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Jackson doesn’t usually put much personal interest in his hits. He does whatever he needs to do and then he goes home.
That’s how he expects this mission to go, to just go through the motions and get his check at the end of it. But then he sees you for the first time.
Your pretty, smiling face is looking up at him from the file he’s been given on you. You’re the only daughter of a prominent politician and the apple of his eye. That’s why you’ve been flagged as being the perfect bait for this hit.
And you are pretty, with an earnest, innocent face. He’s intrigued like he hasn’t been before. Slapping the file closed, he sends out the confirmation text to his lackeys. It’s time to get this party started.
…
You come to slowly with a pounding headache and a deep ache in your wrists. Managing to lift your head you look around yourself with mounting panic. You’re in some windowless, concrete room and you’re tied down to a chair that’s been bolted to the floor.
The last thing you remember is getting ready for bed. You’d thought you’d heard something and before you could even turn around, a gloved hand holding a rag was slapping over your mouth. You were unconscious within minutes.
“H-hello?” You call out tentatively, your voice cracking with dehydration.
Things are silent for a bit before a door placed behind you opens up and the slow, confident steps of a so far unseen person make their way into the room. Making their way around you, the mysterious person comes into your view. Whoever this is, he’s handsome with stunning features that would serve him well if he decided to take up modeling.
He’s smirking down at you and those haunting eyes of his rake up and down your bound form.
“Where am I?” You finally ask, it comes out as a whisper as the full weight of your situation settles on your psyche.
“Not important,” the man replies while stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“I don’t have anything to give you, please let me go,” you plead; your eyes watering with fear.
“It’s not so much what you have,” the man says with a smile, “It’s more that you’re the only child of your father. No hard feelings, it’s just business.”
You break out into sobs while you tug desperately at your bound arms.
Crouching down, the man captures your chin in a bruising grip, “Quit crying. You’ll be leaving here alive. Eventually.”
He leaves after that, slamming the door behind himself.
…
The man comes and goes frequently. He doesn’t seem to be doing much other than coordinating via phone calls and text messages.
Feeling the bitterness of the situation, you bite out scathingly, “What are you, the goon?”
The man barks out a laugh at that and leans casually against the wall across from you, “Not the goon. I’m more of a project manager.”
You sneer at that, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
He watches you for a few moments before he says, “I’m Jackson.”
You stare at him incredulously, “Why the fuck would I care?”
Jackson just shrugs before making his way out of the room.
…
Jackson unties you to use the bathroom at one point. He’s surprisingly gentle as he rubs your raw wrists once they’re free. When he brings you back to the room, he doesn’t tie you up again and instead just lazily tells you to behave before leaving himself once more.
You wait one minute, then two, and once you’re certain he’s gone, you dart towards the door. Of course it’s locked but this is your only chance for freedom. You scratch at the lock desperately, your nails breaking against the metal.
It becomes obvious after a while that you’ll not get anywhere with this method and instead you tuck yourself against the wall and wait. Jackson is quite meticulous in his timed checks and he’s back again soon. You tense as you hear his footsteps echo down the concrete corridor outside your cell and you prepare yourself. As soon as he’s got the door open you’re making a mad dash past him.
He lets out a curse as you manage to shove him aside and once he’s recovered, he’s chasing after you. He’s so much taller than you and he catches up to you quickly, throwing himself atop you and tackling you to the ground. Wrestling with your flailing limbs, he finally pins you.
Jackson looks down at you with a feral grin, “Got you.”
Before you can reply, he’s surging forward and capturing your lips in a fiery kiss that has you gasping. Taking advantage, he forces his tongue into your mouth earning a strangled moan from you. He kisses like he’s been lost in the desert and you are the oasis that’s going to save his life. Almost unconsciously, you arch up into him and he grinds his hips down into yours.
Tearing away, he pants above you with his eyes so dilated that the icy blue is only a thin sliver.
“Are you going to behave now? Or am I going to have to get creative about how I tie you up?” There’s a definite innuendo tucked in those words because his hips tilt down again, his erection rubbing torturously against your core.
You contemplate your options, testing his hold on your wrists. He doesn’t relent even an inch and instead tightens his grip to a painful degree. Biting your lip to hold in your whimpers, you nod reluctantly.
Jackson leans down and you think for a moment he’s going to kiss you again, but instead he nips at your ear and whispers huskily, “Good girl.”
A shudder passes through you that makes Jackson chuckle. He climbs off of you and looks down at you with a hooded stare as you curl in on yourself and rub your bruised, aching wrists.
“Get up,” He orders you, taking ahold of your upper arm roughly once you stand. He practically drags you back to your cell and shoves you into the room. He locks the door behind himself when he leaves and you slump dejectedly into the only chair.
…
Jackson returns later, making you wait longer than normal and the way he smirks at you when you jump makes you grind your teeth. He’s the most insufferable man you’ve ever met and you tell him as much out loud.
He just laughs and takes up his usual spot against the wall. He watches you as you watch him.
“Why are you doing this?” You ask.
He just shrugs, “Good money.”
He leaves at his usual time without saying anything more.
…
You turn in your chair to face the door when Jackson returns. However, what you see in his hand causes you jump up in fear. He’s holding a wicked looking knife and he’s got this crazed look in his eyes.
“You said that I’m not going to be killed,” you state as you rub your arms fretfully and back yourself as far away from him as you can. He follows after you slowly, circling you like a predator about to pounce.
“I can change my mind if I like. It’s the benefit of being your own boss,” he says while darting forward and wrapping you in a bruising hug that pins your arms to your side. You let out a screech and kick your legs out, but it’s useless and he just hauls you across the room.
He throws you down onto the floor and climbs on top of you. You manage to scratch him across the neck but it ends up being the only hit you get against him as he quickly subdues you just like he did in the hallway earlier. He had to abandon his knife to do it, though, so you count it as a victory.
It also seems that your scratching has riled him up even more than before because he starts attacking your neck with fervent, biting kisses.
He transfers one of your wrists to his other hand so that they’re both being pinned by the same one. This leaves him free to slip his hand up under your blouse, going right for your breasts.
He pulls away from your neck, panting, “Fuck.”
You’ve been on edge for hours, ever since he kissed you when you tried to escape. He must see this in your expression because a jackal grin stretches across his face and he yanks your shirt over your head, shoving your bra up along the way. He gives your right nipple a mean tweak that has you yelping and trying to wriggle away from him and he tuts at you.
“You masturbate with your curtains open,” he tells you while running his hands down your torso and working on the zip of your skirt, “And when you play with yourself, you always pinch your nipples.”
Blood rushes to your face in horror and embarrassment, “W-What?”
He’s methodical as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, leaving you in only your panties.
“I had so much fun watching you. I even put the job off an extra week because I wanted to see you more,” Jackson is shameless as he admits this to you, his fingers creeping up the inside of your thigh towards your core.
He hooks his fingers into the hem of your panties and yanks those off of you as well, leaving you bare and soaked before him.
He stares down at you with a hooded gaze that makes your clit throb in anticipation. He doesn’t break that eye contact as he reaches down and unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” He asks as he pulls his cock out, his hand pumping up and down the considerable length lazily. You nod shyly, your legs spreading almost unconsciously in invitation.
He smirks and descends onto you, capturing your mouth in another toe curling kiss.
You can’t resist chasing Jackson’s kisses, your body arching up and your legs wrapping around his waist. He breaks the kiss with a chuckle, “What is it you want, hm? Tell me what you need.”
Licking your bruised lips, you reply, “I want you.”
Grabbing your face roughly he tuts, “Not good enough.”
You take in a shaky breath, “I-I want you to fuck me.”
His face stretches into a sadistically pleased grin, “Good girl.”
Without warning he’s pushing into you.
Before you can make a noise, his hand is wrapping around your throat, squeezing tightly as he works himself into you, back and forth. It’s only when he’s fully seated, that he lets you gasp for breath, your eyes blurry with unshed tears.
“Fuck, you look so sexy like this,” he sets both his hands on your waist, getting his grip good and tight, and then he’s fucking you. It’s hard and fast and too much, but fuck it feels good. You haven’t been fucked like this in ages- ever really if you think about it. No one has ever come close to Jackson.
When you start to sneak your hand down your front towards your clit, he slaps you across your tits. You yelp and retreat, his smirk making you burn with rage and lust all at once.
“‘Spent weeks watching you,” he grunts out between thrusts, “‘Knew it’d be a missed opportunity if I didn’t fuck you.”
A bit of horror of your situation begins to creep back up your spine and you try to pull away from him. He doesn’t let you, though, and instead flips you onto your stomach, wrenching your hips up and pushing back into you at a bruising pace. He fits so much deeper like this, and your eyes roll back in your head in pleasure when he starts hitting that special spot inside of you.
Your moans are loud and embarrassing because he chuckles every time he gets a particularly strung out one.
“‘Think I oughta keep you like this. Just for me,” he rasps into your ear, his sweaty hair sticking to the back of your neck as he buries his face into your shoulder.
He wraps himself around you like a snake, his hips not stopping their relentless rhythm even once. You can feel his balls smacking against your clit as he drives harder and deeper into you.
“Are you going to cum for me?” He demands more than asks as he grips your face tightly in his hand, his other slipping down your body and finding your clit with unerring precision.
You can only nod dumbly and submit to him entirely as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever known washes over you. Jackson lets out a loud groan as your cunt squeezes around him tightly, milking him in the most delectable way.
You both lay there on the hard, concrete floor for a while, panting and shuddering through the aftershocks of your orgasms.
“Yeah,” Jackson says, turning his head to look at you, “Definitely going to keep you.”