Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  It’s new and interesting and I don’t want it to end.

  “Anyway,” Hermione says, with a sly grin on her face. She taps a pen against her teeth as she grins. “The boss wants to see you.”

  “I thought you were the boss,” I reply.

  She laughs, shaking her head. “No, the boss. The big boss.”

  “Solomon—um, Mr. Sky?” I say. “I thought he was in the UK?”

  “He was. But he just got back. He wants you to meet him in his office.”

  She tilts her head at me, her eyes glinting perceptively. I think she knows that something is going on between us, but her smile is genuine.

  She turns to walk away, pauses, and then turns back.

  “Sophia,” she says, “I don’t know what’s happening between you and Solomon, but I’ve worked with him for over a decade now. He’s never had a girlfriend. He’s never womanized. He’s never shown any interest in that side of life as far as I can tell. I just want you to know that.”

  Her words cause relief to burn awake inside of me, the flaring flames of conviction flickering against every part of me. I smile up at her and nod as subtly as I can, not wanting to give anything away about me and Solomon, even if it seems she already knows more than I would’ve guessed.

  “I better not keep him waiting, then,” I murmur. “Do you mind?”

  She chuckles. “I know you’ll have that work to me at week’s end, when it’s due, no matter what. Won’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I laugh. “Even if I have to work into the early hours of the morning. I promise.”

  “Then go,” she grins. “Enjoy yourself.”

  She turns and I clear my throat, unspoken words dancing across my lips.

  “Hermione,” I blurt.

  “Yes?” she says, facing me again.

  “Do you think age gaps matter?”

  “No,” she says firmly. “My boyfriend is younger than me. I’ve got friends whose partners are older, the same age, younger. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is respect, love, devotion, sex. All that matters is how you feel. I believe that, as long as you’re not hurting anybody else, people should be able to do any damn thing they want.”

  I smile broadly as she finally leaves, but something she just said rings around my mind with a shivering ache.

  As long as you’re not hurting anybody else.

  That’s the thing.

  We are hurting somebody else.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  I sigh and stand up, gripping my cellphone in my hand. Even though my need for Solomon has reached a fever pitch over the past few days, an undercurrent of rage sizzles beneath it all.

  Why he heck didn’t he call me, text me, anything?

  Why did he let me stress and worry that he was off with someone else? Or that he was laughing at me behind my back?

  Why? Why? Why?

  I march toward the elevator with my heart stampeding in my chest, the reverberations thudding through me like a drum beat.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Solomon

  I stand at the window with my hands behind my back, gazing down at the city the same way I did when this all started. So much has changed since then, though. The city even looks brighter.

  But mostly it’s the burning brightness in my chest, expanding with each beating of my heart, telling me that I need to be with my woman and be with her now.

  Being apart from her in the UK sent talons tearing through my body. My seed rioted and roared, demanding to know why I wasn’t with her, why I wasn’t inside of her.

  I ached with the need of her every second of every day.

  My mind tormented me with images of her with another man, sighing and moaning and singing out her lust in the way she only does for me. Even if I know my woman would never do that, and even if I know I’d kill any man who tried to take her, the vignettes worked their way violently into my mind, taunting.

  I spin as the door explodes open behind me.

  My woman marches into the room, her curvy-as-fuck body compressed into a tight shirt and black pants. The clothes must look modest to everybody else, but they flood me with even more hungering need. Her pants highlight the way her hips curve and dip. Her breasts are large and round and get my mouth watering.

  Her hair cascades around her shoulders as she marches across the room, glaring at me.

  “So you remember I exist, then,” she snaps.

  I smirk, almost letting out a sigh of relief.

  She’s filled with just as much burning need as I am.

  “I could never forget you,” I say, stalking over to her, inhaling the captivating scent of her fertile young body.

  I reach out and touch her face, feeling the heat of her skin sizzle against my palm, the warmth of her skin moving up my arm and into my chest.

  My heart thuds and deep inside a primal voice howls.

  “Fuck, I missed you,” I snarl, my manhood already becoming iron hard in my pants.

  “You missed me?” she murmurs, looking up at me with her bright eyes. “If you missed me …”

  “Why didn’t I call or text?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “I don’t want to be the crazy needy girl—”

  She cuts herself off with a strangled laugh, turning away from me and gazing down and the sun-flecked city.

  “Girlfriend,” I growl. “You can say it, Sophia.”

  “Is that what I am?” she says.

  “No,” I tell her. “You’re so much more. But the word will do for now.”

  “So why …”

  I sigh and walk up behind her, wrapping my arms around her torso and hugging her close to me. My manhood presses into her back, and my little dreamer pushes back against me, rubbing against my length.

  I let my head fall forward and inhale the sweet scent of her hair.

  “I wanted to,” I tell her. “But it was business. One of our main investors has become obsessed with mindfulness and he whisked us away to this bullshit retreat. A lot of slow breathing and stuff like that. There was a no-phones policy. I’m sorry if I worried you, Sophia. But you need to remember who’s in charge here, too. I should spank you like the horny minx you are for coming in here like that.”

  She turns in my embrace, lifting her arms and wrapping them around my shoulders. I slide my hands over her hips and squeeze onto her ample ass, the base of my cock setting on fire, the flames licking up and down my length.

  Every second of every goddamn day, for the rest of my life, I’ll ache for this woman.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, Solomon?” she murmurs.

  “Never,” I snap. “It was boring, annoying. But it was necessary.”

  She nods, letting out a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry I came in here all …”

  “All what?” I growl. “All needy, all excited, all hot? As if I’d be angry at you for that.”

  I pull her even closer to me, tracking the way her features dance under my touch. I’m certain I can smell her womb sending me tangy signals, urging me to slam her into the desk, tear a hole in her pants, and fuck her raw until she’s creaming and crying out in pleasure.

  “Solomon,” she whimpers.

  “Oh, I see,” I smirk, bringing my lips to hers, looking directly into her innocent dark eyes. “You thought I was playing a game with you. You thought I was staying away on purpose to give you all the time in the world to get nice and horny for me.”

  She moans again.

  My manhood couldn’t be stiffer. It’s flooded, irrepressible, my seed trying to explode out the end of my tingling helm. The feel of her through my pants, grinding, makes my balls go tight, tension-filled, and ready to erupt.

  “You’re ready,” I groan, the realization slamming into me. “Fucking hell, Sophia. I can see it in you. You want to feel my big hard dick in that tight virgin cunt, don’t you?”

  She tilts her head up at me, biting her lip.

  I should take a picture of this moment.

  Sh
e looks nervous and sassy and shy and confident all at once.

  “Just don’t expect too much from me,” she sighs.

  “Is that a yes?” I groan.

  She stares at me. I grip her ass even harder, compressing her flesh, delighting in the way it shifts around my dominator’s touch.

  “I asked you a question, Sophia,” I growl.

  “Yes,” she moans, pushing her ass out against my hands.

  The pressure of our bodies is driving me feral.

  “But—”

  But Caitlin.

  “But nothing,” I snap. “I’ll die if I don’t feel how hot and tight you feel around my dick. Your womb needs it. My seed needs it. Our bodies are dying for it. So let’s give it to them.”

  I take her hand and lead her toward the end of the room, to a portion of the wall that looks like any other. A painting hangs here, abstract art, all cubes, and collections of distorted colors.

  I glance at my woman, her head tilted at the artwork.

  “Not a fan?” I ask.

  “I’ve never been a great lover of abstract art,” she mutters.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Soon, every office I own will be filled with the paintings of the famous artist Sophia Sky.”

  She flinches, letting out a little gasp that sounds like a pleasure exhalation.

  For a moment, I’m confused.

  But then I replay what I just said.

  Sophia Sky, not Sophia Clarkson.

  Where the hell does she think this is going to end?

  I grab the painting and lay it against the wall, deciding to table that particular matter for a while. Right now, all I can think about is how juicy her ass felt in my hands, how she shifted against my touch, begging for more with her body even if her virginal shyness makes it difficult for her to use her tongue.

  I lean over to the keypad and type in the passcode.

  Grabbing onto Sophia’s gorgeously sweaty little hand again, I pull her backward as the wall starts to crank and hum and make grinding sounds, opening outward.

  “Seriously, Solomon,” she giggles. “You’ve got to be a spy.”

  I smirk and lead her down the hallway.

  Lights flicker on as we walk, and then turn off behind us, so it’s like we’re floating along an island of light. The door doorway grinds as it automatically closes.

  “Where are you taking me?” she murmurs.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says. “With everything I have. I’m just curious.”

  “To the roof,” I tell her. “I just thought it would be better not to be seen, not until …”

  “I understand,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze as we reach the end of the hallway.

  I open the door for her and wave her through, and she giggles and steps forward.

  I can’t resist the urge to reach down and give that juicy ass – so mouth-watering round into those pants – a playful spank.

  She moans and shivers, my receptive little virgin.

  I lead her up the staircase and to the door that leads to the roof.

  Pushing it open, sunlight floods over us, and a light breeze whispers over us.

  I walk out onto the roof and she follows, and for a second the two of us just pause and stare down at the city.

  “It’s so beautiful from up here,” she murmurs. “The way the light plays with all that metal and glass, the way it sparkles off the water, it’s magical.”

  I move up behind her, hugging her like I did in the office. This is fast becoming my favorite way to embrace her. I get the scent of her hair and the feel of her round ass, and if I want I can slide my hands up and start palming those made-to-be-milked tits of hers.

  “Paint it,” I tell her. “I know you’ll make it incredible. But later. Right now, we’ve got plans.”

  “Plans?” she murmurs. “What plans?”

  I smirk, knowing she can feel the shape of my lips against the top of her head, tingling against her scalp.

  Both of us are primed and ready to go, every inch of us roaring in unified desire.

  “Come on, my little dreamer,” I say. “You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, would you?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sophia

  “Oh my gosh,” I giggle, squeezing my hands down onto my knees as the helicopter starts to lift off the roof.

  “Did you just say oh my gosh?” Solomon chuckles, his voice even huskier in the headset.

  “Yes,” I cry. “I did and I’m not freaking ashamed of it, not under these circumstances.”

  He chuckles as we soar higher and higher, handling the controls like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be flying a helicopter.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as we pull clear away from the skyscraper and start going up, up, up to what feels like space. I’m grinning and laughing like a madwoman, making really dorky sounding noises as fear and delight merge together.

  “Open your eyes, Sophia,” Solomon says, his voice rumbling in my ears. “It’s so beautiful up here. You’ll love it.”

  “I’m fine, thank you very much,” I say, with another round of shaky laughter.

  “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he says.

  His voice brims with certainty and honesty, his conviction making his words steady. I feel my eyelids twitching, getting ready to open, and beneath it all my desperate need for him screams to trust him, to always trust him.

  He’ll always take care of me, of us—our children.

  I open my eyes and stare across at the azure sky, seeming far clearer and more stunning from all the way up here.

  The clouds shimmer in front of me and then I glance down at the city, growing smaller and less significant beneath us. We’re already over the water, glittering like there are a million jewels floating on its surface.

  “It really is beautiful,” I murmur.

  I look across at him, his jaw coated in a fine layer of silver dust. His hair is swept under the headset, his suit clutching tightly onto his body as though it’s just as obsessed with his muscles as I am. He casually moves the stick, flipping a few buttons, smirking over at me before returning his attention to the heavens.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he says.

  “Since when did you fly helicopters, Mr. Spy?”

  He chuckles. “Is that my new nickname, my little dreamer?”

  “I think it fits,” I say, finding that I can sink into the motion of the helicopter now, the thrum vibrating through my body. “Secret rooms dotted all over the city, you look the part, and now this. What else am I supposed to think?”

  “You’re my lady, Sophia,” he says. “You can think anything you want. But if you’re getting excited about the idea of me being a spy, I’m afraid I’ve got to disappoint you. I’m just your average billionaire.”

  I giggle at the oxymoron, and he smirks, turning the joystick and guiding us further and further onto the ocean. It’s like we’re suspended in a world of spring blue, the sea below and the sky above – and in front – enhancing the sensation of floating.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Somewhere private,” he says. “Somewhere we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Somewhere I can take you and you can scream without worrying about anyone hearing.”

  I move my hands over my stomach as nerves twist against lust, neither of them winning completely.

  “You trying to turn me on even more?” Solomon snarls, glancing at me with those startling emerald eyes of his.

  “What, by touching my belly?” I giggle.

  “Yes. Fuck yes,” he growls. “Every part of you turns me on, but your belly is one of your sexiest features. You know why, my little dreamer? Because I can easily imagine how fertile and gorgeous you’re going to look when you’re pregnant. When you touch your belly like that, it makes me think of our future, of our family, and that really fucking turns me on.”

  I let out a whimper, stunned by how easily he can p
rompt that sound from me. It just comes out, unbidden, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  There’s nothing I want to do to stop it.

  The vibrations of the helicopter make me squeeze my thighs together, the motion of the machine thrumming through my sex, against my clit.

  Everything aches.

  “You horny thing,” Solomon groans. “You’re getting off right now, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I whimper.

  “Fine—no. But you could.”

  I bite my lip, nodding at him, the vibrations of the helicopter making my pussy hotter and wetter with each moment.

  “Touch yourself,” he snaps.

  “Huh?”

  “You heard,” he snarls. “Touch your pussy. Make yourself come. Be loud, too. I want to hear you moan for me.”

  He does something to the joystick, increasing our speed … and making it judder and throb even more urgently against my sex. The motion has me bucking up and down, my lips aching with the need for release.

  “Are you serious?” I moan.

  “I won’t ask again,” he snaps. “Do it.”

  I slide my hand from my belly to my thighs, wedging my hand between my legs.

  “Slowly at first,” he instructs. “I’ll tell you when you can go faster.”

  “Yes, sir,” I moan, knowing he loves it when I call him that.

  I press my hand down on my crotch, grinding the fabric of my pants against my lips and my panties. I fight the urge to rub harder, staring across at Solomon. His jaw is tight and his knuckles are tense and bone-white against the joystick, his body vibrating just as much as the helicopter.

  It’s like he’s going to explode any second.

  “I said moan,” he snarls.

  I part my lips and let out a moan, grinding my palm against my clit, finding the special spot I’ve rubbed so many times thinking about Solomon.

  I never dreamed he’d actually want me, that I’d be with him in the flesh, doing something so wild and steamy.

  It’s like he’s using every ounce of his self-control to keep himself focused on the task of piloting the helicopter.