Jackson gently placed her on the bed, watching as she sprawled before him like a feast for a starving man. Her red dress was bunched around her waist, and he quickly worked to peel it off completely, leaving her in nothing but those tantalizing black panties. Natalia lay sprawled out on the bed, a mix of desire and mischief glinting in her eyes. "Enjoying the view?" she teased, arching an eyebrow. "More than you know," he replied, his voice husky with need. Jackson spread her legs wide with a deliberate slowness that drove her wild. He admired the sight of her, taking in every inch of her exposed skin and the way her panties clung to her curves. The thin lace was already damp with her arousal, and he couldn't resist running his thumb over the wet spot. Jackson hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and slid them aside, revealing the glistening folds of her pussy. He lowered his head without hesitation, his tongue darting out to taste her. "Fuck!" s
Jackson took his time, relishing the journey. His hand slid beneath her dress, feeling the smooth fabric give way to the heat of her skin. As his fingers traced upwards, they encountered the thin band of her panties. He paused, looking at her for any sign of hesitation. "Don't stop now," she whispered, eyes blazing. His fingers slipped beneath the delicate lace, feeling the damp heat of her pussy. She sucked in a breath, a mix of surprise and pleasure flashing across her face. "So wet already?" he murmured. "What can I say? You've got a way about you." His fingers teased her folds, slipping quickly between the slickness. She sighed, leaning into his touch, her legs parting slightly to give him better access. Jackson leaned in, closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Their lips melded together, hungry and insistent. Her tongue darted out, meeting his in a slow, sensual dance. He tangled his free hand in her hair, pulli
Jackson signaled for the waiter. "I'll take care of the bill," he said, sliding his credit card across the counter. "Very generous," Natalia commented, leaning against the bar and watching him bemusedly. He shrugged. Once the bill was settled, they made their way to the reception desk. Jackson approached the receptionist, who looked up with a professional smile. "Good evening, sir. How can I assist you?" "I'd like to book one of your luxurious suites for tonight," Jackson said smoothly. The receptionist's fingers danced across the keyboard. "Of course, sir. May I see your ID?" Jackson handed over his driver's license, and within moments, he was handed a sleek key card. "Your suite is on the top floor," the receptionist said. "Enjoy your stay." "Oh, we will," Natalia purred. They moved toward the elevator, the soft carpet muffling their footsteps. As they waited for the elevator doors to open, Jackson couldn't help but admire Natalia's silhouette against the polished gold tri
Jackson and Natalia stepped into the hotel's opulent lobby, the sudden shift from the cool night air to the warm interior sending a shiver down Jackson's spine. Or it was just Natalia's presence next to him. He couldn't be sure anymore. "Fancy," she remarked, eyes scanning the marble floors and crystal chandeliers. "You certainly know how to impress a girl." He smirked. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." He guided her towards the bar, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. The contact sent sparks through his fingertips, and he wondered if she felt it, too. The bar was dimly lit, with dark wood and leather furniture, and soft jazz played in the background. Jackson spotted an empty booth in the corner and steered them towards it. "After you," he said, gesturing for Natalia to slide in first. She raised an eyebrow. "Such a gentleman. Or do you just want to block my escape route?" He chuckled, sliding across from her. "Can't it be both?" She rolled her eyes, but her
The question caught him off guard. He'd been so focused on figuring her out that he hadn't considered his endgame. "I..." he stammered, his mind racing. Should he be honest? Play it cool? Make a joke? Natalia raised an eyebrow, waiting. "To be honest," he finally said, combining truth and bravado, "I was hoping it might be you." "What makes you sure I'll agree to go with you?" He grinned, feeling a bit more confident now. "I'm not sure at all. But I'm willing to take my chances." "Oh really? And what exactly are you asking me to take a chance on?" "Just a drink," he said, keeping his tone light. "No hidden agenda, no strings attached. Just a drink." She looked at him skeptically, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Just a drink?" "Just a drink," he repeated. She laughed softly. "Alright, Jackson. One drink. But no more than that." "I promise. Just one drink." "Well then, where ar
After what felt like hours (but only about fifteen minutes), Jackson found himself near the party's edge. He leaned against a tree. This was hopeless. He didn't even know what he was looking for. "Quantum Quill," he hissed, feeling slightly ridiculous talking to thin air. "A little help here? Who am I supposed to be looking for?" Nothing. Not even a peep. "Great," Jackson groaned. "Just great. I'm at a fancy party, talking to myself like a lunatic, trying to find a woman I can't even identify. This is definitely how I pictured my Sunday night going." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that probably made him look less like a 'debonair secret agent' and more like a 'frazzled office worker on a bender'. A group of giggling women walked by, giving him curious looks. He tried to smile charmingly, but he felt it came out more like a grimace. They hurried past, whispering and glancing back at him. "And now I'm the creepy guy at the party,"
Jackson started to weave through the throng of glittering guests, his eyes darting from face to face. Suddenly, he froze. There was a familiar figure—the brunette from the hotel—the one he'd spotted at the bar and again at the restaurant. She wore a sleek, red cocktail dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The dress was sexy, exuding a sense of allure and confidence with its daring neckline and intricate lace details. His heart did a little somersault. Was this her? The elusive third woman Quantum Quill wanted him to meet? He hesitated, remembering how he'd seen her with another man last time. Maybe she wasn't single after all. But then again, when had that ever stopped him? This was a party, after all. And if Quantum Quill wanted him to meet her, who was he to argue with the voice in his head? Jackson smoothed down his suit jacket and ran a hand through his hair. He briefly considered checking his breath but decided against it. No use giving himself a
Jackson took another gulp of champagne, wondering if he could just claim he'd completed the task and hope Quantum Quill wouldn't notice. But knowing his luck, QQ probably had some kind of psychic lie detector built in. He sighed and squared his shoulders. It was time to get back into the game. He was a man on a mission, a hunter stalking his prey. A very confused, slightly tipsy hunter who had no idea what his prey looked like, but still. He had a job to do, and by God, he would do it. Even if it meant chatting up with every single woman at this party until he found the right one. Jackson took a deep breath and prepared to embark on his mission impossible. He barely took two steps when a familiar voice called out his name. "Jackson! Over here, you blind bat!" He spun around, nearly spilling his champagne, to find Isabella waving at him. She was surrounded by James, Matthew, and Charles, all looking slightly tipsy and amused. "Well, if it isn't the man o
Jackson stepped out of the mansion, his head spinning from the encounter with Gabriella. The cool night air hit his face, a welcome respite from the stuffy interior. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the intoxicating scent of Gabriella's perfume that still lingered in his nostrils. He was still trying to process what had just happened. Gabriella, an arms dealer. It sounded like something out of a bad action movie. And yet, here he was, her business card burning a hole in his pocket and a dinner date set for tomorrow night. But it wasn't just Gabriella that had his mind reeling. Those women in her entourage... Jackson ran a hand through his hair, bewildered. What kind of arms dealer surrounded herself with a group that couldn't seem to keep their clothes on? He chuckled to himself, imagining a bunch of scantily clad women trying to broker illegal weapons deals. "What's the caliber on this baby?" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Oh, never mind that; check out my