Page 17 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)
GRANT
I t’s been three days. Three long days of Harper pushing my limits. She has been a nonstop over-the-top tease at the office and at home. It’s her payback for us kidnapping her—her words—and keeping her trapped.
She wears those skimpy lounge outfits that flash her skin or hug her curves and reveal details about her body that haunt me at night.
Yesterday, it was one of my t-shirts that came down to her midthigh until she reached for something or spread herself out on the couch. Then, those long, tan legs would be fully exposed and the swell of her hips on display, and I would have to force distance between us.
And we all know she’s doing it on purpose. Tempting us with what we shouldn’t want. But we all do.
It’s worse when she prowls at night, moving between our floors, trying to catch us half dressed. After the first time, we had to change our behaviors, locking doors and closing ourselves in our rooms to keep her from spying.
Because when she caught me shirtless, the way her gaze roamed over me set my blood to boil. It took everything inside me not to react when she bit her bottom lip and looked into my eyes.
Prey disguised as a predator.
Dangerous.
I am wholly a predator, and I want to sink my teeth into her. Mark her. Claim her. Ruin her for everyone else.
Sucking in a breath through my nose, I lean back in my office chair and close my eyes.
I can still see the pout of her plump mouth when I ushered her back to her room on the top floor. When I kept her from touching me.
She took it out on me yesterday. Dropping and bending over to pick things up so that the bottoms of her cheeks peeked out from under the hem of her night shirt. That girl needs some sleep shorts. For my sanity’s sake.
But what’s worse is her new tendency of calling me sir like she’s under me in bed.
My armor is cracking. She isn’t safe alone with me. And she seems to revel in the promised violence that comes with it.
Harper is nearly as bad in the office. Those tight pencil skirts and low-cut blouses aren’t much better than what she wears at home.
She’s in another one of those outfits today.
Like I can sense her near, my eyes open to her bent over next to my assistant, her finger pointing at the screen and her ass pointing at me. She’s framed herself in my open door. I have the perfect view of the way her hips spread.
Fuck.
I’m standing before I realize it, charging forward to snatch her up by the elbow. Her gaze doesn’t show a hint of surprise.
“In my office. Now.” My voice grinds against the lowest part of my chest.
I get a few looks, especially from my assistant, but no one dares to say anything as I pull her into my office and close the door, which locks automatically behind us.
A safety feature I’ve never been more grateful to have.
Harper stays pliant in my grip, and I barely resist pushing her against the door with my body.
My inhibitions are frayed, and I need to reclaim my control. I tug her closer to my desk.
I grit my teeth against the want creeping into my voice.
“You want attention? You’ve got it. Now bend over the desk and shut that smart mouth.”
“Say please,” she taunts. Her mouth quirks like she can see me on the brink of cracking and wants to push me over the edge.
Oh, baby girl, we’re already falling. I yank her forward, pressing her body between me and my desk. My hand comes around her throat, and I delight in the soft gasp she gives me. I’m not restricting her breath, just showing that she’s no longer in control.
I put her palms on the shiny mahogany surface with my free hand before my grip slides to the back of her neck, and I bend her forward until she’s on her forearms.
“Keep those palms flat, fingers spread.”
She obeys so easily, her ass wiggling. The soft noise of disappointment when I don’t press myself into her is delightful. It won’t save her from this though.
I step to the side and run my hand across one plump cheek before I rear back and land a hard smack across her flesh.
Her sharp intake is one of surprise, and she arches when I smooth my palm over the spot I spanked.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me? Take the punishment you’ve been begging me for?”
I turn enough to catch her biting her lip. And she nods.
“Let go of your lip.” I don’t want her to bite through it.
The moment she releases it, my open palm lands on her other cheek.
This time, her intake of breath is paired with a soft moan.
She submits to the next two swats with equal fervor.
Then, she flinches as I lay down two more, hitting the same spots for maximum effect. Squirms under my grip at the next two and the next two after that.
Not once does she ask me to stop.
Slowly, it must dawn on her that this is not playful. It’s about control, release, and punishment.
Harper takes it. Every swat.
She’s fucking perfect.
When she whimpers and her posture wavers as she lurches forward away from my last strike, I release my hold above her hip, using a gentle touch to soothe her bruised skin.
I tempered my swings, but I’m still strong. And she’s so soft.
She’ll have trouble sitting for the rest of the day to be sure.
My touches turn into kneads and grabs before I retreat.
Sucking in a long breath, I take another step back.
Fuck. I can’t believe I did that. Swatting Harper. In my office. I could have hurt her. Someone could have heard. They probably heard.
Harper zaps at my control though.
I shouldn’t have let her bait me.
But fuck . I read that entry about being spanked, and I haven’t stopped replaying it. Even if it wasn’t me she was writing about. The control and dominance she fantasized about in the entries about me—submitting to me.
Letting her be my brat.
I should help her to her feet, but I’m afraid to touch her now. Because that display churned heat so deeply buried that I’m not sure how long I can keep it down.
She stands on shaky legs, but when she turns to face me, she’s wrecked. Eyes glowing. Red cheeked.
Harper reaches out for me as she wobbles, and I can’t deny the need to keep her steady.
Her hands grab the front of my shirt at the same time my arm comes around her waist. But even when she stops wobbling, her hands don’t uncurl. Instead, she tips her head back, grip tugging me downward.
Mouth raw and red from her teeth, lips plump and parted.
Fuck…
I pull her closer, hips sliding into place against mine, and there’s no doubt she can feel how aroused I am. How my blood is pumping with desires I should be ignoring.
With all my control wrapped up in the way she’s silently begging me to put her out of her misery.
Giving in, I drop my mouth over hers in increments. Her hold on me tightens, and I can’t deny her this.
The kiss is soft, sweet, so much more gentle than the last few minutes have been. The fervor, though, is a slow burn, cranking up the intensity with every small press of our lips until I’m pressing us together.
Her body is soft and supple against mine, molding herself against me in a dark and sinful way.
My hand finds her hair, tipping her face for better access, to open her to me.
Fuck, that soft little noise at the back of her throat has me throbbing. Muscles convulsing. Mind whirling as I devour her piece by piece.
Harper writhes against me, her skirt riding up as my knee sinks between her thighs.
Someday soon, I’ll have her grind herself into an orgasm like this. Watch her fall apart with the smallest access to me. My body. Let her wants take her past that point of no return.
But it’s not going to be today.
My palm cracks down on her ass again, jiggling under the force. I eat her cry before lifting my mouth from hers.
If I don’t, I won’t come up for air until I’m too far gone.
Her nails dig into my chest before she opens those pretty eyes, lit from within. More alive than I’ve seen before.
My hand squeezes her fullness, and her whine tears through me.
Still, I’m in control again, so I let go of her in inches. Let her stand on her own two feet again and help her tug her skirt back into place.
She shakes as my touch grazes her thighs and knees and smooths up over her hips again.
I give her another softer tap on her rear, which makes her jump.
“Now, go on back to work, and behave yourself.”