Page 54 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)

“Arms behind your head.” Because I want the full view of her body again, to watch as her muscles move as her clit peaks out at me after it grinds over that corner.

She lifts them, elongating your body and giving me the perfect shot.

My legs spread wider, my fist slamming down over my cock. In the back of my brain somewhere I’m imaging myself inside of her, watching her ride me, even if this isn’t about that.

“Say my name.”

Her little whimper is accompanied by my name. Soft. Tender. Begging.

After another few breaths, she says it again, “Oliver. God, please.”

Harper’s fingers tangle in her own hair, head tipped to the side as she trembles. Fuck, she’s so close. Those obscenely wet grinding noises getting louder. Wetter.

When I don’t respond, she repeats my name, over and over in her soft voice, occasionally broken up withpleaseandI’m so close.

My shaft grows more rigid, and I know as soon as I give her permission, I won’t be far behind.

Still, I let her dangle, letting her mantra curl around my cock and tighten my grip.

Finally, I say, “Come for me, you dirty girl.”

Her mouth falls open, her hips moving wildly as she crests and jerks and slows again. Her hands find the desk as she rubs herself through her own aftershocks.

“Mmm, Oliver. Fuck.”

It’s my last straw. I pulse in my hand before my own release follows. I swear small sparks light up behind my eyes. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

When my mind refocuses, she smiles dreamily at the camera before she picks it up and carries it back to where she found it.

“Good night, Daddy,” she says with her mouth close to the camera as if giving me a kiss.

Harper retrieves her shorts and bends to give me such a great view of her ass and soaking wet pussy as she pulls them back on. I barely think to clean myself up with a nearby t-shirt as she crawls into bed.

I don’t move until I see her breathing even out and know she’s finally asleep.

Watching her sleep peacefully brings me as much joy as watching her come.

I tuck myself away.

What the fuck was that? And why is there this tender spot in my chest that screams to be beside her instead of in a different room?

Why did that feel like so much more than mutual satisfaction and sex?

I take a few deep, calming breaths. But the protective instinct that’s latched itself onto me over these last twelve months is intensifying with the reality of Harper wanting me back.

And I don’t know what scares me more—how badly I want her, or how I’m starting to care.

21

HARPER

Ifeel refreshed as I serve Grant in the morning—being on my knees beside him at his desk at home, watching him slowly drink his coffee as he reads the news, trembling with my want to crawl into his lap—I also feel more empowered.

His home office is the exact opposite of his one at work. There, it’s dark wood and open power. Here at home, the walls are a light blue that matches his eyes and his desk is a simple light wood. The space is still clean, but it’s filled with books and a chess set sits in the corner by the window.

Grant doesn’t order me to bow my head or keep my eyes to myself, so I take in every detail available to me from this position. Most of them are of him, like how big his hands are, calloused from hard work and scarred from the past.

My staring doesn’t bother him, just as him silently watching me place his coffee on his desk and kneel beside him didn’t bother me. He doesn’t need to say anything. His silence is like a collar around my throat.