Dark Secret (DARC Ops Book 1) (15 page)

“A warning would have been nice,” she said, staring at his bare desk.

“About what?”

“About the interrogation.”

He laughed like she'd just said something ridiculous.

“She kept saying we're a team, we're a team. But it felt like I was talking to a detective who was trying to nail me on something.”

“Well that's just her style,” Jackson said, holding his tie to his chest as he sat down across from her. “She's a little gruff sometimes. She's a tough cookie. But you don't have to take it personally.”

“I'm trying not to.”

“Well, try harder.” He stared at her for a moment. “We need this story, Mira.”

“Why do we need her?”

“Because she's our contact. There's nothing you or I can do about that.”

“Really? We can't just go to another paper?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” He opened a filing cabinet and began fingering through some folders.

“It's a huge story. Why wouldn’t someone else want—”

“They'd kill it,” he said. “Dead in the water. It wouldn’t be printed. We need someone with some pull, someone who can survive the editorial meeting. Someone on our side. And that's Annica.” Jackson pulled out a thick manila folder and plopped it on his desk. “The real question is, what’s your actual problem with her?”

Mira didn't exactly know, herself. Sure, there were petty things. A lot of petty things...

Jackson spoke again before she could formulate an answer that didn’t sound as petty as she felt. “Alright, look, I'm sorry. I know it was rough. But she needed background.”

“To discredit me.”

“No way.”

“Can you imagine what kind of story she'll come up with?”

“She and I talked at length about the story,” said Jackson, flipping through the contents of the folder. “She believes you. Okay?”

Mira so wasn’t sure about that. She wanted Jackson’s reassurance. She needed it. It bothered her how much she needed it from him.

“She's working for us, Mira. I can assure you of that. But she still has to ask the tough questions. She's got to keep her usual practice, her professionalism.”

“She was hardly being professional.”

“Well I don't know about that. It might be hard for you to see it, but Annica's actually a very good reporter.”

“Yeah. I can see how she gets her leads.”

Jackson looked up from his file and stared at her.

“Though it probably works better on men,” she said.

“What works better on men?”

“Whatever worked on you.”

She didn’t want to go there. The insecurity, the jealousy. She was sick of it. And she was sick of wanting to straddle him and taste his mouth, no matter how aloof and cold he'd been acting. It was a new sensation, a powerlessness. She hated it, almost as much as she hated the walls he'd clearly constructed around his heart since their last meeting, and the ambiguity of their "relationship." It wore on her and made her reckless. Blowing it all up in Jackson's face, and pushing whatever relationship they had to the brink of destruction, seemed like the only way out.

“Okay,” he said, rolling his chair back and standing up. “Fine. If you gotta blow off some steam, go ahead. That's why I had her leave.” He walked over to the corner of the room, to a cozy arrangement of lounge furniture set on a plush circular rug.

“What do you mean?”

“I lied about the meeting.”

“Why?”

“Because you needed a break. Okay? I could see it written all over your face.”

For a split second, Mira felt immensely embarrassed. Had Annica been able to read her as easily as Jackson obviously could? She doubted it. The money grubbing news floozy hadn’t shown anything other than a continuing pit bull attitude when Mira’s discomfort had spiked. She’d thought Jackson had been oblivious to them both. Apparently not. “Why didn’t you step in and defend me? You felt no obligation at all? No reason?”

Jackson sat in a modernly designed chaise lounge. His sigh was audible from across the room.

“Or would you consider
that
unprofessional?” Mira tossed her purse on his desk and stood.

“I had no idea you needed defending,” said Jackson.

“Yeah, I'd hate for you to look bad in front of your
friend
,” she said, walking to the small leather couch next to Jackson.

“If anything,” he said. “You were putting
her
in the hot seat. I almost felt sorry for her.”

She sat with a huff. “That's nice.”

“And we'll be lucky if she comes back.” He kicked his feet up on a coffee table. “You were being hostile, Mira.”

“She was being a bitch.”

“Well,” said Jackson, shaking his head with a smile. “You at least saved the swearing until after she left. Nice restraint. I guess you were
both
being professional.”

“A professional bitch.”

“Hmm, yes.” He looked legitimately puzzled about why she was upset. Was he used to confrontations with psychotic lovers? Probably.

“I actually didn’t save any swearing,” said Mira. “When she asked for an example of Farsi, maybe if newspapers still believe in fact checking, she'll get the message.”

“What message?”

“I told her to fuck off.”

“Oh,” he said, almost chuckling. “Annica will actually probably love that.”

“I should have said it in English.”

Jackson stood up from his seat and headed to the door. “All right. Maybe we should go for a walk.”

“What?”

“Come on. You need some fresh air or something.”

“I don't need a walk. I'm not some fucking pet.” said Mira, hating the way she trailed after him anyway.

They were in the hallway now. And Mira had no idea where they'd go next. She crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes darting around the room and her fingers tapping swiftly on her arms as Jackson spoke briefly to his personal assistant before turning back to her.

“God, you're a wreck,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

Jackson stopped in the hallway and turned around. “She really upset you. Why?”

It felt surreal, the way his eyebrow twisted up in confusion. This was the guy who was about to risk everything for her, who'd been so generous and protective, and... loving. And now it felt like they weren’t even in the same book, let alone on the same page.

“Look, Jackson...”

“Let’s talk about this later, in private,” he said, turning and walking away from his office.

Mira kept up with him. She didn’t know what to say or do except obey an instinctual drive, a magnetism that kept her following him down the hall. Struggling to match his pace, she became acutely aware of the maddening position she'd fallen into, a lose-lose purgatory where leaving and staying seemed equally impossible.

Jackson turned again, saying, “Don't worry about it. Okay? Maybe we'll just do this another time. It's all good.”

“No,” she said quietly. “It's not.” She couldn’t imagine waiting that long. It needed to be settled. And the look on Jackson's face betrayed his own needs he wasn’t voicing. For the first time, she noticed that he'd begun to look as tired and beaten down as she. Was that what she'd been waiting for? For him to be human?

Why the fuck was she fighting with him?

Jackson turned to face an approaching cluster of voices. Happy employees. Workplace laughter. It sounded so foreign, so far away.

“Jackson,” said Mira, almost in a whisper now.

“It’s okay, really. You don’t have to talk to her. I’ll tell Annica you changed your mind.”

No. Whatever the other woman had done to piss Mira off, it wasn’t Jackson’s fault. She hadn’t paid him a single dime, and yet he was still here, helping her, keeping her safe. Even if it hadn’t been him trailing her personally lately. She’d been the one to brush him off, after all. She couldn’t blame him for keeping his distance a little since she’d pushed him away after his kiss in the parking lot. After she’d rejected anything more than a professional relationship with him. He didn’t deserve her anger for simply trying to help her. Annica might be a total pain in her ass, but if it got the senator’s dirty laundry out in public then Mira would just pull on her big girl panties and suck it up. It was worth it.

“You were right, I fucked it up,” she said. “Before we even got started.”

Jackson moved to a side of the hall and opened one of the doors. “Come on,” he said, holding the door open for Mira. “Come in.”

Mira hurried into the room as if escaping a crime scene.

“Before we got started, huh?” he said, repeating her words as he shut the door behind them.

Mira looked around the room, trying to orientate herself. “Yeah. That day, after the press conference…” After Jackson flipped on a row of bare florescence lights, Mira saw that she'd been ushered into the interrogation-themed statement room, the venue of their first meeting. She looked around at the familiar minimal furnishings, the sad-looking table and the three well-worn chairs, an atmosphere which seemed to request the baring of one's soul. Or at least the baring of something... if Jackson was still interested in anything she had to offer.

“No, that wasn’t your fault,” he said with a deep frown. “I threw myself at you, I shouldn’t have kissed you when you were vulnerable.”

“No you didn’t. I made the first move.”

“And I took the bait,” he said. “And then you changed your mind?”

“I was scared,” Mira said. Jackson’s face was pained. God he couldn’t think she was actually scared of him. Could he? She rushed to correct him. “Not of you, Jackson,” Mira felt blush color her cheeks. “Never of you. Of what’s going on.” She gestured randomly at the room. “About the senator, about all this. I’m not like you”

Jackson’s eyebrows shot up. “You know how often I’m scared, Mira? I get scared too, all the damn time. Especially lately it seems when it comes to you.”

That surprised her. He seemed almost invincible to her. “But you’re a SEAL. You can handle anything. I'm just a translator. An office drone.”

“I'm not just talking about our jobs.”

“I’m sorry, Jackson. About that day. I shouldn’t have run.”

“It’s okay. I don't even care about that.”

She wanted him to care. But more than that, she wanted to him to chase her down, tackle her and pin her against his body. She needed him to take control, to circumvent the control her mind held over her body, to push aside the cerebral safeguards so typical of her loveless existence. She’d never felt such a burning arousal for anyone before, and it scared the hell out of her.

Mira looked up at Jackson’s face, hoping to see that it had softened. But it remained stoic. “Then what do you care about?” she asked. “What do you want?”

Jackson didn’t answer. He seemed frozen.

“I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” she said, feeling her mind unravel as she fought against the sting of tears. “You stopped watching me, and... I didn't know what that meant. So I assumed…”

“I didn’t stop watching you,” he said.

“Jackson, I can’t play around with this. Not anymore.”

“I know. Me neither.”

“No, I mean, with you. Jackson, I’ve never felt this way before. With anyone. I think I could really fall for you.” The words spilled out before she could think better of it, before she could even think at all. She watched him swallow, his lips twitching ever so slightly, his eyes suddenly looking away from her. She watched him do everything but say the words back to her. Words she wasn’t expecting to hear back. Words she hadn’t even expected herself to say. Nevertheless, they were the words she'd needed.

And then she made another unplanned move and lunged for the door.

Mira felt two large hands on her waist just as she tried grabbing the door handle. Jackson was holding each side of her hips, pulling her off the ground and drawing her back into the room. She struggled against him, not really meaning it. He wrestled her back with ease, into a bear-hug, slamming her body tightly into his. And holding her there, her back pressed against the front of his body where she could feel his chest heaving. He was breathing hard, like he'd just run somewhere, his warm air caressing Mira's neck. She stopped struggling.

“
D
on't go
,” he said breathlessly into her ear.

Grabbing her like that, he hadn’t exactly given her a choice. But Mira didn't mind. She especially didn't mind his lips grazing her neck, Jackson's soft kisses down to her collar bone doing all the convincing necessary. As it turned out, the statement room wasn’t so bad after all.

His warm mouth returned to work along her neck, tasting her skin, sucking on her gently. Mira sighed and melted into him, her ass backed up against his crotch, and then wiggling in, teasing him. He appreciated the help, moaning softly and rocking his hips with hers. Mira felt him grow hard against her. She was amazed at how finely she could feel him through both their pants, his full length delightfully obvious through the thin fabric of his suit. It felt like he'd rip a hole through both of their pants at any minute.

But Mira would make him wait.

She turned around to face him. As she rotated, his mouth circled up her neck, over her chin, and then onto her mouth, locking in with a hot kiss. God, she loved how he tasted, and how his pheromones worked their stealthy, sinful magic on her. His tongue darted in and brushed along hers, and then twisted back over her lips. And then she went in for her favorite bottom lip, sucking on it hard and pulling it back, owning it. It was hers and she could do whatever she wanted with it. She reached a hand down the front of his chest, down over the contours of his hard abs, gliding over the thick bulge of his cock. That was hers too. She gave him a little squeeze as if to tell him so, and Jackson's knees buckled in acceptance. She then ran her thumb over the tip through the fabric of his pants, the head growing and twitching under her touch. He groaned again into her mouth as his hand traveled up and inside her blouse. She didn’t even realize he'd untucked it until his hand brushed against her breast. Jackson ran his fingers over her bra and her nipples stiffened. And then he slipped a finger under and around, curling it around the hard bud, pulling it gently, tugging it, driving her wild.

Mira wanted to help him out. She started undoing her buttons to give him better access, while his hands had already circled around to her back to unclip her bra. And then, as easily as he'd move a pillow, he picked her up and sat her on the table. Their timing and teamwork was impeccable, both tasks finished just in time for Jackson to satisfy his voracious hunger for her naked flesh. He bowed his head onto her chest, his tongue running across her breast and then stopping at her nipple, circling playfully before his lips surrounded it in his mouth's warm suction.

Mira’s reached around to the back of his head, holding him against her chest, her fingers running through his short hair. Then she rested her head on the top of his, her eyes closing while Jackson's mouth moved to taste her other breast. She relaxed and went limp, letting Jackson explore.

And then she took a deep breath.

Finally, there was no more apprehension. No more questions. No concerns at all about some stupid reporter. She didn’t even know her name anymore. Nothing else existed outside of their little room, their private pleasure chamber.

Mira opened her eyes. The statement room. Those chairs...

That table.... She never would have imagined, two weeks ago, that Jackson would be pressing her back flat against it. Her fantasy was one thing, but she never actually thought that Jackson would be unbuttoning and tugging at her pants. It seemed so impossible, even just a few days ago, that she'd lift up her hips to help him strip her pants – and now panties – from under her ass and down her legs.

She was shivering now. But not because she was cold.

She wanted him.

Now.

There was no time for Jackson to fool around with the bunched up clumps of clothing at each ankle. She sat up and reached down, speeding up the process while Jackson thankfully addressed his own overdressed state. He needed to get those clothes off fast.

He started with his jacket, tossing it to a corner. And then his tie, pulling at it violently until it loosened. While he worked on unbuttoning his shirt, Mira grabbed at his belt and flung it open, the buckle making a metallic jingling sound. Jackson stripped his shirt off, releasing his exquisite body to the open air. Mira's hands moved up to caress his pecs while Jackson continued where she left off at his pants, unzipping and dropping them to his ankles, leaving his boxer briefs on, his cock straining against the form fitting fabric. And then he pressed her back down on the table. “Lay down,” he said. And she happily complied.

Stepping in between her legs, and lowering his head, a hungry and eager Jackson dove in. His mouth was in a frenzy, licking and sucking and lapping up the length of her inner thigh. Mira shuddered with the intensity of the sensation, her back squirming against the tabletop. She almost forgot to breath entirely when he reached the soaking wet source of the almost unbearable ache between her legs, his tongue running along her lips and up under the hood, lapping gently at Mira's hardened clit until she could barely stand it. She was moaning loudly now, her back writhing in ecstasy. Jackson was moaning too, the vibrations pulsing through her body as his tongue worked her faster and faster.

“Jackson,” she whispered as she felt his large fingers opening her and sliding inside her body, one at a time. “Mmm, Jackson, God.” He bent his finger to rub along the roof of her G-spot while his tongue lapped her up.

God, yes...

She squirmed violently. His hand rested lightly on her belly, holding her in place, but it was so damn hard to stay still.

“Jackson, you're gonna make me come.”

Jackson’s response was to lap at her sensitive core faster, inserting another finger inside. Mira’s head fell back and she moaned loudly. The intensity made it almost hard to breathe. Warm waves of pleasure welled up, building up in heat and intensity. And then she heard the annoying buzzing sound of the phone in Jackson's crumpled pants pocket. He withdrew his hand and his mouth fell away.

“No!” Mira cried, sitting up.

“It's my emergency—”

Mira grabbed the back of his head. “I don't care, no.”

The buzzing continued, and so did Jackson, eagerly returning back between her thighs. Unlike the DARC Ops emergency, Mira's couldn't wait.

She groaned louder now. The room may or may not have been soundproofed. But it no longer mattered. At this moment there was absolutely nothing on the planet that could worry her.

“Mmm,” she cried out, feeling the warmth of Jackson's tongue pushing inside her. “Yes, baby, yes. Keep going. Please.”

He sucked on her, even biting her softly, sending a rush of pleasure through her. His tongue moved his mouth from her entrance and his fingers returned, plunging deep and stroking her inside as his tongue slid back up to lick against her clit, over and over again. Another hot rush of pleasure flooded her and her orgasm washed over her. Her back stiffened. Leg muscles twitching wildly, squeezing Jackson's head. And then her eyes rolled to the back of her head while she endured wave after shuddering wave of unbearable pleasure.

The endorphins were still fresh when Jackson's phone buzzed again. But this time, Mira didn't object. She only raised her head off the table slightly, her voice almost trembling and deeply satisfied. “Don't be long.” She closed her eyes and listened to him pulling his pants back up to his waist, her mind pleasantly occupied with the image of Jackson struggling to fit them back over his erection. She heard him take a deep breath before answering the call.

“Hey, Tansy, what's good?” He spoke calmly, in a natural sort of manner which suggested that he had definitely not just performed oral sex on a client in the statement room. No, no, of course he wasn’t just eating out Ms. Swanson. They were going over intelligence reports.

“Just going over some things,” Jackson said.

The intelligence that Mira had just received was a riveting tale which illustrated Jackson's expertise at getting her off in record time. And that was only the prologue.

Jackson must have switched his phone to speaker mode, because suddenly Tansy's voice filled the room. “...think we're finally getting a handle on this Langhorne situation. It's either insanely complicated, or just downright idiotic.”

“Well, which one?” asked Jackson.

Mira glanced at him again. He sat topless in one of the chairs, pointing to his phone as if Mira should be listening in. But she wasn’t interested. There were more important matters at hand. Ones that were nearly staring her in the face.

“I thought you said you had a handle on it,” Jackson said.

Mira was perfectly capable of having a handle on it, too. It was a multifaceted problem, and therefore must be addressed through a variety of unorthodox strategies—starting with Jackson's stress relief. How could he get any work done without some kind of release? And how could she have waited so long to perform that all-important function?

Still fully nude, Mira lowered herself off the table and took a few steps towards Jackson. And it definitely drew his attention away from the call, his eyes trained on the gentle swaying of her breasts as she approached. His mouth opened slightly, his legs widening unconsciously. Mira got down on her knees before him.

“I've got a handle on it,” said Tansy.

And so did Mira, her hand already slipping through Jackson’s open pants zipper and under his boxers, wrapping around his still rock hard cock.

“Good,” said Jackson, his voice sounding a little strained.

Mira rubbed him slowly, up and down. He was so hot in her hand, hardening even more at her touch.

“Tell me about, uh...” Jackson trailed off as he shifted around in his chair. “Tell me about his program.”

“What?” asked Tansy. “His encryption program?”

Mira moved her hand along his shaft a little faster, causing Jackson to answer with, “
Yeah
, yeah,” his voice higher than usual. “Yeah, his encryption program.”

“I already told you. There's no trace of a program on the senator's computer.”

“I know, but...” He leaned up off the chair slightly so Mira could pull his pants back down to where they belonged—around his ankles. “Well... So how does he read it?”

“I don't know,” said Tansy. “The guy seems like a complete hack. The most dangerous thing he does is play minesweeper, and badly.”

Mira loved the way Jackson’s cock bounced out of his boxer's waistband as she stripped him, how hard he was for her, and how it stood straight and tall like the dutiful soldier Jackson was.

“Okay,” he said, looking down at Mira with an appreciative smile. “Sounds good.”

“What? What sounds good?”

She went back to her stress-relieving, one hand rubbing his thick shaft while the other held his balls, playing with them, making him squirm again.

“I mean, good job. On the recon.”

Mira brought her face to his crotch, her lips grazing the tip of his cock, and then kissing it, tasting it. He was all male, and she moaned softly at his unique flavor.

“So then, uh...” Jackson coughed.

She ran her tongue along the length of him, all the way up, and then over...

“So...” He coughed again. “Does that mean the senator is merely a courier?” His voice sounded tighter again.

“I have no idea.”

His skin was so smooth, so warm... His smell was deep and earthy and intoxicating...

“Or does he...uh.. Does he have someone else that can do what Mira does?”

She slowly took his cock into her mouth, letting it glide deep over her tongue.

“I don't know,” said Tansy. “I don't think
anyone
can do what Mira does.”

He was right. And Jackson's spasms and shallow breathing proved it.

“Hello?”

Mira bobbed up and down him, sucking him hard.

Jackson? What are you doing?” asked Tansy.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, out of breath. “Exercising. Stairs.”

She could feel him growing impossibly harder again, his hot cock twitching in her mouth as Jackson arched his back against the chair.

“I gotta go,” he barely got the words out.

“What?”

Jackson ended the call, letting out a huge groan. “Oh my God, Mira...” He held her head against him for a moment before pushing her away and standing. With a determined look in his eyes that made Mira go limp, he grabbed her by the shoulders, picking her up off the ground and turning her around. She let him push her body against the table, bending her over it, his cock bouncing against her bare ass.

“Give it to me,” she said, feeling the heat of his naked body against hers. “Please.”

Nothing, just for a moment. Then Mira heard the telltale crinkling of a foil packet and felt him sliding up between her thighs, lubricating his cock against her wetness before gliding to touch the tip to her opening, which was also still wet from Jackson’s ministrations—if not more now.

“Please,” she said again.

And then he surged forward, sliding in smoothly and deeply to the hilt, to the end of her, filling her up completely with his heat. Mira gasped as she adjusted to his size and he groaned like an animal, a lion, as she went fluttery and weak-kneed, accepting him, barely. Oh, God, just barely.

At the start, he was gentle, taking it slowly, his hips rocking slowly and fully all the way, stretching her open until any discomfort faded into throbbing waves of sensations that she didn't even know were possible.

He made it so possible. Everything.

So good.

“God, you're so tight,” he moaned into her ear. “Is this okay?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Do I feel good?”

“Mmm,” Mira groaned. “Fuck...”

He started pumping a little harder.

“Yes...”

And harder.

“Oh, God, more.”

She moved her elbows out and collapsed flat onto the table, her head turned to one side, her cheek pushing back and forth against the tabletop as he worked her.

“Fuck me,” she pleaded. It had never been like this before, never felt this exhilarating. An almost spiritual experience, Mira feeling the edges of her very being evaporating, leaving nothing but the glorious feeling of Jackson's throbbing cock inside her.