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Jackson sat alone at the desk in his office, lights turned out and his fingers pressed against his temples, buried in his own thoughts. The trouble with looking for missing girls was sometimes they were never going home to their family. It had been a shitty day, nobody wanted to sit a father down and tell him his daughter was never coming home. Marlee was thousands of miles away and he wasn’t there to protect her. It made him feel useless. Torturing himself, now he was good at that. He opened the bottle on his desk, shrugged at the mug he planned to use and poured himself a drink, Jackson wondered what she was doing now. What if she was crying, lost, missing? That would mean he’d have to tear the world upside down to make it right. He came here instead of home. Home was empty.

Half way through the bottle, a loud clatter on the other side of the door dragged him from his thoughts and immediately set him back on alert. He leapt to his feet and out of sight from whoever was intent on getting in, pulling the door ajar to take the upper hand over the unwanted guest, gaining the element of surprise. He grabbed the intruder, as a head of dark curls eventually rolled through the door. The visitor let out a shriek and his arms clamped around the slender, female figure.

“Jackson, it’s me, it’s just me,” said a familiar voice.

Recognising the voice as Deborah’s, he loosened his grip and she tumbled out of his grasp.

“What you doing here at this time of night?” he asked as she steadied herself on the door frame.

“Broke a heel, always keep a spare pair in the filing cabinet for emergencies. It’s much easier than going all the way home, and cheaper. Which reminds me, I still haven’t been paid.”

“Sorry, about the…” he awkwardly gestured that he had virtually dragged her to the ground as she came in through the door.

“Don’t change the subject, Jackson.”

“Don’t you pay yourself?”

“Yes, but since there’s nothing to pay myself with,” she said as she produced the replacement shoes from the drawer and kicked each foot up behind her in turn to change them. “You don’t get paid, I don’t get paid. Any chance of any income at all from this job?”

“Didn’t quite…work out.”

She could read the expression in his eyes that said it was more than a job that hadn’t paid, his gaze fell to his feet and he sighed. A wave of sympathy came over her. At least it mattered to him; at least he cared.

“Is that why you’re sitting in here alone in the dark? Go home Jackson.”

Deborah turned to leave and caught sight of the bottle on the desk and stopped. It was obvious he was settling in for the rest of the night. He had already made his way back to the desk and was filling the mug.

“Drinking alone in the dark isn’t the answer.”

She was right. Jackson knew Deborah was usually right.

“Have a drink with me then.”

She should probably say no and try and insist he went home, but when did he ever listen to her?

“One, then I have to go and you have to promise you’ll go home.”

Perching on the end of the desk, she watched as he filled the mug she had brought from her desk.

“Classy,” she said looking down at the offering, taking a gulp then setting it down on the desk.

“How’s Marlee?” she asked, swinging her legs and taking another drink.

“Loving it. Happy.”

His voice sounded anything but happy. She regretted asking, he was down enough.

“I know you miss her, it’s not forever.”

Jackson stopped and let out a deep sigh. Loneliness stung him again. It felt like forever. His eyes scanned his secretary, idly at first, but then with more intent.  

“You look nice, been on a date?” There was an awkwardness in his words, as if he shouldn’t be asking, but wanted to know. It was true. The dress was tighter and even more fitted than her usual work attire.

“I always look nice, not that you’d notice, but no, drinks with a newly single, read recently dumped girlfriend.”

He nodded, an adorably flirty smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth.

“I do notice.”

“Do you?” she found she was unconsciously lowering her voice. Maybe it was the mix of early evening cocktails and cheap wine from a mug. She was very much aware he was easy on the eye, but Jackson was out of bounds, a car crash best avoided and although it never felt that way, technically her boss. The devil was over taking her, willing her to push it a little further. Her palms slid back behind her and she leant back, tracing her tongue across her lips. Jackson watched intently and stepped a little closer.

“Who wouldn’t notice you?”

The air hung heavy and his blue eyes bored into hers, only breaking contact briefly to glance at the shoestring strap that had slipped off her shoulder The next word or move would determine how this would play out. It was Deborah who made the choice, struck by wickedness and chewing at her lower lip, she slowly but confidently parted her legs beckoning him towards her. They might regret this, but the outcome was becoming inevitable.

Jackson’s heart was pounding, his gaze drawn to her exposed thighs. Her eyes followed; a silent invitation. His mouth met hers, tentatively at first. She let out a soft moan of approval that opened the floodgates.

One of his hands raked into her hair, while the other brushed her inner thigh. This time his mouth was greedy and demanding, her lips parted willingly, and his tongue slid over hers, pulling away only to suck at her lower lip. Deborah’s back arched and her nails dug into his shoulders urging him not to stop.

“Are you sure you want to do this…with me? I mean I don’t want to…”

“Jackson, shut up,” she demanded dragging him back.

This time his hand slid all the way up her thigh, fingers brushing over the already damp lace of her knickers. Her kisses were greedy and expectant, interrupted only by a soft whimper his teasing fingers drew out of her, a needy cry for more. As she threw her head back he found the soft flesh of her neck, leaving a warm trail of wet kisses followed rapidly by the gentle nip of his teeth. He worked his way along her collar bone, spurred on by her groans of approval. Deborah’s hips bucked against his hand demanding more, her urgency driving his fingers inside her underwear. Jackson moaned and bit down hard on her shoulder as he found her cunt already hot and soaked, achingly ready to be fucked. She cried out for him as he worked two fingers inside her, teasing at the now throbbing and sensitive tight bundle of nerves with his thumb.

“Fuck, fuck, Jackson don’t stop,” she begged.  

She wanted it, needed it now; she was unravelling with the urgent rhythm of his fingers unable to control her own hips from grinding against his hand searching for more. Every firm brush of his thumb against her clit only sharpened her cries until she was coming undone for him, barely able to breathe as the hot rush of orgasm consumed her.

There was no time for awkwardness now. Before he had even had time to consider what had just happened she was reaching to for his belt with shaking hands.

“I need you to fuck me.”

He could only half nod open mouthed as he tried to wriggle her free of her flimsy underwear, her skirt now bunched at her waist.

“I can’t get these off,” he said, still trying to manoeuvre her out of her knickers.

“Just rip them, for fuck’s sake.” He complied, tearing them in one yank with his strong but trembling hand.

There was no stopping now. Jackson pulled her to the edge of desk, letting out a deep groan of satisfaction as he pushed his deliciously thick, hard cock into her slick cunt. The heat of her, the tight grip of her was almost too much. He knew he should slow down, but that sort of self-control was lost. Instead he wanted to bury himself deep inside her, fuck her hard and rough. Deborah had wrapped her legs around him, the thin spike of her heel digging in to him only excited him more. He loved the feel of her, the sound of her panting for his cock, the sharp stinging sensation as she scratched and clawed at his back.

She was chanting his name now in a ragged whisper as he pounded into her, fucking her hard and fast, breaking the rhythm to almost pull out of her, to make her ache and writhe against him until her mewling pleas made him thrust back inside her as deep as he could go. He liked that she was noisy, unafraid to take her own pleasure.

“Fuck, yes, Jackson, yes.”

She clenched around him, held on even tighter and with a final cry she came again.

“Oh, Deborah, fucking hell, Deb, Deb,”

He couldn’t hold back any longer, gritting his teeth as he spilled into her.

Planting a soft kiss on her head, he slowly and gently untangled his fingers from her hair.

“Alright?” he asked.

Deborah laughed softly, answering only with a smirk.

“I should…”

“Pick your trousers up from round your ankles?” she said, smiling wickedly.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth,” he said taking a cigarette from the pack and lighting it.

“Give me one of those.”

“I didn’t know you…”

“I don’t,” she said helping herself to his and taking a long slow draw.

There was a peaceful silence. Unable to stand it any longer, it was Jackson who broke it.

“So, what do we do now?”

Deborah sighed and composed her response.

“It was lovely, it was really…”

She was cut off by the ringing of his phone. The light flooded the darkness in the room.

“It’s Marlee,” he said.

“Take it,” she gestured him to answer, “it’s important.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Deborah smiled to herself, collected her handbag and was making her way out of the door. She paused, knowing he was watching her. With wave, she mouthed ‘go home’ and was gone.