The Intern: The Billionaire's Successor

I don’t respond to her. I place my hand on her foot and begin to rub it, caress it—massage it. I know she remembers it from Amsterdam because her body releases an involuntary shiver as soon as my thumb makes contact with the arch of her foot.

The massage lasts a couple of minutes until the temptation to feel more of her finally gets the best of me. Carefully, I place her foot back on the floor and urge her towards me by tugging on her leg. Olivia collides gently against my own legs, the couch, and seems to exhale when she feels my hand traveling up her thigh to settle on her waist. Relief? Is she relieved that I’m planning on touching more of her?

The thought makes me want to tease her more, so I do exactly that: I tease her with more fleeting touches and caresses around her waist and her stomach and her thighs. I cover every inch of that area except for…

My eyes settle onto her apex, taking in the V where her thighs meet her pussy. When I tilt my gaze up to Olivia’s face, I find her watching me with urgency patent in her expression, as if to say, get on with it, Ridgeway.

Perfect.

I drag my thumbs along the edges of her mound, moving them in torturous unison. She groans softly, throwing back her head as my thumb drifts inward. I trace over her carefully manicured center, and I can’t help but wonder if she groomed herself for me. Shaving. Waxing. Whatever the hell she did, I want it to be for my benefit. To impress me. To make it easy for me to touch what I bought.

Boldly, I lower my thumb to her pussy lips and separate them, letting my thumb come to rest on her clit. At once, my satisfaction shifts to disappointment for the first time in this woman’s presence.

“Oh no,” I murmur, putting a frown on my face for show. “No more piercing here?”

Dreamily, she shakes her head as she stares down at me with hooded eyes. “Not anymore.”

“Why not?” I try not to sound as disappointed as I feel, but I did have vivid fantasies of toying with that little hood piercing of hers again—of toying with it, rubbing it, licking it—a whole slew of things that I missed out on because I was too shell-shocked to enjoy it back in Amsterdam. The fixation had taken over me for the past few weeks as I anticipated her reappearance in my life, and at no point did I even consider that she had removed that bit of taboo from her body.

“I had more important things to do than fuck my way through life.” Her tone teeters somewhere between desire and curtness, a nice reminder of the Olivia I met at that nightclub.

I fold my lips over to keep from reacting to her words, which practically have me in a tailspin because I want her so badly that I would willingly create a motion at the next Board meeting to rename the company Obsessed-with-Olivia-Nolan Holdings. “Better things to do than fucking? Well, that’s about to change.”

She hates that response, I can tell. The way her chest heaves as she inhales and exhales through her nostrils is a clear sign that she’s over my shit. But ever the people pleaser, she cants her head to the side and rolls her hips forward in this fluid, graceful thrust that reminds me that this woman has a body that was engineered to fuck. Engineered to fuck well.

Reluctantly, I decide to move past the absence of the piercing—for now. Instead, I part her pussy lips with my thumb once more, sliding it down through her wetness until I reach her entrance, where she’s absolutely soaking for me.

In other words: the plan is on.

I broach her entrance with the tip of my thumb, keeping my motions measured at first. When I look up to see if she’s comfortable with it, I’m pleased to find that her eyes are closed and she’s massaging her breasts over her bra.

“Take that off.”

Her eyes blink open with surprise, but she doesn’t hesitate for too long. She does as she’s told, reaching back to snap open the clasp before she lets the bra tumble down her arms. I take it with my free hand and toss it to the side, where it joins the rest of her discarded clothing.

Olivia now stands completely naked in front of me and it’s everything that I’ve missed. My attention homes in on her dusky pink nipples, where her hardened points top off soft, full cleavage that I can’t wait to feel. Her breasts have a soft elegance unlike any I’ve encountered. There’s a natural swoop to their shape that mirrors the curves of a bell, where she’s slender at the top and round along the bottom. I can practically feel their weight in my hand, can imagine myself massaging them and hefting them.

But that’s for later.

Right now, my attention is on the sweet pussy at eye-level. I replace my thumb with my index and middle finger and work them into her, filling her up. No matter how much she pretends I annoy her, her reaction to my touch is clear as day. She’s enjoying this, every goddamn touch that I give her. Her arousal spurs me on, making it easy to enter her and to begin to finger her in earnest. When she wiggles her hips, I push in a third finger, eliciting a pleasant gasp from her.

Slickness coats my fingers. The more I work her, the wetter they become. I’ve never tasted Olivia before, but when I do I know that it’ll be heady and addicting. She’s sex on legs, and when she gives my fingers a squeeze with her inner muscles, I nearly lose my shit. Good girl.

Slowly, I pull my three fingers out of her and study them, pleased to see so much evidence of her want. I raise them up to her lips. My eyes lock on hers and I give her a tacit order: Suck on them.

Without hesitation, without so much as a blink, she does. She does it superbly, her tongue weaving between the separation of my fingers to catch every last drop of her arousal. Her mouth vibrates softly as she hums with satisfaction, her eyelids growing more hooded but never breaking contact with mine.

I stand up, finally, reminding her that I’m bigger than her, taller than her, and that I own her tonight. My lips find hers and we begin to kiss, the intensity ramping up as I allow my tongue to separate her lips. To breach that plump, manipulative mouth of hers. It’s our first kiss in eight years, and it’s strangely reminiscent of our very first kiss. It’s frenzied and heavy and unyielding and potent enough to make me want to ditch my plan for tonight and to just enjoy her.

She doesn’t deserve it though.

Mustering resolve, I break the kiss to charter a path down the column of her neck, sucking and nibbling her supple skin as I go. I feel her goosebumps on my tongue and I can still taste traces of perfume and body wash and a million other delicious things as my mouth finally reaches her breasts. One nipple first and then the other. I switch between them, kissing her nonstop and not missing an inch of her skin.

Her breathing grows heavier as I continue my path of kisses down to her stomach. Her desperation is starting to peak and her urgency is ramping with it. I sit back down on the couch now and tug her with me, which leaves her straddling my thighs as I press her stomach against my face. I’m inhaling her now, allowing my hands to grip her ass cheeks as I kiss her unrelentingly. Every inch. I don’t want there to be a single inch of skin on this woman that I haven’t touched.

Just when I have her panting and pushing her hands into my hair, I push her off of me to her unsteady feet. I whirl her around, giving myself unfettered access to her shapely ass. This ass could ruin men’s lives. It could mess with their heads and make them torpedo their careers and it would all be worth it because an ass like this is rare. So fucking perfect. It’s a cosmic slap in the face that it had to be attached to a woman like her.

I kiss above it first, tonguing the dimples above her cheeks before I press my lips into her soft skin. All the while, she’s panting heavily and moaning, her hands reaching back and trying to find my hair without success. I have her mindless. I have her desperate.

I have her where I want her.