"I said no, Megan. I've got a publisher's deadline later this week and an important speaking engagement on Thursday. I adore you, but right now I can't afford to waste my time." Unceremoniously, Duncan pushed her out through his office door. "Call me next week, if you must. And now be a good girl and go home to sleep."

The door felt shut and Megan stared at it incredulously. Really? So she was a waste of time now? And had he really just sent her off to bed like a baby? Who did he think he was? For a moment, she felt so hurt and disappointed that she had to swallow a sob, but then annoyance won over. She raised her fist to knock on the door, but she was interrupted by a slurred voice from the other side of the hallway.

"Don't bother. His career comes first. Always has, always will." Dr Ward - Riordan, as Duncan had called him - was leaning against the frame of his open office door, a half-empty tumbler of what looked to be brandy in his hand. His dark pants were riding low on his slim hips and he had rolled up his shirtsleeves and unbuttoned his collar. He looked unshaven and exhausted, with deep shadows under his expressive grey eyes, and his black hair was a mess. In short, he looked like bad news. And sexy as hell to boot. Megan swallowed, lost for an answer.

He went on talking anyway, gesturing vaguely in her direction with his glass. "You look pissed. Want a drink, sweetheart?"

Megan hesitated. This was probably a bad idea, but his offer sounded really tempting. Duncan's rejection had been the last straw, after a long week spent wrangling over student loans and cursing the library's filing system.

"Is that Antivan brandy?" Hopefully she glanced at his glass.

Zevran had made her try some on his last visit, and much to her surprise she'd loved the rich, mellow flavour. It wasn't really a taste she could afford on her meager budget, though.

Riordan bared his teeth in a feral smile. "25 years old. I figured I might as well get sloshed on the good stuff."

"All right." Grabbing her bag, she followed him into his office.

It looked nothing like Duncan's. No piles of manuscripts, no comfy leather chair, no state-of-the-art computer system on the desk. Riordan's room was sparsely furnished, just a desk, a plain wooden chair, a mangy couch in the corner and some bookshelves. The furniture looked old and scuffed, and the only sign that he ever did any work here was the stack of essays on the desk.

"Here you go." He handed her a glass and motioned for her to sit in the chair.

He himself remained standing, slumped against the desk. Up close, he looked even more wrecked, his eyes bloodshot and his mouth weary. At the same time, he smelled good, of some spicy, musky aftershave, and when he leaned toward her, she caught a glimpse of dark curls on his chest. Unconsciously, Megan licked her lips.

"Well?" He tilted his head questioningly toward her glass.

Raising it to her lips, Megan took a good mouthful, just as Zev had taught her, and when the brandy's aroma hit her taste buds, she closed her eyes and moaned in undisguised ecstasy. "Maker, you weren't kidding. This is good stuff."

"Told you so." She opened her eyes to see him shrug, pretending to be unconcerned. But his eyes were firmly fixed on her mouth, and they had grown pitch-dark.

They were both quiet, while she finished her glass. Meagan declined his silent offer of a refill, and was just debating whether she ought to get up and leave when Riordan spoke again.

"So... Did our dear Duncan break your heart? He does that to people, you know." There was just enough raw pain in his voice to assure her that he was speaking from personal experience. Interesting.

"Nah." Megan shook her head. "I'm just mad at him. I've had a bad week, and I was bored and horny and I had hoped..." She bit her lip.

"You had hoped he would help you out." There was a faint trace of amusement in his expression now, underneath the tiredness. "Well, tough on you."

"Exactly." Megan got to her feet with a weary sigh. "Look, I should-"

She didn't even see him move, but suddenly he was right in front of her, standing up straight now, looking lean and taut and utterly delectable. "Duncan is an idiot. Doesn't know what he's missing." He raised his hand, giving her ample time to step back before he traced a slow line along her jaw.

"I think we can agree on that." Megan shivered under his touch.

"And what are you going to do about it?" His hand wandered lower, down along the curve of her throat, as if magically drawn toward her breasts.

"About Duncan being an idiot?" Pretending to misunderstand him, she gave him her most innocent look. "Nothing to be done about that, I'm afraid."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "True. No, I meant..." His fingers trailed along the neckline of her white blouse now, caressing her collarbone. "What are you going to do about being bored and horny?"

"I don't know. Maybe…" Megan realized her nipples were tingling with want, chafing against the fabric of her bra, and she decided to throw all scruples to the wind. After all, she'd had her fair share of naughty dreams involving the man before her, and if he was offering... "Maybe I ought to explore other options."

Holding his gaze, she slowly began to unbutton her blouse. Riordan's breathing sped up, but he made no move to help her as she shrugged it off her shoulders. But when she turned around, his hand found its way to her bra clasp without further prompting, and then he was pulling her close to his hard body, cupping both breasts with his hands and moaning deeply as he bit down on her shoulder.

"You really want to do this?" His voice was rough and hoarse in her ear. "I'm in a bit of a mood tonight." As if to underline his words, he pinched her nipples hard and Megan whined with pain and pleasure.

"I noticed." Maker, she was soaked already, unbelievably riled up by the way he was manhandling her. "Go on. I'm good."

Another rough groan, and he was spinning her around in his arms, and then his mouth was on hers, brutal and demanding. Megan's heart was beating wildly against her ribcage, and some part of her wanted to run from him, because he was too angry, too aggressive. But she quickly silenced that part. She was too curious how this would play out, too eager for more. His left hand was yanking up her skirt, his fingers dipping into her panties to caress her intimately, and yes, he knew what he was doing. Grinding into his touch, Megan moaned shamelessly.

"Maker, you're so hot." There was a stutter in his voice. "All right then."

Roughly, he shoved her toward the couch, sending her sprawling on the cushions, laid out for his pleasure. Megan spared a brief thought on what she must look like, half naked and dishevelled, her legs spread obscenely wide, but she didn't have it in her to care. Every nerve in her body was buzzing with excitement as she watched him slither out of his shirt and pants. His cock was straining against his briefs, the tip just about visible over the waistband, and before he could push them down, she motioned for him to come closer.

"Let me." Sitting up, she ran a teasing finger down his stomach, and he groaned, watching her avidly as she slowly stroked him through the fabric, then began to peel it away, inch by inch.

When he was bare, Megan took a moment to lean back and admire him. She liked cocks. It was as simple as that. She loved to look at them, to touch them, to play with them. His was long and curved, pale as the rest of him and beautifully responsive, twitching when she ran her tongue all the way up from the base to the tip.

She had meant to take her time, teasing and tormenting him, but Riordan had other ideas. His right hand cupped her head, while the thumb of his left pressed at the corner of her mouth, forcing her to open up for him. Megan gave in with a whimper, gasping for air when he thrust into her mouth. Instinctively, she tried to move her head away, but he had a firm grip on her, with several strands of her hair twisted around his fingers. Without missing a beat, he pulled back and then pushed in again, clearly unconcerned about her comfort.

And yes, it was uncomfortable, and she couldn't really breathe, but at the same time, it was sort of hot. Still, she wasn't going to let him actually hurt her, and the next time he thrust, she put one hand firmly on his hipbone to stop him from going too deep. He snarled at this but didn't insist. Megan closed her eyes and focussed on the slide of his flesh over her lips, the small noises he made, the taste of the first pearls of fluid leaking from his cock.

Her jaw was beginning to ache, though, and she was grateful when he finally pulled back. "You look gorgeous." The tremor in his voice was pronounced now and his hand was shaking when he ran his thumb over her swollen lips. "Turn around."

With a shudder, Megan let him arrange her as he wanted her, kneeling on the seat, clinging to the back of the couch. He tore off her panties without the slightest compunction, and she tensed, as a thought struck her.

"Wait. Not without-" She twisted her neck to see what he was doing.

"Right. Give me a moment." He left her just like she was, exposed and shivering while he went looking for a condom, digging through the pockets of his coat.

And once again, Megan wondered why she let him do this to her, why it turned her on so immensely.

"What a lovely view." He was back, slapping her ass lightly before he rolled on the condom, and she shivered all over, expecting him to push inside her straight away.

But he surprised her again by sliding a careful finger between her folds, gently probing inside her, brushing against her clit in passing, as if it was an afterthought. She gasped hard and he laughed softly, and then that finger was back, caressing her with light, teasing strokes until she couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please." She was close already, so close, but she needed more, wanted more.

"Please what?" A second finger joined the first, both sliding inside her, spreading her open. "I think I can guess, but it's so much more fun to hear you say it."

Megan rolled her eyes at this, but hey, if all it took to convince him was a little dirty talk, she was more than happy to oblige. "Fuck me," she purred, arching up her back. "Let me have your cock, please, you know I want it."

"Oh yes, you do." Without further warning, he pushed inside her, and Megan mewled with relief.

Thankfully he was beyond teasing now, setting a hard and merciless pace. Megan had never felt dirtier than she did now, here on this shabby old couch, allowing herself to be taken by this man she barely knew, listening to the slapping noise of flesh on flesh, breathing in the smell of alcohol and sex. It was the opposite of romantic, but despite that - or maybe because of it - it excited her beyond measure.

Megan didn't waste a single thought on Duncan while Riordan fucked her, nor did she worry about the future or wreck her mind about some deeper meaning of the act. Her whole brain was focussed on feeling, breathing, being, and nothing counted but the arousal building up inside her belly at breakneck speed. When she came, it was quick and hard and almost overwhelming in its intensity. Her orgasm tore through her like a whip, the pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. Riordan groaned when she tightened around him and she felt him let go, pounding even harder into her until he, too, finished with a last, almost desperate thrust.

They didn't talk afterwards while they got dressed again, but Megan held her head up high. There was nothing to say, really, but nothing to be ashamed about either. They'd both gotten what they wanted out of this, and neither of them had expected more. Just sex, plain and simple, no romance, no hurt feelings. They both knew it had been a one-time thing. It wouldn't happen again. And oddly enough, that thought made her feel not sad, but free and light-hearted.

Riordan smiled at her when she said goodbye, a sardonic, world-weary smile, but a smile nevertheless. And she smiled back, getting up on her toes to breathe a quick kiss on his cheek.

It was raining outside, pouring down in thick heavy sheets, and Megan took a moment to dig around in her bag for her umbrella. She was tired and a bit sore, but at the same time pleasantly blissed out, her whole body heavy with exhaustion. All she wanted now was a hot shower and a good night's sleep.

But just as she was about to head outside, the door to Duncan's office opened with a creaking noise. He was there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Megan bit her lip. She knew what she looked like, her hair tousled, her clothes in disarray, her lips bruised from Riordan's brutal kisses. It was glaringly obvious what she'd been doing. Undaunted, she stared back at him, raising her chin defiantly. Duncan didn't say a word, just swallowed once and closed the door in her face.

With a sigh, Megan turned and went outside to brave the storm. Within minutes, her umbrella got torn up by the wind, so in the end, she just tossed it into a bin and allowed the rain to soak her through. It felt good, chasing away the numbness and making her skin buzz with life. Briefly, she wondered whether she should go back in the morning, talk to Duncan, explain, ask him to forgive her. But then she decided against it. That, too, was over and done with. Time to move on.

End of this story, I'm afraid :). Thank you all for reading, and extra super special thanks to my wonderful beta suilven!