The Intern Vol. 2(6)

"And you only gave me an hour," I whisper, confused.

"Correct. I wanted to challenge you."

"Why? I've done everything you've asked me to do. Do you doubt my  ability to work here?" I ask with anger in my tone, but I quickly  control myself-I have to remember he's still my boss.         

     



 

"You're very bright, Ceci. Extremely smart and confident. Trust me. I don't doubt those qualities at all."

"Well, I can sense it's something, so why don't you just come out and tell me?" I snap reluctantly.

He leans forward in his chair and crosses his arms over his desk. His  intensity makes me nervous, but I try to shake it off before he can  sense it.

"All right." He looks me over once more before continuing. "I was  finally able to speak with your guidance counselor, Professor Hennings."

My body stiffens as I hear his words. I assumed he had done all that  before I was accepted. I didn't know I still had to worry about it.

"Did he even know who I was?" I smirk, trying to play it as if he's losing his memory from old age.

"He did."

I swallow. His face is firm as his intense eyes burn into mine. I suddenly decide to switch my plan.

"I guess he doesn't remember writing the letter since you're bringing it up?" I ask, trying to keep my voice strong.

"That'd be correct." I can see he's thinking the worst in his head, and I know I need to come up with something plausible.

"Okay." I clear my throat and blink a few times. "He didn't write me  that letter of recommendation. Professor Hennings and I don't have a  good relationship. I-I might've come on too strong around him when I was  trying to ask why he gave me a B instead of an A. He made a pass at me  and I told him off. Ever since then, he keeps his distance. I was too  afraid to ask him for a letter of recommendation, so I asked his TA."

"His TA?" His eyebrows lift as if he's skeptical.

"Yes, Jordan Walsh. He's a friend of mine and I asked him for a favor.  It was a letter I deserved, but I didn't want to approach Professor  Hennings because of what happened last time."

I try to sound believable and look the part. I feel pathetic. This is  pathetic. But I have no choice. I'm too far in. If I tell him the truth  now, I'm ruined.

"You understand what could happen if I told your professor? Not to mention what would happen to your internship?"

I swallow hard again. Because I do know. I know very fucking well what  will happen. This game-this strategy-will have been all for nothing.

I nod. "Yes, Mr. Leighton. I do understand."





Chapter Five


Bentley



I WANT TO believe every fucking word she's telling me. I want to believe  her because I want her. But I need to remember what I'm doing here.

You're a Leighton, son.

My father's words echo in my head as I stare at the beautiful girl in  front of me. She's strong, determined, and bright. I can't keep the  thought of her out of my head for more than two seconds-the way she  presents herself, the beauty in who she is, and the way she gets under  my skin are all reasons I want to believe her.

Not many women try to use their brains to get my attention. And it's the  fucking hottest thing in the entire world watching her use both-brains  and beauty. But she's so much more than that. Her personality, witty  sense of humor, and her ability to act professional when it's needed are  all screaming at me to believe her-forgive her for lying about one damn  letter.

"All right. I'm not going to say anything to the committee about it."  She exhales a breath of relief. "This time," I emphasize. "Is there  anything else you need to tell me, Ceci?" I ask, but deep down, I'm  unsure I want an answer. I don't think I can handle having to let her  go, telling her to walk away from this internship, since I can tell how  important it is to her.

"No, Mr. Leighton. Nothing else."

"Good."

I watch intently as she shifts from foot to foot. We've slept together,  and yet I make her nervous still. She swallows slowly, taking in  whatever I'm about to say. I want to scream and yell at her for being in  my home office and demand the truth, but I know that'll backfire. She's  given me a reasonable explanation, yet it still isn't sitting right  with me. And I'm not sure that has anything to do with Ceci, or the fact  that I need to keep her a safe distance. The closer she gets, the worse  it could be.







I have her do a few errands for me. It's not work related, but I need to get her out of my office. I need to clear my head.

Except I can't. Flashbacks of the other night resurface-the softness of  her body, the aching moans she screamed, and the way her tight pussy  clenched around me. It's all too distracting when I need to be thinking  about my company-my future.         

     



 

Being burned before-and almost ruined- I know I need to be cautious, but  part of me refuses to believe she's anything but genuine. She's in  college. She's twenty-one years old. She's smart. All those reasons  should tell me I'm over-paranoid. But part of me is still unsure.

She walks into my office with my dry cleaning, extra bold coffee, and  transcript files I asked her to find. I didn't really need them, but I  needed to keep her busy. I needed to keep her distant.

I stand up and take the dry cleaning from her, softly grazing her hand. "Thank you."

She scowls. "You're welcome, Mr. Leighton."

"Is there a problem, Miss West?" Her eyes drop to the floor, her body  tensing at the firmness of my voice. I know she's pissed that I sent her  on an errand run instead of giving her something to do here.

"No, of course not," she insists, but I can see right through her.

I place the hanger on my coat rack. She places my coffee and files on my  desk and steps back cautiously waiting for her next order.

As much as she fights it and demands control, she submits nicely. Always willing to please and give me exactly what I want.

I smile at the thought.

In the office, I'm still her boss and she's my intern, but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with her.

I sit back down with my arms behind my head and grin at her. "Take a step back," I demand.

Her eyes meet mine as she does what she's told. "Unbutton your blouse."

"What?"

"I won't repeat myself, Ceci. You're a college senior. I'm sure you're capable of following directions."

She swallows hard as she questions me with her eyes. She begins  unbuttoning her blouse until each one has been undone. She drops her  arms to her sides, breathing heavy as she waits again for my orders.

I take her in-her perfectly fit, athletic body. She's petite, but she's  not small. She's flawlessly proportioned in every way I love-curvy and  tone.

"Unzip your skirt."

Her hands go behind her as she reaches for the zipper. She slowly-and  torturously-unzips her skirt. I watch intently as it falls to a pool at  her feet. She's standing in fucking black stockings that end mid-thigh.

Goddamn stockings.

My cock stands at attention at the sight of her. I'm not going to be  able to control myself for much longer. Send her away. Send her home.

Fuck no.

"Open your blouse so I can see you."

Her breath hitches, but she continues to do what I tell her.

"Beautiful," I say softly. "Now let me see your breasts. Pull your bra down."

She hesitates, holding her hands on her bra but not moving. "Why are you doing this?" she asks weakly.

My mouth curves into a cocky grin. She has no room for questioning my motives. I won't give in that easily.

"Don't ask questions."

She sighs and jerks her bra down, exposing her perfect pink erect nipples.

"Fucking gorgeous."

I can hear her breathing quicken as she watches me touch my cock through  my pants. The sight of her makes me ready to toss all my plans out the  fucking door, but I don't. I can't.

I stare at her, taking in every inch of her fresh, silky skin. I didn't  get a chance to see her like this the other night. It was too dark and I  was too hungry to wait. But now … now I was going to see exactly what was  driving me insane.

"Touch yourself."

"What?" she gasps.

"Your breasts. Touch them."

"This is humiliating. I'm not doing that. You can't make me." She's  trying to stand her ground with the seriousness of her tone, but I can  see her quivering from all the way across the desk.

I stand up and round the corner of my desk. I step behind her, her back  to my chest. I wrap an arm around her, squeezing her bare breast in one  hand, and grabbing her hip with my other hand. I pull her toward me so  she can feel exactly what she's doing to me, exactly what seeing her  like this does to me.

"Good," I whisper in her ear. "You deserve it."

"Why?"

I rub her nipple in between my thumb and finger, pulling aggressively  and squeezing her breast in my palm. She yelps at the pain.

"You're not as confident as I thought you were," I taunt. "If you can't handle it, just say the word and I'll stop."