Matthew and Emma waved goodbye, their figures receding down the sidewalk. Jackson watched them go, still reeling from the bizarre encounter. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. "Well, that was... something," he muttered to himself. He fished his phone out of his pocket, thumb hovering over Sophia's contact. Just as he was about to hit the dial, a hand landed on his shoulder. Jackson yelped, nearly dropping his phone. He spun around, heart racing, to find Sophia standing there with an amused grin. "Jumpy much?" she teased. "Jesus, Sophia! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You looked so serious, staring at your phone like it held the secrets of the universe." "I was actually about to call you. I thought you might've stood me up." "Stand you up? After our little... encounter at the hotel?" Sophia winked. "Not a chance, handsome." "Fair point," he chuckled. "So, how long have you lurked behind me like a ninja?"
As they finished their coffees, she leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. The movement caused her blouse to ride up, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin. His eyes followed the motion, and his mouth suddenly dried. "Well, that hit the spot," she said, oblivious to Jackson's wandering gaze. "Ready to head out?" He nodded, standing up perhaps a bit too quickly. "Lead the way." She smirked, noticing his eagerness. She slid out of the booth with feline grace, her hips swaying as she walked toward the exit. Jackson followed, his eyes fixed on the hypnotic movement of her backside. They stepped out of the cafe into the cloudy night. The air was thick with the promise of rain, and a cool breeze rustled through the trees lining the street. Sophia huddled closer to him, her warmth contrasting to the chilly breeze. "So," Jackson said, feigning nonchalance, "what shall we do now?" "Oh, I don't know. Got any ideas?" He could think of plenty of
The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Sophia's hands tangled in Jackson's hair, tugging gently. He groaned into her mouth, his fingers digging into her hips. "You feel amazing," he murmured against her lips. His hands slid up her back, and he felt the warmth of her skin through the fabric. "Shut up and kiss me," she demanded, pulling him back in, her tongue exploring his mouth. His hands roamed lower, finding the hem of her top and slipping underneath. Her skin was smooth and warm, and he could feel the lace of her bra as his fingers traced the curve of her waist. She moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his, and he could feel his cock straining against his jeans. "Fuck, Sophia," he groaned, breaking the kiss to catch his breath. "You're driving me crazy." "Good," she whispered. "Because I'm already there." She grabbed his hand and guided it to the button of her jeans. He fumbled, his fingers clumsy with anticipatio
The sleek black car glided through the night, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a knife. Victor sat in the back, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his phone as he scrolled through messages. The driver, a stoic man with a face like carved granite, fixed his eyes on the road ahead. Victor glanced out the window, watching the city lights fade away as they headed towards the outskirts. The sky above was a thick blanket of clouds, promising rain but holding back as if waiting for the perfect dramatic moment to unleash its fury. The car wound through increasingly desolate streets, passing abandoned warehouses and overgrown lots. Finally, it pulled up to a nondescript building, its gray facade blending into the cloudy night sky. A large shipping container was parked outside, looking out of place in the empty lot. As the car came to a stop, Victor spotted Tony standing next to the container. He exited the car, the gravel crunching under his expensive shoes. "Tony, my
Jackson pulled into the pub's parking lot, his sleek car purring to a stop. He sat for a while, gathering his thoughts and taking a deep breath. It was one thing to run into Matthew unexpectedly, but facing the entire gang? That was a whole different ballgame. He stepped out of the car, straightening his jacket. As he approached the pub's entrance, he saw his reflection in the window. Still young, still handsome, still... impossible. He shook his head and pushed open the door. The familiar scent of beer and fried food hit him like a wave of nostalgia. His eyes scanned the room, quickly spotting the boisterous table in the corner. There they were – Matthew, Charles, and James – looking older but unmistakably the same knuckleheads he remembered. Matthew spotted him first, waving enthusiastically. "Jackson! Over here, man!" As Jackson approached, he felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in his chest. "Hey, guys," he said, trying to sound casual. "Long time no see, huh?" Charl
Jackson shook his head. "Nah, not really. There have been a few... encounters, but nothing serious." "Encounters?" James leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Do tell, my friend." "Oh, you know, just... normal stuff. Nothing worth mentioning." Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Normal stuff, huh? Is that why you're blushing like a schoolgirl?" "I am not!" Jackson protested, feeling his face grow even hotter. The guys burst into laughter. "Oh man, some things never change," Charles said. "Remember when we teased him about his crush on Ms. Peterson in high school?" James nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yeah! He'd turn beet red whenever she called on him in class." "Guys, come on," Jackson groaned, smiling despite himself. It felt good to reminisce, even if he was the butt of the joke. As the laughter died down, Jackson seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away from his embarrassing past. "So, what are you guys up to these days? Career-wise, I mean." Matthew straightened up,
Jackson stepped into his luxurious penthouse, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The place still felt surreal - a far cry from the dingy apartment he'd called home before his... accident? Time jump? Whatever the hell had happened to him. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the designer couch as he went to the bedroom. The plush carpet muffled his footsteps, a stark contrast to the creaky floorboards he'd grown accustomed to. In the bedroom, Jackson peeled off his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a messy heap. He'd deal with them later. Or maybe he wouldn't. Wasn't that what rich people did? Leave their messes for others to clean up? He rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a pair of silk pajama bottoms. The fabric felt cool and smooth against his skin as he slipped them on. He crawled into the king-sized bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress with a contented sigh. "Hey, Quantum Quill," he called out. "You th
Jackson's imagination went into overdrive. He shifted in bed, suddenly aware of how tight his silk pajamas had become. "Careful," he warned. "Keep talking like that, and I might have to come over there." Olivia's low, sultry laugh sent shivers down his spine. "Is that a promise?" "It could be," he rasped, desire-laden. "What would you do if I showed up at your door right now?" "Hmm... I might drag you inside by your shirt collar. Pin you against the wall. Kiss you until we're both breathless." His breath caught in his throat. Olivia's words painted a vivid picture in his mind, and he gripped the phone tighter. "After that?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. "Wouldn't you like to know?" "I think we've established that I very much would," Jackson replied. "I suppose I could be persuaded to share more... over dinner, perhaps?" "Dinner? Are you asking me out?" "Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?" He laughed, ru