Jackson took another sip of whiskey, savoring the burn. Sometimes, in the quiet moments between Quantum Quill's ridiculous tasks, he wondered if he was dreaming. Maybe he was stuck in some bizarre video game, or there was a glitch in the matrix. Any moment now, he half-expected to wake up in his old life, nine years in the past. The thought made him pause. What if he did wake up? Jackson's mind wandered, imagining the scenario playing out differently. What if he hadn't left the apartment that fateful day? What if he'd walked in on Veronica and that bastard, caught in the act? He pictured himself bursting through the bedroom door, rage coursing through his veins. There was a look of shock on Veronica's face, her legs still wrapped around the stranger's waist. The bastard's smug grin faded as Jackson's fist connected with his jaw. God, it would've felt good to knock that asshole's teeth out. Maybe grab that tacky baseball bat Veronica insisted on keeping by the bed - "for protection,

"You want me to kiss you again. You want me to touch you." His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. "You want to forget you're a respected doctor for one night and just be a woman with needs." "That's quite presumptuous." But her voice had gone husky, her pupils dilated. "Am I wrong?" She hesitated, then shook her head slightly. "No." "Tell me what you want, Claire." Her eyes locked with his. "I want you to kiss me." "Ask nicely." His voice was firm, commanding. Claire's eyes widened slightly, surprised by his dominance but visibly aroused by it. "Please," she whispered. "Please kiss me, Jackson." He smirked, his thumb still tracing her lower lip. "That's it? Come on, Claire. I want to hear what you're really thinking. Not the proper doctor version." Her breath hitched. She glanced around, as if checking that they were truly alone on the balcony, before meeting his gaze again. Her eyes had darkened, pupils blown wide with desire. "I've wanted you since I first saw you in my

He continued his torturous journey, kissing and licking everywhere except her pussy. When he finally dragged his tongue along her slit, she nearly came off the bed. "Fuck! Please, I need you inside me," she begged, spreading her legs wider in invitation. Jackson reached for his discarded pants, pulling a condom from his wallet. He tore the package open with his teeth, rolling it down his length with practiced ease. "How bad do you want this cock?" he asked, positioning himself at her entrance, the tip just barely pressing against her. "So bad," she moaned, trying to push her hips down to take him in. "Please fuck me, Jackson. I need to feel you stretching me open." He pushed in slowly, just the head breaching her entrance. "Like this?" "More," she demanded, her hands clutching at his shoulders. He withdrew completely, making her whimper at the loss. "What was that?" Claire bit her lip, remembering her place. "Please, more. Please fuck me properly." He thrust forward, burying

After dinner, they said goodbye to their table companions and took the elevator down. "Not ready to call it a night," Jackson said as they stepped outside. "There's a speakeasy around the corner. Nightcap?" The speakeasy was intimate and dark, with velvet booths and candles providing the only light. They claimed a corner booth, sitting close enough that her leg pressed against his. "So," she said, sipping her martini, "how did you really pull this off? That supper club is nearly impossible to get into." "Magic," he wiggled his fingers. "Seriously." "Let's just say I'm not without resources." She studied him. "You're different than I expected." "How so?" "At first, I pegged you as just another rich playboy. All style, no substance." "And now?" "Now I'm intrigued." She leaned closer. "You're full of surprises, Jackson." "I aim to please." He held her gaze. "And I'm just getting started." "Is that right?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What else do you have up your sleeve?

Jackson groaned, one hand bracing against the counter, the other tangling in her hair. "Fuck, your mouth feels amazing," he groaned as she took him between her lips. She looked up at him through her lashes, taking him deeper with each bob of her head. Her hand worked what wouldn't fit, twisting and stroking in perfect rhythm with her mouth. "That's it," he encouraged, guiding her movements with the hand in her hair. "Take it deeper." She relaxed her throat, allowing him to slide further in. He felt the tight heat of her throat and had to fight not to thrust too hard. "Goddamn, you're good at this," he groaned. She pulled back, replacing her mouth with her hand. "I have many talents," she said with a wicked smile before taking him deep again. Jackson watched, mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing between her lips. The wet sounds of her mouth working him, combined with the occasional moan she made, were driving him wild. His fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her