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When you met Jack Abbot, your first thought was that he's ridiculously hot. And he is. Ridiculously so. But, more than that, he's quite possibly the kindest man you've ever met. And you're the most trouble he's ever met. He started calling you trouble on day 2, after you went outside for an evening walk after he explicitly told you in no uncertain terms that you might be kidnapped, or worse, if you stepped out the designated “safe zones” of your house.
But as he gave you a 3000 word lecture on how you hired him to keep you alive after 2 separate stalker scare incidents, all you could really think about were his biceps. And his curly hair, that colour that makes him the very definition of a silver fox.
Jack very quickly learnt the only way to keep your attention was to reward good behaviour. You learnt that it's extremely fun to wind up your hot bodyguard with a prosthetic leg.
You didn't even notice it, at first. It wasn't till a late night on the weekend, after curling up with a drink on the couch, that you noticed him sit down, and roll up the leg of his pants to unclip the prosthetic and massage his leg. You'd asked, unsure if it was okay to ask, and he'd paused for a moment, then told you the story.
Your goal for today was to review the footage from the book signing you'd attended at the local library two months ago. Jack thinks that the man who left the mysterious, threatening letter with no return address on your doorstep, probably has met you in real life at least once- this level of obsession, he says, only occurs when the perpetrator has observed his target at close range. He wants you to watch the footage for him and try to recall that night, any person you saw who fits the meagre description you have. 30s, dark hair, well dressed. It's not much to go off of.
Jack had plopped himself in your desk chair and patted his thigh and you'd gawked at him for about 5 seconds before you meekly perched on top of him, yelping when he pulled you into him. Then he'd clicked the video footage open and promised you a night of orgasms and whiskey if you kept your shit together for two hours. As tempting as that sounds, you can't escape the feeling that looking at boring people on a boring screen from a night you remember as mind numbingly tedious makes you feel like you'd rather pull your own teeth.
You squirm in his lap, glancing at the screen and the grainy CCTV footage on it. “I don't want to.”
Jack exhales like he's reconsidering every single life choice that led him to picking up your case. “Honey, listen to me. That man knows who you are, has been inside your house, and we don't even know who he is. That has to change asap, and I need your help.” His hands move to caress your arms. “Come on. Just… take a look.”
Your nose twitches and you want to pout, but you don't. He's right. You instead attempt to focus on the video feed as he rolls through it, trying to spot anyone who might have talked to you, lingered, or… anything, really. “Anything that reminds you of feeling off, even if it's just a gut thing.” He reminds you, and you nod quietly.
Jack's rough palm slides up your thigh, warmth meeting your soft skin. You lean back against his chest, subtly opening your legs a little to offer him more and he takes it. His fingers glide lightly over the cloth of your panties, applying just the barest friction. Your breath catches in your throat a little and you have to fight yourself to keep your attention on the footage in front of you. You're both washed in the blue of the screen, the only source of light in the darkness of your office. “That's the organizer. She was a pain in the ass.” You mutter, pointing out the short woman with black hair who wouldn't stop side eyeing you and barking orders. “Uh-huh. I talked to her over the phone yesterday. She wasn't any help.” Jack murmurs. You huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah I'm not surprised.”
“You're doing great, honey. Keep looking at the screen. Don't stop.” Jack's voice is low in your ear, sending a tremor of desire through your body, warmth spreading in your core. Jack's fingers trace the edge of your panties from your inner thigh, two fingers slipping under the edge to lift them and find their way underneath. You gasp as they swipe through your wetness, and Jack groans quietly. “You're so wet for me. Good girl, keep going. I won't stop if you don't.” Your mind struggles to reconcile the pleasure with focus as his fingers find your clit, rubbing over the bud with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips roll against his hand, encouraging the friction and you moan, head tipping back over his shoulder. “I need you, Jack, please, just… touch me.”
Jack can't resist the neediness in your voice and he hits pause with his free hand, then wraps that same hand around your neck, holding you against the hard wall of his body. “Can't keep your head straight, huh.” He sounds faintly amused underneath the thickness of arousal in his throat.
You hum in agreement, shifting in his lap.
“Okay, honey. Let me take care of you.” He tilts his hand, sliding two fingers into you. You're so wet that there's barely any resistance. Your fingernails find his forearm and dig in, your feet curling where they dangle alongside his legs. “Yessss.” You moan, loud and unashamed. “That's it.” He begins to fuck you with his fingers, sliding them in deep and rubbing against your walls on that spot that sends pleasure shooting up your spine. His thumb stays on your clit, offering sweet dual stimulation. You rock slightly against him, chasing the friction, chasing the edge that is so close you know you're about to fall off. “I'm gonna- oh, Jackie oh my god.” Your breathless gasp turns into a quiet moan of pleasure and you're gone, shuddering in his arms. Jack holds you through it, keeping you anchored against his chest as your frame trembles. “There we go, that feel good?” You nod.
A minute passes as you regain your breath, bathing in the afterglow of the pleasure. It took the edge off your need for sure, but you're also aware that there's still a ball of pressure inside you, your body still very much in need of more. You're about to voice this request when Jack clears his throat behind you.
“How about that footage.” Jack presses a soft kiss to your temple, attempting to redirect your attention to the screen.
“Right.” You clear your throat and lean forward, bracing your elbows against the desk. Your ass grinds directly against Jack's confined cock, and he bites back a groan. His arms wrap around your waist from behind, keeping you anchored in place, right against his hard-on. “Focus, come on now honey. There's not much left.” He encourages.
“Maybe… maybe it would help if you were inside me?” You ask hopefully, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. He's silent behind you, and you really wish you could see his face right now.
“You're trouble”. Rumbled quietly against your back through his chest.
“I'm not.” You protest.
“You are and God help me.” His hands are already sliding in between your bodies and you hear the ripping sound of his zipper being pulled down in haste.
You're moved, positioned, pushed against the edge of the desk. His hands make quick work of dragging your panties down your thighs and legs, left dangling somewhere between your ankles. You feel the heat of his cock pressed against your soaked opening and then…. Then you feel the pressure as he fills you, your fingernails scrabbling against the frictionless surface of the desk for purchase they won't find. He groans, a throaty, quiet sound in the small room, and places both hands on your hips to maneuver you downwards. You sink down willingly, moaning as he rubs against your slick walls. “You feel so damn good wrapped around me.” He groans, slowly guiding your hips, helping you slide upwards and back down again. Your feet plant on the floor to give you leverage and you move in sync with him, nothing but the sound of your panting and the slick sounds of your skin connecting filling the air.
“Touch yourself for me. Go on.” Jack urges, and you slide one hand beneath the edge of the desk to find your clit. You're a little sensitive from the last round, and it doesn't take long for pleasure to build once again. A sharper peak this time, honed by your last orgasm and your residual need. “‘M close.” You breathe, struggling to hold yourself upright. “Gonna cum for me again, yeah?” Jack's hips roll upwards into you, his hands wrapping around your waist to hold you in place. His cock hits deeper than before, driving upwards deep inside you, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll and your toes curl. The knot tightens and tightens, drawing pleasure into the peak and you're lost again, whining his name, Jack.
But he doesn't stop. His arms fasten around you, preventing you from collapsing, and he drives up into you, harder and faster than before.
You feel like you have no air. You can't breathe, that's how it feels, even as you draw air into your lungs but it doesn't feel like enough, not nearly enough.
“I can't- I… I can't.” You barely get the words out, fighting for every letter.
“You can. You can, honey. I know you can.”
Jack's words pull you back into your body, your mind struggling to focus on him and not the sensitivity of your over-fucked body.
Grey, curly hair. Freckles. Muscles, broad chest and big arms.
Sweet brown eyes that seem to be reading the fine print on your soul.
“Ssokay baby. You're okay, just breathe.”
Your lungs expand to take in a deep breath, your chest heaving. “Jack…”
You feel delirious with pleasure and so oversensitive, your entire body is one raw nerve.
Next thing you know, Jack's lifting you into the air, bridal style, striding down the hallway towards the stairs. He's taking you to your room, it seems. You relax. Jack's going to let you lie down and rest, finally. You were beginning to worry.
He nudges the door open with his foot, walking over to your four poster and carefully laying you onto the mattress. “Thank you, Jackie.” You murmur, head lolling back against the pillow. “You're very welcome, honey.” Comes his murmured response, followed by the rustle of sheets as he joins you. You crack one eye open.
“Just one more, honey. That's all, promise.”
You sputter, brows creasing. “I… what?”
“You heard me. I'm taking care of you. You need this, I need this, it's happening and you're going to cum for me again.” Jack's lips brush your cheek and land against your ear. “Spread your legs, honey. Open them, there we go, that's it.” His throat catches on the word. He sounds hungry for your demise.
You whimper as your thighs open, cool air rushing in between them.
Jack's fingers brush over your swollen clit, applying just the barest pressure, and your hips fly right off the bed. He chuckles, voice all warm and honeyed as if he's pleased with the state you're in. Then his warm palms ghost over your hips and then press down, pinning you to the mattress, and he's shifting, positioning himself between your legs, still half undressed, his cock still hard as a brick.
“I'm going to fuck you now.” He announces, eyes twinkling with amusement. “And you're going to take it.”
All you can manage is a sound of bewilderment before his hips drive forward. He slides into you with ease, your body opening to him like she lost a fight she didn't want to win. Oh.
Everything is heightened. You can feel every inch of him inside you, every bit of the friction between your walls as he starts to thrust into you in long, deep strokes.
This time, your orgasm doesn't build like the others. You don't get the usual warning signs, the knot tightening, none of it. You're so far past the threshold of what you've signed up to take that all you can do is let out a trembling, high pitched, drawn-out moan as your body pulses around him.
It doesn't take long for Jack to follow, driving deep inside you one last time and holding there while the warmth of his cum fills your walls. You can feel all of it. Your walls are rubbed raw and swollen to the point of almost being painful, an edge unlike anything you've felt before.
“Relax, honey. You're okay.” Jack's voice filters through your hazy mind, kind and warm like he didn't just exorcise you via his cock.
You can't form a verbal response, just a wordless, whining moan. He shifts to your side and gathers you into his arms, pulling the pieces he shattered back together. “You did great, honey. Head empty, just like I wanted.” He's silent for a moment. “Think we can finally get some work done.”
You groan.
“In about 20 minutes.”
For fucks sake.