Chapter 80 Elevator.

Chapter 80: 80 Elevator.

I kept the elevator locked between floors with a steady flex of power while I shoved her skirt higher and freed myself from my pants.

Psyren’s legs locked around my waist the instant I pushed inside her, a sharp cry spilling against my neck as her heat closed around me.

The sudden fullness made her arch hard against the mirrored wall, neon-pink hearts spinning faster in her eyes while a soft psychic pulse rolled out of her and washed over my skin.

It never controlled me, but the residual buzz still felt electric, heightening every stroke as I began to move.

I drove into her with long, deliberate thrusts at first, letting her feel every inch, one hand braced beside her head on the cool glass and the other gripping the soft curve of her ass to pull her down onto me.

The elevator car was small enough that every shift of our weight made the metal creak faintly under the strain of my power holding the brakes locked.

Outside and below I could already sense the first distant jabs against the call buttons—someone on a lower floor testing whether the car would answer.

I ignored the pressure and kept going, burying myself deeper, rolling my hips so the angle dragged against the spot that made her gasp and dig her nails into my shoulders.

"Fuck, boss—just like that," she moaned against my ear, voice already breaking. Her breasts pressed warm and firm against my chest, the metal piercings catching and scraping lightly with every thrust.

I ducked my head and took one into my mouth, tongue circling the cool ring while I kept the rhythm steady and hard.

Psyren’s head fell back against the mirror with a soft thud, her legs tightening around me as another wave of psychic heat flared.

The air inside the car felt thicker, charged, her need feeding back into mine until I was pounding into her without restraint.

The button presses grew more insistent. I felt them like faint taps against the edge of my power—two floors down, then three, a cluster of people starting to get impatient.

I tightened the hold, keeping the car exactly where it was, and focused on the way Psyren moved with me.

She met every thrust, grinding down to take me deeper, soft broken sounds spilling out of her between kisses that turned messy and open-mouthed.

Her hands slid under my shirt, palms hot against my back, then lower to urge me on.

I could feel how close she already was, the fluttering tension in her body, the way her psychic signature spiked every time I bottomed out inside her.

"You feel that?" I growled against her throat, nipping the skin hard enough to leave a mark. "People are calling the car. They can wait."

She laughed, breathless and delighted, and clenched around me on purpose. "Let them wait, boss. I need this more than they need an elevator, I need you, boss." Another roll of her hips, deliberate and filthy. "Harder, boss. Make me feel it tomorrow."

I gave her exactly that. The pace turned rough, the wet sound of our bodies meeting filling the small space along with her rising moans. Sweat slicked the places where we touched.

Her jacket was long gone, her shirt shoved up under her arms, and every bounce of her pierced breasts drew my eyes and my mouth.

I switched sides, sucking the other nipple between my teeth while my free hand slipped between us to rub tight circles over her clit.

The dual pressure made her cry out, loud enough that anyone in the shaft might have heard if the car hadn’t been sealed by my power.

The call-button pressure kept building—more floors, more insistent jabs, a growing crowd of people wondering why the elevator refused to move.

I felt the collective frustration like a distant itch against the edges of my control, but I held firm. Nothing was interrupting this.

Psyren’s legs trembled around my waist; her psychic energy pulsed in time with my thrusts, pink light flickering faintly in the air around us. She was close, so close her voice had gone high and desperate.

"Boss—I’m gonna—don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop—"

I didn’t. I drove into her through the first wave of her orgasm, feeling her clamp down hard and rhythmic while a stronger psychic surge washed over me.

The pleasure of it fed straight into my own, tightening everything low in my gut.

I kept thrusting, chasing the same edge, one hand still working her clit so the climax stretched out and left her shaking.

When she finally sagged against me, gasping and laughing under her breath, I pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, once, twice, three times, before the pressure broke.

I came hard, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to hers while the release rolled through me in long pulses.

Psyren’s arms tightened around my neck and she held me there, still fluttering around me, soft satisfied sounds leaving her lips with every breath.

For a few seconds the only noise in the car was our breathing and the faint creak of the suspended elevator.

Then the button presses from below turned almost frantic—someone was clearly mashing the call panel in irritation.

I stayed inside her a moment longer, catching my breath, feeling the last aftershocks.

When I finally eased out she made a soft disappointed noise, but the grin that spread across her face was pure mischief.

I set her back on her feet carefully; her legs were still unsteady.

We fixed what clothing we could—skirt tugged down, shirt pulled into place, my pants zipped—though neither of us looked particularly presentable. The scent of sex still hung thick in the small space.

Only then did I release the hold on the elevator. The car lurched once, then resumed its smooth descent toward the ground floor.

Psyren leaned against me the whole way, still flushed, one hand idly tracing circles on my chest under my shirt. The psychic residual around her had settled into a warm, contented hum.

The doors slid open on the lobby to a cluster of impatient suits who had clearly been waiting longer than they liked.

Several of them looked ready to complain until they took in the state of us—messy hair, swollen lips, the unmistakable post-fuck glow that no amount of clothing adjustment could hide.

Psyren only giggled, bright and unapologetic, and laced her fingers through mine.

Without a word of explanation she tugged me forward, dragging me straight through the group of staring professionals and out into the open lobby as if nothing unusual had happened at all.