New story! Huzzah! It's probably going to be quite long, so sit down and prepare for a long ride :D

I hope you enjoy this story!

God, it was so hot in the hotel.

Lisa fanned herself with the copy of the local newspaper, desperately trying to cool down, as she strode across the lobby of the Lux Atlantic, leaving Cynthia in the managerial position for the next three days. Her flame haired friend had been surprisingly accommodating about Lisa's request for leave, she knew what the next few days meant to her boss.

The anniversary of the event that haunted Lisa's nightmares was tomorrow and she really needed a little time off to recuperate.

So Cynthia waved her boss goodbye, leaving Lisa with a bright smile before she tottered off to see to the checking in customers. Lisa turned and smiled, Cynthia had learnt a lot seen the Keefe incident.

She had become more independent; more headstrong. It pleased her to see her friend taking control of the situation and had thanked her for days when she immediately agreed to cover Lisa's shifts.
A faint smile crossed Lisa's face as she opened the door to the Lux, humming happily to herself.

Her happiness was short lived when she discovered the torrential rain that poured down outside the hotel.
Oh hell. But the hotel was so ho- Oh shit. You left your umbrella in the car Lisa. Idiot.
A frown crossed her face; raising the paper she had been fanning herself with over her head as she began to run down the steps to the hotel. The rain hammered down above her, soaking her clothes but leaving her head relatively dry due to her ingenious umbrella substitute. As she reached her car she began to rummage for her keys, fingers searching feverishly through the mass of stuff that settled in her bag.

With a grunt her hand slipped sending her bag crashing to the floor, spilling her purse and Blackberry clattering onto the wet tarmac.

"Fucking hell," she cursed, throwing the paper shielding her head to the ground, kneeling to grab her stuff. Throwing the freshly soaking Blackberry and wallet back into the bag, she removed the keys and thrust them into the lock, toppling inside the car as fast as she could.

Breathlessly, Lisa realigned herself into a somewhat acceptable driving position, her hair dripping water into her eyes. A number of swear words passed her lips as she drove home, road rage making a frequent appearance. This wasn't the greatest start to the peaceful long weekend that she had wanted.

It was 7PM by the time she pulled up outside her home. Joe Reisert's house had been her living area for months- she couldn't bring herself to be alone. But finally she had transitioned in the last month back to her own house, which in truth was only a short drive from her Fathers.

The grocery stop had caused another hour to be added to her journey home, the choice between crunchy and smooth peanut butter always puzzled her.

The jar of 'Crunchy' was now sitting, opened, on her kitchen counter as she unloaded the rest of the groceries into the correct cupboards. After screwing the top back onto the peanut butter, watching the 'Friends' marathon on the TV and double checking the security locks on the doors and windows she decided to retire to bed.

She brushed her hair neatly; as she always did. Her pyjamas were buttoned up to the neck; as they always were. Her comforter was folded neatly; as it always was. Sometimes Lisa wished she wasn't so neat. Sometimes she wished that she had the courage to paint her walls bright yellow, to cut her hair, to get a tattoo, something, anything in an urge to rebel against herself. But somehow, the cream paint that donned her walls seemed to fit her life.

Bland.

Boring.

Safe.

She flicked the light off and turned onto her side. The light of the moon outside lit up her bedroom, casting a comforting shine across her possessions. She tossed and turned before settling on her back and opening her eyes with a sigh- sleeping wasn't a strong point of hers anymore.

Looking up at the ceiling above her bed, Lisa began to appreciate the safety that her house resonated, the smooth lines of the counter tops and the sideboards, the pictures of her family that rested on the shelves, the set of knives that she kept in her bedside table.

And of course, the police call button that rested next to her as she slept, glowing in the dark so she could always find it if…

If.
If was something Lisa never liked to think about.

She just carried on with life, living like a statue: always perfect- but empty of emotion. All emotions except two.

The first that crowded her mind was fear. A fear of if. If he returned. If her Father would end up disembowelled in the living room. If she wouldn't wake up one day. Fear of a 12 inch KA Bar scratching at her window.

The second emotion that riddled her mind and body was far more confusing to her. As she would lie there in bed, thoughts would continually creep into her mind- just as they did tonight. Thought's she didn't want and shouldn't have about Jackson Rippner.

A shiver of terror ran up her spine as his image stabbed itself back into her brain. Jackson Rippner. The man who had ruined her life. Safely behind bars now, of course but…he still dominated her life. In more ways that her obsession with being safe.
In her dreams she could see him clearly, tying her down, pulling her hair, making her scream. In ecstasy. Not in pain.

She would wake every morning covered in a thin layer of cold sweat, raking her hair away from her flushed face whilst trying to control her trembles. The shaking feeling in her stomach would remain the entire day, until the next evening when the dreams would happen all over again. Vicious circle was an understatement.

Now though, he wracked her thoughts even as she was awake. Pushing the thoughts of the terrorism and hurt from her mind, his icy blue eyes came clearly into her mind. Those full, pouting lips that brought smooth, malicious words to her ears. The smirk that played around his mouth, lighting up those piercing eyes as they saw straight through her. She took herself back to the plane bathroom, her failed attempt to get help.

One of her regular imaginations was what she dearly wished had happened in that bathroom, things she could only imagine and never have. One of her hands slithered underneath the covers of her bed and into the waistband of her pyjamas. Moving her hand slowly over the sensitive bundle of nerves, her mind began to dream.

The Dream-Jackson slammed her roughly into the bathroom wall, as he always did. Keeping his hand around her throat, his other hand moved slowly down her face, running over her lips. Smirk in place, he replaced his finger with his lips, pressing down upon her. Although she felt the electric sparks between then and the arousal he caused her she fought against him, before he pressed his hand harder onto her windpipe, and she was warned, wordlessly, to submit.

Opening her mouth slightly, she began to receive his kiss. Lips collided together sweetly, slowly, burning her mouth with a desire to have him.
A sudden terror racked through her and her lips stopped moving, teeth threatening to bite down on his lips. A deep growl erupted in his chest, animalistic and raw, before he slammed her into the other wall, forcing his tongue into her mouth, willing her to return the kiss. A fire blazed in her heart as she began to fight for dominance, their tongues battling for their survival. Lisa was bound to fail. As his hand wound its way up her sensitive thigh, she let out a load moan into his mouth. He immediately pulled back, anger twitching in his tense jaw.

He clamped his hand over her mouth, eyes flashing as a warning.

"Lisa, if you make even one noise, so help me, I will hurt you. And you know what I can do," he hissed into her ear, lips so close to her skin. Lisa nodded feverishly, wishing the hand to continue its journey up her leg. Soon she would explode.
The hand over her mouth moved to her chin, wrenching her head to the side as his lips planted themselves onto her neck. Gasping, she bit her lip to keep the noise in as his teeth sank into the soft flesh under her ear.

The hand on her thigh continued to move upwards, taunting her as it moved smoothly to her sensitive area and back down to her knee again. This torturous exercise continued until he had enough of her gasps and moans and his overwhelming dominance began again. Her shirt was ripped in two by his strong hands as she moved up to tear his jacket and shirt off of his sculpted chest.

Feverishly, he pushed her backwards against the sink, wrenching the nylon tights from her legs and forcing her knees apart. Lisa's hands ran over his belt as Jackson moved back up to capture her lips in a vicious kiss. When he thrust himself into her it took all of her strength not to cry out.

They moved together with utter ease, fitting perfectly. As if they were made for each other. Jackson's lips were on her neck, lips, breasts. His fingers flitted over her clit, nipples and wrenched her hair back occasionally. He was everywhere, moving within her. Controlling her. The dominance told her who she belong to. Reminded her who was in charge here. He reminded her who he was. Jackson Rippner. And this was how Jackson Rippner fucked a woman.

At this point Lisa's hand would bring her to orgasm, leaving her sweating and writhing under the covers in her bed. On this particular night his name escaped her lips as she came.

"Jackson!" echoed through the house, reverberating around her bedroom as the waves of pleasure swept over her.

In the cold sweat she remained, removing her hand, before turning over and pulling the covers up to her chin. This was the only way to get a peaceful night's sleep. He haunted her everyday; his presence was still there- he was in her head. But of course he wasn't. He was locked away. Her torture would never end, her sexual desires, no, sexual needs would never be fulfilled.

She highly doubted that Jackson Rippner would touch her anyway, probably only with a knife or a gun. Lisa sighed as she wrapped the covers closer; did she really want his touch? Maybe this was all just a sick fantasy, maybe she did need help. Lisa was terrified of this man, yet he brought her such wild dreams and she couldn't figure out why. Putting it down to masochism or insanity, she drifted off to sleep.

Had she been aware of the man who watched from her window, who heard her scream his name in pleasure she would have never slept again. Jackson smirked down at her sleeping form, the rain sticking the hair to his forehead.

"Soon Lisa, soon." He hissed, turning off into the night.