8. Harper
Harper
I tap my finger impatiently on the desk while cautiously looking toward Dawson’s office. My eyes move from his door to the clock at the front of the room. It’s been hours since he’s left his office, and everyone else here has already gone home.
Having to see every other employee wave me goodbye before packing up their things to drive home and have dinner is like a slap in the face. I can’t do anything if I don’t have Dawson’s approval.
I don’t know all of the details, but his last meeting did not go well. It was with one of his new overseas clients, and he didn’t want me sitting in on it. It struck me as a little weird at the time because he always wants me to sit in on these meetings. That’s the majority of my job here.
He slammed the door and sat on the phone for hours talking to him. I heard him raise his voice a few times, and I heard his fists slamming down on his desk, but I didn’t say or do anything.
I thought that Dawson and I were making some progress with our relationship, but he’s been on edge all day. Every time he’s walked by me, he’s scowled and snapped at me to do stuff for him. If I can’t predict what he’s thinking, I’m not doing my job right. He’s impossible.
Last night in the kitchen was a fluke. If I thought for a moment he wanted to get to know me and establish some sort of relationship, I was a fool.
If anything, all he wanted to do was get information about my mom so he could use it against her.
I’m sure he’s less than thrilled about someone new swooping in trying to steal away his father’s money—money that is sure to be his in his father’s will.
I’m starving. I’ve hardly had a chance to eat since breakfast, and I know as soon as I get up to microwave my lunch, Dawson is going to peek his head out of the door and demand I help with something. I can’t risk that right now.
The moment he sees that I’m not at my desk, he’s going to explode. All the frustration he feels right now is going to be taken out on me in a moment’s notice. I’ve grown up with this, so I know exactly how it works.
Dawson may think I’m bending to his will, but I know I’m not. If this is anything like what I’ve been through with my mother, I’m just avoiding the inevitable. He might think he has control over me, but I am far too savvy in situations like this.
My stomach growls loud enough that I feel embarrassed, looking around nervously for anyone that might have heard it. For the first time all night, I’m glad everybody else left hours ago. The nighttime cleaning staff haven’t even shown up yet.
I’m tired of walking on eggshells around Dawson. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to make it through this year in one piece, if I’m being honest.
I lean back in the chair and take a deep breath, closing my eyes and envisioning myself in art school.
I’ll finally be able to have the schooling experience I’ve always dreamed of.
I’ll have my own dorm room, decorated with bright colors and different patterns, friends coming over and binge-watching TV shows while we work on our art study homework.
Maybe I’ll even get a chance to date finally.
The intercom on my phone beeps, and I jump up, immediately leaning forward and pressing the button to answer it. I can’t let him think I was slacking on the job in any way.
“Yes, Dawson?” I hold my breath waiting for him to tell me I can go home. I want him to tell me he’s called a car, and it’s outside waiting for me so I don’t have to wait here in this hellhole any longer.
“Come in here,” Dawson snaps. His voice is thick with tension, and I know something is wrong. My shoulders slump, and I close my eyes, nodding as if he can see it through the intercom.
“I’ll be right there,” I say, standing up and straightening my blouse before taking a deep breath and approaching his office. As much as I would love to hesitate, I can’t.
Let’s face it, my mom’s going to cheat on Henry within the next couple of years, and I’m never going to have to see Dawson again after that. But until that time comes, things have to be amicable.
I push open the door to his office and see him leaning back in his chair, his tie undone and the top few buttons of his shirt open. His hair, which is normally perfectly in place, is disheveled and pushed around like he’s been running his fingers through it aimlessly.
An empty glass sits in front of him, and a bottle of amber liquid is beside him. It doesn’t have a label, but I can only imagine it’s not apple juice. He’s clearly been drinking.
“You needed me?” I ask, folding my hands in front of me and making myself as polite as possible. Dawson’s eyes move up and down my body, lingering on the bit of exposed cleavage on my blouse.
“Come here,” Dawson says, not moving. I take a few steps closer, and he straightens up in his desk chair. He points at the desk with his finger and pushes the glass bottle aside. “I want you to bend over my desk so I can fuck you.”
I stare at him blankly for a moment, not blinking as I try to figure out what kind of joke this is. This has to be a joke, right? He can’t actually be serious right now.
I laugh and shake my head, thinking that this is just his weird, twisted sense of humor. “No.”
I guess a part of me is expecting him to laugh and brush it off, but he doesn’t. His face only grows more serious, and I am hit with the sudden realization that it wasn’t a joke. He genuinely wants me to “bend over his desk so he can fuck me.”
Aside from the fact that he’s my stepbrother and sleeping with him would be immoral in so many different ways, I can barely stand him. Why the hell would I want to sleep with him?
“Are you serious?” I take a step back, and Dawson nods, gesturing to the desk to silently tell me to do as I’m told. “We don’t even like each other. Why would you want this?”
Dawson laughs, and I see genuine amusement on his face. To be honest, it’s patronizing, and I feel myself getting more annoyed with the situation.
“Trust me, we don’t have to like each other to fuck,” Dawson says, standing up. Now that he’s standing, I can see that he’s already aroused, and it makes me uncomfortable.
He moves around the desk and approaches me, grabbing my wrist with his hand and dragging me toward the desk. I try to pull back, but he bends me over before I can do anything else about it.
“Dawson...” I say, trying to stand upright as he unzips my skirt and pulls it down.
He presses himself against me, and I can feel just how hard he already is.
His breath is ragged and shaky as he grinds against my ass, and I try to ignore the excitement building from the friction between my legs. “This isn’t right. Our parents are?—”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing I want to talk about right now,” Dawson cuts me off, pulling my panties down and squeezing my ass cheeks. “Do us both a favor and be quiet until I tell you otherwise.”
He gathers my hands and holds them behind my back, restraining me as his other hand explores my exposed ass. He rubs me and squeezes me, slowly tracing his fingers all the way down between my legs.
I look over my shoulders at him, seeing how lost he is in his movements, admiring my body. I’ve never been touched like this before, not that it’s something I’ve thought a lot about.
“It’s just that I’ve never...” My voice trails off, and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Dawson’s eyes light up, and he positions his hands right between my legs, tracing them up and down my slit.
“You’re a virgin?” Dawson asks, already knowing the answer. I can’t bring myself to say it, but I don’t have to. “So, no man has ever touched you like this?”
Before I can say anything, he slides a finger inside me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, moaning out from the pleasure. He’s still pressed firm against me, and I can feel him growing harder with each passing second.
His finger moves in and out as his thumb reaches down to massage my clit. I can’t help the moans that escaped my mouth. I’ve touched myself before, but it’s nothing compared to this right now.
The faster he moves, the more ragged my breaths get and eventually I’m trembling on the desk and spreading my legs wider for him. He just watches me as the climax overtakes me, and I finish on his fingers.
“I never thought my stepsister would be so naughty,” Dawson says when he finally removes his finger.
He pulls his hand away from mine, letting me move them from behind my back.
I sit up, but he presses a hand between my shoulder blades and pushes me down once again. “I never said I was done with you.”
My cheeks burn once again, and I look over my shoulder at him as he unzips his pants and lowers them. His cock is completely free and hovering right by my entrance.
“Dawson, wait,” I say, attempting to sit up. He grabs my waist and holds me down as he shoves himself inside me.
I scream out, gripping the side of the desk with both of my hands as he fills me with every inch of himself. He holds still once he’s inside, giving me a moment to adjust to all of him. My breath is ragged, and my entire body is tense.
“Take it like a good girl,” Dawson says, gripping my waist tighter with his fingers, letting them dig into my skin.
It takes me a minute to get my bearings straight.
The past five minutes feel like they’re straight out of The Twilight Zone, and I don’t know what’s happening.
Part of me thinks this might be some kind of weird, fucked-up dream I’m having.
But the pleasure building between my legs tells me something else entirely.
After a minute, I let out a whimper, and Dawson takes that as his cue to keep moving. He pumps himself in and out of me, slowly at first so I can feel every single moment. I want to keep myself from moaning, but I can’t. My mouth hangs open, and I barely recognize the sounds escaping my throat.
Dawson is practically growling behind me as his hands explore my body, sliding up my shirt and feeling all my curves.
I don’t do anything to stop him. One hand reaches around to tease my clit while he continues thrusting, and it sends me over the edge once again.
I feel myself tensing and throbbing, trying to bite back against the orgasm threatening to take a hold of me again.
“Oh my god, Dawson!” I cry out as I come for him, feeling how I clench around him and only make him harder with each spasm of my muscles.
Dawson grips me harder as he pumps, milking every drop of this pleasure from me. With each motion, he grows more frenzied, unable to fight back against whatever semblance of control he had before.
Dawson leans forward, brushing my hair aside as I’m whimpering and moaning from my orgasm.
I don’t have the wherewithal to argue with him right now. I just nod and focus on the pleasure building between us as he unleashes himself inside me. I feel every throb of his cock as it explodes.
Both of us cry out and moan together as the pleasure completely overtakes us. Something about Dawson losing control only turns me on more, and it elongates all the pleasure building.
When Dawson is finally finished, he pulls himself out of me, and I slump down on the desk, feeling the ecstasy still thrumming in my veins.
“Turn around and look at me,” Dawson demands.
I roll over, leaning against the desk with my wobbly legs to see him pulling up his pants and collecting himself.
I’m still breathless and in awe of what just happened.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to any of this.
“I meant what I said. Your pussy is mine from now on.”
My mind is running a million miles a minute, and I can’t even think of anything to say. It’s preposterous, and I know that, but I just stare at him in silence. After a moment, he grabs his phone from the desk and shoves it in his pocket.
“It’s time to leave,” he says before walking toward the door like nothing just happened.
I get dressed and run my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of everything. What the fuck has happened to my life?