Love in An Elevator

Think Aerosmith's "Love In An Elevator" on this one


The elevator ground to a halt three floors from their destination. Not again, she thought. Just last week she had been trapped in the same elevator with the same man under very nearly the same circumstances.

“They really need to hire some new maintenance people,” Raymond Reddington declared from his position behind her where he was leaning against the rear wall of the elevator.

“I’m sure they’re doing their best!” Lizzie spat over her shoulder acidly. Sure, she was annoyed, too, but she was going to take the high road and not complain.

“I can’t believe this is happening to us, AGAIN,” she grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he reflected optimistically, “I kind of enjoyed the last time.”

She whirled on him, “Are you kidding me?! We were stuck in here for an hour arguing; it was torture!”

“Oh, I quite enjoyed our verbal…..sparring.” he pushed himself off the handrail, closing the distance between them with a step.

“Really?” she countered, sarcastically. “because I distinctly recall you using the words ‘incessant’, ‘volatile’, and incompetent’ during our last incarceration here.” She spun around to face the elevator doors, punching the buttons for good measure.

“I don’t think you have any idea how…..arousing I find our quarrels.” He had stepped even closer, leaning into her ear as he spoke.

She froze, her back stiffening as she sucked in her breath at his words. The timbre of his voice had dropped an octave and he was oh, so close to her now. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. This man infuriated her at every turn and had since his first day at the Post Office two months ago. He was the bane of her existence, infuriating and intractable. He was impossible to work with, withheld information until he deemed it relevant, and was constantly criticizing her wardrobe, her hairstyle, and her ability as an FBI agent. So, why was she standing here, fighting to remember to breathe with every syllable that he uttered? Why was his voice making things dark and primitive curl low in her stomach? Why was she struggling not to turn around and face him?

“There is something rather…..heated about the way you look when you’re trying to hand me my balls on a platter.” he continued softly, “Though I’m sure there are other, more enjoyable, things you could do with them.” He lowered his head and, with the barest of touches, nipped at her ear.

Unable to control herself any longer, she whirled around and launched herself at him, forcing him to take a step back to catch her weight as she pinned him to the wall with her lovely body.

Her hands were everywhere, clawing at his clothes. His lips imprisoned hers, his hands on her face as he released months of pent-up sexual tension. Had she really not feel it all this time? They had chemistry, a burning captivation towards each other and he was singing the praises of the incompetent maintenance crew in his head that he finally had the opportunity to show her just how good they could be together.

She pulled at his tie, loosening it enough to pull it from his neck and then tore open his shirt and vest, sending buttons flying. His mouth was on her neck, biting above her pulse point, as she ran her hands over his chest.

He grabbed her hips, lifting her up around his waist, turning to slam her back against the wall. He hooked his hands under her thighs and she wrapped her legs around him, finding his mouth again and charting him with her tongue. He slipped a hand under her shirt and unsnapped her front-clasp bra with his fingertips, balancing her against the wall, rocking his hips against hers and making her squirm as he filled his hand with her creamy flesh. She moaned against his mouth when flicked his fingertips against her nipple, causing it to pebble against his palm.
Wasting no time, he reached between them, hiking her skirt up around her waist only to find that she was not wearing any panties. “Oh, baby,” he moaned into her mouth, “This is gonna be sooo good.” Finding her already wet and ready, he slipped his cock out of his slacks and plunged into her.

Her screams vibrated off the tiny enclosure as he thrust into her, setting a punishing rhythm, which she matched, thrust for thrust. Wanting to bring her, her lowered his hand between them, rubbing her clit vigorously until he felt her tighten around him, crying out his name. he continued to pump into her until he exploded inside her body, crushing her to him, his mouth drinking her cries of fulfillment.

They stayed like that for long minutes, his forehead resting against hers, the sweat cooling on their skin. When their breathing had finally begun to slow, he loosened his grip on her just enough so that she could lower her legs and then he slid them both to the floor, cradling her against him. Still panting slightly, he pressed a kiss into her temple and leaned his head back against the wall.

He noted the satisfaction in her voice when he heard her mumble, “We should have done that months ago.”