Alone In a Room With No One Around
It was shocking, actually, how easy it was. Old swipe card buried in a drawer. Drive to the station and park down the side road. In the life up to Homicide. It was late, the whole building was practically deserted except for the skeleton crew. And the key card worked. The glass door slid open. There were a couple detectives chatting and walking across the floor, so she stuck to the corner until they passed. And that was all it took to sneak into Stanley's office.
Closing the blinds and booting up the computer were almost too easy. She knew the password. And she was in.
The door opened, causing Bernice to nearly have a heart attack. Maybe just janitorial staff. Maybe Stanley? But no such luck.
"Here I was thinking Stanley was burning the candle. What're you doin', Bernice? How'd you get in?" Jarvis asked, closing the door behind him and speaking in a dangerous low tone.
She held up the pass she'd used. "Old one," she explained. "Still works. Surprise." Bernice wasn't going to lie to Terry. She'd been caught. Nothing for it now.
"Yeah, surprise." His expression was cagey. Challenging her. Curious, almost.
"I need to access my own files. That's all," Bernice told him.
"You're not thinking, Bernice. You know how this works. If the OPS find out you've done this, it'll only make things worse for you."
"Worse? How can things get any worse? My son was assaulted at school today because they've leaked it to the press! And what am I supposed to do, just let them roll right over the top of me?" she asked in utter exasperation.
Terry huff in solidarity. He approached the desk and held out his hand. "Give me the card."
She sighed in frustration and rolled the lanyard around the keycard and shoved it into Terry's hand. Defeated, she got up and walked past him to the door. She opened it when he stopped her.
"Bernice," he began, waiting for her to pause and turn. He turned his head but didn't quite look over to her. "You were never here."
She didn't even nod. Just walked out and closed the door behind her.
Terry was left alone in Stan's office. It was small. He'd never really noticed before. Now, though, he had Bernice's old office. Superintendent of Homicide got a nice big space. Though he didn't keep it as clean as Bernice had. Nor as clean as Wolfe kept his office, apparently. Paperwork and organizing weren't much of Terry's forte. He knew himself well enough. Knew why he had this job. He was a good copper. Got the job done. Maybe not the way others would want, but he got it done. And there was nothing he loved more than nailing a criminal to the wall. He'd gotten promoted as reward for big busts more than anything else; putting Terry in charge meant he wouldn't clash with his superiors as much. And besides, he got results and that's what really mattered. Procedure and paperwork be damned.
But that was a necessary part of the job, and Bernice Waverley was much more suited to it than he was. And as much as Terry might have enjoyed being back on Homicide and working with Stan and his team—they were a good bunch, all in all—Terry would have given anything to be able to give Bernice back her office. It was one thing when she left to go do that fancy research fellowship; she was brilliant and ambitious and that was a great way forward for her. Terry didn't fault her for that in the least. And that was a definite time period for him to spend a year in her job and then bugger off back to armed robbery where he could pay a little less attention to the rules. But now this corruption nonsense? It was awful to watch. It was even worse to be the one who had to tell everyone else they couldn't help her. Bernice was better than this and everyone knew it. But interfering wouldn't help her. Breaking into Stan's office to review her files wouldn't help her. So he'd had to send her away. For everyone's sake. They all needed her back in that office feeding those stupid fish of hers.
The door opened in the midst of his pointless thoughts. "What're you doin' now?" he asked, seeing Bernice hurry back in and close the door behind her.
"There's a group of uniforms who just knocked off standing around chatting by the lift. I can't get out without being seen!" she hissed.
"So you're stuck here?" he asked with a grin.
She sighed, "I suppose so."
"Pity you're stuck with me."
"There's nothing stopping you from leaving," she pointed out.
"And leave a lady in need? I'm not that much of prick," he joked.
Bernice's brows shot up her forehead, indicating that yes, he precisely was that much of a prick.
Terry added quietly, "Besides, I don't wanna go."
"Don't you?"
"When else do I get to be alone in a room with you with no one around?" he asked her, his voice taking on a husky quality.
Bernice was instantly transported back all those years ago when she was a sergeant out for drinks with some coworkers, back when the nanny could stay the nights with Josh so she didn't have to worry about her hours, back when everyone got very, very drunk and she ended up in a shouting match with Terry Jarvis in a bar. At least, she liked to remember it as a shouting match. It was more slurred than shouted. And most of the night was a blur, thank goodness, but that part was very clear. Terry had been boasting about his sexual prowess and Bernice had said something harsh to cut him down to size, and he'd challenged her to test him out, claiming he'd be ready whenever she was, just find a room where they could be alone with no one around.
Terry watched the recognition spark in Bernice's eyes. Back in the day, he had gotten drunk and tried to show off some bravado and basically offered to give her a good shag. Being a proper lady, she hadn't thought he was serious and certainly hadn't taken him up on it. No one expected her too. No one thought he was serious. But he was. Still was.
"What are you saying, Terry?" she asked after quite a pregnant pause. Her voice was shaking, and she wasn't sure what she wanted his answer to be.
"The offer still stands, Bernice," he said quietly. Terry knew he was just a hair away from getting a slap in the face. But it was late and they were stuck in here together, and he'd kick himself till the day he did if he didn't just try.
Bernice searched his face, trying to see some hint that he was joking. But as shocked as she was that he might be serious about this, she was just as shocked at herself for hoping that he could be. "You don't want me," she stated, shaking her head in utter disbelief that anything close to this situation could be happening, happening to her, at her age!
"You wanna bet?" Terry growled. Oh he was all in now. He wouldn't hide behind teasing and sarcasm anymore. If Bernice Waverley was even halfway interested, he would more than make it worth their while. Because Terry could be a professional when he needed to be. Get the job done, that was his motto. But he was still a man. A man who had been absolutely crazy for the brilliant, stubborn, ambitious, righteous woman he'd been working with for almost half his life now. And he wanted her more than he could ever say.
Bernice felt herself tremble at the sound of his voice like that. Terry always did have that way about him. He was a complete asshole most of the time, and that professional frustration and reluctant respect had bubbled into attraction that she'd tried to deny longer than she cared to admit. "Terry…" she murmured, not having the words.
He took a step closer to her. And another. And another. Until he was so close to her that his breath caused her fringe to flutter against her forehead. "Bernice," he whispered, waiting for her to tell him no, to push him away, to knee him in the groin.
"I'm not supposed to be here," she reminded them both, grasping desperately to any semblance of reason she shouldn't give in right then and there.
Terry's mouth quirked into a shadow of a smile. "But you are here. Do you want to leave?" he asked, his eyes trained on her lovely face framed by her silky blonde hair. Soft, supple skin he couldn't wait to touch. The lines around her mouth that dragged her full lips down thanks to the passage of time and permanent hardship of her life. The delicate arch of her brows. The sparkle of strength in her green eyes. "Christ, you're beautiful," he breathed, unable to keep the thought to himself.
She looked up at him, utterly mystified how this loud, brash, aggressive man could somehow express such sincere tenderness, at her of all people. But there in his big blue eyes was the shine of sincerity and truth. He meant it. Somehow, he found her beautiful. He was so close and he was so much and the smell of him was making her dizzy. "Terry, if you plan on kissing me, you'd better do it before I come to my senses."
He grinned uncontrollably. And in the manner he'd dreamt of for twenty years or more, Terry put his rough, weathered hand on her face, tracing her jawline, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone and tilted her up to meet him. His other hand found her hip beneath the hem of the jacket she wore. A jacket he had every intention of taking off her as soon as he could. But he gave a gentle squeeze of her flesh and leaned down to touch his lips to hers. Bernice gasped beneath his mouth and pressed against him a bit firmer. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket and gripped tightly.
Terry's first instinct was to press Bernice up against the door and feel the whole length of her body against his, every soft curve of her, press his thigh between her legs and put his hands up her blouse and make her grind against him with the wanton arousal he'd always suspected she would possess. But he couldn't do that just now. She wasn't supposed to be here, and there were officers milling about. Banging up against the door wouldn't do.
Instead, he gripped her hips and walked backwards, pulling her with him. Her tongue was inside his mouth now. Christ, she was brazen. Terry flipped them around so Bernice was pinned up against the edge of Stanley's desk. He nearly laughed; poor Christian Stan, not knowing his superiors were going to make a right filthy mess of his office.
Bernice felt her bum hit the edge of something, but she was far too distracted to notice or care. She clung to Terry and kissed him with everything she had, utterly bowled over by the heat and taste of him. That mouth of his used such foul language but it moved against hers like she'd never dreamed.
He pulled away, gasping. Terry looked at her, breathing heavily and her eyes dark with lust. She wanted him. A jolt went right to his cock at the very thought of it.
She watched him stare at her with a naughty smile on his face. She nearly asked him what he was going to do before he did it himself. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders and then went straight to the button on her trousers. Bernice nearly gasped with his eagerness. He undid every button and tossed her blouse to the side before leaning in to kiss her again—wet and hot and messy—and reached around her back to unhook her bra.
Bernice went to work on his tie and shirt as well, not nearly comfortable being the only one half-naked. But of course, Terry kept active and hadn't had a pregnancy ruin his body. He was middle-aged, certainly, but he had a plane of hard muscle that she loved and hated in equal measure. Loved because he was infinitely more attractive the less he was wearing. Hated because she felt so wildly mismatched next to him.
Terry let her take his clothes off him until she got to his trousers. That would have to wait. Couldn't have her hands that close to him. Not yet. He had far too much to concentrate on before he let his straining erection get any attention. Otherwise, he'd be useless.
He pushed her trousers down to her knees and instructed, "Up on the desk, Bernice."
Her eyes went wide, but she did as he asked. What the hell was he playing at now? She wanted to press herself up against his body, or barring that, she assumed he want to bend her over and take her from behind. But instead, Terry was getting down on his knees. He pulled her shoes off and removed her trousers and immediately rubbed his hands up her thighs, kissing and licking his way up the inside of each one. She watched him in amazement. Her whole body was tingling now, wet and desperate for him.
Terry felt himself going a bit mad with arousal. The scent of her was sweet and heady and nearly overpowering, and he knew he needed to taste her. He hooked his thumbs into her knickers and waited for her to shift her hips so he could pull the off. He got back down and spread her legs where she sat on the desk. "You're wet already," he noticed with a growl.
"Yes, so you'd better do something about it," she challenged. But her voice was shaking. She wanted him and she couldn't think straight and it had been such a long time since a man had hungered for her like Terry was now.
He needed no more encouragement. Terry immediately buried his face in her sex, licking and sucking on her relentlessly. He lapped up her wetness and wrapped his lips around her clit and vibrated it with his tongue. She was moaning and gasping and he wanted to make her scream, but they couldn't let that happen, not here in the office. Terry briefly wondered if his performance might warrant a repeat for her, if he could convince her to come to his sometime after all this was over, when he could spread her out on his bed and go at her for hours.
Terry reached his hand up and slowly inserted one finger inside her. Bernice bit her lip so hard, she thought she might draw blood. Her husband used to accuse her of being too loud, of embarrassing him and turning him off. But he'd never made her body fall apart the way Terry was now. His mouth was incredible, and when he added a second finger to thrust and curl inside her, Bernice thought she might pass out. She lay back on the desk, propped up by her elbows and narrowly avoiding Stanley's computer still open from where she'd tried to use it.
If they weren't pressed for time, Terry might have tried to have her come more than once like this. She was so responsive and her hips bucked against his face in an intoxicating rhythm. But they didn't have the luxury of prolonging this encounter now. Once her body had released his hand after clenching down hard on his fingers and her thighs had loosened their grip around his head, Terry pulled away. His knee cracked as he stood up. He was probably a bit too old to be kneeling on the floor like that when eating a woman out. But needs must, and he wouldn't have given that up for the bloody world.
He stood between her open legs, his hands sliding up her soft thighs. Her whole body was flushed and glistening. She was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Come here," he said, pulling her up to him. Their tongues tangled together in another fiery kiss as she tasted herself on him. Terry tangled his hands in her hair, reveling of the slick feel of it between his fingers. Her body was pressed up against him now, skin on skin and making him so hard with want, he knew he wouldn't be able to last long.
But Bernice beat him to the punch. "If you're not inside me in the next two seconds…" she threatened, her voice husky and needy.
"Then you'll what, Bernice?" he challenged with a grin.
She didn't respond. She kissed him again and bit hard on his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue.
Terry laughed lightly as he pulled away. He pushed his trousers and trunks down to his ankles. Bernice watched him as his erection sprang free and she whimpered at the size of him. And in that moment, she realized that his bravado was in no way a compensation; it was all very well-earned.
"I should have taken your offer back when we were sergeants," she said, her eyes transfixed by the way the stroked himself.
He chuckled. "Yeah, and I should've made the offer a bit more frequently."
"I'd have had you disciplined for harassment if you'd bloody tried," she fired back.
Terry lined himself up and thrust inside her hard, cutting off that line of conversation. Bernice made a high-pitched keening sound as he filled and stretched her. He settled inside her, letting her adjust to him, calming himself down.
He leaned forward and took her breast in his hand and held it to his mouth, nipping and massaging her as his hips slowly began to move. "Oh fuck me," she hissed, wrapping her thighs around his waist.
Terry lifted his head and grinned. "Oh I will, Bernice." He began to speed up, and it was all Bernice could do to keep hold of him and remember to breathe and to try to stay quiet. Terry took her hard and fast, stroking deep inside her and using all his power to send her into shivering ecstasy. She buried her face in his neck as she came, trying to muffle her moans. His fingers gripped her hips with bruising strength as he chased his completion and spilled inside her with three more sharp jerks of his hips.
They slumped against each other, catching their breath and holding the other tight. Bernice regained the power of speech first. "Oh Christ," she breathed. "That was…"
"Good?"
She gave a small laugh. "Very good. Very, very good."
Terry was still inside her and feeling looser and happier than he had in a very long time. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Good," he whispered.
"We should…we should go," she said, suddenly remembering where they were and what she had initially been doing there.
"Probably, yeah." Terry slipped out of her, whimpering as he did so. He dug his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket from the floor and gave it to Bernice to clean up. "Get dressed and try to put the office back in order. I'll go see if the coast is clear."
They both put themselves back together as best they could. Terry was quicker, foregoing his tie and jacket, and left the office to have a look around.
Bernice felt a bit wobbly after being thoroughly shagged. She was certainly going to be sore for days after day. But it was delicious, and at that moment, she couldn't even begin to regret it.
Terry was back a moment later. "All clear. Didn't see anyone around. But be careful going back down the lift, just in case."
She nodded. "Thanks."
"My pleasure," he replied with another naughty grin. And then, because it might be his last chance, Terry took Bernice in his arms again and kissed her.
Bernice hummed against his mouth. "I know you've done your conquering, but if you're interested, perhaps we can…"
"Oh I'm not nearly done with you, Bernice. You just say when."
She couldn't help but smile. "Maybe when this OPS mess is cleared up."
He nodded. "Celebratory shag."
"Something like that," she agreed with a smirk. They shared one last kiss and left Stanley's office, closing the door behind them.
The next morning, Stanley Wolfe arrived at Homicide in a bad mood. What made matters worse was Terry Jarvis joking and laughing with the team, seeming in a better mood than he could ever recall seeing him. He went to shut himself in his office and immediately felt odd. As though something was wrong in the office. Nothing looked out of place. But he noticed something white crumpled in the corner. He went to look at it but was interrupted by the door opening.
"'Morning, Stan. Did I…ah yeah, there it is." Terry Jarvis went in and grabbed the wadded up cloth. "My handkerchief. Must have dropped it in here yesterday. Thanks." He whistled as he walked out, leaving Stanley to shake his head and just get on with his day.