7. Dawson
Dawson
As always, nightmares color my dreams, and the image of her in her last moments replays endlessly in my mind. With each different variation, I try to do something to save her before it’s too late. I tell myself there’s something I could have done.
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. My hands are shaking, and my mouth is dry. I run my fingers through my hair and take a few deep breaths to try to calm my rattled nerves.
It’s just a dream.
A dream that I have nearly every night that makes me relive the worst day of my entire life. I would give anything to just sleep through the night without the reminder.
I toss the sweat-stained covers aside and stretch before making my way to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. I grab a glass from the cabinet and pour myself some water from the pitcher in the fridge.
I’m just about to bring it to my lips and take the first refreshing sip when a strange sound catches my attention. I freeze and hone in on it, trying to figure out exactly what the noise is.
It doesn’t take me long to realize that it’s coming from Harper’s room.
I inch closer, tilting my head toward the door while I try to place the sound. It takes me a moment, but I realize it’s soft moaning.
I stand upright and move closer, pressing my ear directly against the wood. Harper is moaning.
This is new. Harper is an absolute smoke show. I’ve definitely thought about her in ways that some might consider untoward. Seeing her tonight in that bathing suit was pure torture.
Hearing the breathless moans only paints a picture in my mind. What is she doing in there? Is she playing with herself?
My cock stiffens in my briefs at the mere thought of it. I press my ear harder against the door, listening to the rapid, shaky pants while rubbing the growing bulge in front of me.
I imagine her perfectly, clearly splayed out on the bed, her eyes closed and in absolute bliss, her mouth hanging open as she lets the pleasure take control.
What kind of girl is Harper? Would she just use her fingers, or does she have some kind of toy? I have half a mind to crack open the door and find out for myself.
My cock throbs, and it takes everything in me not to whip it out and start massaging it right here and now. The only thing really holding me back is the fact that Maggie lives in the penthouse too, and she’s always had the need for a midnight snack.
“Harper, you dirty girl,” I whisper to myself with a smirk as I lean in closer to listen more.
This time, her moans turn into whimpers, and I raise my eyebrows in confusion. I move my hand away from my crotch and press it against the door, carefully pushing it open to get more clarity. I realize now this doesn’t sound like pleasure-filled moans.
I know exactly what this is.
I push the door open to see her splayed out in bed; the covers twisted around her legs as if they’re trying to entangle her and restrain her. There’s a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her eyes are squinted shut as her head whips back and forth violently.
She’s having a nightmare. I know this all too well. If I had a nickel for every time I was in the same position as her, tossing and turning while the worst memory of my life replayed over and over, I wouldn’t even need to work.
I move into the room and stand at the end of the bed to watch her for a minute. I can’t help but wonder what she’s dreaming about. Is it anything as dark as what plagues my dreams?
Even though I started off our entire relationship by wanting to torment her, seeing her struggling is hard. There’s a little part of me that feels bad for her.
Against my better judgment, I walk toward the side of the bed and shake her shoulders. It takes her a moment to be pulled from dreamland, but when her eyes jolt open, and she looks at me standing over her, she immediately grabs the blankets and pulls them close to her chin.
“What’s going on?” Harper asks, sleep still heavy in her voice.
“Can you have your nightmares a little quieter? Some of us have to sleep.” I back away, though I keep my eyes on her. She sits upright, still clutching the blankets around her as she pushes strands of blonde hair from her face. Her chest rises and falls quickly as she tries to catch her breath.
“Sorry,” Harper whispers, not even making eye contact with me.
“Does this happen a lot?”
She looks up at me with a mixture of confusion and interest in her eyes. She must think I’m asking because I care. Maybe there’s a part of me that does, but that’s something I don’t plan on humoring. “Because if it does, we’re going to have to figure something else out. I need to sleep.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes, looking down at her hands and her lap. “I can’t exactly control what I dream about, you know?”
She wipes the sweat from her brow and scooches up in the bed so she’s sitting on her butt entirely. Looking at her, I can see she’s exhausted. It occurs to me I could potentially be working her too hard, but this wasn’t my decision. For whatever reason, my dad wants her here.
It certainly doesn’t help that she’s barely eating, thanks to her bitch of a mom.
“I was just about to make something to eat,” I say, gesturing to the door. “If you’d care to join me, I can make you a sandwich too. You barely had anything for dinner, and I doubt going to bed hungry does much to fight off bad dreams.”
She looks up at me, once again surprised by my offer. I feel like Diana is the kind of mother who would lock the fridge so Harper couldn’t eat anything she didn’t approve of. There’s a glimmer of warmth in her eyes at my offer that I have to force myself to look away from.
“I don’t have all night,” I say, urging her to make a decision.
She nods and tosses the covers aside. I stand in the doorway and gesture for her to walk through, admiring the way the oversized T-shirt she wears barely covers her ass.
I’m just disappointed to see she’s wearing a pair of shorts underneath it.
I watch her walk to the kitchen, feeling the blood drain to my cock once again. I close my eyes and force myself to think about something unsexy so I’m not standing in the kitchen with a hard-on while making a sandwich.
Harper sits on a bar stool at the kitchen island while I grab ingredients from the fridge. She watches as I place bread on two plates and delicately slice into a fresh tomato.
“I know you weren’t exactly sticking up for me, but thank you for saying what you did at dinner earlier,” Harper says with a gentle smile on her face.
I look up at her and nod, not wanting to acknowledge that there was a part of me that wanted to defend her.
Diana is a cliché—gold digging, washed up, Hollywood starlet.
I hated seeing how she tried to control Harper the way she did.
I barely know either of them, and I don’t know how much I care to, but the idea that Diana is trying to raise Harper to be anything like her is upsetting.
“Do you think she even knew it was an insult?” I ask, finishing up the sandwiches and placing a plate in front of Harper.
She laughs, picking up the sandwich and looking at it before taking a bite. She nods while she chews, giving me a thumbs up to tell me it’s good. I take a bite of my own, and we eat in silence for a moment.
“Has she done stuff like that all your life?” The question is out of my mouth before I can even attempt to stop it. Whatever happened to making her squirm? If I look like I care, she’s not going to be intimidated by me.
“Oh yeah,” Harper immediately says, setting the sandwich down and dusting her hands.
“She wanted me to audition for movies when I was a kid. She thought I could be the next Dakota Fanning or something like that. Basically, she wanted me to be more successful than she was, so she could live off of me like she is your dad. But at one of the auditions, the casting director told me I was about five pounds too heavy for the role. I think that’s where her obsession really began. ”
“I didn’t know you’re an actor,” I say, wrinkling my eyebrows at her.
“That’s because I’m not. It’s what my mom wanted me to be, and she tried, but I never really put in the work. I never quite fit the image that the producers wanted, and because of that, my mom has practically forced me to be on every diet you can imagine.” Harper shrugs and finishes her sandwich.
I look her up and down and shake my head. Diana is either blind or clinically insane. Harper is damn near perfect, and her body doesn’t need any work.
“I don’t think you need to worry about dieting,” I say, bringing my gaze to hers. Her gaze lingers on mine for a moment, and I once again see the same warmth in them that I did earlier tonight.
She wraps her arms around herself as if trying to make herself smaller, and I pull my gaze away. It falls down her body, and I notice she’s not wearing a bra under her shirt. The small peaks of her nipples show through the thin fabric, and once again, all my blood is draining to my groin.
“You should probably get some sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” I say, grabbing her plate and setting it in the sink.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one telling you that?” Harper laughs.
“Believe it or not, I handled my schedule perfectly fine before you got here,” I reply with a smirk.
Harper shakes her head and slides off the bar stool, waving timidly goodbye as she bounds off toward her bedroom. When the door closes, I finally pull myself away from the counter where I was hiding the massive hard-on she gave me.
I go to the master bathroom and turn on the shower, slipping out of my briefs and T-shirt before climbing in. Resting one hand on the wall, I close my eyes and imagine Harper in here with me.
I wrap my free hand around my cock and start slowly pumping it up and down. The entire time, I’m picturing Harper on her knees waiting patiently to taste my cock in her mouth. Her tongue grazes all along the side, teasing every inch of me before she takes me fully in her mouth.
Her plush pink lips wrap around me, and the warmth is inviting.
“Fuck yes, Harper,” I moan as my hand moves rapidly over my stiff cock. I imagine running my fingers through her hair and slamming her head against me while I come down her throat. I want her to have every drop of me inside her.
I think about her pushing her hands against me, trying to free herself while I hold her head. It makes my cock throb even more as I finally come. Just the idea of really making her squirm, completely taking control of her in this way, is enough to carry me through this ecstasy.
When I’m finished, I towel off and climb back in bed, thinking about how badly I want that fantasy to come true. Our conversation earlier isn’t doing much to show her I’m someone she should be intimidated by, but I’m going to make sure that changes. I can’t be soft with her anymore.
I want to see her squirm, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make that happen again.