Page 52 of Daddies Dark Desires (Forbidden Fantasies)
I slip each strap of my top off my shoulders, but the top doesn’t fall. I have to peel it down one breast first, then the other. Exposing them to air conditioning has my nipples drawn up and tight.
Every little thrust of my hips bounces them a little and tightens my skin a little further. I gasp and moan.
Static crackles in a hidden speaker nearby.
“Don’t come until I say.”
20
OLIVER
I’ve been watching Harper for a long time, more than the last year since her father’s died, but my intent shifted the moment he was gone. Became more. And I’ve seen a lot of her. Every piece and problem. Every shift in emotion and playful moment.
Yet, there’s something more about watching her in my home. From the floor below.
The way she teased and tested Grant before crawling into bed tweaked a smile at the corner of my mouth. There’s something about Harper and her attitude—her willingness to test her boundaries—that draws me to her.
She’s the bright beacon in my dark room as I sprawl out in my computer chair to watch her sleep. It’s the only way I can get any rest, knowing she’s safe. That someone is looking out for her. Especially when that someone is me.
My obsession complicates things. I know this. That doesn’t mean I can change it.
And I’ve kept myself from taking it too far. Depending on who you ask.
I’m sure the four cameras set up around her room say otherwise, but the protectiveness, the curiosity, it’s all built into something I’m not sure how to break.
Harper stirs on my screens, her gaze locking with one of the cameras hidden in a small figurine meant for spying.
She crawls out of bed and picks it up, cocking her head to the side and smirking as she confirms her suspicions.
I pinch my chin, waiting for her to bury it or throw it out the window, but she saunters over to the desk in the corner of her room, the one place the moon light creates stripes across the floor, and sets it in the corner.
It faces her as she props herself on the other corner, rubbing her pajama-clad pussy on the corner and looking right into the lens. The small noises she makes redirects blood to my cock, making it swell until it’s fighting against my slacks.
Fuck.
After a few minutes, she withdraws, bending down to strip those shorts off before pressing herself over that corner again. This time, her moan is louder.
Better yet, she stares right into the camera. She knows I’m watching her. It’s evident from the glint in her eye and the sly smirk she gives me.
It takes real effort to drag my gaze down to her bare pussy and the way she grinds it against the desk. Low, slick sounds reach me as she bites her lip, but she’s not rushing through this like I’ve seen her do so many times before.
Because I’m a pig. I’ve never once turned away from her intimate moments, drawn in by her lack of filters. The way her walls fall down when she’s seeking pleasure. When she’s coming.
Gods be damned, this is all for me.
If he ever touches me, I won’t survive it. I don’t want to survive it.
The fantasies in her journal haunt me. She likes the idea of me watching. Of me wanting her so badly that I can’t help but touch myself as she pleases herself.
Well, Harper, you dirty little girl, you’re getting your wish today. I may not be in the room with you, hiding in the shadows of the corner, but I am here, watching you. Wanting you.
My hand grazes over my throbbing erection. I’ve never touched myself to satiate that burning desire for her. Never while I had her in my viewfinder. On my screen. So close to me that I could touch if I wanted to.
The zap of pleasure as I glide my palm over myself through the fabric has me pulling in a slow, shuttering breath.
Then she slowly, teasingly, strips the straps of her top off her shoulders, but the fabric is still tight over her breasts. Until she pulls each out, letting them swing with her small thrusts.
Her rosy nipples are hard and drawn tight, begging to be touched, to be sucked on, to be pinched.
