The Intern: The Billionaire's Successor

As if he knows that we’re moving further in the wrong direction, Davis reluctantly removes his hands from my shoulders. “I see.”

I don’t like the disconsolate expression on his face, partially because he really does look so sad, but mostly because I can tell that Davis did want to do it tonight—to fuck me. The idea strikes me as unusual. I’m now in the sixth week of my internship and he’s waited so long to even broach the idea. We could have been fucking for weeks if he wanted it so badly. Hell, I was ready to do it the night I came over to sign the contract. Yet this has been drawn out well over a month.

All the while, I’ve wanted it. I’ve prepared for it, thought about it—even touched myself to the notion of it. But I’ve followed his lead for weeks, and not once has he initiated it.

Well, to hell with it. Tonight’s going to be different—different in every way.

“I bought you a gift,” he mentions, breaking the silence between us. “I was thinking of you while I was out of town. Little did I realize that I would need to apologize, so that’s good luck on my part. Maybe this will help.”

He turns and picks up a box from his coffee table. White with a fancy silk ribbon on it. As I take the box, my immediate thought is that I’ll surely hate whatever is in here. I hated every gift that Professor Paul gave to me. Stupid frilly lingerie and dresses that were so clearly a fifty-year-old man’s version of sexy. Books that he demanded I read. Clunky jewelry that I sold the minute I got back to the States. Naturally, I had pretended to love those gifts—had practically fallen over myself to thank him.

Now, Davis is watching me, his expression tight as he focuses on the box that I’m turning in my hands. It’s almost like he’s nervous—like he’s genuinely concerned that I’m not going to like what’s in here.

Par for the course, baby boy.

I hand the lid to Davis and pull back the white tissue paper inside, revealing the contents.

It’s an ungodly amount of lingerie. Like, a comically large pile of it, actually. I blink a couple of times before Davis takes the box from me, holding it so I can sort through the contents.

There must be ten or eleven sets in here at least. Some of it is La Perla, some of it is Agent Provocateur, and none of it is frilly—or pink, ugh. No, all of it is red, black or neutral, just like the underwear I tend to wear. All of it is see-through and slutty, but not over-the-top or completely impractical. To be totally concise: It’s all me—just many hundreds more dollars than I would ever dream of spending on myself.

When I look up at Davis’s face, he’s watching me with that nervous expression still prominent and unyielding.

“I think I got the sizes right. Let me know if I didn’t though. And I’m sorry I put them all in one box like this. I was running late tonight, or I would have put them in separate boxes. More for you to open and all that.”

Surprised, I tick my head to the side. “You actually went out and bought these yourself, and then wrapped them yourself?”

Davis reaches over and places the lid back on the box. “If that’s all a man needs to do to impress you, the bar is so low it’s in hell, Olivia.”

What I don’t tell him is that the packaging isn’t the impressive part. Really, it’s that he bought me a gift for me—and not for himself.

“Thank you,” I reply, completely forgoing the song and dance where I pretend that this is too much for me to accept. It is too much, honestly. But I love this gift—more than I care to admit to.

Bastard.

“Come on,” I declare, grabbing the box from him and placing it on the couch. “This is happening tonight.”

Without waiting for a response, I turn and head out of the living room.

“What is?” Davis calls as he trails after me down the hallway towards his bedroom.

“We’re fucking,” I announce as I strip off my dress and drop it onto the floor in one quick motion. “This is happening. This needs to happen.”

Davis looks dumfounded for a beat, but he quickly catches his bearings when I unhook my bra—my bra that suddenly looks old and frumpy—and leave my breasts exposed. Panties next. Then I crawl onto the bed and situate myself in the middle of it, waiting for Davis to join me.

It takes a moment, but he drops his towel and stands completely naked, looking absolutely glorious. The man is beautiful—so annoyingly, undeniably beautiful. He knows it too. I can tell by the self-satisfied look that he wears as he crawls to join me.

Before Davis can settle over me, I slide out from under him. He’s surprised, but he doesn’t object when I push on his shoulders, urging him to his back.

“On a mission?” His tone is amused, like he’s still waiting for me to cede control to him as usual.

“You have no idea,” I reply as I straddle him.

“Fine,” he relents. “Show me what you’ve brought me to play with tonight.” He tips his chin, signaling for me to put him where I want him.

We stop in this position: Davis and his massive, perfect body splayed out underneath me. Me, perched right on top of his hard cock. The moment drips with heat, the kind that’s tense and almost unbearable, but so ripe with anticipation. It’s that pre-fuck moment when two people realize that they’re about to unleash their carnal, wanton sides—the sides that they keep hidden from most people.

It’s about time.

“That’s a good little slut,” he murmurs predictably, his thumb finding my clit. Before I can remind him to take it easy, he grazes me delicately—he knows. One stroke and he has my back arching, the pleasure passing over me in a fine wave as my release begins to build.

I ignore the comment and take his cock in my hand, stroking it from base to tip and bringing him to full mast. He shudders lightly under my grip, brown eyes fixated on mine as I work him. I keep my motions slight and I keep my face placid as I bite my lower lip and treat his cock. The man may be an asshole, but I can’t deny that he’s packing.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he murmurs as he lowers his thumb down to my entrance, where he finds me wet. “Wet and needy. Of course.”

“Of course,” I repeat. I tighten my grip on his member. “I’m not going to deny it.”

“No?”

“Honesty clause, after all.” I rise up onto my knees and position myself over his tip.

Davis shifts both of his hands to my hips and latches them on the indent where my thighs curve outward. He kneads into my skin with a sure grip and lets out an approving groan when I undulate my hips to mirror the motion. “Jesus, Olivia. You really can’t wait.”

“It’s taken you long enough,” is my answer as I notch him at my entrance and begin a tentative, almost testing motion downwards. The tip of Davis’s cock pushes into my entrance and I let out a gasp, partially because I know that he’ll love it and partially because I’ve been dying to get this cock in me.

His size works against the tightness of my entrance, and I can feel the aching pressure as I slowly ease myself around him. Involuntarily, a groan escapes my lips and I brace my palms flat against his bare, spanning chest to offer myself some leverage.