Z-Rated (Chocolate Flava 3)

“Thank you so much!” I took the key and turned toward the bank of elevators. I pressed the button to go up and stood waiting for an empty car to come down.

The sound of the elevator’s ding was music to my ears. The doors opened, I stepped inside, and quickly pressed number 12. I released a huge sigh as the doors began to close. But just as the doors were about to shut, a massive hand slid between them.

“Hold it!” a deep baritone demanded more than asked.

I quickly reached for, and pressed, the button to stop the doors from closing. As the massive steel doors quietly parted, the vision that appeared between them made my legs go weak.

Our eyes met, he smiled, and I just about melted.

Up close, he was a pretty boy, chiseled and even more muscular, if that was possible. His square jawline tightened when he smiled, and his features were exotically beautiful.

“Hi.” He grinned. “Thanks for holding it.” He floated into the elevator with me and suddenly my horrible day took a turn for the better.

But my tongue chose this moment to turn to rubber.

“Uhh, ah, yes. Hi.” I shook my head as if that could make me any less silly.

I remembered him being the man the two women were swooning over during the impromptu photo shoot earlier in the lobby.

“Can you press number twenty-seven for me?” he asked.

Yes, and would you like my panties with that?

With shaky fingers, I reached over and pressed the button to the floor he’d requested.

He even smelled good. He was tall, and stacked in all the right places. Being so close to him made my mind race with endless naughty thoughts of the things I would do with him, how many times I’d do them, and how much I’d enjoy it.

The doors closed, and we stood inches apart with our eyes focused upward. I leaned against the elevator wall and waited for it to start moving. It did, then suddenly it jerked hard, and screeched to a stop.

“What the …” I frowned.

“These damn elevators,” he said.

I turned to him. “Should I press the help button?”

His forehead creased, and his pretty brows came together. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

But just as I was about to, the lights went out. Instinctively, I jumped and landed into the stranger’s strong arms.

“I’m so sorry!” I jerked away from him. “I’m so sorry. I don’t like elevators and this is—oh, God! I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be fine.”

I could smell his breath. It was fresh, laced with a hint of mint. But what I remember most was how smooth and taut his soft muscled skin felt. I wanted an excuse to touch him again but didn’t have one.

Thirty minutes passed and we were still stuck in the elevator. Our cell phones couldn’t get a signal so we used them for lights.

“I’m gonna sit down. I’m tired,” I said.

I stooped down and took a seat on the floor. Soon, he eased down next to me.

“I’m Flex,” he said.

“Flex? I’m Ulysses,” I said.

“Wow, what a sexy name,” Flex said.

“Sexy?” I chuckled. He had no way of knowing just how wild the butterflies in my belly had gone.