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“With all due respect, Assistant Chief Pope, I won’t let that happen again.“
She was seething, knew her voice was as sharp as it sounded even to her own ears, but she was beyond caring, couldn’t care any longer. The first time he had backed Johnson, she had shrugged it off. The second time, although it had stung, she had concentrated on her case and shoved her personal feelings aside. This time, she’d had enough; she wouldn’t be silenced again. The third time definitely wasn’t a charm when it came to Pope and her.
Maybe it was too late in the day, maybe she had worked too long, too hard these past hours, or maybe Pope’s recent display of favouritism was just what she had needed to set things straight with him once and for all.
But Will Pope wasn’t bothered her candid remark, only his eyes narrowed at her outburst.
“I made a decision, Captain Raydor, a sound decision, and I won’t listen to your ranting only because you think you got the short end of the stick.”
“This has nothing to do with any personal feelings, at least not from my side. What about you, though? Can you state the same for yourself?”
Maybe it was something in her tone of voice, something in the way she refused to break eye contact no matter what. Before she knew what was happening, she watched him stride through his office, closing the door, shutting them away from the world. There wasn’t even anyone around, still, he obviously didn’t want to chance anyone eavesdropping. Definitely not the behaviour of an innocent man. She knew it, and he knew it, too.
“What exactly are you insinuating here, Captain?” His voice was fire and ice, cold with a razor sharp undertone meant to slice through words, through feelings.
“I am not… insinuating anything here, just stating facts. If you want to see it or not, it is common knowledge that you and Chief Assistant Johnson had an affair, and it ‘s also no secret that if push comes to shove, you will always have her back.”
His eyes became hard, and stepping closer, he was in her personal space, trying to stare her down. He could try. It wouldn’t matter. She was a good cop, had the instincts, the guts, and the ice in the veins needed to do the job. If he thought he could break her, he was sadly mistaken.
“I’d advise you to tread carefully here.”
His voice was deeper now, his gaze unwavering, hard, cold, a vivid reminder that the touch of ice could burn. He might think he looked impassive, instead he revealed more to her than he could have thought. She could see in his eyes that she was right. For a brief moment, she wondered what he might be seeing in hers.
“I only did my job today, and I can’t have people stand in the way of a thorough investigation, not even you, and not for personal reasons.”
His gaze didn’t break, seemed to intensify, and her heart began beating faster. What for? Anger. It surely was anger, had to be. The other alternative was unthinkable. That she wanted to be a man’s sole focus, this man’s sole focus, even if only for a moment. God, she could smell him, a slight hint of cologne and something that had to be him. If she made only a tiny step forward, she could get on her toes, bury her head in his neck and trace the scent, sample it.
“Do you want to question my decision, Captain?”
There it was, it was either yay or nay, but it seemed Pope still underestimated her; she didn’t give up on a case and especially not when she was in the right.
“Yes, I do.”
“God’s dammit, Raydor.” With a growl he closed the minute distance, his mouth crashing into hers.
She was surprised, shocked, yet, she was not. Part of her had known they’d been toying with fire. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to her. You only needed two people, a basic attraction, emotions running high and… things might happen. Still, this was her superior, and she knew that she should do them both a favour and end this right here and now. Nothing could come from having a tryst with her boss, another thing she had learned in her past. But she wasn’t wise, never had been; she didn’t do what would be considered the smart thing.
Instead, her hands grabbed fistfuls of his jumper, returning his kiss with equal favour.
It wasn’t gentle, there was nothing refined about their kiss. It was primal, a kiss borne out of anger and need. His mouth opened, and when she reciprocated, opened up to him as well. His tongue didn’t waste time to claim the territory.
Despite the outward urgency of their kiss, their tongues didn’t battle each, didn’t fight for dominance, just stroked against each other, caressed each other. Wetness began to pool at the apex at her thighs, her body clearly ahead of her mind. Not that she was the only one affected. As close as they were she could hardly miss the evidence of his arousal pressing into her hip. Having to break the kiss in need for air, her mind cleared just a bit. When had she wound an arm around his neck? When had he buried a hand in her hair, surely mussing it?
Looking up at him, she found that some of the ice in his gaze had melted and was replaced by hunger, want, desire.
“We shouldn’t do it,” she told him belatedly, not believing for one moment they’d actually stop.
“Yeah, but we won’t.”
Spinning her around, he walked her to his desk, wasting no time in hoisting her up. His desk was tidy, quite in contrast to hers. At least nothing would end up stabbing her this way.
All thoughts were forgotten when his mouth found hers again, coaxing her to take from him just as he took from her. Breaking the kiss, moving on, he kissed along the column of her throat, and she voluntarily bared her throat to him, wanting more sensation, wanting all he could give her just right fucking now. Everything to forget her work, her stress, her anger, her emotions, herself, if only for a few minutes in time. He seemed to think, feel the same, and his hands reached for the hem of her skirt, lifting it. Assisting him as good as she could, her skirt was bunched around her waist soon, her legs closing around him, around his waist, pulling him nearer, reeling him in.
Kissing her once more, his teeth tugged at her bottom lip. It stung, although it wasn’t hard enough to draw any blood.
Good as this was, she wanted more, didn’t want to waste time. If he wanted to fuck her in his own office, he’d better do it quickly. She wasn’t his affair, wasn’t like Johnson. This was not about feelings, deeper feelings anyway. He was just the man to scratch her itch, the one available at the moment. It didn’t mean a thing, at least not to her. Was she lying to herself? Probably, but that would be a problem for later. For now, she refused to contemplate anything but the moment.
Reaching for his belt, she quickly opened it, freed him from the confinement of his trousers. He wasn’t idle either, pulled her blouse from the skirt, one hand skimming the expanse of her stomach, the other cupping one of her breasts through the fabric of her bra, tweaking a nipple roughly between his thumb and forefinger. A low moan escaped her, and she tugged at his pants even more insistently. Out of her position she could only shove them down to his thighs, and she broke their kiss, making sure she had his eyes.
“Drop them. Now.”
It was a command; there was no way to mistake this tone of voice but instead of a rebuke it earned her a sardonic smile, a sneer.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He shoved them, together with his boxers, all the way down, and she was treated to a first sight of his fully erect cock. It made her lick her lips, and she heard his breath hitch in response. Without further ado, she reached for her panties but he stopped her with one hand, shook his head. For a few seconds time seemed to stop while their gazes locked.
Fuck, if she wanted to, she could drown in his eyes. She began to wonder, couldn’t help herself, how his eyes would look if he harboured feelings of friendship, of love for someone? She doubted she’d ever find out.
Pulling her hand away, he simply shoved her panties to the side, held her gaze, while he positioned himself at her entrance with his free hand before he breeched her body with one long thrust.
She wanted to scream out her pleasure, her pain, but all she could allow herself was a low whimper. Her eyes fell shut while she focussed solely on the sensation. Once fully inside, he stopped, gave her the time to adjust. It was an act of control, of gentleness she hadn’t expected, didn’t want, and she squeezed his hard flesh inside of her, urging him on. He didn’t move as much as a muscle.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
Who did he think he was speaking in this tone with her? Opening her eyes, she found his, didn’t hold back, let him see her anger. It seemed to be what he had wanted from her, what he wanted, needed to see. Was knowing she was as angry as he his justification that this was just a casual fuck borne out of too many hard feelings? She knew it would be hers. Later.
Pulling nearly all the way out of her body, he pushed inside her wetness once more. Yes, oh fuck, yes. His thrusts were hard, unforgiving, hitting bottom nearly each time. All she could do was hold on, her position not allowing her much freedom of movement. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, and her hands had found what seemed to be permanent residence in his jumper, bunching the fabric in her tightly curled fists. It was uncomfortable as hell; it was perfect.
He didn’t kiss her again, instead his mouth, teeth, feasted on the soft skin of her throat. Damn the bastard for leaving his mark. Damn her for not stopping him, for not even wanting to stop him.
Their encounter was hard, fast, and a vortex of sensation nearly drowned her. The way he took her, fucked her without any remorse, nearly drove her out of her mind but it was that ‘nearly’ that made her want to cry out in frustration. She was hovering at the brink, her body thirsting for a release she knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t find this way. A frustrated moan escaped her mouth. Letting go of him with one hand, she eased her hand between their bodies, searching out the place she knew would make her spin out of control. Instantly, he swatted her hand away. She hissed; he snarled. Before she could give him a piece of her mind though, one of his own hands found its way to where hers had been a moment ago, circling the tiny, swollen nub begging for attention. Swallowing a cry, she arched into his touch, searching more contact, more friction. She didn’t know how and why, but he understood what she needed, and he began to rub her clit in a fast rhythm, matching the way he fucked her perfectly.
Her eyes closed, she could hear her blood soaring in her ears. Her last thought evaporated, and all that counted were the sensations having their way with her body. Soon, way too soon, she reached her peak, stumbling over the edge without any forewarning. This time, she couldn’t help the helpless, wanton groan that was ripped from her throat, and he quickly swallowed it with a kiss. Wave after wave of sensation made her tremble, and she clenched around his cock. Still he was fucking her, although there was nothing of a rhythm about it any longer. Almost spent herself, she squeezed him inside of her, and he came nearly at once, jerking against her, spilling into her.
For one long moment, they held onto each other, and she could feel his heart beat rapidly under her hands. She knew she wasn’t faring better. But every respite had to end, as did theirs. When he pulled out of her, she knew it was time to face reality once more. Now, it paid off that he had never bothered to remove her panties. Pulling them back into place, she hopped of his desk, puling down her skirt and ignoring the stickiness between her legs.
She could hear him rearranging his own clothes. Maybe she should face him, maybe they should talk but she didn’t feel like any of it. Taking a deep breath, her eyes closed.
Why did she felt like turning around now, seeking reassurances, sweet words that would ultimately mean nothing? This had only been a fuck, hadn’t it? She couldn’t make out more of this than it was.
“Captain…”
No, she didn’t want to talk. Turning her head every so slightly, she gave him the briefest of looks.
“I won’t let anyone ruin my case,” she said as if the last ten minutes hadn’t happened. That was it, there was nothing more to say. Without chancing another look, she let herself out. This had only been a fuck. It meant nothing. Why couldn’t she believe herself?
The End