She’s a short woman, maybe five foot three, with a body that looks as if it was built for pleasure and motherhood and everything in between. She wears a white shirt tucked into a black skirt, tights hugging her legs and leading down to flat black shoes. Her hair is a deep brown tied back in a ponytail, presenting the redness of her cheeks, the fullness of her features, the vivacious oak shade of her eyes.
Her breasts are large, round, causing my cock to swell and pulse as I gaze at her.
I imagine tearing open her shirt – the buttons popping and flying across the room – and then palming those ample breasts. My fantasy spirals and suddenly I see her bent over my desk, presenting that curvaceous ass to me.
Inch by inch, I’d pull that skirt up, revealing the full roundness of her ass cheeks.
My cock aches.
I’m glad my leg is across my knee, obscuring me.
My balls are suddenly aflame.
“Mr. Sky?” she says, wringing her hands as we gaze at each other across the vast distance of my office.
“Please,” I say, my voice somehow coming out steady. “Take a seat.”
I gesture to the white couch opposite.
She walks across the room, her wide made-for-child-bearing hips moving subtly from side to side. My fingers twitch with the desire to grab those hips and guide her into my lap, pull her tights down just enough so that I can slide my throbbing, hot dick right up inside of her.
Can this really be the same girl I had dinner with before I left for England?
I remember a shy, nerdy girl in braces, barely even visible to me.
She was just Caitlin’s friend, nothing more.
Now she’s a nineteen year old woman, all grown up, and my cock won’t stop pulsing as I study her every movement.
She drops onto the couch and rests her elbows on her knees, wringing her hands together, causing her breasts to jiggle slightly.
Fuck, this is a human resources violation just waiting to happen.
Every instinct I possess is roaring at me to claim this woman right now.
She’s not wearing much makeup if any at all, and her face is so young and fresh looking I almost leap across the table like a beast and fuck her pretty little mouth.
I imagine those naïve eyes growing wide and horny as she looks up at me in shock. There would be a moment of surprise, but then she’d start to moan and bob her head in time with my thrusts, moving her tongue around my bulging shaft as I take all the pleasure she has to give.
She’s mine. I own her. She belongs to me.
How can I know this already, with this bone-deep certainty?
I don’t know. I just know that it’s true.
If another man tried to touch this voluptuous, sexy thing, I’d break him.
I force the thoughts away, trying to think of Caitlin instead, of how sickened she’d be if she knew I was fantasizing about her best friend.
“Would you like a drink?” I say, realizing neither of us has spoken.
I’ve just been staring at her.
Maybe she thinks it’s some sort of CEO scare tactic.
“Um, no, it’s okay,” she says. “I’ve just had some coffee, so I’m still buzzing.”
A light film of sweat touches her forehead, making me wonder if she’s sweaty, wet, and hot in other places. I salivate when I imagine how tangy and soaked her pussy would get—how soaked I’d make her if I could strip away those clothes and unleash my true desires on her.
I lean forward, my body heaving, my heart beating so heavily it feels as if it’s going to burst from my chest.
“Firstly, please call me Solomon,” I tell her. “I don’t think we can sit here and pretend I haven’t known you half your life, Sophia.”
A smile touches her lips, bright and radiant.
Crazily, a vignette of Sophia smiling in that same way after giving birth to our first child flares alive in my mind.
I need to tame these unbridled thoughts before they end me.
“Okay, Solomon,” she says. “And you can call me Sophia.”
I smirk.
Of course, I’ll call you Sophia, I want to tell her.
I’ll call her any damn thing I want because she belongs to me.
I’ll call her my personal fuck-toy if I want to, to let her know what use I’m going to make of her perfect full body.
But no, I can’t. I can’t even think it. I have to remember Caitlin and what this would do to her.
“Okay, Sophia,” I say. “Basically, I just want to say hello, and let you know that even if this is a big business, we operate with a small-business ethos …”
I trail off. She’s looking at me with a glint in her eye, perceptive and sassy. It’s the sort of sassiness that enflames my desire like nothing else, a wildfire of need surging through me.
“So you’ve got a good bullshit detector,” I chuckle. “That’s good to know.”
Her smile fades and she leans back, shaking her head.
Does she know that every time she moves quickly, her ample breasts jiggle like they’re trying to hypnotize me? Does she really not know the effect she’s having on me?
“Oh, no,” she says. “I didn’t mean to come across like that at all. I think what you’re saying is—”
“A bunch of business-speak,” I say. “It’s fine. You don’t have to lie to me, Sophia. You never have to lie to me.”
Feral certainty enters my voice on the word never.
I wish I could snatch it back immediately.
My body hurts just being close to her.
I can scent her in the air, her perfume mixing with her just-her smell, all of it swirling around me and driving me closer and closer to the edge.
“Okay,” she murmurs breathily.
It’s the same way she’ll get all breathy and hot when I claim that round, perfect ass of hers. I’ll massage it, spank it, let her know who it belongs to until she’s gasping and begging for more.
“How are you finding your first day?” I ask, striving to return the conversation to some sense of normalcy.
“It’s great,” she says brightly, with the sort of optimism that would fill our children with hope, confidence, and love.
I need to stop letting my mind veer close to thoughts like that.
Otherwise, they’ll consume me and I won’t be able to stop myself.
Her lips are as full like the rest of her, begging to be kissed, begging to be used in other ways.
“Everybody is really friendly. I can’t thank Caitlin enough for getting me an internship here.”
“No, Sophia,” I snarl, with far more passion in my voice than is appropriate. “All Caitlin did was show me your art. You got yourself the internship here. You’re incredibly talented. I’m just glad we found you before one of our competitors did.”
Her cheeks turn that flushed red color, the color of lust, of desire, of need.
I feel the same need, making my cock twitch as if it’s not rock hard enough already.
“Anyway,” I say, standing abruptly. “It was nice to check in with you. But I’ve got a lot of work to do today.”
That’s true, but it’s not the reason for this sudden goodbye.
If I don’t make her leave now, I won’t be able to stop myself.
The animal, possessive part of me will take over and I won’t be able to fight it.
I’ll claim her—her tits, her cunt, her ass, her lips, her soul.
Every part of her belongs to me.
“Of course,” she says, standing with me.
I walk around to her and offer her my hand, hoping she doesn’t look down and see what she’s done to me. My thick manhood must be a clear outline in the silver of my suit trousers.
She takes my hand, and I bite down, resisting the urge to pull her toward me. Her touch is warm, making me think of how she’d feel wrapped around my hot throbbing length.
“It was nice to meet you, Solomon,” she says.
We keep shaking hands, both of us hold
ing on for far longer than is necessary. Her voice has become breathy and hot as if she knows what’s happening here as if this nineteen year old goddess isn’t as naïve as she seems.
“I know we’ve met before, but I was just a kid then. This sort of feels like the first time. Does that make sense?” she says quickly.
“Yes,” I growl, intoxicated with the way her words rush into each other, her nerves making her talk faster with each moment. “It makes complete sense. You’ve changed so much in just three years.”
Finally, I let go of her hand. I have to. I’d do something that would be unfair to Caitlin otherwise.
“I had my braces removed,” she murmurs. “Maybe it’s that.”
No, it’s so much more than that.
But I can’t tell her.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Sophia,” I say, gesturing toward the door. “Please enjoy the rest of your day.”
Those are empty words. I barely even hear them as I speak them. I just need her gone before the furious need inside of me becomes deafening and forces me to grab her hips, sink my hands into the fullness of her flesh, and claim her, taste her, own her.
She’s mine.
She’ll always be mine.
Why the hell does she have to be Caitlin’s best friend?
CHAPTER THREE
Sophia
“You’ve been great today, Sophia,” Hermione says, smiling at me as she stands over my desk.
Hermione is a friendly faced woman with her hair in dreadlocks, wearing a Harry Potter T-shirt, probably ironically considering that she’s got the same name as one of the main characters. She has a sleeve of swirling tribal tattoos up one arm, making her look as stylish as the graphic design floor she manages.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling up at her.
She pulls up a chair and sits next to my desk.
My desk.
The phrase seems absurd in my mind, but it’s the truth.
This is my desk and I freaking earned it.
“You seem a little … distant,” she mutters a moment later.
I shake my head instinctively. I want to blurt that if I seem odd, it has nothing to do with her or the work.
It has everything to do with him.
My mind lingers on the way we shook hands when he seemed to clutch onto me longer than was necessary. I remember the way he glared at me, his stark eyes glinting. He’s even more muscular and intense than I remember, his face clean shaven, his hair a deeper shade of silver.
For a second, I thought he was checking me out when he was staring at me, but of course, that’s just craziness.
He was probably angry that I’d interrupted his busy workday.
He rushed me out of there quickly enough.
“Sorry,” I say, realizing I’m just sitting there like the world’s biggest weirdo. “It’s just a lot to take in. I hope I didn’t make any mistakes today—any catastrophic ones, anyway.”
I try for a laugh, but it comes out strangled.
Hermione smiles kindly at me. She’s probably around the same age as Mom, but she looks younger with her dreadlocks and her stylish bone-white hipster glasses propped up on her head.
“You did really well,” she says. “I wouldn’t believe it was your first day unless I knew it. You’re a natural. I want to put you on a team tomorrow. You’ll help develop the material for a new charity campaign. They want something with artistic flair, and I think you’d be a great addition.”
“Whoah, really?” I say, excitement bubbling up inside of me. “That’s great. Thank you so much. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
“I know you’ll be amazing,” she says. “Anyway, I need to get out of here. Cats to feed, Netflix to binge, and all that. Have a good evening.”
“And you, boss.”
“Hey,” she says, standing. “What did I say about that? Hermione.”
“Okay, Hermione, thank you.”
I gather up my things and leave the building with everybody else, shouldering my bag.
A deranged thought spirals into my mind as I head toward the elevator. I think about pressing the button for the top floor, riding up to Solomon’s office, and inventing some reason for me being there.
I could tell him that I dropped something.
My phone, a memory stick, headphones, whatever.
I’d tell whatever lie I need so that I can be close to him so that maybe he’ll look at me in that searing, intense way again. My body pricks hotly just thinking about the look in his eyes—a look I probably imagined, but a look that will stay with me all evening and deep into the night.
My sex tingles at the thought of those intense eyes.
I imagine him thinking, You’re mine, Sophia. I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you.
It’s so stupid.
To him, I’m just the intern who was in braces only a little while ago.
I cram into the elevator and stand at the back, waiting as it descends down to the ground floor. When the doors open, I walk across the marble flooring toward the exit.
I pick up the pace, knowing I need to basically power walk if I want to make my bus.
The only downside about working here is that Solomon’s offices are uptown, and Mom and I live in the more working-class part of the city. But hunkering down with my Kindle and my headphones on a bus is a small price to pay for such an awesome gig.
I walk into the spring evening air, a cool bite moving over me as the city turns the deep purple of the setting sun.
I head for the street corner, where I’ll be able to press myself against the wall to get out of the way of the other pedestrians. I need to get my headphones on as soon as possible.
I need to blot out all the craziness surging through me.
I’ve just taken them from my bag when I feel somebody standing over me.
My heart thuds in my chest, sending fear spiking through my body.
In this city, a stranger looming over you is never a good thing.
I look up, getting ready to raise my hands to defend myself.
Solomon stares down at me, a subtle smirk dancing across his lips. His bright eyes dance, too, seeming sharp and intense.
“Um, hello?” I say.
“Is that a question?” he smirks, as people rush past us.
It’s like we’ve fallen into our own personal universe, secreted away from the rest of the world.
“No?” I say, giggling despite how wrong this should feel.
We’re not at work anymore.
What the heck does he want with me?
Whatever it is, I know it won’t be what I wish it was.
“Now you’re just playing games with me,” he says, his voice gruff and intense, making me think a million things that would make Caitlin hate me. “Are you heading home? I can give you a ride if you’d like.”
No.
You’re playing with fire.
“Yes,” I hear myself saying, as though somebody else is guiding my words. “That would be nice.”
He gestures toward the parking garage.
“Then follow me,” he says.
He turns and strides in front of me, this huge towering man, looking like somebody from the cover of a men’s health magazine. Everything about him is tight, huge, bulging, and manly. I feel something deep inside of me burn and whimper, and for a second I imagine what Solomon would look like with a tiny baby in his arms, my baby.
I banish the thought.
It’s bad enough to let my mind brim with betraying lust, let alone with impossible baby making.
Sure, I’ve always wanted children.
Sure, I used to play with dolls when I was way too old for them, and I used to dream that I’d have children at a young age, soon after graduating high school, but that hasn’t happened and it’s certainly not going to happen with my best friend’s dad.
He walks past the main entrance to the parking garage and then turns down an alleyway. He’s so broad he barely fits in the gap.
<
br /> I pause at the mouth of the entrance.
He turns, his smirk twitching, his eyes whispering over me.
Tingles dance across my skin and buzz hotly through my body.
“Don’t worry, Sophia,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”
“I know,” I say. “I guess I’m just …”
“Wondering why I’m leading you down an alleyway when I said I’d give you a ride home?”
“Well, yeah.”
He grins wolfishly, looking for a moment like a man half his age. He has more life in him than most boys my age. Despite being forty-two – Caitlin recently wrote a birthday post on Facebook about him – he brims with energy, enthusiasm, and power.
“Follow me and I’ll show you,” he says.
I swallow a big ball of lust and then walk into the alleyway. He walks ahead of me, leading me past the graffiti covered walls and around another corner.
I will him to turn around and grab my shoulders, shove me up against the wall, and growl in my face. You horny thing. You know why I brought you here.
I know I’m reading far too much into this situation, but I still ache for it, the longing captivating me and making my skin feel as though it’s sizzling up from the inside.
Finally, he waves at a phone booth sitting in a corner, just past some trashcans. The glass is thick-looking and marked with scratches here and there, and there’s a padlock on the door.
“What’s this, some sort of billionaire’s secret entrance?” I ask.
“Exactly.”
He takes a key from his inside pocket to unlock it and then steps inside. He smirks at me, standing tall with his shoulders back, a challenge in his eyes.
“What’s the matter, Sophia? Would you rather take the bus?”
“It’s just …”
There’s not enough room in there for the both of us.
Technically, that’s not true. There is enough room.
We’re just going to be pressed really close together.
“Get in, Sophia,” he growls, a hint of urgency in his voice.
I can imagine him giving me instructions during heated moments in the same tone of voice.
I walk toward the phone booth, my heart thumping, telling myself over and over again that this isn’t what I think it is, what I wish it was.
Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance Page 2
