Dunkirk • H.S

×8×

"That was my sister in there." I say to Harold, my voice catching in my throat. "She didn't even do anything, she just stood there as if everything was fine." I let out a breath of air, an attempted humorless laugh.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice deep. "But at least the most damage you got out of today was a bloody nose. No fractures to the nasal bone, so you're good." He gives a quick smile that even a naive optimist would recognize as fake. His hands type away on his computer as he sits in a large black rolling chair. How comfortable he must be, I thought sarcastically.

"Thanks," I say, touching my nose softly with my fingers. Now that I think about it, I've been beat up so many times since I have arrived here. Mentally and physically.

The noise of Harold's computer going off makes me direct my attention towards him but he doesn't acknowledge my stare.

His thick brown hair was tousled around on his head like he's been running his hands through it all day. Wrinkles in his forehead form as he raises and loweres his eyebrows while he reads whatever it is that's on the screen. His long fingers set lazily on the computer mouse, small veins bulging from below his tan skin.

He wasn't wearing his uniform, in fact he hasn't worn it in days, and I wonder why. The black slacks that he wore are raised at the feet from his sitting position, showing off a pair of fine-polished black shoes. His white coat, letting everyone know he is in fact in the medical department, fits him snug. And I can see, very faintly, the outline of his biceps.

I look away quickly when he turns his head to me. I gaze down at the floor, embarrassed and almost ashamed that'd I look at him like that. Like I found him attractive.

But I can't lie to myself, he is very attractive. And from the way he carries himself, he knows it too.

I bit my bottom lip down, twiddling with my fingers in my lap. I don't know if it's just me or not, but the atmosphere in his office got stuffy.

His fingers stopped hitting the keyboard and I held my breath for a second. When the sound of his chair slid across the floor I finally looked up.

He was seated in his chair facing my direction with his eyes raking all over me. I stared back at him, scared and not knowing the reason why he was looking at me like that.

His tongue darted out from between his lips to wet them and I suddenly felt something twitch in my lower region. The feeling was sharp and quick, but it felt good.

I pressed my thighs together tightly and shifted my position, letting out a breath as the movement massaged my sex. My action wasn't noticeable, but when he tilted his head back slightly and squinted his eyes at me, I knew he heard my helpless pant.

He abruptly stood from the chair and I watched as he swiftly made his way to the door, locking it.

My heartbeat quickened and I stumbled for words to say as I tried to speak but nothing came out. Just stuttered nonsense.

"Blair." He said my name loudly. "Shut up."

I kept quiet and still as he walked towards me. His walk was intimidating and the look he gave me made me feel weak.

"I don't know how you do it, but everytime you come inside here...I have to fight the urge to bend you over my desk and fuck you." He says, only inches away from me. His words surprised me, as well as turned me on even more.

His eyes were green, a mixture of hunger and lust as they stared into my own.

"I can't...this is wro-"

"But you want it." He cuts me off. He brings his face to the hollow of my neck, his lips ghosting over my ear. "You need it, Blair." One of his hands comes in between my legs, squeezing my inner thigh tightly.