Disclaimer: I don't own them, I didn't create them, and I sure as hell do not profit from them.

Rating: R for a reason

A/N: Dedicated to all you Grissom haters out there. Don't get me wrong, in the beginning I was a GSR (not Gun Shot Residue) lover too but then I realized how much better Snickers is. I like Grissom… just not with Sara. He should go find Lady Heather.


Chapter Three: It's Over Now

It didn't take them long to make it to the bedroom, Sara divesting Grissom of almost all of his clothing. She pushed him down onto the bed, his head resting against the pillows, and she straddled his lap. This was when she was definitely going to be pushing her limits to how much she was willingly to risk her relationship with Nick. He was forgiving enough but although she had no intentions to sleep with Grissom, there was going to have to be a few things that she had to do to make Grissom believe that all of this was real.

"I'll be right back," she purred, sliding off of him.

"Where are you going?" She could hear the desperation in his voice and the smile on her lips was wider.

"Don't worry. I'm coming back."

After she had disappeared from his bedroom, leaving him in darkness except for the light that pooled in from the lamp in the hallway, Grissom sat up against the pillows that were settled neatly in front of his wooden headboard. He never really knew why he had such a big bed, a big four-poster bed, but somehow he imagined that one day he would share it with someone. And tonight, he hoped it would be with Sara.

It seemed like she had been gone forever and when she finally returned, she leaned against the doorway, twirling something around her lone finger. He knew what it was, he saw them almost everyday and he arched an eyebrow in response.

As she crawled up the bed towards him, he caught an eyeful of cleavage, sending more blood to run down south into his lap. He was sitting there in only his boxer shorts while Sara remained fully clothed. When she straddled him again this time, he allowed one of his hands to slip up the outside of her thigh.

"No underwear?" he spoke huskily, breaking the silence of the room.

"I didn't think I would be needing them."

Grissom smiled. He may have not been a good people person but he knew sexual innuendo when he heard it.

"You were right," he murmured, letting her fleshy behind fill one of his hands.

So apparently Grissom was not as much of a tight ass as she thought. But then again, she did remember what he had been like when she had first arrived in Las Vegas. His fun slightly mocking yet witty nature was what made him appealing to her. It didn't take long for something to have changed that side of him, the side of that she missed.

There was hesitation in her when he began to lean up closer to her. She knew what she wanted to do and a part of her screamed for her to run the hell out of there as fast as she could. But this had to be as real as she could make it, she told herself. His lips gently brushed against hers before they brought her under in a seering, passionate kiss. Had she have known that he could kiss like that, she might have considered giving him a second chance. However, there was something kissing in his kiss that she could always find in Nick's kisses. Love. She always felt unadulterated passion and affection in his kisses whereas there was hollowness to Grissom's.

A moment later, he broke the kiss, fighting for oxygen. It was at this time that she sat back on her heels, trying not to show the look of disgust on her face when she felt his arousal pressing against her. He was unlike Nick in more ways than one. The hard steel in her right hand seemed to grow heavier as she held it longer.

"Close your eyes," she murmured into his ear, before tugging at the sensitive flesh with her teeth. He moaned and she masked revulsion.

He did as he was told and when she clamped one end of the cuff around his wrist, he shivered at the feeling of the cold steel on his heated skin. She lifted his arm and brought it to the wooden post, hearing the sound of the handcuff closing tightly around the wood. There. It was done.

"Do you want me, Gil?" she purred, beginning to slowly grind her hips down on him, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out in repulsion at her own behavior.

He moaned, his eyes still closed. Sara pulled a small silky scarf from behind her back that she had intended to blindfold him with. She ran the material across his flesh for a moment and then wrapped it around his eyes, making sure that he could not see.

"Answer me," she ordered, her voice a little harsher.

"Yes," was his hiss when she picked up her pace.

"How much do you want me?"

Her teeth sunk into the side of his neck and he arched his back into her, hoping that that action alone would suffice. It did of course for at that moment, Sara doubted that he was capable of answering with real words let alone five.

Her fingertip trailed from his neck down his chest, to the waistband of his boxers. She hesitated, wondering how far she was going to take this.

"Oh Sara, please," he begged.

The man was selfish, she thought, as she pulled down the garment, averting her eyes from the exceptional display before her. He didn't seem to care much about her own needs, wants, or was he so arrogant that he thought there would be a repeat performance in which he could favor her? Her abhorrence got the best of her and she took him in her hand with a slightly hard grip, harder than she ever would have touched someone in the beginning. The strokes were short lived, fast and callous, and his arousal was short lived as well. Did she really turn him on that much that he was over the edge within minutes of her first taking off his clothes? She had barely touched him, but then again, she was glad. The little she had to touch, the better.

"Where are you going?" His voice sounded so small in spite of the fact that it was heavily laden with lust, the words said between pants.

"To get something from the kitchen," she answered silkily, giving him a once over and shaking his head.

"There's whipped cream on the top shelf of the fridge," he stated, unable to see that she was already out of the bedroom and down the hall.

As she past the kitchen, she noticed a pad of paper and pen on the small table next to the couch. She picked up the pen that was beside the phone and wrote neatly on a piece of paper,

It's over now.

Immediately after writing the note, Sara went to the bathroom that was on the other side of the place. She washed her hands several times before she was satisfied and then went to the front door to find her coat, purse and shoes.

Slipping on her shoes, her purse hanging from her arm and her coat hanging off of the other, she heard Grissom calling her from his bedroom. No guilt just the feel of revenge that he would be there for a few hours until he realized that she had left something to pick the lock with on the bedside table next to him while she had cuffed him to the bedpost.

Making her face towards her car, she let out a large sigh and then slid into the front seat. Before she started her vehicle, she rested her head on the steering wheel. She still had the chance to take the handcuffs off but she chose to start up her car and drive away.

Her job would possibly be on the line, but after all, so was his. He was going to sleep with her and that would undoubtedly lead him into trouble if that got loose. But tomorrow evening was something Sara was starting to dread already. He would be free by then and she knew that he would be mad. He would be mad that he had been tricked, mad that he had been fooled and used and toyed with. But she didn't care. Nothing inside of her felt pity for him.

Her apartment was quiet, just like she had left it. Her mind told her to pull off the dress that she was wore once the door was shut and her shoes were off. And she did just that. Staring down at the black cloth in the garbage under the sink, Sara let out a sigh. She was glad that she had never been particularly fond of that dress, no matter how hot she looked in it. If she didn't throw it away, she knew that it would only remind her of Grissom, of what she had done to him while she wore it, and that was something she could not allow herself to think of.

Making her way slowly towards the bathroom, she thought of what she was going to do about Nick. How could she possibly explain to him what she did? It wasn't necessarily cheating as she did not want to do it but did it anyway because it was her way of getting revenge. But she could have been more adult and mature about it by not being so vindictive and childish. That wasn't the way she worked though. She needed the satisfaction of revenge, of gaining something over someone.

Allowing the hot water that sprayed down from the shower head to come crush down on her, Sara ran her fingers through her wet hair and let the tears pour from her eyes.