Chapter 1: Late Nights
“The world is a dangerous place to live; not
because of the people who are evil,
but because of the people who don’t do anything about it.”
It’s odd the way silence becomes its own sound. The steady hum of quiet filled up inside Hotchner’s skull, but did not push his conflicted thought out. It made his head hurt even more. That could have been the drink in his hand, of course, but no. That was meant to help. Not that it was doing much good anyway.
The sudden knock on his door made him jump back, his knee slamming the top of his desk.
“Fuck.” His breath hissed through his gritted teeth. He put the glass down and rubbed his knee. He stood up, a bit annoyed that he had not been alone after all. The sense of solitude had been strangely thrilling, but now he would have to explain to himself to whoever was knocking.”Yeah, coming.” He stood up and walked awkwardly to the door. His knee would definitely be bruised later.
Of course. He should have figured that it would be Prentiss on the other side of the door. She never left the office unless he came with her, or she had to pick Jack up.
“What is it, Prentiss?” Hotch asked. His tone was always serious, but there was something harsh in his voice that made Emily a little nervous. She of course didn’t show it, she never did.
“I was wondering what you where still doing here, Aaron. I saw your light on,” Prentiss said confidently with tense shoulders, waiting for him to open the damn door.
“Yeah, I decided to stay a little late. Get some work done.” Hotch said stonily. “What are you doing here?”
“I was doing the same,” Emily said, suddenly feeling very self confident, she slipped her hands in the pockets of her slacks. “Did you want to go to dinner.”
Hotch studied her. He loved Emily, she was his girlfriend, they lived together, she was also a wonderful mother to Jack, and she was a good agent, but there was something about her, right now, that was just driving him crazy. He knew what it felt like to want Emily, he practically walked around the office all day with a half hard on, but this was different. Prentiss was making him feel—what was it? He felt uncomfortable, but couldn’t figure out why. Suddenly more self-conscious, less himself. It was like he was wearing another person’s clothes, and they were to small for him.
“Sorry,” Emily said, keeping her chin held high. “I’ll just make dinner at home.”
She turned away, and Hotch couldn’t help but see her as a little girl who had just been slapped across the palm with a ruler. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, he could tell she was a little disappointed. That thought sent a warm rush through his body that settled where Hotch had not expected it to.
“Prentiss,” He found himself saying, “Get in here.” He turned and went back into his office, settling by his desk. He touched it gently, leaning a little. He felt light headed. Had he drunk that much? It didn’t seem like it.
He turned and saw Emily still lingering in the doorway. “Prentiss, get in here.” Same words, but more forceful. Hotch noticed Emily jumped a little, it was amazing to see the great Emily Prentiss jump. She finally came into the office, but kept her distance, she knew something wasn’t quite right.
“You could close the door,” Hotch said. He let out a contemptuous, breathy laugh.
Emily’s forehead wrinkled. She looked confused, and a little sad. The image of a hurt and helpless Agent Prentiss gave Hotchner chills.
Emily hesitated a minute, watching her boss carefully, before deciding to believe there was nothing to worry about, and shut the door.
She trusts me so much that it’s a bit pathetic, Hotch thought.
“Is everything okay?” Prentiss asked, quietly. Her arms were clasped in front of her, making her look more vulnerable than usual. Not that Prentiss ever looked vulnerable, no she wasn’t that girl… She was just kinda scared of her boyfriend at this point, not that she was gonna let anyone know that.
Hotch watched her for a few seconds. It delighted him a bit to see Prentiss shift uncomfortably, to see her eyes flicker to the window. Was she worried that the blinds were down? Hotch hoped so.
Emily seemed to grow self-conscious as Hotch’s dark eyes glared at her. Hotch was fine with that.
“Why did you come in here, Prentiss?” His voice was low and cold.
Emily’s eyebrows furrowed, “Sir?” The tone of his voice reminded her of his office voice, so she automatically called him, “sir”.
“You heard me, Prentiss, god dammit. Why did you come in here?”
“Sir, you just told me to-“
“No, why did you come knocking at the god damn door, Prentiss? What do you want?”
Was Emily’s heart beating faster now? Hotch strained to hear it. He made himself believe he could. Yes, it was beating much faster. And Prentiss’ skin was probably dampening with a cold sweat.
Prentiss’ mouth hung open slightly. She closed it, then opened again, but only a confused, “Sir?”, escaped her lips.
Hotch left his spot by the desk and walked, slowly, closer to where Emily stood. “Don’t you back away from me, Agent Prentiss,” He growled as the woman took a step back.
“Agent Prentiss? We’re not in the field, Hotch. Maybe I should just-“
“‘Just?’ Just what? Go?” He laughed, “Is that what you’d like to do?” Emily’s eyes were wide open, her body was pulled tight, tensed. And standing this close, Hotch could definitely hear her heart beating hard beneath her chest. “Don’t play games like that with me, Emily.”
“Games like, what? I don’t know what you’re-”
“Don’t play dumb, Emily. I’ve seen you. For weeks now, you’ve been making it more than obvious.”
Emily drew in a quick intake of breath. “Making what obvious?” Emily’s eyes darted to the door. “Hotch, please, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you.”
Hotch laughed. “Something to upset me?” He stopped, wiping the gathering sweat from his forehead. He hardly knew what he was saying, but suddenly he was furious. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you.” He lowered his voice and stepped closer, “Don’t think I haven’t seen you, watching me when I handcuff a suspect, or tackle an UnSub”
Emily went pale… Well paler then she already was. She stepped back, away from her boss. She stumbled a little, but hardly seemed to notice. “Hotch?” Her voice cracked, “Hotch, I don’t know what’s going on.” She looked at the desk, at the glass of whiskey. Alcohol… His father… Her… It clicked.
She wasn’t gonna be safe here. “Sir, if you want to be alone, it’s fine, I can leave.” She backed closer to the door, reaching out for the handle. Hotch moved briskly passed her, and put one hand on the doorknob. He locked it with the other. Just in case there was a janitor or somebody outside, couldn’t be to careful.
Hotch was growing harder. it was humiliating, the way the sight of a scared and trusting woman was affecting him. And Emily Prentiss did trust him, didn’t she? She trusted him with her life, every day. He knew that what he was doing would ruin their work together. It would destroy the team, wouldn’t it? It would probably ruin their relationship, but he couldn’t care less about that now. What was it he even wanted? It was as if his body had taken over; he was possessed and listening form somewhere else as a voice much like his father’s said to his wife and he said it out loud, “You’re not going anywhere right now.”
He reached out an snatched her hair, holding her head back. Prentiss yelped, holding her hand up by her face automatically. A strange, nervous smile formed on Emily’s face. It was unsettling the way she smiled, like she thought this was some kind of bizarre misunderstanding. It wasn’t.
“You think this is a joke, Prentiss?” He pulled her hair back more, shaking her, “Do you?”
“No, sir,” She spat, the smile slipping from her face, she somehow made ‘sir’ sound like a swear word. He pulled harder, making her hiss in pain. “Aaron, please, you’re hurting me.”
“Good.” He released her hair and shoved her, sending her against the wall. She hit it hard, knocking the wind out of her. She gasped for air, holding her hand to her chest. Before she could have the chance to move, Hotchner was against her, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of Emily’s head. “You think I haven’t seen the way you react when I’m rough in the interrogation room? You think I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of your? You think I’m stupid?”
Emily coughed and gasped, trying to get air back into her lungs. “Aaron,” She chocked out, “No, of course not…”
Hotchner slammed his hand against the wall, and shivered when he saw the way it made Emily jump. He smiled slyly. “You like to be handcuffed, Prentiss?”
Emily’s eyes widened. She made a pathetic gasping sound, like she was holding back tears. She probably was, Emily never let people see her cry, no matter the circumstances. “What?”
“You heard me, Prentiss…” He stared hard at Emily. She looked so afraid, Hotch almost felt sorry for her. But it was affecting him another way, too, one that was much stronger. He also got to see SSA Prentiss afraid… Who else had the pleasure to see that?
Prentiss steadied her gaze, and at last calmly said, “It is non of your business.”
Hotch’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is that so?” He laughed. “I knew it. Emily Prentiss is a kinky slut.”
Emily’s eyes hardened, she glared at her boss. “No, no I’m not.” She said, shaking her head.
“No? You’re telling me you like to be beat up, but your not kinky? I’ll beat you up then, I can beat up a slutty bitch. My bitch,” Emily flinched. That was never a sentence that she thought Hotch would utter, never. “Tell me, Emily, what do you want me to do?” Without waiting for an answer, he closed the gap between them. His lips pressed against Emily’s, hard. A muffled cry remained trapped in Emily’s mouth. It remained tightly closed against Hotch’s harsh kiss and his forward tongue. Hotch broke away from the kiss only long enough to say.
“Open your mouth, god damn you, open it.” A small tear rolled down Emily’s cheek as she complied. Her lips parted, only slightly, just enough encouragement for Hotch to attach his mouth again, feverishly sucking her lips and pushing his tongue through them. Emily’s lips were soft.
Her mouth was warm, like always.
Hotch’s dick had become painfully hard. He pressed his pleading erection against Prentiss’ stiff thigh, subtly grinding his hips.
He broke the kiss at last. His hands snaked up Prentiss’ shoulders and around her neck, massaging her, clawing at her, and he burring his face into Prentiss’ neck, kissing the soft pale skin and biting at it.
Prentiss was making incoherent sounds now, that sounded suspiciously like, ‘I can take it’, she was protesting and pushing against her boss, but it was weaker then she could have done. Hotch was thrilled when he realized that Prentiss was wet, that Prentiss’ heat was pressing against Hotch’s leg.
“What have we here, Prentiss?” Hotch mumbled into the woman’s throat, grinding his thigh against her covered pussy. His hands were tangled up in Emily’s hair, his lips against her jaw line, kissing and licking. “You want me to touch you, don’t you?”
“Hotch, please no,” Emily begged, she had dropped to last resorts when she realized that Hotch fully intended to rape her. Otherwise she would never, plead, ever. Her eyes were shut, trying to block the tears, but they were still managing to escape.
Hotchner’s hand slid down the younger woman’s body, rubbing her shoulder, her chest, clutching and pulling at her button up shirt as it traveled down. He hung onto Emily’s belt for a moment, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric there. It was warm. He wanted to feel her. But not yet, now he left his hand where it could be seen, and it snaked down Prentiss’ leg. He roughly massaged Emily’s thigh, wrinkling the gray slacks that he had watched Emily iron in the morning.
He slowly let his hand move up; teasingly slow, until he finally let it rest between Prentiss’ legs. Emily gasped. Prentiss’ knees buckled slightly, but Hotch had her gripped around the waist. He pressed against her, sighing into Emily’s neck and rubbing his hand on the damp slacks and the wet pussy underneath it.
“Wow, Prentiss,” Hotch sighed. “You really are a kinky bitch.”
Emily’s eyes were still tightly closed. Her face was clenched in an expression that turned Hotch on even more. It was an expression of fear, but mostly of shameful enjoyment.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Emily?” His lips brushed against Emily’s. He knew the younger woman was enjoying it, on some level. His cock was throbbing, growing even bigger, if that was possible.
“Hotch,” Prentiss managed to gasp, “Hotch, please.”
Hotch grinned wickedly and released Prentiss, earning a gasp from his subordinate’s lips.
“Nhh-” a strange moan came from Emily’s throat as her hips bucked forward. The loss of contact was jarring.
Prentiss tried again to move, to get out of Hotchner’s reach. She was weaker, now. Her legs felt wobbly and useless. Hotch easily took hold of her and pushed her back against the wall. He leaned in close, their cheeks touching. “You’re sick, you know that?” His tongue darted out and licked Emily’s ear. “I bet you like sucking you boss’ cock, don’t you?”
“Aaron,” Emily pleaded, “Hotch, please stop.”
“Sir. That is what you will call me, Prentiss.”
Emily shook her head, “No. Please, let me go. It’s fine, you won’t get in trouble, I won’t tell anybody else in the team. You’re drinking, it’s not your fault.”
“I’m what?” Hotchner’s eyes were dark and frightening, “What did you say to me? Did you dare say that to me, you little bitch?
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry.” Prentiss was shaking. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” She couldn’t believe she was this scared of the man before her, he was her boss for goodness sake. She wasn’t even crying, or even scared when she was with Cyrus, she was being beaten up and kicked, and she wasn’t scared. And then her boss slash boyfriend comes along and makes it obvious he’s going to rape her, and she’s freaking out. But, even with everything she taught herself… she couldn’t help but be scared.
“That’s right, you little slut. Now, let’s try this again. Do you want to suck my cock, Agent Prentiss?”
There was a weighted silence between them before Emily spit out a harsh and calm, “Yes.” She didn’t know how to manage, but she pulled herself together.
“Yes what?” Hotch hissed, slapping Emily. Her head whipped to the side. She hissed out in pain, barely managing a “Yes, sir.”
Hotch grinned. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you.” He stoked Emily’s hair softly before grabbing a fistful of the long raven hair. “Get over to the desk.”
“Sir, please,” Emily cried, “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please, you don’t have to do it.”
Hotch laughed coldly. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss, that is very informative. Now go to my desk, and bend over.”
A deliciously terrified look came over Emily’s face. Hotch couldn’t resist, he began to touch himself. This made Emily’s beautiful brown eyes widen even more, and her lip began to quiver, before she bit it. But slowly, she did what she was told. She made her way to the desk, hesitating. She looked back at Hotch with pleading eyes.
“Don’t just stand there, Prentiss, bend over.”
Prentiss practically sagged with defeat. Hotch grinned in satisfaction.
She let out a humiliated cry, but complied. She buried her face in her hands and waited for her boss to follow her. Hotch circled around to the other side of the desk and opened up one of the drawers. He pulled out his handcuffs, leaving the lube when he remembered how wet Emily was. He’d started bringing lube to the office when he realized how badly he needed to jack off at the end of the day. He knew it was perfectly normal, that it was a release and that with his stressful job, it was entirely understandable. But what he hated himself for was the thoughts about Emily that turned him on. That when he was around Prentiss, that was when his “problem” seemed to develop. That Emily crying and trying to break away from him while he rapped her was what he thought of when he came, and he hated himself for it. And now he had her, bent over his desk, crying and waiting for him. He undid his belt as he walked to Prentiss. The sound of his fly unzipping seemed incredibly loud in the silent room. The pants dropped to his ankles. He took his jacket off and threw it on his chair.
“Now yours, Emily.” His hand snaked around Emily’s hips, darting down to Emily’s still wet pussy, rubbing, to make sure Prentiss remembered this was Hotch’s. He could touch if he wanted, when he wanted.
Hotch never expected the jingle of a belt to be so erotic, but the sound of Emily’s as he unclasped it made him moan with anticipation. He unzipped her slacks and impatiently tore down Emily’s pants and thong. Prentiss made a low sobbing sound, “Aaron, please, I’m begging you don’t do this. Please, I don’t want this.”
“What, a little slut like you? I find that hard to believe.” He grabbed her wrists tightly, the force made Emily cry out in pain. He grabbed the handcuffs and fastened them around Emily’s wrists.
The quiet ‘click’ echoing through the room. His fingers stroked upwards between the cheeks of her ass, brushing against the wet strip he found there.
He smiled at her strangled gasp, as he delved two fingers into her folds; so deliciously hot and tight around his digits as he forced through the sinewy flesh and plundered further. She clenched in an effort of denying him, forcing her body to fight the intrusion, but even her body betrayed her as the wet heat guided his fingers deeper inside her. She mumbled “No,” and “Please”, but her resolve seemed to have disappeared.
He continued stroking her for a moment, alternating between thrusting and scissoring his fingers while his free hand found creative ways of manipulating the sensitive bud between her folds. His pressure was unrelenting until she gasped for breath, shaking; she was at the precipice and she hated it. It spurred him further when he curled his fingers upwards, stroking the grooves inside her and pressed against her clit until her thighs tensed and she let out a long shuddering moan.
The rush of fluid coated his fingers as he continued thrusting languidly, ignoring the pleading mewls and keens of the woman and persisting until she sucked in a few chocking breaths and twitched violently again.
The groan that came from Emily’s throat was both dismayed and relieved, and he allowed her only a brief moment of respite as he made her flip onto her back. Her hands were throbbing from putting her weight on them, from laying on them. He spread her legs as he aligned himself to her core. The wet brush of his cock against her hot heat elicited a sharp breath from the woman, but he moved no father. “I knew you were a slut, Agent Prentiss,” He uttered coldly.
With a harsh thrust, he surged forward.
Emily’s head dropped down, hitting the desk, a silent scream on her parted lips as her body tensed at the penetration—her arms stained in her bonds, muscles taunt as she arched her back and struggled to fight through the pain. Despite how wet he’d made her, she was still painfully tight, but the man was merciless as he thrusted forward and pulled out, repeating the process with even more force.
Then he stopped, “Do you know how good this feels…” He asked quietly, not really to Emily at all. He pulled back out, slowly. Emily cried, she was to sensitive for this.
“Please, sir, Aaron, please I’m begging you to stop.” She squirmed, but she could not escape. She was pinned between the desk, and between the man she had thought would never hurt her. The man that protected her and saved her, the man she thought would never hurt a single hair on her head. That man who was rapping her.
Aaron was moving in and out now, harshly, his fingers digging into Emily’s hips. He hoped they would leave marks. He wanted Emily to see those bruises and think of him. To make it so she could not forget tonight. She could try to compartmentalize and dissociate, if she wanted, but those marks would still be there. The male swell of pride that welled in his chest was almost overwhelming as he took in the marvelous view before him. No other man had done this to her; it was not the work of a crazed UnSub or a lousy ex-boyfriend.
They didn’t mark her—he did.
“You are mine, Agent Prentiss.” The possessive snarl left no room for argument—it is a statement; an empirical fact. “You are no one else’s. Every inch of you—every part of you is mine and mine alone, do you understand me? From the tip of your toes to the last strand of hair on your head, you are mine.”
Hotch smothered a groan in his throat as she flexed around him, staring down at her face in a heated gaze as he reached out to caress her slackened jaw. Her pale body was pulled tight from the handcuffs, her lithe body peppered in sweat and some tears on her chest and face.
He curled his hand in her hair; she arched in a desperate but silent scream. “I want to hear it, Emily! I want to heat you say it!” He growled, slapping her hard across the face.
She cried hard. “Yours! I’m yours, sir!”
The camel’s back met the straw as he gave one last, brutal thrust, and Emily trashed under his body screaming and crying out her release to the ceilings as she clamped down hard on his cock. His thrust ceased almost immediately as well, her grip was so merciless on him that she could feel each pulsating jet of cum that rushed from his body with the roar from his throat. His hips jerked reflexively as he emptied himself inside her, he shuddered so hard Emily thought he was about to seize. There was so much that dripped onto his wooden desk.
They’re both silent. Emily didn’t even know how it happened, but she loved him enough to not care, which was scary. Hotch was not feeling guilty, he wondered if this is what his father felt like after he beat his mother and his own son. It scared Hotch, the thought that he would turn into his father. No matter how much Hotch turned into his father, but he knew he could never hurt Jack. Hotch looked up at Emily and met her eyes, she seemed to understand the drastic change in him. And what scared her the most, is that if he were one of her other boyfriends she would have beat him up, maybe even arrested him. She knew she could have used force and made Hotch stop, she’d taken Derek in the gym at least a dozen times, Hotch would be easier. That’s what scared her, she could have physically stopped him, but she didn’t, and she knew he knew that.
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Same warning as last chapter, or just look a the tags. ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again
and expecting different results.”
3 Months Later
Heavier foundation, more concealer, turtle neck, long sleeves, she knew the routine all to well, she’d been through it before. She knew she was supposed to do something about it, but what was she supposed to do? Tell JJ, have her angry at Hotch for something that wasn’t that bad. He never punched her, it wasn’t abuse. It reminded her more of rough sex, but on a whole different level.
She could never blame him. She didn’t have to say anything either, because the guilt and self hatred in his eyes said it all. He was guilty and apologetic, he didn’t say he wouldn’t do it again, and that’s why she couldn’t be mad, he didn’t lie to her. No matter what happened, he never lied to her. That was all she wanted, all she ever wanted. If she had to deal with a little physical pain, then… what the hell? Why not? He was nice to her, never put her down. Just a little bit of pain and control, but she understood. She could take it, she was not weak. Emily Prentiss was never weak.
She was not emotional, she was a Prentiss. She never cried, well… most the time she didn’t cry. She was thrown into a mirror and kicked repeatedly and she didn’t cry. Even so, when Hotch had whipped her with a belt, that hurt more, so she cried.
She would never be able to complain to him. His childhood was hell, he was badly beaten about every day by his father. Compared to what he went through, well what he was dishing out was nothing. Even though she knew all this, she couldn’t help but feel horrible and worthless, helpless, every time it happened.
“The only source of knowledge is experience.”
She walked through the BAU doors with Hotch at her side. She hid the flinch that threatened to escape when Hotch squeezed her wrist in a silent “Goodbye” or “I’ll see you later.”
She continued the journey to her desk. When she sat down, she saw Morgan staring at her, profiling her. She could tell, the concentration face, that’s what she liked to call it. She knew no marks were showing, then he would be concerned not suspicious. It would be impossible to not show any of the signs of… pain. Because that’s what it is, uncomfortable pain, but nothing she can’t handle, it was never something she couldn’t handle. It wasn’t abuse, it was just an accident, a crack in the compartmentalizing. He had a very stressful rank in an already very stressful job. He’s never broke any bones, he never hit Haley, because Haley wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He never hit Jack, because Jack was innocent, he’s a child. He only targeted her, she was far from innocent, she was an adult, she could take it, she had to take it.
“Hey Princess,” Morgan greeted her from his desk.
When she and Reid were taken hostage, she could take the beating. The guilty look Reid gave her almost made her tell him she was used to it, almost. She didn’t because she knew how to handle guilt, she didn’t know how to handle pity. JJ and Garcia would give her pity for sure. She knew they would, she had seen them with victims before, the looks of pity, she couldn’t handle it. That was why she was the best with victims of abuse, they were woman. They didn’t want to be victims, they weren’t victims. She knows what they want, what they need. She did what she would want someone to do to her, if she were ever in that position. JJ probably put herself in their position too, but they were thoughts, assumptions, Emily had experience.
“Hey Morgan,” She replied, pasting on a fake smile. It was small enough not to raise suspicions, but big enough to look happy.
“Oooooh’ someone got lucky last night.” Morgan said in a sing song voice, giving her a shit-eating grin. He didn’t know how right he was.
“It was a mistake,” you said. But the cruel thing was,
it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.”
She had just stuck the key into the door, when it opened. She looked up to see an angry Hotch. She felt the fear enter her body, but tried not to show it. Her hand trembled slightly from were it froze in the air. She had to hold in the whimper of pain that wanted to escape when Hotch grabbed her arm tightly, to tightly.
“I don’t care what you do… but please tell me Jack’s not here.” She whispered quietly, looking down at the floor in the living room, where Hotch had lead her.
“You think I would let my son watch while you learned a damn lesson! He’s innocent, unlike you!” Hotch shouted, he grabbed a hand full of the long jet black hair and pulled her until she was a few feet in front of an armchair. He sat down and looked at her expectantly.
“On your knees,” He instructed her.
Emily’s brow creased; she took a step back suspiciously. “What?”
He rolled his neck and he gave her an annoyed scowl as he rose out of his seat and marched over to where she stood, grasping her arm firm enough to bruise and shoving her back to stand right in front of his seat. “Get on your knees in front of me. Now.”
The confidence and pride left her in a flurry, and Emily almost physically sagged as she began to beg the man for reconsideration. “Please, sir —.”
He slapped her across the face, brutally. It marked red immediately.
“Get. On. Your. Knees.”
Fearful, wide eyes terrified and unsure, she obeyed. He was seated imperiously in the chair, leaned back and relaxed, but the raw power was unmistakable. His slacks were unzipped, ominously parted, and he arched an eyebrow at her. He was already hard, she could see it, could tell, she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat.
She hesitated, the breath caught in her throat as she darts a glance from the prominent bulge between his legs to his face. Every part of her that she can feel told her not to, but if she didn’t….. well she could already feel the stinging on her ass and thighs. She couldn’t disobey him, it wasn’t in her best interest.
The defiance in her raged like a gathering storm and it roiled in indignation at having to crawl on her knees for this man…
…but she took a tentative ‘step’ forward.
He smirked, a cruelly disarming thing.
She couldn’t believe her luck when she heard the phone ring, even if the phone just stalled what was going to inevitably happen. He sighed in annoyance and got up from his seat, leaving her there kneeling in front of the arm chair.
When he walked back in the room, she had to hold in a sigh of relief. She could tell he was going to go back to the office. He had zipped his pants and put his tie back on for one. His facial expression was also a dead give away.
“We’ll continue this tomorrow, if we don’t have a case,” He informed her, the proceeded to tell her that he had a meeting at the office with Section Chief Erin Strauss.
No matter how much she hated Strauss, she could have hugged the woman at that moment. But she schooled her features, said her goodbyes and gave an empty apology and fake sympathy and said she understood how annoying Strauss was.
I'm so sorry, I think I'm a psychopath.... Please help me....
Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed