Page 11 of Silks

What the fuck could my sister want with Dad’s office? It wasn’t like he kept anything incriminating out in the open, but it was pretty fucking weird.

I crept along the hallway, stopping in the shadows across from the open door and there she was, standing on one leg and rubbing the other, digging through the filing cabinets.

She was using her phone for a flashlight, and she was so intent on what she was doing. For a moment I just hung in the shadows, feeling like a fucking creeper.

Even though that’s what I am, and I should really admit it.

My cock throbs again at the sight of her bent over the filing cabinets.

What I wouldn’t give to go in there and grab those hips in my hands, grip the softness of her curves, sink my cock in her.

I want her so badly it’s like I can almost taste her on my tongue, her faint lingering scent making me want to open my mouth and gulp it down, anything that’s hers.

I’m lurking so completely that I don’t even notice one of Dad’s security guards walk in front of me and push the door open.

“What are you doing in here?” he barked.

Instantly, I see red.

I’ve always been like that.

Absolutely no one will be coming up on my sister on my motherfucking watch.

She yelps and drops a bunch of papers on the floor like the inept little snooper she is.

“What are you doing here?” she shrieked.

Oh, god.

Whatever she’s up to, it’s clear she’s in over her head.

But this is something I think when I’m already halfway through the fucking door in my boxer shorts. When it comes to Ophelia, there’s no conscious thought. Just a deep, primal need for her big brother to protect her.

“What’s going on?” I snarl behind the guy.

I recognize him as Dan, one of Dad’s long-time security guys. But I don’t give a shit who or what he is.

He’s startled when he hears me.

“Oh. . . didn’t see you there, sir.”

“You don’t need to patrol this part of the house at night,” I tell him. “What are you doing here?”

“Your father asked me to keep an eye on his office, just in case,” he said, giving me a significant look.

My stomach turns inside out. God, surely Ophelia snooping around the office has nothing to do with that!

“Don’t you recognize my sister?” I asked coldly. “Patrol wherever else you like. Just not here.”

“Yes, sir,” Dan said, somewhat reluctantly. Ophelia is still standing there, breathing heavily, looking the very exact fucking picture of guilt.

“What were you doing in there?” he asked suspiciously as he turned to go.

“Looking for family albums,” she responds immediately, and she couldn’t possibly have chosen a more suspicious-sounding answer.

Oh, shit.

I’m going to have to watch her like a hawk the entire weekend to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.