A new man comes to work in our office. He is the commanding type. He sees me in my smart business suit but he doesn't believe I am all business. He sees the heels I wear and does not think I am sharp and stylish, fearless.
He smells a victim.
He hunts me.
He finds me when I am alone and stands a fraction too close. In meetings with other people his gaze slides downward from my face.
Yesterday he closed the door of the meeting room when there was only us two in it. He touched me, skin to skin. His hand loosely circled my wrist and slid up to my elbow and he gripped me there. He watched my face. He touched me and my heart accelerated, G-force pushed my back to the wall and his body followed mine there. His breath was calm but warm on my top lip, and I looked into his opaque eyes and I part my lips to be ready for him.
He placed his mouth over mine and his teeth closed over my bottom lip. It will leave a mark, an imprint of his incisors, reddest purple on the skin next to my mouth but my lip will swell over it, hiding it a little. I know this.
He smells a victim.
He smells my longing. It would be a lie to say that I love him, unless he tells me to.
inspired by a writing prompt at sleep.snort.fuck
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