The bar stretched wide and elegant, all warm lighting and polished wood. Soft music played beneath the low hum of conversation. One entire wall was glass, windows reaching from floor to ceiling, showing the storm raging outside. Snow streaked past the glass, city lights blurred and distant beyond it.

I spotted Eleanor almost immediately.

She was standing near the window, one hand resting on her waist, a glass of whiskey in the other. She wore a blue dress that fit her simply, nothing flashy, but it suited her. The city lights reflected faintly in the glass beside her.

I walked up and stopped next to her, close enough that we shared the view but not crowding her. I looked out at the storm with her, letting the silence sit.

After a moment, she turned her head slightly.

"Hey," Eleanor said.

"Hey," I replied.

"It's snowing, huh?" Eleanor said quietly.

"Yeah," I nodded. "They say it'll pass by morning. Around five, maybe."

"Mm." She took a sip of her whiskey. "Hopefully."

We stood there in silence, both of us facing the window. Snow streaked down the glass, the city below blurred into pale lights and shadows. The quiet stretched a little too long. Awkward, heavy. I wondered why she had asked me to come if she was just going to stare outside and drink.

I stepped closer to the window and looked down. The streetlamps were barely visible through the storm. When I turned back, Eleanor was already looking at me.

She finished the last of her drink and gestured toward the bar stools. We walked over and sat. She placed the empty glass down and slowly rotated it with her fingers, tracing circles on the polished surface.

"I'm…" she started, then stopped.

"Yeah?" I prompted.

The bartender leaned in with a polite smile. "Can I get you anything, ma'am?"

"No, thank you," she said, then cleared her throat once he stepped away.

I also raised my hand to the bartender. He nodded, then went back to the other customers.

I turned fully toward her. "Eleanor. What's going on?"

She took a breath. "I'm friends with someone named Layla. I think you know her."

"Layla?" I frowned. "Who?"

"She owns a sex shop. Pregnant. Blonde." She hesitated. "I used to buy toys from her. For Guy."

"Oh. Yeah. I know her," I said slowly.

"She told me that you had Beldenwary in your car," Eleanor continued. "Doing… things to her."

I rubbed my face. "Oh, god."

"And you overthrew Guy from his CEO position," she went on. "So I started wondering. Who are you, Evan? Are you some kind of mafia? Because if you are, I don't want any of this. Your help, or the room you gave me."

I let out a breath. "Is that why you've been so withdrawn?"

She nodded. "Someone named Karim attacked you in your old apartment. Then a few days later, he was found tortured." Her voice dropped. "I'm scared. If you want something from me, I… I mean I… I won't refuse. Just don't hurt me."

That hit harder than I expected.

I could see it from her side. Guy, Karim, the penthouse, the job, the way things kept falling into place around me. It didn't look clean from the outside.

"I won't do anything you don't want," I said, meeting her eyes. "I'm not like that."

She swallowed. "Then why help me? You gave me a room. A job. Why?"

"I told you already," I said. "I felt like I owed you. That's it. No hidden motive."

She studied my face, then exhaled slowly. "You're not what I expected."

"How so?"

"I thought you'd keep me," she admitted. "You helped me, so I thought you'd want something in return. My body, maybe."

"Eleanor," I said gently. "You don't have to stay on alert all the time. Just breathe. Enjoy things a little."

She let out a small laugh. "Enjoy, huh?"

"Yeah," I said. "The bar's free for us. Drink until you regret it. Then drink some more."

"That's what I call a girls' night out," she smiled.

"Girls' night out? Damn, so I'm not invited?" I smirked. "That hurts, Eleanor. Truly."

"I can make an exception." She laughed, then tilted her head. "We can continue at your place if you want."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd like that."

Eleanor and I got up and we walked toward the elevators. The bar noise faded behind us, replaced by the muted hush of the hallway.

The common elevator ride down was quiet. Crowded, but quiet. People glanced at us, then looked away. Eleanor stood close, her shoulder brushing mine every now and then as the elevator swayed slightly.

When we reached the lobby, we crossed over to the private elevator. The one reserved for the upper floors.

Inside, it was silent again. I pressed the button for the penthouse. The doors slid shut and the elevator began its smooth ascent.

Halfway up, Eleanor reached out and pressed the stop button.

The elevator slowed, then came to a gentle halt.

I turned toward her. She was already facing me, eyes searching my face, unreadable but intense. The hum of the elevator filled the space between us.

She didn't say anything yet.

She just… looked at me.

"You can take me to your bed anytime you want, Evan," Eleanor said, her voice low and teasing, eyes glinting in the dim elevator light. "You know that, right?"

I couldn't help but smirk, stepping closer. "I know. But would you want that?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Would you," I pressed, voice dropping, eyes locked on hers. "Want that?"

She turned her back to me, glancing over her shoulder with that knowing, challenging look. "Just fuck my pussy."

Holy shit. That sentence alone sent blood rushing straight to my dick—I was rock hard almost instantly. I knew something like this might happen eventually since she'd invited me up, but in the elevator? That was bold… strange… but was I going to say no?

Fuck that voice.

"Got a condom?" Eleanor asked, already turning to face the mirror.

"No," I replied, voice rough.

"What?" She laughed, incredulous. "You live with all those women and don't have a single condom?"

"I just don't use condoms, that's all."

"Wow." She shook her head, amused. "Well, that wasn't in my plans…"

"Trust my pull-out game," I smirked.

"I can't get pregnant even if I wanted to." She shrugged casually. "Tubal ligation. Guy asked me to do it a while back."

"What… is that?"

"You don't know?" She raised an eyebrow. "It's basically sterilization—tubes tied so nothing gets through. No babies, ever."

"Damn," I muttered. "That's… something."

"Come on," she said, voice dropping. "I trust you're clean. Stick that dick in me."

I didn't need to be told twice. I shoved my pants down, cock springing free, throbbing and ready. Damn, was she really thirty-eight years old? Fuck, she was… she was just wonderful.

Eleanor bent forward, hands pressing against the elevator mirrors, back arched, ass out. I slid her blue dress up over her hips, exposing the red panties hugging her curves. I hooked my fingers in the waistband and yanked them down to her thighs, leaving them tangled there.

I stepped in close, hugging her from behind, chest to her back, one arm around her waist. My cock pressed against her entrance, then slid in deep in one slow thrust.

She moaned loud, head falling forward against the mirror. "Fuck—yes—deep—"

I started moving—hard, steady strokes, hips snapping forward, cock filling her completely. The elevator walls rattled faintly, the mirror fogging from our breath, reflecting everything—her tits bouncing under the dress, my hand sliding up to grab one, squeezing rough.

I kissed her back, trailing my lips up her spine, then to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin.

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder, eyes dark. We kissed—messy, hungry, tongues sliding as I kept thrusting deep.

I slid my hand forward, grabbing both her cheeks with one hand, squeezing hard, forcing her to look at me in the mirror.

"You wanted this, didn't you, Eleanor?" I growled, thrusting harder. "Invited me up here just to get fucked like a slut in an elevator. Pussy dripping for my cock the second we got in here."

"Yes—fuck—wanted it so bad," she moaned, pushing back. "I got bored masturbating… I Couldn't wait—needed you inside me… fuck me harder…"

I pounded hard, hips a blur, cock driving deep. "Love this pussy… so wet, so tight… you're mine right now, Eleanor. No customers, no bullshit—just you taking my cock like a good girl."

"Yours, fuck, own me… fuck me harder—"

The elevator echoed the wet slap of our bodies, her moans growing louder, ass jiggling with every thrust.

"You love this," I rasped, hand sliding to her clit, rubbing fast. "Getting fucked raw… risking it all… pussy squeezing me so tight. You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? Gonna cum on this cock."

"Yes—Evan—close—fuck—gonna cum—"

I thrust deeper, fingers flying on her clit. "Cum for me… let me feel that pussy milk me… scream my name."

She shattered—pussy spasming wildly around my cock, gushing hot and wet as she came hard. Her body convulsed, legs shaking.

"EVAN—FUCK—CUMMING—"

She screamed, her hips bucking against me as wave after wave hit her, pussy clenching in endless pulses.

I rode it out, thrusting through her climax, grinding deep.

She panted, body limp against the mirror. Then she chuckled breathlessly. "Fuck… I can't remember the last time I actually came. I always faked it with customers…"

I slapped her ass hard. "Don't fucking talk to me about your customers. You're mine now, Eleanor. At this moment—you're all mine."

"Fuck, Evan… your cock… how…" she moaned, still shaking. "Like… fucking magic."

Well, close.

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