Chapter 7: Fetish
1325 Words
Irene shot Jackson a deadly glare, making the latter zip his mouth with his hand, shutting up.
“Great,” Irene muttered, exhaling sharply.
She tapped another combination, but this time, she held down two buttons simultaneously. She was resetting the password so they could open the suitcase without breaking it.
“Would it open now?” Jackson asked, his gaze laced with curiosity as she watched and studied Irene’s every move.
It was not only the first time he had seen a high-tech suitcase, but something drew his attention to Irene.
‘She’s beautiful, skillful, fierce…’
His eyes moved downward, seeing the sweat dripping from her neck, going to the valley of her breasts.
‘And extremely seductive.’ He gulped.
As if on cue, Jackson remembered again how Irene went out of control because of the aphrodisiac, and he could still recall how hot it was.
Jackson suddenly wondered… if only he had let Irene make her way to him that night, would things be different?
“Hey,” Irene suddenly asked, snapping Jackson back to his senses. “What’s with that lustful look, huh? Why are you looking at me like you wanted to devour me or something?”
“Because I wanted to,” Jackson answered, completely out of his mind as he was still mesmerized by Irene’s beauty.
Irene raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing…” He looked away.
Sighing, Irene tried to compose herself. The frustration was evident in her expression earlier when she felt Jackson’s intense stare.
However, upon seeing his eyes filled with desire, her negative emotions faded in a snap.
Her body burned, and her mind suddenly imagined how Jackson’s caress would feel, especially with the lust overcoming both of them.
‘This could be because of the aphrodisiac,’ said Irene at the back of her mind, trying to convince herself. ‘Right. There’s no way I would feel this way about him.’
Although Jackson’s physique isn't lacking, Irene has seen other men better than him. Some of them were even Princes from other countries, wanting to seek alliance by marrying her.
Yet, she’s only reacting this way with Oliver. She couldn’t help but wonder why.
“It opened,” Jackson suddenly muttered, his eyes widening when the screen flickered, and the lock released with a soft click. “Wow. You actually did it.”
“Of course.” Irene raised an eyebrow and flipped her hair smugly. “Why? Didn’t you believe me when I said that I could unlock it?”
“I only believe in results, not words,” Jackson answered with a smirk. “And now that you have proven your skills, then of course, I will believe you now.”
Irene rolled her eyes. “Bastard.”
“Language, miss,” Jackson reprimanded. “Words like that don't suit your demeanor.”
Scoffing, Irene crossed her arms, unintentionally emphasizing the cleavage that Jackson could see right now.
“Why?” Irene asked, her face leaning toward Oliver. “What will you do if I don’t stop saying those words, huh?”
She thought Jackson would be intimidated and step back, just like how he looked in their first encounter.
But to her shock, Jackson matched the intimidating gaze she was giving him, making her feel the need to look away.
Or else, Irene would be drowned in his eyes, and she wouldn’t like it.
“I’ll make you shut up with my mouth, then,” Jackson said, his tone serious and seductive at the same time. “Or maybe we should just continue what we didn't do last night? I’m sure you won’t be able to speak by then.”
Hearing those words, Irene’s cheeks flushed, and the heat traveled toward her body.
“Pervert!” she exclaimed and pushed Jackson away.
Jackson chuckled. “You’re the one who started it. I’m talking about that night, and even now.” He shook his head.
Seeing how flustered Irene already was, he looked at the suitcase instead.
“Let’s see what’s inside,” Jackson said, shifting the conversation. “Open it.”
“A-Alright.” Irene nodded, not understanding why someone like her, who didn’t follow anyone aside from her father, easily obliged with Jackson’s command.
Shaking her head and ignoring those thoughts, Irene slowly lifted the suitcase lid. “I wonder what could be inside an expensive suitcase like this…”
Both of their eyes were filled with hope and anticipation, but their eyes widened upon seeing what was inside the suitcase.
“What… the hell is this?” Irene asked in disbelief as she grimaced.
The suitcase was filled with different costumes for policemen, flight stewardesses, waitresses, and even uniforms for other occupations.
Irene’s cheeks burned red as she immediately took a step back from the suitcase. She knew that those weren’t ordinary uniforms—but they were used for people’s fetishes. P.orn.
“Damn. They even used this kind of suitcase just for this, huh,” Jackson said, his lips curving into a smirk.
He took one of the costumes there, which is a blazer and pants, but more revealing than usual. “Look at this, Irene. This will suit you.”
“Pervert bastard!” Irene exclaimed, stepping back further. The embarrassment was highly visible on her face now. “Get that away from me, won’t you? I don’t even know if someone has already used it.”
“All of these were brand new,” Jackson said, his tone confident as he inspected all the clothes. “Maybe the person who was about to bring it accidentally splashed this suitcase in the sea.”
Irene didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she bit her lower lip, looking at Jackson while playing with her hands.
She didn’t know why she was hesitating, but the way he casually held up the scandalous outfit made her insides twist.
Not in disgust since that would’ve been easier to deal with.
It was something else. Something dangerous. Something that was sending heat to her core.
“Irene,” Jackson called out, waving the blazer with an amused smirk. “Are you sure you don’t want to try this on? Just for fun?”
“Fun?” Irene scoffed and rolled her eyes, forcing herself to snap out of whatever spell he was casting on her. “Do I look like a joke to you?”
Jackson’s smirk deepened as he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them.
“No,” he answered, his tone low. “You look like a challenge.”
Her breath hitched. Jackson’s seductive and teasing voice was going to be the death of her.
Irene forced herself to glare at him. “I swear, I’ll kill you if you keep pushing that damn thing on me.”
Jackson chuckled, clearly unfazed by her threat.
Instead of backing off, he tossed the blazer onto her shoulder, leaning in just enough for her to catch his scent; a mix of salt and a masculine smell, something hot and addicting.
“I’d like to see you try,” he murmured before stepping away, ignoring the deadly glare Irene was giving her.
Gripping the blazer’s edges tightly, Irene suddenly realized what he had done. He wasn’t trying to mock her—he had just covered her body since most parts of her skin were showing.
Irene inhaled sharply, trying to calm herself down. ‘Damn him.’
Shaking her head, she turned back to the suitcase, desperate for a distraction.
“I hate to admit this, but this could be useful to us if we needed to change clothes,” Irene said, clearing her throat. “But who the hell owns this?”
“That’s the main question.” Jackson rubbed his chin, his amusement fading slightly. “A suitcase this high-tech just for clothes for fetishes?”
He gestured at the pile of outfits. “Something doesn’t add up.”
- Writer
