opening in a way that had me
moaning loudly inside the elevator.

“Come
for me,” he murmured in his low Vin Diesel voice, lips and teeth running along
the exposed line of my neck and shoulder. His fingers pushed deep inside, thumb
flicking my hard nub, and with a strangled cry I came hard. My forehead rested
against the hard steel of the door as I shuddered, suddenly boneless.

Below
the numbered panel to my right, a telephone rang out.

I
stiffened in shock, the blaring tones cutting through the murky haze. Lust
slowly gave way to mortification and I pushed against the door to free myself.
The dark stranger stepped back, allowing me space, and pressed the red button
again. I hastily rearranged my clothing as the elevator chugged back up the
shaft; a few seconds later the telephone stopped ringing.

“You
taste even better than I imagined.”

I
turned, helpless against that voice, to see him licking his fingers. The look
he gave me made my knees week but the ringing phone had woken me up and I
fumbled blindly for the floor buttons, pressing every button within my reach.
This seemed to only amuse him but when the doors opened onto an empty hallway
two floors below mine I stumbled out. No people were in sight on this floor, to
my relief – I wasn’t sure I could take more attention right then.

A
quick whistle behind me drew my attention and I turned to see the stranger pick
up my satchel and hold it out to me. It had slid out of my arms, forgotten, to
the floor while we were... I cleared my throat and took it with as much dignity
as I could muster.

He
smiled, the simple expression changing his entire countenance. I stared, dumbstruck
at his utter gorgeousness, as he winked at me. “I'll see you again,” he said as
the elevator doors shut, stranding me temporarily stranded on the lower floor.

I
took a deep breath and fumbled with my clothing, tucking my blouse into my
waistband with shaky fingers. My panties were a lost cause - I'd have a wet
spot on my dress all day if I continued to wear them. Focusing on that and not the
growing embarrassment at my actions, I searched and found a bathroom next to
the elevator to clean myself up.

A
few minutes later, clean but vulnerable without any underwear, I took the
stairs up two flights to my floor. The halls to my area were packed with last
minute arrivals and I made it to my office without any problems. I was a minute
late clocking in on the computer but nobody seemed to care as I got right to
work, drowning myself in my job to try and forget my shocking display earlier.

2

The
day passed in a jumble. No matter how I tried to focus on my work, I couldn’t
make myself concentrate. I found it necessary to double, then triple check my
work to make sure I'd done it right. The temp data entry assignments I was
given were tedious and brainless, but nevertheless I kept messing them up. My
mind would flash back to the elevator, the handsome stranger and the first
semi-public orgasm I ever had, and when I got back on track I couldn’t remember
what lines I'd entered onto the computer.

This
is so unlike me.
I’d
always been a sexual creature but never the type who knew what to do about it.
The boys never asked me out; I wasn’t invited to parties or the like even in
college. The few boyfriends I’d had, if they could be called that, hadn’t
stayed around long. My life at the moment was boring, mostly out of necessity –
college loans didn't pay themselves, and living near the City made things even
tighter – but I couldn't find much connection with most men. They wanted to go party,
I wanted to read; they were Sports Illustrated, I was National Geographic.

Dating,
while the least of my worries at the moment, was definitely not a strong point.

Despite
my attempts to forget the whole situation in the elevator, by lunch I
desperately wanted my vibrator and a swift kick in the rear. My actions and
instant response to the stranger were troublesome, no matter my fantasy life.
It couldn’t happen again no matter how much I may want a repeat. I needed this
job, no matter how monotonous, and I couldn't afford any more distractions. But
my job didn’t require much brain power to begin with and I kept remembering how
soft his lips were, and how his teeth across the skin of my neck sent shivers
down my spine. His large hands had held a dual promise of strength and
tenderness and my body refused to forget that.

It
was a long day.

Barely
managing to get my quota of files archived turned in by the end of the day, I
contemplated taking the stairs down the fourteen flights but finally opted for
the elevator which I made sure was Stranger-free. I cut through the underground
parking garage while the bulk of the crowd headed for the taxis out front. Few
people were able to park under the building, certainly not a new temp even if
they did have a car, but it was a much faster route to the subway station two
streets behind the building and nobody had told me walking across it was off
limits.

I
headed down the single flight of steps and out into the chill afternoon air of
the underground garage. The squeal of tires came from somewhere in the
multilevel complex but I saw nobody else, just lines of cars. Rubbing my arms,
the bite in the air promising cold temperatures as soon as the sun set, I
turned toward the guard shack, wishing I’d brought something to slip over my
arms. It was late spring but the weather had taken a colder turn over the last
few days and I wasn’t dressed appropriately.