Page 47 of Captured By Fate

Kelley's fingernails dig into my biceps ever so slightly as she meets my movements with fervor, crying out when she feels me hit that sweet spot inside of her over and over again. Her legs tremble uncontrollably now as they wrap around me tighter and tighter—her muscles quivering with anticipation for what's to come.

Her eyes roll back into her head as she gives herself fully into this moment - trusting me implicitly with every thrust deep within her depths. Her mouth opens wider invitingly under mine and I can feel the heat emanating off of it.

Groaning deeply, I push deeper into her abyss, pushing myself further than ever before feeling how tight she grips onto me throughout this process - clawing at my back almost violently.

With one last thrust that drives me deep inside her wet heat, Kelley's body tenses up and holds tight before releasing completely—a scream ripped from the depths of her soul echoing through the room accompanied by powerful contractions that coax every last drop of pleasure from both our bodies.

Her fingertips dig into my shoulders again as she loses herself in this orgasm; hips bucking wildly against mine as if trying to get closer still even though there's nowhere else for us to go except for over the edge together.

29

KELLEY

Fuck that was amazing.

Nestled into the crook of his arm, I can still smell the past few hours, hours spent wrapped in each other. I can still taste him on my tongue as I lay and wonder where the next steps take us.

The thing is, every time I cave and let Jackson fuck me, it’s so much more than lovemaking or screwing. He takes me on like a scholar, devours me like a subject, and doesn't let up until he comes out a master.

He truly fucks me.

When I think back on the look in his eyes, the way he held my gaze with a stare so intense, I could tell he was working on something more than just sex with me. He makes the thought of leaving here almost unbearable. I bite my tongue, hearing an unusually calm exhale coming from the man, who just a few minutes ago, made me quiver weakly with him inside me.

I don’t know where the next minutes, let alone days, will take me, but I’ll always remember this fuck.

The intimacy we just shared was unlike anything I've experienced before—primal yet emotional, passionate yet tender.

I study his sleeping face, peaceful in repose, and feel an ache in my chest. My mission, my principles, everything that seemed so clear-cut now wars with the burgeoning love growing inside me.

Carefully, I disentangle myself from Jackson's arms, holding my breath as he stirs slightly. I slip on his discarded shirt and make my way silently to the bathroom.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I take in my reflection—lips swollen from fierce kisses, hair disheveled. I turn on the faucet, letting the cold water shock my system.

I splash the icy liquid on my face, but it does little to dampen the fire Jackson has ignited within me. With drops of water clinging to my eyelashes, I admit the truth I've been avoiding—I'm falling for him, beyond logic or reason.

I grip the edges of the sink, steeling my resolve. I came here with a purpose, one I can't abandon. Jackson may have breached my body, but I won't relinquish control of my heart or mission so easily.

Straightening my spine, I walk back into the bedroom with renewed poise. I will play the part Jackson expects, bide my time, and see this through. My developing feelings notwithstanding, the story comes first.

I crawl back into bed and allow Jackson's arm to curl around me. Resting my head on his chest, I keep my eyes open, my mind working through the night.

Somewhere in the dark hours, an idea hits me. It requires bravery and a little sleight of hand.

I disentangle myself from his embrace with care, every movement deliberate to avoid waking him. I need to do what I came here for.

Slowly, I slip Jackson's phone from the pocket of his discarded pants, my hands trembling. The weight of what I'm about to do settles heavily on me. This small device could be the key to completing my mission.

My eyes linger on his muscular frame bathed in moonlight, taking in every rugged contour of the formidable man who somehow makes me feel delicate and desired. With his chiseled jaw relaxed in sleep, he seems almost boyish now - the hardened exterior momentarily softened.

Phone in hand, I creep through the dark mansion corridors. Shadows dance across the ornate walls, the world asleep aside from my quiet footsteps and racing thoughts. Guilt and exhilaration war within me, the weight of my risky purpose battling the thrill of the covert act.

Once secluded in my own room, I power on the phone, my fingertips hovering over the screen. This gateway could give me access to all the information I need to expose the underground racing empire.

I scroll through Jackson's messages, emails, files - anything that might reveal insider secrets. My throat tightens as glimpses into his world flash by. There's so much more to him than I realized, layers I haven't uncovered.

I pause on a photo of Jackson as a young boy, grinning and tousle-haired. My heart aches, seeing traces of the wounded child within the formidable man. I'm torn, my feelings for him warring with my purpose for being here.

With a deep breath, I open Jackson's email, knowing I need to find something incriminating. But all I see are mundane messages - auto part shipments, race logistics, club finances. No smoking gun, no scandalous expose.

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