Β«Subordination, Dr. PolanskiΒ»
Pairing: Albert Wesker (RE4) x ΠΠ‘ Darline Polanski
Tags/warnings: Smut, Colleagues with Benefits, Boss/Employee, Dominant Albert Wesker, Power Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Brat taming, Workplace Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Possessive Albert Wesker, God Complex, Mutual Manipulation, No Strings Attached, Sexual Tension
Summary: Darline Polanski doesn't know how to love. Neither does Albert Wesker, for that matter.
Together they complete each other perfectly: a cold genius and a ruthless scientist who couldn't care less about morals. To everyone else - a strict boss and his brilliant subordinate.
But between them there's sharp sarcasm, greedy, animalistic passion, and a power that gives you goosebumps. No flowers, no confessions, no tenderness.
Just desire, control, and a dangerous game where every move is calculated, and the loser⦠enjoys it. How far can a 'colleagues with benefits' game go when both players are sociopaths with a god complex?
Notes: a little sketch of my fave duo, just to clear my head before i upload this to ao3. Just wanna mention that english isn't my first language, but i really do try to write and adapt my fics to it. Don't be too harsh! ^^ Enjoy!
βI don't even like you, you know?β Di blew a couple of lazy smoke rings up toward the ceiling, finishing off her third cigarette in the last hour.
She was sprawled out on Weskerβs ridiculously uncomfortable two-seater leather couch like she owned the damn place. Total chill mode: arms stretched along the backrest, one leg tucked under her, the other bare foot dangling off the edge, barely brushing the rug.Β
Her burgundy silk shirt was hanging wide open, showing off a thin black bralette and a whole map of fresh red and purplish hickeys and bite marks scattered across her collarbones, chest, and neck. She couldnβt care less.
When he didnβt answer, Darline tilted her head, holding out her glass of whiskey. There was barely any left, just that golden swirl catching the sunset light pouring through the stained-glass windows.
βExactly like his eyes,β she thought, but kept that shit to herself. For now.
βMore likeβ¦ I donβt like you, Wesker. There. That sounds better.β
βIβm deeply wounded, Dr. Polanski,β Albert replied dryly, still standing with his back to her at his desk, not even bothering to turn around. βCut that shit out. How many times do I have to say it?β
Di sighed and stubbed out her cigarette.
For the past ten minutes heβd been staring at his tablet like she wasnβt half-naked on his couch in his office. She smirked and shook her head. Same old.
In the two months sheβd been working under him on βProject Asclepiusβ, sheβd gotten used to hisβ¦ βweirdness.β Or at least what everyone else called weird. To her it just made sense: once you understood how the βUmbrellaβ viruses rewired the brain, nervous system, and personality.
She got it. They were the same. Cold, detached, done with all that messy human emotion crap. Genetic engineering, creating the perfect genome, the superior race, a Godβ¦ that kind of work didnβt leave room for morality or empathy.
Just science. Goals. Results.
People were tools. And right now, she was his tool and he was hers. Their little symbiosis was working perfectly.
She closed her eyes for a second and let out a quiet breath.
Two months ago, when they got locked in that tiny supply closet by pure stupid luck, sheβd watched the whole thing like she was outside her own body. Later, in the shower of her temp room, washing off the marks of his fingers, teeth, mouth, and cockβ¦ sheβd only felt satisfaction. Her plan had worked. The sex wasnβt even part of the original plan, but hey-minor detail.
Any other woman wouldβve been messed up by that. But Di? Sheβd never really gotten emotions the way normal people did. Sheβd learned to fake them, predict them, calculate them. Empathy was something she studied like a subject. Sheβd worn the mask for years. With him, she didnβt need it anymore.
They needed each other. Here. Now. Whether it was βTRICELLβ or not - didnβt matter. She wasnβt doing this for the company. She was part of Weskerβs research team, and that was all she needed to push her own theories forward.
And the fact that they kept ending up like this - blowing off steam, clearing their heads, giving in to hormones and basic needs? Honestly, it was a bonus. Primitive, sure, but it fit. She actually liked how their thing had shaped up.
The first few weeks were messy. Wesker acted like nothing had happened in that closet and their relationship was strictly professional. Di didnβt give a fuck. She wasnβt waiting for an apology, flowers, or someβ¦ cringy confession. His cold shoulder actually worked for her - no need to overthink whatever this was.
He got her transferred to his unit, put her on a two-week probation, and she crushed it. Not only did she improve the PG67A/W stabilizer serum, she also dropped her own project on his desk: a "genetic damper", a mechanism that slows down aggressive virus expression. This is supposed to let viral proteins seamlessly integrate into the host's metabolism and neural network, unlocking access to the hidden evolutionary potential of DNA without the risk of immediate system collapse or turning tissues into necrotic mass.Β
By the end of the first month theyβd pitched βProject Asclepiusβ to the higher-ups. This morning the sponsors approved extra funding. Everything was running smooth as hell.
Di knocked back the last sip of whiskey, set the glass down, and reached for her heels that were kicked under the couch. Todayβs round had been rough and spontaneous - heβd dragged her in right after the meeting, already pulling her lab coat off in the hallway. She was pretty sure their βpersonal activitiesβ werenβt exactly a secret anymore. She kept catching those curious and sometimes judgy looks from the staff. Whatever. Her career goals were way bigger than their opinions.
After finally buckling the annoying strap on her ankle, she stood up and immediately wobbled. Her body was still buzzing from how hard and intense Wesker had been. She was seriously considering switching to some basic flats or something. These skyscraper heels were starting to feel like a bad idea.
She sighed at the fact that heβd ripped half the buttons off her favorite shirt and decided not to hunt for them on the floor right now. Fixing her skirt on the way, she walked up behind him.
βSomething new come in?β she asked, stepping close and pressing her chest against his back. She slid her hands around his waist, hugging him from behind like she owned him. The height difference was almost canceled out by her heels (another reason to keep wearing them). She rose up on her toes, nuzzled behind his ear, kissed his neck, and tried to peek at the tablet over his shoulder. βAny protocol updates?β
βReport from Beta-3 ops team,β he said after a couple seconds; his body tensing for a moment before he forced himself to relax in her hold. He frowned but didnβt push her off. βThey ran into someβ¦ issues.β
βShocker,β Di snorted, pleased he was letting her cling like this. A month ago he wouldβve dodged her hands immediately. Training her own monster was a whole project, but she was doing pretty good.
She had the advantage: she literally couldnβt fall in love with him. She didnβt know how. That feeling was justβ¦ foreign. If she could, this whole thing probably wouldβve blown up in her face. Instead, their relationship ran on sarcasm, constant boundary-pushing, and mutual respect for each otherβs science.
βColleagues with benefits.β The label worked for both of them. Still, she knew the closer she got, the deeper she burrowed under his skin, the harder it would be for him to make decisions that could screw her over. So step by step, she was making sure he felt like sheβd always been there. Like βProject Asclepiusβ literally couldnβt move forward without her. Which, honestly, was true. And so far her strategy was working.
βYou sending an evac team orβ¦?β she started.
βNo,β he cut her off. She already knew the answer. Wesker wasnβt exactly known for wasting military resources on failed teams. Way easier to just βreset protocolβ and send the next squad. βWeβll send Gamma-7 to the south side of the island. Learn from the mistakes.β
Di hummed and rested her forehead against his shoulder, eyes closed. He made decisions about who lived and who was expendable like it was nothing. She tried not to think about the day he might decide the same about her with one tap on that tablet.
Nah. Fuck that. She wasnβt one of those idiots who just rolled over. She knew exactly how valuable her work was, and she already had backup plans in motion.
βFalling asleep?β Weskerβs voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and a smirk tugged at her lips.
βHow could I sleep next to a guy like you?β She rose up on her toes again, gently biting his earlobe while her fingers bunched up the front of his turtleneck.
Wesker let out a low chuckle and finally turned his head, setting the tablet aside.
βPlease, Polanski. That kind of cheesy shit doesnβt suit you,β he said, still not pulling out of her arms as he turned around and leaned back against the edge of the desk.
He wasnβt wearing his usual dark sunglasses. In the dim office light his predatory golden eyes watched her with calm interest, face mostly blank as always.
After a beat, he reached up and cupped her cheek, fingers sliding into her loose hair, gently tugging her closer.
βSorry, boss. Got carried away,β Di smirked, stepping between his legs and pressing her chest against his, close enough to feel his breath.
βGood girl,β he murmured, tightening his grip in her hair just enough to tilt her head back, exposing her neck. βWhatβs on the schedule today?β
βConference call with the African branch at nine Eastern. Director Gionne wanted you toβ¦β
His lips brushed her neck on an exhale, hot breath making her skin burn. Di bit her lip hard to keep from moaning.
βPerfect. Weβve got almost three hours,β he said, the smug smirk on his face showing exactly how much he loved the way she reacted. Damn, in just a few weeks heβd learned her body like the back of his hand. And she still got surprised every time.
βFuck, Albertβ¦β She licked her suddenly dry lips, tried to steady herself, and leaned in for a kiss. He smoothly dodged it, not letting her take control.
βSubordination, Dr. Polanski,β he reminded her, even though the words sounded ridiculous in this situation.
Di let out a loud sigh and gave up. Fighting him for dominance in bed wasnβt the same as arguing science. It just killed the vibe. So she handed over the reins he loved holding so much. It was easier this way.
His other hand settled on her waist, and she swayed on her heels, instinctively leaning harder into his chest. His fingers slowly played with the hair at the nape of her neck.
Once he had the upper hand, he took his sweet time. There was something hypnotic about it: knowing this superhuman who could move faster than the eye could track was deliberately slowing down, savoring every reaction, just to make her shake and whine and beg. Just to remind her who was in charge.
She exhaled shakily, surrendering, and weirdlyβ¦ it didnβt humiliate her anymore. It actually unlocked something inside her. Like letting go of control felt good.
She stopped trying to kiss his mouth and let his hand guide her. Her eyelids fluttered shut when his breath ghosted over her neck again.
βThatβs better,β he whispered against her skin, finally pressing his lips right where her pulse was racing.
He kissed her slowly, dragging it out, tongue tracing her carotid artery until her fingers twisted tight in his shirt. His hands moved over her body with the same careful precision he used when studying experiment results: methodical, focused, finding every sensitive spot and enjoying the way she reacted.
βYouβve been extra impatient today,β he noted, pulling back to look at her. Those golden eyes glowed with possessive hunger in the low light. βTeasing me all day in the lab. And during the presentation you were staring like you wanted to cut my chest open and use me for your little genetic experiments right there on the conference table.β He chuckled darkly, returning to her neck, nose brushing along her jaw. βItβsβ¦ arousing.β
βMaybe I did,β she breathed, her fingers already working on his belt buckle. He instantly caught her wrist, squeezing just tight enough.
βOh, sorry, bossβ¦ Subordination?β she teased, voice husky and dripping with sarcasm - the tone that only came out with him.
Instead of answering, he released her wrist and brought his hand to her face, tracing her jaw, then her neck, sliding down to brush over the dark marks heβd left between her breasts. A satisfied little smirk tugged at his lips: he clearly liked what he saw, and the way she reacted to his βinspectionβ turned him on even more.
He hooked a finger in the collar of her open shirt and tugged it down her shoulder.
βAnd youβre still my employee. My subordinate,β he emphasized the word, voice low and velvet-rough with that dangerous edge that promised total surrender. He leaned in and kissed her shoulder almost gently. βWeβre not going to revisit that attitude and insolence of yours, are we, Dr. Polanski?β
The silk shirt slid off her arms and pooled on the floor. She stood there in her black bra, high-waisted skirt, and those stupid heels she was starting to hate. The sheer pantyhose heβd torn earlier were long gone, so her pale, slightly trembling legs were completely bare.
His hands settled on her shoulders, sliding down to her waist and pulling her closer. Di let out a soft breath as heat rushed through her. She knew he could feel everything: her racing pulse, shaky breathing, the little tremors she couldnβt hide. And he loved it.
βYouβre impossible,β she whispered. There was no real anger in it anymore, just surrendered pride.
Wesker tilted his head, that superior little smile playing on his lips. He caught her wrist again, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the inside where her pulse hammered.
βAnd yet here you are. By your own choice, I might add,β he murmured, lips brushing her skin. Her knees actually went weak. βYouβre always here, Darline. I donβt have to call you or remind you of yourβ¦ duties. I appreciate that. Even when you break the rules and barge into my office with a report you couldβve just emailed. Like this morning.β
His fingers tightened on her wrist: not painful, but firm and guided her hand down to his belt.
Di swallowed, fingers brushing the cold metal buckle. She looked up at him. Those golden slit-pupil eyes stared down at her, completely inhuman now, filled with raw possession and satisfaction.
βMaybe I justβ¦ missed you?β she said softly, smirking as she started working the buckle open, a little clumsy with it. βMaybe I got tired of waiting all day for you to remember I exist?β
βMissed me,β he repeated with clear disdain, but his voice had that low, rumbling huskiness sheβd learned was the first crack in his icy control. βDonβt ruin the moment with that pathetic clichΓ©, please.β He leaned in so close their lips almost touched. βI have a much higher opinion of you than that, Dr. Polanski.β
He let go of her wrist, giving her the illusion of control, and placed both hands on the desk behind him.
Di paused for a second, reading the room.
Then she exhaled quietly, kept her eyes locked on his, and slowly sank to her knees in front of him.
She actually liked that moment: the shift from equal height to being on her knees. Liked the way his gaze got heavier, completely focused on her the second she was at his feet. She didnβt feel humiliated anymore. She felt powerful. Like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.
The carpet was soft under her knees.
The sunset light hit Weskerβs face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones, thin lips, and the strands of blond hair falling over his forehead. He looked down at her with something primal in his eyes: power, hungerβ¦ pure anticipation.
Darlineβs fingers were shaking, but she still managed to undo his belt way faster than she expected. Zipper, button - she worked through them with focus, even though her head was already spinning and her hips kept shifting on the floor, trying to ease the aching heat building between her thighs.
When his pants slid down his legs, Di paused for a second, looking up at him. There was no fake shyness or embarrassment in her eyes: just raw, almost scientific appreciation mixed with the kind of heat she stopped trying to hide after the third week of their βcollaboration.β After a month, she didnβt even feel awkward about it anymore.
She stared at him like he wasnβt just her boss, but some mythical, god-like being. Logos in the flesh. A literal god walking around in human skin.
βFuckβ¦β she breathed out, almost like a prayer. βYouβre so fucking perfect.β
He let out a low hum, stubbornly pretending he didnβt hear the meaning behind her words, and slowly pulled off his black turtleneck. Sheβd seen his bare torso dozens of times, but it still made her breath catch every single time. Those muscles shifted under his pale skin with this unnatural, perfect symmetry. In the fading sunset light, his body looked like it was carved from marble, and the heat literally radiating off him in waves, plus that golden glow in his predatory eyes, gave the whole divine image a dangerous, primal edge.
Di couldnβt look away. She felt this almost hypnotic pull. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for him, sliding over his tight abs, feeling the alien power pulsing just under the skin. Sheβd always loved that: touching the thing that made him so much more than human. It never scared her. It just turned her on.
βYou have no idea,β she whispered, dragging her nails lightly down his stomach, making him twitch. βHow insane this drives me.β
She hesitated for a second, then pressed her face against the bottom of his tense abs, breathing in that warm male scent mixed with his cologne. Her lips brushed over the defined muscles, tongue tracing the grooves between them, leaving a wet trail.
βWhat exactly?β Weskerβs voice came out low and quiet, almost a purr. No shake in it, but she caught that tiny little edge she loved - the one that told her she was doing everything right. Exactly how he liked it.
Exactly how she liked it.
βEverything,β she looked up at him, eyes hazy and almost ecstatic. The usual cocky challenge was gone β there was only pure, naked want and awe. βThe way you move. The way you look. The way you smell. The way youβ¦β She trailed off because her fingers had found the waistband of his black boxers, and suddenly the need hit her so hard her whole body throbbed with that deep, aching pull and her head spun. βShit, you even smell perfectβ¦ like something divine,β she whispered, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along every muscle like a sinner worshipping an icon. βI could stay on my knees for hours. Justβ¦ breathing you in.β
He watched her from above, and if Di had looked up right then, she wouldβve seen something new flicker in his eyes: not just satisfaction, but something deeper. Almostβ¦ sensual.
βKeep going,β he finally said, breaking the silence. It sounded soft, like permission, but they both knew it was a command.
Di ran her hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under her palms, his breathing getting just a little deeper. She looked up again, meeting his gaze, and the small smile on her lips wasnβt cocky this time: just quiet, reverent admiration.
βYou know,β she whispered, tracing her fingertips along his obvious hard-on still trapped under the fabric, βI could watch your hands for hours. The way you handle samples. The way you hold a pen when youβre filling out forms and signing shit. The way you grip my thigh whenβ¦β She stopped because he twitched hard under her touch, and that movement said way more than words.
βDarlineβ¦β His voice dropped to a rough whisper, the icy distance finally cracking. Even the way he said her name sounded like a warning.
She didnβt tease him any longer.
Her fingers tugged his boxers down, and then her lips brushed against him: light, barely there, burning him with hot breath. She noticed the way his fingers dug into the edge of the desk. Slowly, almost torturously, she dragged her tongue along his full length, tasting him. The βgameβ was messing with her just as much: his scent, his heat, his reactions were making her own body throb with that deep, needy ache.
βYou have no idea how often I think about this,β Di closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the feeling.
She loved how he pulsed and hardened against her tongue, how his perfect breathing finally started to falter, how his fingers eventually settled on the back of her head - not pushing, just resting there, letting her feel him. She wrapped her warm, wet lips around the head like it was her favorite dessert and heard him exhale sharply through his teeth: quiet, almost silent, but to her it was louder than any moan.
βAbout whatβ¦ exactly?β His voice cracked for a split second before he got it back under control, that dangerous, sharp edge slipping back in and making her heart race. βBe specific, Dr. Polanski.β
βAbout the way you look when you lose control. The sound you make when Iβ¦β She paused on purpose, teasing, her fingers sliding slowly down his length before gently cupping and massaging his balls. βBut mostly I love thinking about the way you look at me during moments like this.β
Di let out a shaky breath and lowered her head again. Her lips and tongue lavished his balls with slow, sensual attention, then her tongue dragged all the way from the base to the tip in one long, wet stroke, leaving a shiny trail of spit. When she reached the frenulum she sealed her lips around it, swirled her tongue, and looked straight up into those golden eyes.
Albert tilted his head and exhaled through his teeth. His other hand, still on the desk, clenched into a tight fist. He wasnβt commanding her right now. Wasnβt guiding. Just watching from above, from his height and his position, letting her do exactly what she wanted.
And what Di wanted was him. Right now, more than anything.
She opened her mouth wider and took him deep in a couple smooth motions, almost to the hilt. When the head hit the back of her throat her eyes rolled back from the rush of pleasure and sharp arousal that simple move gave her. She couldnβt hold back the moan: it came out muffled and growly around his cock, sending vibrations down the whole length. Her head moved in a steady rhythm, not rushing, paying attention to every inch, every thrust into her throat.
Sometimes he cut off her air when he went deep, her jaw aching from his size, but she didnβt care. She was loving it. Her hands were everywhere - sliding over his abs, fingers digging into his hard thighs, dropping lower to stroke and massage his balls.
She set the pace, only stopping to kiss and lick every inch while whispering hotly:
βYou have no idea how much Iβd give to see you like this every single time.β
βYouβ¦β His voice broke and she looked up, locking eyes with him. He was staring down at her, and those predatory eyes glowing in the dim office had zero trace of the cold, arrogant tactician she saw during work hours. Right now there was only raw, primal desire: barely held back, and aimed straight at her.
Di smirked, satisfied with his reaction. She pressed her face against his hot, hard, spit-slick cock, rubbing her cheek against it, kissing it, stroking with her hand. And she heard him let out a low, quiet growl - the kind of sound she could only compare to a predator letting prey get too close.
βDarline,β he said again, and this time it was a clear order. Not a request. A demand.
But now she was the one taking her time.
She loved how he looked right now: clenched jaw, half-lidded eyes, tense arms, breathing getting more and more uneven. She loved that she - only she - could make him lose that icy control he treasured so much.
His fingers tightened harder in her hair, and Di took him deep on an exhale, letting him slide all the way into her throat, setting a deep, sensual rhythm and finally giving him more control.
Wesker exhaled sharply, his grip on her hair loosening just a little. He wasnβt guiding her: Di already knew exactly how to do it right. His palm rested on the back of her head like he needed the contact to stay grounded, like he was scared that if he let go heβd lose it completely. All that possessive, all-consuming attention was focused on her right now, and she knew it was his silent promise that when she was done, heβd pay her back - with interest.
Diβs fingers dug into his thighs when she took him deep again, nose pressed against his groin, letting her throat squeeze around him while she fought for air. She loved the way his stomach tensed, the way his hand instinctively pushed her head closer even though there was nowhere left to go, the way he finally lost it and gave a few hard, desperate thrusts into her throat, breathing heavily through the mind-blowing pleasure.
Albert tilted his head back, and for a split second his eyelids fluttered: that rare moment when even his control became too heavy to carry.
And right then, when the world started spinning way too fast around them⦠the phone rang.
The sound was so sharp and loud that Di jolted, eyes flying open in surprise as she instinctively tried to pull back.
Albert froze.
His fingers tightened in her hair, not letting her move too far but still giving her room to breathe. He turned his head and glared at the phone on the desk: black, matte, with a single blinking red light. It was the dedicated satellite line, which meant he couldnβt just ignore it.
βDonβt stop,β his voice was low and rough, but completely calm. Like his body wasnβt pulled tight as a wire and his cock wasnβt throbbing on her tongue, begging for release.
He reached across the desk with his left hand, the movement smooth and almost lazy even though every muscle in his torso was tense. Then he picked up the receiver.
His voice sounded perfectly professional, like they were in a meeting. Only the fingers of his right hand, still buried in her hair, tightened noticeably when Diβs tongue swirled right under the head: that sensitive spot he always tried so hard to hide from her.
βCoordination team Gamma-7. Collection of test subjects for βProject Asclepiusβ is complete. Twenty-seven bio-units have been delivered to the research center and are undergoing initial processing. The escort team is requesting further instructions.β
Di heard the voice on the line: dry, formal, trained. Senior command staff handling subject collection for the TRICELL`s new projects called on the satellite line from time to time. Nothing new.
She kept moving her head smoothly, taking him halfway, setting that slow, torturous rhythm. She saw his jaw clench, saw the muscles in his cheeks twitch. And she didnβt stop. She wanted to see how long he could keep the mask on.
βInitiate quarantine protocol βNew Dawn.β Activate phase one in four hours. Detailed instructions will be sent before midnight.β
She swirled her tongue around the head again, slow and teasing, and felt his thighs tense under her hands. She knew he could come any second. Knew he was fighting it. Knew his perfect control was being tested - by his own damn self.
Albert hung up without any goodbye.
In the same second, his fingers in her hair tightened for real: possessive, demanding, not letting her pull away. He thrust his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt, pressing her face tight against his groin, cutting off her air as he fucked her throat with hard, almost punishing strokes. From the outside it probably looked like he was actually pissed about her little games and was now properly βpunishingβ her for being so bratty.
He didnβt make a sound when he came: just a heavy exhale through gritted teeth. His body locked up, fingers gripping her hair almost painfully, his free hand clawing the edge of the desk so hard the wood creaked. He came deep down her throat, holding her there for a few extra seconds, riding out the aftershocks, ignoring her choking spasms and the tears streaming down her cheeks from the lack of oxygen and sheer intensity.
Di squeezed her eyes shut and stayed right there until he finally loosened his grip. She could feel his pulse hammering, the tremors running through his muscles, the way he slowly - very slowly - regained control over the body that had stopped listening to him for a few seconds.
When he finally let go, Albert opened his eyes and looked down at the coughing woman. His breathing was almost back to normal, steady and controlled again, and that wild spark in his eyes was gone.
βYouβ¦β His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, bringing back that smooth velvet tone. βYou did that on purpose. Again.β
Darline, still trying to catch her breath and stop coughing, pulled back and casually wiped her mouth with the back of her hand (though letβs be real, it was a losing battle). Then she dropped her ass onto the carpet. She looked up at him, squinting, that familiar cocky, self-assured smirk back on her face: the one he hated andβ¦ secretly loved.
βI have no idea what youβre talking about, boss. I was just doing my job,β she tilted her head, biting her lower lip on purpose, playing with him. βAnd I hope I did it well.β
Albert sighed, fixing his clothes. The sigh was a mix of exhaustion, satisfaction, and something else that sent a fresh spark of arousal through her body, promising her only a very short break.
He gave her a grumpy look, then silently leaned down, grabbed her under the arms, and lifted her off the floor in one smooth, almost careless motion. He set her on the edge of the desk, switching their positions. Then he pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket (of course he had one) and gently - almost tenderly - wiped her face clean of the mess. As much as possible, anyway. Di just sat there on the desk, letting him have this rare soft moment.
Until his face was an inch from hers, his hot breath brushing her cool, pale cheek.
βWe still have plenty of time, Dr. Polanski,β he whispered, lips almost touching hers as he roughly spread her knees and settled between them, pressing her thighs tight against his hips. His hands were already sliding over her waist and down, gripping her thighs possessively. βAnd you just proved you deserveβ¦ special privileges.β
His kiss was hungry and demanding, and with her eyes half-closed Di realized the next hour was going to be payback for her little act of defiance.
And she was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.
