Page 22 of Daddies’ Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies #19)

“Sure. Hand them over.” I take the folded paper from my skirt waistband and offer it to him. Jonathan seems to like that I’d tucked it there even more than I thought he would. His eyes are practically black from the way his pupils blow wide.

I swing my foot in a way that gives my assets a good sway and jiggle as he forces himself to look at the paper.

“These all seem to be accounts from ten years ago. What case are you working on?”

“Oh my god. This can’t be happening!” Sunny’s voice reaches me from the hallway, close but not too close to Jonathan’s door. “Harper? Oh my god. Harper? Are you up here? No, no, no, no, no.”

“Sunny?” I turn toward the door without sliding off Jonathan’s desk.

“Harper? Shit. Not a virus. Did someone get into my phone? No. Help!”

I turn toward Mr. Chase. “Virus? Are you good with that kind of thing? It’s not something I know how to do.”

He stands and straightens his tie. “A friend of yours?”

“Yes. One of the other interns.”

He nods, like he knows who Sunny is. He’s going to be happily surprised to see her. She’s her own kind of bombshell. Blonde and beautiful and innocent. My opposite but equally appealing.

Jonathan falls for it. His posture shifts to stand taller, poking out his chest. Her hand grabs his forearm, and it’s the opening I need. I swing around his desk and poke through his filing cabinets.

“That’s not right. There’s no way that can be right.” Sunny’s anxiety sounds so real. I will never doubt her skills away from a computer again.

I can hear her loud tears and terror as she drags Jonathan further down the hall, and I dig deeper.

It takes longer than I want to find the right drawer, the right folder.

When I see the cartel’s name amongst the black, I employ the trick I learned online, tapping the edge against the desk until it splits.

Holy shit. It’s working.

I peel off the back page and glance over the desk toward the door. I still have time. I do the same to the few others surrounding it.

When I stand, I swear. There is nowhere to hide them, so I stuff them down my skirt and smooth my hair back before approaching the door.

I nod at Sunny, who’s gripping Jonathan’s arm like a lifeline and taps at her phone again. “Oh my god, you totally did it. I owe you big time.”

Turning to sneak away, I teeter in place at the sight of Oliver. Of course. I knew he’d intercept me, but I didn’t think it would be here.

He looks over my shoulder and nods Sunny back to work. His hand closes around my upper arm. “Come with me.”

It makes for a clean exit, but with the contraband stuffed in my skirt, it also makes me nervous because he’s going to take my new lead from me before I even get a chance to see what I’ve got.

I let him lead me through the office silently.

Back in his office, Oliver closes the door and slumps in his office chair. He’s all sprawled limbs and coiled tension. His gaze tracks over me, and I swear he approves of my stashing spot.

I’m nearly squirming by the time he asks, “What did you take?”

I have to at least try. “What are you?—”

“Lift your skirt.” He points and gestures for me to do as he says.

“Oliver—”

“Now.” Quiet. Final.

I hook my fingers in the bottom hem of my skirt and inch it up my thighs. They’re tight for a reason. It keeps them in place.

The work is slow, and he watches the inching progress intently.

A flush consumes my entire body. At least my panties are sleek, white, damp…

When my skirt is bunched around my waist, Oliver leans forward to snap up the papers I’ve exposed. He doesn’t even touch me.

God, I want him to.

But as I stand there and he looks over the blank pages, being ignored feels different than how Grant did it this morning. Oliver always watches.

I go to lower my skirt, but Oliver says, “Leave it.”

It’s not like he hasn’t seen all of me. I gave him a show the last couple of nights in a row, even if he didn’t talk me through it like he did the first time.

It’s different with him in the room.

“You like being watched?” he asks, still not looking at me. Is he working through what to do with those pages? Or is he punishing me for going behind his back again?

I squirm more visibly, trying to draw his eye. “Do you like watching?”

My voice is weaker than I want it to be.

Oliver finally looks at me. “You’ve been performing for me, Harper. The camera doesn’t lie.”

Something flips inside me, has me leaning back against the door, spreading my thighs for him. “Did you want to see how wet I am?”

“You offering to show me…or do you need help proving it?”

I spread my feet further apart.

His voice drops. “Slide two fingers in. Keep your eyes on me.”

I obey, my hand trembling as I slip two of my fingers under my panties, working them slowly into me.

His gaze tracks my moves. My breath stutters at his intensity. He watches without blinking as I thrust fingers into my core.

God, this is so close to the fantasy I wrote about, having him near enough to touch me, but he makes me wait. It works for me so much more than having him give me directions from the other room.

I bite my lip, rubbing the spot inside that turns me molten. My breath comes heavy as I climb toward my orgasm. I’m close.

“Stop.”

I whine a little. “Please?—”

“I said stop.”

I pause, letting the pleasure buzz and slowly ebb as I pull my wet fingers free.

His voice is so soft it’s almost cruel. “You’ll finish when I say you can.”

Then he turns away, leaving me to pull myself together with shaking hands.