LOGINHarper just smiled softly. “Yes, sir. I– I will see you at lunch time,” she said and moved over the the desk to pick up her purse. Oliver’s icy blue eyes followed her movement as she retrieved her purse from the desk that was no longer hers, the casual way she called him ‘sir,’– it all felt like a deliberate provocation. “Do not be late,” he called after her, his voice carrying just enough authority to sound like an order rather than a req
“You do not normally drive,” Harper comments. “What did you give your driver the day off?” Oliver keeps his icy blue eyes on the road, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel. He does not offer an explanation immediately, his jaw set in that way that suggests he has already decided. “He is off today,” he says simple, his tone matter of fact. “I needed to be in the right headspace for this meeting. Driving myself helps me focus.” He manoeuvres the car through a tight turn, his movements precise and controlled. The silence between them stretches for a moment before he adds, almost as an afterthought. “Besides, I wanted more time with you this morning.” The professional mask slips just enough for that hint of possessiveness to show through, before he quickly corrects his posture and settles back into his quiet, composed self. Her hand rests on his thigh. “It is a nice change of pace,” she said with a bright
“He knows,” Oliver says, his voice low and steady. “But he is not stupid. He will be watching for any sign of favouritism. If we come in there acting like a team, he might suspect something, but if we present a solid business case, he will be too busy calculating the ROI to care about our personal lives.” He steps closer to Harper, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her just an inch closer. “We keep it strictly professional. No lingering looks, no inside jokes. I will be the demanding boss, and you will be the efficient secretary who just happens to have a brilliant mind for strategy.” his eyes soften as they meet hers. “That is going to be hard,” she comments softly. “I like it when you are all demanding and professional.” His hand on her back tightens for a fraction of a second, his knuckles brushing the fabric of her jacket. A slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his face– the kind he usually saves
“The Love Self Esteem Project,” Oliver repeats, testing the words. “It is a bold move. It would certainly differentiate us from the usual high-glamour, retouch heavy campaigns our competitors are running.” He taps his fingers rhythmically against the countertop, a habit he falls into when he is processing a new strategy. “It would require a completely overhaul of our visual direction. We would need to move away from perfectionism and focus on authenticity. That means no heavy airbrushing, real skin textures, diverse casting– the whole works.” He looks at Harper, his eyes sharp with interest. “It is a significant pivot for our brand identity. It would be a massive undertaking, but the PR benefits could be enormous of we execute it correctly.”“And it could significantly decrease the spending,” Harper added confidently. Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up, and he leans forward, his interest piqued by the financial a
“I was making you breakfast. Eggs and toast? Or do you want something heavier? You look like you could use a large cup of coffee,” Oliver tilts his head, studying Harper’s face to gauge how much energy she actually has this morning. “I slept amazingly,” she said and leans up to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Coffee sounds amazing. So does your breakfast idea.” His smile widens at her kiss, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment longer than necessary before he releases her. “Coming right up,” he says, turning back to the counter with renewed purpose. He moves with practiced efficiency, cracking eggs into a bowl with one hand while the other reaches for two mugs. He pours the coffee, the rich aroma filling the small space, and sets the mugs down on the island near where she is leaning. “Sit. I will bring it over,” he commands gently, nodding toward the bar stools. “I am going to get dressed really quick,&rd
Marius continued into his modern kitchen at the back, where a long dark kitchen island accompanied by several wooden bar stools with black metal lags, separated the living room from the kitchen. Above the island hung three pendant lights with simple elegant fixtures. He opened one of the white cabinetries lining the kitchen wall and took a glass out. Then he moved over to the fridge and poured himself some soda. He moved through his house like ghost. When he entered his bedroom, he did not bother changing out of his dress shirt, simply unbuttoning the top few buttons and pulling his phone from his pocket. He walked over to his bed as he looked to see if her had any messages or emails. The bed was unmade, with soft grey bedding and several pillows loosely arranged across the mattress. Large black metal window frames dominate the right side of the room and heavy dark grey curtains hang from ceiling-mounted tracks.A light grey area rug extends beneath the bed and along the left
“Oh fuck,” Marius gasped out, his free hand slamming against the tile will for support. “Just like that– take me deeper.” His other hand guided Isabella’s head with increasing urgency, guiding her movement to match the rhythm he craved. The combination of her skilled mouth and the warm water cascading down his chest sent waves of pleasure crashing through him. “You are going to make me cum so fast if you keep going like that,” he warned through gritted teeth. “I want to feel you swallow every drop.” The steam swirled thicker around them as he struggled to maintain control, his body already tensing with the approaching climax. His body went rigid as his orgasm hit him with full force, his fingers tightening in her hair as he poured himself down her throat. A deep groan escaped his lips while the water continued to stream over them both. “Swallow it all,” he commanded roughly, his hips thrusting forward one last t
“You make me want to be claimed,” Harper admits with a soft smile, “I never really liked rough or possessive guys, but somehow it is different when it comes to you. I find I want you to be more possessive.” Oliver’s heart skipped a beat at her admission, the soft smile on her face sending a rush
Harper moaned softly, her nails digging into his shoulders more as the tip of his cock pushed inside her. Oliver’s entire body went taut at the sound of her moan, his hips driving forward with more urgency. The soft give of her nails digging into his shoulders only spurred him on further, the sli
“Caveman Oliver is kind of hot,” she admitted seductively. Oliver’s icy blue eyes darkened instantly at her seductive admission, the last remnants of his embarrassment evaporating completely. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he backed her against the closed front door, caging
“Whoa,” Glen said in amazement as his gaze roamed over Oliver’s shiftless form. Oliver’s icy blue eyes narrowed instantly at the way Glen’s gaze roamed appreciatively over his bare chest. The other man’s obvious appreciation only fueled the fire of jealousy burning in his gut. “Can I help you?” O







