10. Jackson
10
JACKSON
D amn, it's good to be me.
Thinking back to the hot mess I left waiting in my guest room, and the souvenir of her submission sitting in my pocket, it doesn’t get much better than this. This is what I love most about being me, that moment before a woman’s resolve gives in when the fight is still in her eyes. I know soon enough, she’ll open only for me, but getting there is worth the wait, and certainly the effort.
My mind rolls back, replaying the night before with a flickering display of my dominance over Kelley. The heat roils in my groin as I remember watching her comply, her fingers trembling as she stripped off each piece of clothing.
I savor the way she averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed. But in her gaze, I saw a flash of defiance, her inner strength refusing to be diminished. As more of her smooth skin was revealed, my pulse quickened. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, to claim every inch of her luscious body.
But I restrained myself, maintaining control. Her vulnerability excited me as much as her fiery spirit. I wanted to conquer her, but also protect her. She stirred unfamiliar feelings in me that I don't yet understand.
I lounge casually on a poolside recliner, soaking in the morning sun. The heat feels good on my skin, easing the tension in my muscles. Vince comes storming in, fuming and cursing about some woman who slipped through his grasp last night. I can't help but let out a hearty laugh at his flustered state.
"Tie them up next time," I quip, rising from my seat. My muscles flex instinctively as I stretch and dive into the pool. The water glistens against my tattooed arms. I have no qualms with my naked form. I work hard for my body, my six-pack, and I like to show it off.
I glide through the water with smooth, powerful strokes, muscles rippling beneath my sun-kissed skin. Beads of moisture accentuate my sculpted arms, broad shoulders, and chiseled torso—the results of disciplined workouts and strict dieting.
My imposing frame contrasts my lean flexibility as I turn with precise movements. I emerge from the pool, raking a hand through my dark hair, droplets trailing down my rugged features and strong jawline. I know my muscular physique draws admiring looks wherever I go. I exude raw masculinity and controlled power in every step.
Vince paces the poolside, impatience evident in his jerky movements.
“Would you quit playing around and take this seriously? What if they leak sensitive information?” He peppers me with questions about the mysterious woman he encountered, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Calm down, Vince. It’s under wraps,” I try to ease his mind before diving seamlessly into the air, sending droplets his way while he backs off from the pool, not the conversation.
“What about the other woman, I saw you with two last night?”
“Marcy?” I ask, seeing the look of curiosity on his face. “Just keeping her around to help loosen Kelley’s tongue.”
I keep my expression neutral as I reassure him that Kelley won't be easy to break, but that she isn’t going anywhere. Vince seems as interested in Marcy as much as Kelley, but I can’t reason why. Kelley seems to have all the answers I’m looking for.
“How can you be sure?” He asks, hands on hips pushing his suit jacket to the sides.
On my back, I give a flippant answer seconds before submerging myself, “Let’s just say, I’ve got her at a disadvantage.”
As I emerge from the water, beads of moisture accentuate my muscular physique. I'm well aware of the effect I have on people.
“Am I just supposed to believe you?” Vince continues prodding for details, but I remain vague, a slight smirk playing on my lips. I have my own defiant woman to deal with.
“Breakfast, gentleman,” One of my attendants calls, pushing a silver tray to the table, laden with fruit and croissants. The arrival of breakfast interrupts our conversation.
“Thank you, Marta.” I address my staff while I drip towards the spread. Marta hands me a fluffy white towel which I throw over myself as I sit casually at my table, reaching for a handful of grapes.
The table is artfully arranged with pristine white china, gleaming silverware, and crystal water glasses. A vase of vibrant flowers crowns the display. Fresh pastries emit a tempting aroma alongside poached eggs, crispy bacon, exotic fruit, and premium coffee. The elegant spread reflects my refined tastes and extravagant lifestyle.
“C’mon Vince,” I beg. “I’ve got this under control. Sit down, will you?”
Ever the gracious host, I invite Vince to join me at the outdoor table laden with food.
He doesn’t seem as confident about the situation as I am, preferring to pace around the pool instead.
“I’d feel better about those two girls if we knew what they were up to.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I assure him, confident in myself over all things. “It’s under control, Vince.”
Then, soft footsteps catch my attention.
I turn and the words die on my tongue.
It's her - Kelley. The defiant woman who's occupied my thoughts all day. She's dressed in nothing but my shirt, the thin white fabric clinging temptingly to every curve. Anger radiates from her petite but fiery frame. Her pixie-cut hair is delightfully tousled and her eyes blaze with a barely contained fury.
“May I sit?” she asks, biting each word that comes out.
Despite her attempt to appear controlled, I can read her like a book. The tense set of her shoulders, the way she crosses her arms protectively across her chest, the tapping of her foot - I recognize the signs of pent-up frustration. And beneath it all, a carefully concealed vulnerability.
“Yes, please,” I offer with a wave of my hand. Sure I left her stripped, naked on my guest room floor, but I haven’t lost all sense of hospitality. I’m still a good host, prisoner or no prisoner.
She sits obediently. I can see the edges of my shirt cling around her flesh as she sits, and I imagine for a second, the feeling of the cool iron from the patio chair rushing across her bare skin.
She's a dichotomy - this mixture of resilience and fragility. It's fascinating...and incredibly alluring. I can't take my eyes off her. The sight of her wearing my shirt, standing in my home like she belongs here, does something inexplicable to me. My breath quickens, slightly, catching Vince’s attention.
“Control, huh?” he seems unimpressed, waltzing to the table as he forks a croissant onto a plate clumsily.
Kelley fights back a smile, something else that I can’t ignore as the sun lights her face. She exudes a raw sensuality, a mesmerizing blend of innocence and defiance. I intended to conquer her, but at this moment, I feel disarmed.
"Join me for breakfast, Vince," I say briskly, gesturing to the elegant spread on the table.
Vince sits, eyeing Kelley warily as he piles food onto his plate. "So this is the little hellcat giving you trouble, eh Jackson?"
Kelley bristles, shooting him a defiant glare, as she stuffs a corner of croissant into her mouth. "I'm no one's hellcat."
I chuckle, amused by her fiery spirit. "She's a feisty one. But I have the situation under control." I give Kelley a pointed look that silences any retort.
"Clearly not in control enough if she's strutting around half-naked.” Vince scoffs through a mouthful of food, his lecherous gaze raking over Kelley.
Kelley crosses her arms, disgust flashing in her eyes. "I don't strut for creeps like you," she snaps.
I laugh heartily. "She's got quite the tongue on her too. I intend to tame that along with the rest of her." I catch Kelley's wrist as she moves to slap me, desire flickering in her glare.
"I'd pay to see you try to tame this one," Vince jokes crassly.
Kelley wrenches her arm from my grip. "I won't be tamed by any man," she hisses, her defiant words hanging in the air between us.
I grin slowly. I do enjoy a challenge.