The hotel's lobby was nearly deserted, the soft glow of chandeliers throwing long shadows across polished marble floors. Jenna stepped into the elevator, heels clicking, the satin hem of her dress swishing around her thighs. She had a buzz from the champagne, just enough to loosen her edges.
She thought she'd ride up to her floor alone. But then the doors stopped at the mezzanine and he stepped in.
Damian.
The man she'd been eyeing all night at the gala, broad chest under his tailored tux, dark eyes that had lingered on her whenever he thought she wasn't looking. Close, he was even more dangerous. The scent of cedar and musk followed him, intoxicating in the small space.
"Evening," he said, voice deep, almost amused.
Jenna's pulse fluttered. "Evening."
The doors closed. The elevator hummed upward. Silence stretched tight, vibrating with possibility.
"You were watching me," Damian said after a beat. Not a question, an accusation.
She swallowed. "You were watching me too."
His lips curved into a smirk. "Fair enough."
The tension crackled, sharp and hot. She shifted, and the soft rustle of her dress sounded indecent in the confined space. Damian's gaze dropped, trailing over her bare legs, her parted lips. The heat between them swelled until Jenna couldn't breathe.
"Press stop," he murmured.
Her hand hovered, trembling, then obeyed. The elevator jolted, halted between floors. Silence thickened into something else, something filthy.
He moved first. One stride and he had her pinned against the mirrored wall, his body caging hers. His mouth hovered over hers, close enough to feel his breath.
"Say no," he whispered.
She didn't. She grabbed his tie and yanked him down. Their lips crashed, a collision of want and hunger. His kiss was rough, claiming, his tongue sliding past her lips like he'd been waiting all night. She moaned, clutching his jacket, nails digging through the fine fabric.
His hands explored with ruthless precision, palming her hips, sliding beneath the slit of her dress, fingers grazing the lace between her thighs. "Soaked," he muttered against her mouth, his tone half-growl. "You've been waiting for this."
"Yes," she gasped, arching into his hand. "God, yes."
He pushed the dress higher, baring her. The cool metal of the elevator wall pressed into her back, contrasting with the heat of his fingers stroking between her legs. She bit her lip, muffling a cry as he teased her, building her slowly, mercilessly.
"You're going to come for me here," Damian ordered, voice rough. "Where anyone could step inside."
Her head thudded against the mirror, her body trembling under the deliberate rhythm of his touch. The risk made it hotter every second, the possibility of being caught. It pushed her higher, faster.
She shattered against his chest, muffling her scream in the sharp line of his jaw. He held her steady, whispering praise, his hand never leaving her until she slumped, boneless.
But Damian wasn't done.
He spun her, pressing her front against the mirror. Her flushed reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and needy, as he freed himself from his trousers. He pushed into her in one hard thrust, and the obscene sound of it echoed in the elevator.
"Look," he growled, hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to watch her own reflection. "Watch me fuck you."
Jenna moaned, the sight of herself, wrecked, trembling, lips swollen, pushing her even closer. Every thrust drove her harder into the mirror, the glass fogging with their breath. The elevator rocked faintly with the force of their bodies.
Her climax hit again, brutal and fast, ripping through her with a cry. Damian's pace grew rough, desperate, until he spilled into her with a groan, his forehead pressed against her shoulder.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Then Damian straightened, tucking himself back in with maddening composure, while Jenna adjusted her ruined dress.
He smirked, pressing the start button. The elevator lurched back to life, gliding upward.
When the doors finally slid open onto her floor, Damian leaned down, lips grazing her ear. "Same time tomorrow night. We'll ride higher."
Jenna stepped out on shaking legs, her body still humming, knowing she'd press the stop button again.
The hallway felt endless, every step echoing with the memory of Damian's thrusts, the brutal sound of skin against skin still rattling in her chest. She fumbled with her keycard, nearly dropping it twice before the lock gave a soft click. The moment the door shut behind her, she slumped against it, breath ragged, the silence of her suite deafening after the storm in that elevator.
Her dress clung damply to her thighs, the lace beneath ruined, her lipstick smeared. She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the minibar and froze. God, she looked debauched. Hair mussed, lips swollen, skin flushed pink down her chest, like she'd stepped straight out of someone's dirtiest fantasy.
And the worst part? She loved it.
Her body still pulsed with aftershocks. She pressed her knees together, desperate for relief, but the echo of Damian's voice thundered through her head: Don't touch yourself.
She gasped when her phone buzzed. A single message lit up the screen.
Damian: You'll leave the dress on. Tomorrow, you'll be waiting.
Jenna swallowed, heat coiling low in her belly. He knew. He knew she'd already decided. He knew she was hooked. She dropped the phone, pacing the room like a caged thing. Every flicker of sensation, the faint soreness between her thighs, the lingering scent of him on her skin, fed her hunger instead of sating it.
By the time she slipped between the sheets, she was trembling. She lay flat, staring at the ceiling, fists tight at her sides, every nerve lit with memory. Sleep teased her, but each time she drifted, she'd jolt awake, remembering the reflection in that mirrored wall. Remembering his hand in her hair, his command to look.
Dawn crept pale across the room, and she hadn't touched herself once. Obedience had burned deeper than satisfaction ever could.
The day crawled by, unbearable. She skipped breakfast, pacing barefoot on the carpet, replaying every moment. When evening finally slid over the city, she dressed too carefully, slipping back into the same ruined gown like it was a ritual. Lipstick bold, heels sharp, perfume dabbed at her throat.
When she stepped into the lobby, Damian was already there. Not waiting at the bar, not tucked in the shadows, just standing at the elevator, as though he'd known exactly what time she'd arrive.
His eyes slid over her like a slow caress, and his lips curved in that devastating smirk. "You came back."
Jenna swallowed, stepping closer. "You told me to."
He leaned in, the cedar and musk of him wrapping around her. "Good girl."
The words alone nearly undid her.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and he gestured her in first. As she passed him, his hand ghosted across the small of her back, barely there, yet claiming her entirely. She pressed the button for the highest floor, but he covered her hand with his.
"Not yet," Damian murmured, eyes dark. "Press stop."
Her breath hitched. This time, she didn't even wait for the doors to close. Her finger slammed the button, and the elevator jolted to a halt between floors.
The game had begun again.