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Clark Anderson was a mean son of a bitch, but if he said jump, you better leap like your life depended on it. He wasn’t the sort of boss that you wanted to test the patience of, and to make matters worse, he was head of Sinyala Facility’s security department.
She was a new hire to the security team, and she had a lot to prove if she wanted to make it in the long run. Some days, she didn’t even know if she did want to make it in the long run. There must be better jobs out there. Nothing would happen to her if she upped and quit. No one was forcing her to stay here, not like Noakes. No one would even miss her. They’d just shrug their shoulders and say the pressure must have finally gotten to her. Women, right?
Just thinking about it made her feel sick. Her father had always said that she was stubborn as a mule. But she hated the way people looked at her. Like she was weak. Like she had no right to even breathe the same air as them, much less talk to them. Before she even said a single word, people deemed her incompetent just because of her sex.
She didn’t understand it. She had earned her place here just the same as every other security guard working here.
Clark Anderson was no different from the other men when it came to his expectations of her, which was close to expecting nothing at all. But to his credit, he never flirted with her or made any inappropriate comments, on top of the incredulous looks he was always shooting her direction. He was all business, no-nonsense. He was a lot harder on her than others, but part of her preferred that to some of the other treatment she’d gotten. He gave her shit, but he didn’t lie about it and present it to her as anything but.
She couldn’t stand men who played off their condescension as gentlemanly. The last guy who’d pushed her aside and said, “Why don’t you let me handle this, sweetheart?” almost got his head caved in, if she hadn’t reined in her temper.
No, she wasn’t going to quit. Her pride was on the line. She needed to prove them all wrong. She could handle all of this just fine. Whatever mess she got herself into, she could get herself out of just fine on her own.
The next task Anderson gave her sounded easy on paper, but in practice? She didn’t like it one bit.
Anderson stuffed the paper bag into her arms without so much as a glance in her direction. “Pass it through the gate by Sector B. Coyle should be making his rounds soon. Don’t let anyone see you.”
She recognized the bag. Treats and goodies for Coyle. It was hard to imagine someone as monstrous as one of the Prime Assets doing something as mundane as sitting down to have a meal, but it had to be done. Usually Tom or Daniel acted as Anderson’s delivery boys, but Tom was on vacation and Daniel had gotten into a workplace accident that nobody seemed keen on sharing the details of.
He was probably fucking dead. He wouldn’t be the first employee to go missing in recent times, brushed under the rug and quickly forgotten.
“You want me to go there alone?” she asked Anderson, her voice rising in pitch. She didn’t want to sound scared or incompetent. They already expected little of her due to her gender. But now it felt like he was throwing her to the wolves on purpose.
“You expect a fuckin’ crew of guards at your beck and call?” he snarked back. “Christ almighty, lady. Even the paper boys back home could handle this much.” He jabbed a finger over her shoulder. “Put on your big girl pants and move. We’re on a schedule.”
She shouldn’t have expected any other response from him. Yet it was disheartening all the same. With a sigh, she nodded and took off for the opposite end of the warehouse, where the Prime Assets and Ex-Pops were currently being housed within the makeshift police station. The upper walkways led down to spiraling staircases that reached all the way to the ground level. From beyond the gates and fences, she could make out anguished screams and groans, the occasional incoherent chatter in the distance. She tried to pay it no mind, assuming it was one of the Screamers or a Grunt. As much as they all unnerved her, she took comfort in the fact that she was protected behind the metal gates. None of them have had any success in escaping them thus far.
She followed the walkway as best as she could. She had never taken this passage before. Hell, she hadn’t ever even been this close to seeing the trial locations before. Not without someone accompanying her, at least. It wasn’t safe for a young lady to go wandering off on her own, or so they had told her. Seems Anderson hadn’t been up for playing the part of gentleman when he had pushed this task onto her. She silently cursed Tom’s name for forcing her into this mess. Hope you’re enjoying your vacation, you selfish prick.
It was stuffy wearing her mask, though she didn’t dare take it off for fear of being exposed to some unknown chemicals. Well, that was the official reason, what with the Pushers huffing on fumes throughout the trials. But there was also the added bonus of her face being concealed. She always wore a size up in uniform, not wanting the outfit to hug her curves and show off her feminine form. It was best to appear as androgynous as possible in this field, for her own safety.
But goddammit. She wished she could take off her mask and helmet just so she had an easier time of seeing where the hell she was supposed to go. She couldn’t see the gate that Anderson had been referring to. Had she missed it already? There weren’t any gaps or openings for her to go launching the bag out of desperation either. There must be some way inside.
She stopped at a metal gate, marking a deadend to her course. She didn’t see any labels describing the sector she was currently located in, but there was a panel installed in the wall at her right. She frowned slightly. This must be the gate Anderson was talking about. But the gate was completely sealed shut with not even a window to glance into in order to ensure the space behind it was clear of Ex-Pops. To get the lunch on the other side, she was going to have to open the gate up with a key and deliver it over personally. But wouldn’t that leave her completely vulnerable if someone were to catch her in the middle of lifting the gate up?
She hesitated before cursing under her breath as she thought of the time. She had already spent too long wandering around. Anderson was sure to be pissed if she took any longer. He didn’t have any sympathy for new hires and would report her incompetence to a higher up in a heartbeat. She didn’t come this far just to get fired over something so stupid.
She didn’t even need to go all the way inside. So long as she slid the bag under, everything would be fine.
No reason to freak out.
In and out. Close the gate again.
Simple as that.
Swiping out her master key, she inserted it into the lock and turned, the gate whirring to life with a metallic buzz. Setting the bag down on the floor beside her feet, she got into a squat and strained as she dug her fingers under the panel and pushed it upwards. The gate groaned in displeasure and she winced. Anyone within the vicinity would come sprinting over out of curiosity, looking for fresh meat. She just needed to be faster than them.
After pushing it up to its limit, the gate locked in place with a click. It was only halfway up and set on a timer that would force the gate back closed. It was her first time seeing it in action.
Wasting no time, she turned around to grab the lunch bag from the floor. Just as she did, something coiled around her ankle and pulled.
Her legs went flailing behind her, chest slamming to the floor as the bag crumpled in her hand. She clenched her teeth, struggling and failing to loosen the grip around her as she was dragged under the gate. She managed a kick into something solid, but the unseen force persisted.
Before her very eyes, she watched as the gate’s timer reached its end, and it came slamming down in front of her, locking her behind its shutters. She was barely able to recover from the grave sight when she heard an odd sound behind her, something between a snarl and a laugh.
She twisted her form around, readying herself to face her opponent head-on if she must. There was no way she was going to keep her back to them if she could help it.
She was ready for an Ex-Pop. She’d had her training. She could disarm most of the rudimentary and makeshift weapons some of them had crafted. She might not come out 100% unscathed, but if she could just buy herself some time—
Her eyes met her own reflection in the black lenses of a pair of sunglasses.
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
This couldn't be happening.
Leland Coyle’s lips were curled into a sneer, taking her in. Thank goodness she was still wearing her mask. That was the only thing that she could think at the time. Hiding her face would help give her an edge. Not a big one. But her chances were a hell of a lot better as a no-name security guard than a quivering female trapped in a lion’s den. She’d seen the sort of things Coyle’s done in his time here. No, it goes beyond that. She’s seen what the cop was capable of before he’d even been brought here and made into a Prime Asset. The guy was insane. His reports hinted at a history of corruption and mariticide, and those were the women that he had made vows to. To love and to cherish, til death do us part. Yeah, fucking right.
Just imagine how he’d treat a woman that was a complete stranger to him.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. If she did, he would identify her from the feminine tone alone, mask be damned.
In her panic, she briefly considered if even her breathing sounded too feminine. She was breathing so damned hard that it was hard to think.
But Coyle didn’t look at her like she was a woman. No, he was looking at her like a piece of shit he just found under his boot. “I was waitin’ for you,” he drawled impatiently, stroking his gloved hand up and down his stun baton. “Don’t you know I got better things to be doin’ than waitin’ on some rookie fuck-o struttin’ around with his dick in his hand?” He sank to a crouch beside her, cocking his head to the side. “You’ve got five seconds to gimme what I’m due, sweetness, ‘fore I make you scorch like a pig on a stick.”
She stared back blankly. Sweetness?
Coyle raised his stun baton and started to quickly count off, “One little commie, two little—”
Slapped back into action, she thrust the paper bag at him.
Coyle stopped.
For a moment, she was scared that there might have been a mistake. Anderson might have fucked her over. Or maybe he hadn’t anticipated something like this ever happening in the first place. He never prepared her for this, never gave any instructions on how to safely disengage and remove herself from such a predicament. The Prime Assets were unpredictable. She could only pray that whatever the hell was inside that bag would be enough to spare her the worst of his violence.
Tensing, she anticipated the jolt of electricity.
But Coyle simply set the stun baton in his lap and snatched up the paper bag with barely contained glee. “Well, I’ll be… Easterman wasn’t shittin’ me, after all.”
With a tight grin, Coyle snatched up the paper bag ripping into it eagerly as he sunk to a crouch beside her. He peeled out a pack of cigarettes, humming absentmindedly. “Been needin’ more of these. Don’t mind if I do.” Pocketting them, he dug into his treasure trove further.
There was a sandwich, a beer, and… Was that a pack of pistachios?
Coyle shook them, as if he were sizing them up. After a moment of weighing it in his hand, he barked, “And just what the fuck is this s’posed to be? What kinda half-assed dickery d’ya think you’re pullin’ on me here, slick?” He shook the bag again for emphasis, and she could hear the pistachios jumping around clear as day. “I ain’t ask for much in this backwoods shithole but one goddamn bag of pistachios, and you leave me on empty like I was just born this Tuesday! Y’hear this? Do you, you mendacious little shit?” Coyle’s ranting thundered to the point that she flinched at the sheer volume of it. He sounded like he was on the verge of reaching out to strangle her with his bare hands over this supposed injustice that she had absolutely no part in committing. “Does this sound like a motherfucking bag full of pistachios to you?”
She shrugged, raising her hands up reflexively to shield herself. That was all that she could do.
God, this was how she would die. She was going to be killed over pistachios of all things. What had she done in this life to deserve that?
The longest of pauses passed them by. His hold on the bag tightened, the plastic crackling between his clenched fist.
Coyle expelled a breath.
Then one more.
And finally she was able to do the same.
Coyle’s hunger must have outweighed his desire for bloodshed. After all that running around he does all day, chasing after the reagents must exhaust him. Even he must need a break sometimes, right?
Coyle clicked his tongue and hissed something under his teeth before he tore open the stupid bag and popped one of the nuts into his mouth and sucked on the salty outer shell. After cracking it open with his teeth, he chewed and swallowed the nut inside before spitting out the shell to the ground without a second thought. He didn’t give the act much thought before he was already popping in another.
Screw the sandwich, I guess, she thought wryly. All the fucker wanted was his pistachios.
She couldn’t be entirely bitter. It was better than him taking an interest in her, at least. But how long would that last for?
She could try again for the gate. But with him right beside her, she’d never make any progress on opening it. Coyle wasn’t going to let her get away. She wouldn’t take two steps without him bleeding her out. And on the off chance he somehow didn’t murder her, Coyle enjoyed having his prisoners for company, and she’d no doubt make a fine addition to his collection.
What else did that leave her with?
She could try to run. He was busy eating. Maybe he’d smoke a cigarette or two and leave her alone for just long enough that she could make a break for the door at the end of the room. She could lure him somewhere else in the facility and try to circle back around to the gate. But who was to say she wouldn’t run into anyone else out there? The thought of straying further from her one exit made her sick to her stomach. No, that wasn’t happening. She refused.
And god, it wasn’t like she could beg or persuade him into letting her go. She was a security guard, and maybe he could tolerate someone in that position, but the moment she opened her mouth, he would spit on her name and punish her for stepping out of a woman’s place or whatever bullshit men like him so often spouted.
So what the fuck could she do?
At least one thing was clear to her now. She needed to get a better read of things.
She tried to slowly scoot herself back. Maybe if she could just place even a little bit of distance, she might be able to get a better idea of her options.
The moment she budged an inch, he snapped his attention right back at her, freezing her in place under his stare. “Ain’t nobody ever come down here but those pink fuck-o’s they keep sendin’ my way,” he said. The reagents. “So can you explain to me why in the hell they’re sendin’ me shitbirds like you in my playpen? Heh. Didja fall on the wrong side of the thin blue line?” The gears in Coyle’s brain were spinning, and whatever ideas he was starting to formulate were going to spell out nothing but disaster for her. A low, dangerous chuckle left his lips as he looked her up and down. “Get you under my boot, that’ll show a sonuvabitch…”
Against her better judgment, she made a swipe for his stun baton, and Coyle latched his hand over her wrist like a manacle. He squeezed so tightly that it would bruise. For a moment that almost puzzled him, how small her wrist was inside his hand. But she didn’t give him time to ponder on it too deeply as she made another swipe with her free arm.
Coyle grunted, shoving her back hard until she slammed back into the shutters of the gate. He was looming over her, sucking on another shell before spitting it at her feet. “That’s fine, you don’t gotta say a word. I know your kind. You’re as rotten as they come, and the law’s gotta way of fuckin’ up an ass that don’t stay in line.”
She knew it was futile, but she started tugging at the end of the gate.
Above the rattles, Coyle’s voice boomed. “They say silence is gold, but you can’t afford it, honey. Not now, not ever.” Just before he dug the prod of his baton into her spine, he hissed, “Confess.”
There was nothing that could have prepared her for the level of pain that she felt. A horrible shriek left her as she sprung away from the impact, the gate falling back down to the ground with a deafening thud as it just barely missed crushing her fingertips.
Even after he pulled his arm back, her body twitched and burned from the shock. She gritted her teeth and forced herself back to her feet, twisting around to lock eyes with him. But when she did, there was something in his expression that threw her off. He wasn’t moving. No, the only thing that did move was the twitch in the corner of his upturned lips as he smirked at her.
What did that mean?
It frightened her more than his ire. She didn’t like this. She didn’t—
Then it hit her.
Her scream.
He had heard her scream.
She slowly backed away, shaking her head. She didn’t say anything in the desperate hope that maybe she was mistaken. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, after all. Maybe…
Coyle stormed towards her in one easy stride, his face split into an eerie smile. With one hard smack, the force sent her helmet flying off her head. Her hair came spilling down the sides of her masked face. She may as well have not even been wearing a mask at all with the way that he was staring at her. He could see right through her.
“Wait-” she tried to protest.
One hand gripped her throat as the other roughly pulled off her mask, ripping out strands of hair with it. He was no more than a few inches away from her face, his hot breath pungent against her cheeks as he growled, “Well, well, what do we got here? I expected another delivery boy, and they gave me a whore.”
“Let go of me,” she said tightly.
He ignored her, sneering, “This world’s goin’ to hell in a hand basket, lettin’ a woman parade herself around like she’s the boss of me.” He moved his hand to the base of her skull, pulling at the roots of her hair. “You’re a deeply hysterical woman in need of a firm hand. And I’m more than happy to oblige.”
“Leland Coyle,” she said as sternly as she could manage, her voice betraying her. “You are not permitted to put your hands on me. You don’t want to know the repercussions—”
“I’m the one makin’ and enforcin’ the rules around here,” Coyle spoke over her, pulling her hair even harder. “I ain’t gonna take that kinda behavior from a walking cunt. The law is my domain! You tryna fuck with me, I can fuck you right back, honey.” His lips pressed close to her ear in a rasp, “I ain’t above a little temptation.”
“Coyle, I’m warning you!” she shouted.
Coyle dragged her by her hair, throwing her to the floor as if she were made of nothing. If the difference in their strength hadn’t been apparent before, even a blind man could see it now. “On your knees, sweetness. Spread ‘em.”
She started to crawl away when he came up to her from behind, striking her across the ass with his stun baton. She yelped, sprawling to the floor.
“Hands and knees!” Coyle barked. “This the way it’s gonna go. You keep resistin’, it’s only gonna get that much worse for ya. Heh, but you lean down and kiss the ground, maybe I let you off with a warning.” He drew out the word so slow that it couldn’t have been anything but a mockery of her earlier protest, futile as it was. “Go on and beg. Make it real pretty for me. Couple tears might get me goin’.”
She wasn’t going to cry, even if she had to chew through her lip to force the tears back inside. “Please let me go,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to push herself back up.
“Oh, you’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?” Coyle said with a lopsided smirk. He brought the heel of his boot down on her head, forcing her face against the ground as her ass hung up in the air.
She balled her hands into fists, her face reddening with rage. She couldn’t turn around to look at him, but the moment she heard him adjusting his belt, she was sure that she didn’t want to. Paralyzed, her ears latched onto the sound of the leather straps being released from the buckle.
She was no stranger to the lecherous looks of men, but this was something else entirely.
He was going to rape her.
And there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it.
The moment he lifted his boot from her head, he was already sneering down at her, “Ain’t no reason to make this anymore difficult. This is just the way it’s gotta be, honey.”
“Why?” she choked out.
She could hear the grin in his voice. “If I don’t make an example outta you, I’ll even have jaywalkin’ shitbirds steppin’ all over me. We gotta have order here. Respect for the law.” He lowered himself to his knees, gripping her hips as he yanked her against his crotch. He groaned, rubbing his erection like he was trying to scratch an itch. His nails were just as desperate as they bit into her waist. “I wanna hear it from those pretty little lips of yours. You gonna submit to me, or do I gotta break you first?”
Her vision was blurry, but she was too stubborn to let any of her tears fall. The stench of leather, burning flesh, and blood stung at her eyes and nostrils. It didn’t make it any easier for her to keep up her composure.
Her job was supposed to be simple. If she couldn’t prove to Anderson that she was even capable of handling such a simple job as delivering lunch to someone, she’d become the laughing stock of the entire facility.
Swallowing down her pride, she silently nodded. There was nothing in her thoughts to comfort or reassure her of this decision other than the unspoken prayer that he might at least be quick about this.
A firm hand to her rear sent her yelping as the warmth of his body hovered over her back, surrounding her on all sides like a wild animal mounting its mate. “Just ‘cuz you got the right to remain silent don’t mean that’s how I want you. Tell me how much you want this. Beg for it.”
“Just get it over with already,” she snapped.
He dug his hand into her scalp, jerking her head up by the roots as he smacked her ass even harder. He wasn’t going to let her snarky attitude slide. “Beg,” he snarled. “And maybe I’ll play nice and let you off the hook… just this once.”
She would rather bite through her tongue and choke on the blood.
But that wasn’t really true, was it? The truth was that she really didn’t want to die or be stuck here with Coyle any longer. And she was willing to debase herself if it meant avoiding such a fate.
She could put up with a few minutes of hell. It was an easy price to pay if it secured her freedom and guaranteed her another few sweet, sweet decades of life. She was in no hurry to die now, being so young and ripe with potential. She especially didn’t want to die at the hands of this monster. She’d seen some of what the reagents had gone through, and she would really much rather not get a firsthand experience, if she could help it.
In a sick way, she had been fortunate so far. Quite frankly, this encounter was downright pleasant compared to what some had gone through under Coyle’s thumb, fucked to death by his stun baton and left to sit out and rot. She was damned lucky he hadn’t broken her legs or scorched her flesh.
So for her own sake, she tried. She really did. The words tasted like bile and she spit them out with nothing but disgust written on her face, but she tried her hardest to kiss Coyle’s ass and give him what he wanted. “Please, Coyle. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be good, I promise.” The worst part was, she wasn’t even lying.
She thanked whatever gods above that Coyle didn’t notice the repulsion that had crept into her tone, apparently too entranced with the view of her rear end. His chuckle was menacing as his fingers roamed her ass, squeezing the exact place that he had struck her previously. She winced, flinching from his touch. But just as quickly, he was able to pull her body back against his aching groin for some much needed stimulation.
With much too experienced hands, those cruel fingers of his crooked beneath her pants and underwear, pulling them down her thighs in one go. She whimpered from the sensation of the cool air along her back end. Shame colored her face red when she found warmth in Coyle’s erection prodding at her from behind.
She didn’t have to look to see that he was freeing himself from his trousers. She recognized the hiss between his teeth as a sign of relief right before he nudged his erection between the crevice of her ass, rubbing between her cheeks.
The walls of her pussy clenched at the sensation, a shudder rolling through her spine. She hadn’t laid with a man in so long, and the close proximity was driving her crazy. He felt so damned warm, and she was close enough to smell sweat and engine oil clinging to his body like a blanket.
Stripping herself of the last bits of her pride, she leaned back against him, gasping as his length pressed into her folds. Coyle did most of the work, grunting into her neck as he embraced her small figure tightly to him. When grinding was no longer enough for him, he snarled, “Honey, I’m gonna mess you up so bad you ain’t even gonna remember what your cunt looked like before this day.”
Fuck, that shouldn’t have made her nearly as wet as it did.
But whatever protests her mind may have had, her body did not share those reservations. She was hot with need, pulsing against his throbbing erection. He pushed into her easily, using her as his sheathe. Slick as she was, it only made it all the easier for him to pull out and thrust back inside of her, the sound of skin meeting flesh stark in their solitude.
“God,” she gasped.
“Mm, you like that?” Coyle said breathlessly. He chuckled, the rumble of his laughter making her quiver. “I knew you were a goddamned whore.”
“I’m not,” she shot back with a glare.
Coyle struck her ass with his gloved hand, and she bit back a curse. “Not just a whore, but a mendacious little shit on top of it. Don’t you know perjury’s a sin?”
He grabbed her like he was afraid she was going to slip out from under him. He had transformed into a complete animal, growling and scratching at her as if staking his claim onto her wrecked body. Nails raked down her thighs, pinching with such possessiveness that the flesh would ultimately be showered in bruises later. She was scared he would break through the skin and leave her bleeding, but he was too far gone in the depths of his pleasure to inflict any severe damage to her person. Maybe if he had, she would be able to remind herself why it was wrong for her to be so turned on right now.
She bit down into the back of her arm, muffling her moans as he rammed into her mercilessly. She couldn’t control her reactions, but she could at least do this much. She didn’t want Coyle to hear her pitiful whimpers. It was already bad enough that she was squeezing around him so tight. It was pathetic. She was supposed to be stronger than this. So why the hell was her willpower crumpling so easily?
Pleasure gripped her like a vice. Like the dirty sinner she was, she fought to control the heat pouring through her. She gnawed the fatty part of her arm between her teeth as tears pricked at the corners of her vision. But there was no fighting it any longer as he continued impaling her mercilessly.
With another deep plunge into her sex, she screamed into her arm. Her climax tore through her with a searing heat, crashing against her body as her eyes rolled back on their own. She clenched around his shaft, her walls pulsating around him from the force of her orgasm as Coyle continued slamming into her through the ordeal until he could no longer take it anymore.
Coyle swore under his breath as she milked him of his white nectar until there was nothing more of him to give. Panting, he fell against her back, going still as he simply held her. When he finally did release her, she struggled not to collapse onto the floor. His cum rolled thick from her pussy, mixing with the sweat and wetness that had built up. She moved her mouth away from her arm, surprised to find teeth marks in the skin from how hard she had been biting down to keep quiet. It had all been futile in the end. Her cries of ecstasy were the least of her worries now.
Damn it. Damn it. Dammit.
He had just come inside of her. If she ended up pregnant and forced to carry this bastard’s child to term, she just might have to kill him. It was the closest to redemption that he would ever get, and she wouldn’t care what Easterman or Anderson would have to say about it.
She sat up with clenched teeth, humiliation tensing her shoulders as she pulled her panties and work pants back up around her waist. But Coyle wasn’t sneering down at her any longer. He had already gotten everything he could have wanted from her today. Pistachios, cigarettes, and a whole lot more.
Before he changed his mind and thought better of it, she snatched up her mask and helmet from the floor, pulled up the garage door, and made her quick escape.
Thankfully, Coyle didn’t follow.
Anderson was still waiting in his office, looking less than pleased with her by the time she returned. He tapped his watch impatiently. “You sure took your sweet time.”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I got lost along the way.”
“There weren't any other problems? Everything with the delivery went well?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Easterman’s made it very clear that he wants Coyle happy and active. Even a single missed delivery could come back to bite us in the ass.”
She pushed out a sigh of relief when she realized Anderson was content with her performance this time around. She really wasn't in the mood to be lectured after today's events.
But just when she thought Anderson had finished saying his piece, he jabbed a finger towards the calendar hanging lopsided on his wall. A red circle marking next Thursday captured her attention, and she froze not wanting to believe the words written beside it. Leave it to Anderson to shatter her dreams: “I expect you to be quicker tomorrow. Tom isn’t coming back from his vacation until next week, so you’ll be handling all of Coyle's lunch deliveries until then.”
She stared at him, slack-jawed, unable to process or accept the reality of what she just heard. An incredulous smile crept across her face as a nervous laugh bubbled up out of her. “Wh-what?”
Anderson met her gaze with a stern look that shut her up. “That won’t be a problem, will it?” he said in a tone that left no room for rebuttals.
She almost wanted to cry. “No, sir.”
This was fine.
This was completely fine.
She had already survived one day of this. What was one week more?
Convincing herself that she could no longer feel Coyle's cum leaking out of her, she left the room with her head held high and her mind still in tatters as she desperately tried to scrub the memories of the day out of her before reliving it all anew tomorrow.