The doors close.
“Thank fuck that’s over,” he says, pulling me towards him.
There’s no time to answer; I press my body tight against his and our lips connect like magnets. As his fingers slip into my blouse, squeezing my lace-covered nipples, my hand goes straight to his bulge.
I’ve been daydreaming about his cock since watching his pitch, the highlight of an otherwise boring meeting, and it doesn’t disappoint.
“Is it the top floor you need?” he asks.
“No,” I say, jamming the buttons as I drop to my knees. “I think I’m going down.”
