“Don'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.

And then an even better feeling, the raw electricity of an orgasm building up from her toes and into her belly. Jackson reached around and pressed his fingers hard against her clit. Ecstasy exploded up Mira's spine and into her brain in blinding white flashes, her muscles contracting and her inner walls clamping down hard around him as she came again.

And then Jackson came hard, as if he'd been waiting for her pleasure before letting go of his own control, thrusting deep and then holding his hips flush against her body as he spasmed in ecstasy, his groan low and guttural. She could feel him pulsing and twitching, climaxing hard, emptying himself inside her.

He collapsed onto Mira, thoroughly exhausted. She could feel his abs flexing against her back with each hard breath as he struggled to get his breath back.

“Oh my God,” he panted.

“Yeah,” was all she could say, also out of breath, and almost out of her mind.

He helped her off the table a moment later, handing Mira her clothes and helping her dress. There was still that pesky interview to deal with. Working as a team, they tried to hide the evidence, brushing the sex from each other's wrinkled clothes and disheveled hair. But there was nothing to be done about flushed cheeks and dirty minds. They'd have to live with that.

Mira could so live with that.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said, grinning.

Yeah,” Jackson laughed. “Best I ever had.”

* * *

Mira sat alone in Jackson's office, doodling in a sketchbook. When she heard the reporter's familiar clacking heels she spun around with a cheerful grin. “Annica! Hey! How was your lunch?”

“Uh... Pretty good,” the reporter said hesitantly as she pulled back one of Jackson's chairs and sat.

“Good,” said Mira, sounding as perky as possible. “What did you have?”

“Lentil soup.”

Poor girl.

“Mmm. Sounds good,” Mira said with a smile.

Lentil soup... What a boring way to spend a half hour...

“How was your lunch?” Annica asked.

Her lunch was incredible. Absolutely fucking goddamned incredible. “Pretty good,” she said with a modest little grin.

“Where did you end up going?” asked Annica. “I was waiting for you in the lobby in case you wanted to keep up the interview.”

“Oh. Sorry. I stayed here. Please don't take it personally, but, I kinda needed a break from the questions.” Mira shrugged innocently. “Low blood sugar. I can get grouchy.”

“She's all better now,” said Jackson, fixing his tie as he entered the office. “I whipped up something special for her in the break room.”

“Aww,” said Annica. “How nice.”

Nice, indeed.

Life was good again. Mira could handle this. And Annica finally finished the interview.

After all the questions, and after Annica made her exit, Mira was happily faced with the prospects of being alone with Jackson again. Behind a locked door, even.

“So...” she said with a devilish grin.

“No,” he laughed. “No way. My P.A. has a key.”

“I know, I know,” she said, feeling like a shamelessly horny schoolgirl. “I was just kidding.”

“No you weren't.”

“Fine, I wasn't.”

Jackson got up and circled around his desk. The fact that his body was approaching hers was enough to send a pleasant shiver up her spine. A nice little flashback.

“I've got something for you,” he said, pulling a chair close to her and sitting. He leaned over and pecked her softly on the forehead.

“A kiss?” she asked.

“No.”

He leaned over again, this time meeting Mira halfway for a hot kiss on the mouth, his tongue surging forward and swirling with hers. She savored it for a moment, Mira enjoying more flashbacks. More of that lip... That tongue...

When Jackson pulled away, he'd taken hold of her hand and pulled it out flat. “Now close your eyes,” he said.

Mira closed her eyes.

And a second later, she felt two small metal objects fall into her palm. What were they? Tracking devices?

“Open your eyes,” he said.

She saw two small diamond earrings sparkling from her hand.

“Oh my God... Jackson...”

Oh my god, He was serious about her. Maybe even too serious.

She was almost overwhelmed, until Jackson said, “Don't worry, they're fake.”

Mira laughed. It was a relief. She hated receiving gifts, especially jewelry so expensive she’d been afraid to wear it.

“But hey,” said Jackson. “It's the thought that counts, right?”

“Let me guess. Tracking devices?”

He smiled. “Exactly. But really nice ones, though, right?”

She laughed again. “They're wonderful. Thank you.” Although she was mildly disappointed that they were back to business. In fact, she had almost forgotten the whole thing. Multiple orgasms seemed to have that effect on her.

“I made up some fake documentation for my identity at the Ball,” he said. “I'll be there as Tom Wainwright.”

“Okay. And who is Tom Wainwright, exactly?”

He grinned sexily. “Tom is your boyfriend.”

“Oh, he is?” She nudged him with her elbow.

“Yes. And he's crazy about you. Didn’t you know that?”

They stayed in his office for the next hour, planning and rehearsing for the Ball. But Mira was so distracted she could barely retain anything—other than her suddenly having a boyfriend. One that was apparently crazy for her.