(no subject)
“I fucking hate you,” she’d growled underneath her breath as her coffee eyes stared like a challenge into mine.
I’d glared at her, spitting an inferno from my own azure eyes and snarled back, “The feeling is definitely mutual.”
And it was. A month before, she’d slammed through the lab as if she’d owned everything: the position, the perks, Grissom… yeah. Call me bitter. As if I give a shit. As if I’d given a shit about her-all five feet, eleven inches of her-screwing with my sanity and taking over as Miss Alpha Female of the lab.
The bitch.
And yet, I’d never been able to help but notice how sexy that growl was. I’d often wondered what it would sound like muffled by my mattress, subdued by my fingers, or swallowed by my lips. I’d found ways of instigating it, just to be thrust into fantasy by its soft, throaty, threatening appeal. Nothing else-not even her occasional laughter-brought such thoughts to my mind. I’d cherished every time I’d been able to piss her off.
When she’d caught me smirking at her frustration earlier that day, she’d gone off into a tangent so fierce, I hadn’t known what to do-look sorry or take her in an odd moment of passion. I’d done neither, and instead simply returned her fire in a series of shouted insults. She’d stalked off a moment later, cursing loudly enough for me to hear.
So why had I gone up to her when I saw her glowering to herself in her office afterward?
I’d touched her shoulder in a gesture of… apology, I suppose, and she’d recoiled at the contact. “Sara…” without thinking, I’d begun to twist a lock of her hair around my index and middle fingers.
At that moment, she’d grabbed my wrist. Instinct told me to pull it away with the same force, and I almost had. “What the fuck?!” I’d cried.
She’d slammed me to the floor and had me pinned in an instant. “Sara, let me the fuck go!” I’d been struggling for half a minute now. “Sara, if you don’t get the fuck off me right now, I’ll fucking--,”
Sara cut my last words short with a kiss, full of hunger and pain and passion, forcefully driving me into a state of bliss, even as I’d fought to catch my breath. A moment later, she’d looked up at me, challenging me.
“I fucking hate you,” she’d growled.
I’d glared at her, spitting an inferno from my own azure eyes and snarled back, “The feeling is definitely mutual.”
And it was. A month before, she’d slammed through the lab as if she’d owned everything: the position, the perks, Grissom… yeah. Call me bitter. As if I give a shit. As if I’d given a shit about her-all five feet, eleven inches of her-screwing with my sanity and taking over as Miss Alpha Female of the lab.
The bitch.
And yet, I’d never been able to help but notice how sexy that growl was. I’d often wondered what it would sound like muffled by my mattress, subdued by my fingers, or swallowed by my lips. I’d found ways of instigating it, just to be thrust into fantasy by its soft, throaty, threatening appeal. Nothing else-not even her occasional laughter-brought such thoughts to my mind. I’d cherished every time I’d been able to piss her off.
When she’d caught me smirking at her frustration earlier that day, she’d gone off into a tangent so fierce, I hadn’t known what to do-look sorry or take her in an odd moment of passion. I’d done neither, and instead simply returned her fire in a series of shouted insults. She’d stalked off a moment later, cursing loudly enough for me to hear.
So why had I gone up to her when I saw her glowering to herself in her office afterward?
I’d touched her shoulder in a gesture of… apology, I suppose, and she’d recoiled at the contact. “Sara…” without thinking, I’d begun to twist a lock of her hair around my index and middle fingers.
At that moment, she’d grabbed my wrist. Instinct told me to pull it away with the same force, and I almost had. “What the fuck?!” I’d cried.
She’d slammed me to the floor and had me pinned in an instant. “Sara, let me the fuck go!” I’d been struggling for half a minute now. “Sara, if you don’t get the fuck off me right now, I’ll fucking--,”
Sara cut my last words short with a kiss, full of hunger and pain and passion, forcefully driving me into a state of bliss, even as I’d fought to catch my breath. A moment later, she’d looked up at me, challenging me.
“I fucking hate you,” she’d growled.