Erotic Fiction: Between Floors
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The familiar hum of the elevator was oddly comforting as I tapped my key fob against the panel and pressed the button for the 23rd floor. It was nearing 11 PM, and the building was quiet, save for the occasional soft shuffle of someone coming or going. Just as the doors began to close, a large hand slipped between them, halting their progress.
I glanced up, startled, as the doors opened to reveal him.
He was tall, with dark, slightly unruly hair and a sharp jawline softened only by a hint of stubble. His blue shirt was untucked, the top button undone as if he’d just stepped away from something equally casual. I’d seen him a handful of times in the building, always on his way to the gym or holding the door open for someone with the same relaxed ease.
“Evening,” he said, stepping inside. His voice was warm, tinged with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of something more in his eyes when he glanced at me—a quiet awareness that matched my own.
I nodded, a polite smile barely curving my lips as I stepped to the side. He pressed the button for the 21st floor and leaned back against the wall, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans.
The elevator hummed to life again, and silence settled between us. It wasn’t the awkward kind, but a charged stillness, like the space between lightning and thunder.
And then, with an abrupt jolt, the elevator stopped.
The overhead lights flickered and died, plunging us into near darkness, save for the dim emergency light above. A soft curse escaped his lips as he straightened. I reached for the control panel, pressing the emergency button, but there was no response.
“We’re stuck,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
He nodded, already pulling out his phone. A low groan of frustration followed as he held up the screen. “No signal. You?”
I checked mine, shaking my head. “Nothing.”
We both stood there for a moment, the reality of the situation settling in. My heart was pounding, not from fear exactly, but from the heightened awareness of him—how close we were in the confined space, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the lingering warmth of the elevator.
“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have to wait.”
He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. I hesitated before following suit, settling on the opposite side of the elevator, our knees almost touching in the small space.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his tone conversational, though his eyes lingered on mine as if memorizing every detail.
“Pauline,” I said. “And you?”
“Luke.” The name suited him—strong, no-nonsense, but with a hint of softness that caught me off guard.
“Looks like we’re neighbours,” I said, trying to fill the silence. “I’ve seen you around.”
His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Yeah, I’ve noticed you, too.”
The admission sent a spark of heat through me, unexpected and undeniable. There was something about the way he said it—casual, like it was no big deal, but the intensity in his gaze betrayed him.
“How long do you think we’ll be stuck?” I asked, trying to shift the focus away from the sudden, unspoken tension crackling between us.
He shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting against the wall. “Could be a while. Maintenance in this building isn’t exactly fast.”
I nodded, biting my lip as the silence stretched. The air felt heavier now, the space between us charged. I could feel his eyes on me, even when I wasn’t looking at him.
“You seem calm,” he said after a moment. “Not the panicking type, are you?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “I mean, what’s the point? We’re stuck either way.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Fair enough.”
Another pause. I shifted slightly, my knees brushing against his, and the contact sent a jolt of awareness through me. His gaze dropped to the point where our legs touched, and when his eyes met mine again, there was no mistaking the heat in them.
“Can I be honest?” he asked, his voice lower now, more intimate.
I swallowed, my heart racing. “Sure.”
“I’ve been curious about you,” he said. “Every time I’ve seen you, I’ve wanted to say something, but now…” He gestured to the elevator. “I guess fate decided for me.”
My breath caught at the raw honesty in his words. There was no pretense, no coyness—just a quiet intensity that made my skin tingle.
“I guess ‘fate,’ as they say, works in mysterious ways,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leaned forward slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, giving me plenty of time to pull away if I wanted to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. The air between us was thick with unspoken desire, and when he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my cheek, I felt like I might combust.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, his hand lingering near my face.
I shook my head, my breath hitching. “Don’t stop.”
And then his lips were on mine. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if he was testing the waters, but the moment I responded, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, he groaned softly and pulled me closer, and his hands slid to my waist.
Luke’s lips were warm and insistent, and the way he kissed me made everything else fade away—the cold floor beneath us, the flickering emergency light, the fact that we were stuck in an elevator. Nothing else mattered but the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hands moved with a mix of confidence and care.
When we finally pulled apart, our breaths mingling in the small space, his eyes searched mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough but gentle.
I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips. “More than okay.”
He chuckled softly, leaning back against the wall and pulling me with him. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling a warmth settle over me that had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the quiet connection we had just shared.
As the minutes stretched into an hour and eventually, our quiet conversation escalated into something more. This time, the kiss deepened, every brush of his lips against mine igniting sparks that raced down my spine. Luke’s hands found my waist, his fingers pressing against my sides as if anchoring himself in the moment. My body arched toward his, my hands tangling in the soft waves of his hair, pulling him closer. The air in the elevator felt electric, charged with a heat that made me forget where we were.
Luke’s hand slid up to cradle the back of my neck, his touch both firm and reverent. His lips left mine, tracing a path along my jawline, then to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I gasped, my breath hitching as his teeth grazed the skin there, followed by the soothing heat of his tongue. His name escaped my lips in a shaky whisper, and he groaned softly in response, his hands moving lower, sliding over my hips and thighs.
“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he told me again, his voice hoarse yet steady, though his eyes betrayed the raw hunger beneath the surface.
“I don’t want you to stop,” I repeated, my words almost lost in the thrum of my pulse. That was all he needed.
Luke’s hands tugged gently at the hem of my dress, sliding it upward. The fabric bunched around my thighs as he shifted, lowering himself onto his knees before me. The realization of what he was about to do sent a wave of heat rushing through me.
“Luke—” My words caught in my throat as his hands gripped the backs of my thighs, urging me to lean against the wall for support.
“Let me,” he said, his voice low, filled with a mix of authority and pleading. “I want to taste you.”
I shivered at the sound of his words, at the intent in his gaze as he looked up at me from beneath his lashes. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers hooked beneath the edge of my panties, pulling them down in one smooth motion. The cool air of the elevator kissed my bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his breath as he leaned closer.
His lips found the sensitive skin of my inner thigh first, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses that made my knees tremble. He worked his way upward, each touch of his mouth more deliberate, more maddeningly slow. By the time his tongue flicked out to taste me, I was clutching at the walls, my head falling back with a soft moan.
“God, Pauline,” he groaned, his voice reverent as if worshiping me. “You’re perfect.”
His tongue moved with skill and confidence, exploring every inch of me with a precision that had me gasping and trembling. He alternated between teasing flicks and firm, deliberate strokes, finding a rhythm that made the pressure in my core build with dizzying speed. My hands found their way back into his hair, gripping tightly as I fought to stay upright.
“Luke,” I breathed, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer. He hummed in response, the vibration sending a shockwave through me that made my hips buck against his mouth.
He didn’t stop. If anything, he doubled down, his hands gripping my thighs tighter to hold me in place as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. The elevator, the darkness, the flickering emergency light—everything else melted away until there was only Luke, only this moment.
I felt the tension coil tighter, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “I’m going to—”
“Do it,” he murmured against me, his voice muffled but insistent. “Let go.”
And I did.
The release crashed over me like a tidal wave, my entire body trembling as I cried out his name. He didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to work me through the aftershocks until I was shaking, gasping for breath, and utterly spent.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at me with a satisfied smirk. “You taste incredible,” he said, his voice low and rough.
I could only manage a weak laugh, my legs feeling like jelly as I slid down the wall to sit beside him. He pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me as we caught our breath together in the dim light of the elevator.
“That was...” I started, struggling to find the words.
“Just the beginning,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple just as the elevator began to hum back to life and the overhead lights flickered on.
