Her Intern / Double Dare You. Anne Marsh

Fuck. Me.

      Her lips part wider and I slip inside an inch. She hums something and I push inside her mouth. Screw waiting. Everything about her turns me on. If I’m not careful, I won’t last long. She pulls harder, taking me deeper. Shit. Her mouth is sweet, wet heat. My balls tighten, ready to shoot my load.

      “Tell me to come,” I growl.

      I’m not sure how she’s supposed to answer when her mouth’s full, but Lola’s creative. She nods her head and groans something. Good enough—or maybe that’s the wicked edge of her teeth skimming my sensitive head. Girl boss is still trying to take control. Unfortunately, I don’t care because she’s sucking me off with a skill and speed I didn’t expect. I tunnel my fingers into her hair and fuck her mouth hard. Harder than is strictly nice, but she lets me. Nothing has ever felt so good and that makes this whole banging-my-boss thing an even worse idea.

      I should pull out.

      I should ask if she’s okay with this.

      Instead I lose myself in the soft wetness and blow up in her mouth.

      She rocks back on her heels as I pop free. Then she wipes her mouth on her shoulder as I put myself back together.

      “My turn,” she says.

      I shove her pants down her long, toned legs. She’s not wearing panties. She’s completely naked from the waist down, and it’s not enough. She leans back against the desk, off balance because her hands are still tied, and I lift her up until she’s seated on it before stepping between her legs. I can smell her, so wet and slick.

      “Sucking me off turned you on.”

      “I’m selfish.” She crosses her legs behind my back, her heels resting on my ass. “If it didn’t turn me on, I wouldn’t do it. Did you think I was faking it?”

      I reach between us, sliding my fingers down, until they rest against her where she’s so wet. I lean into her, pressing her back against the desk until she’s flat beneath me and our mouths are so close that I feel her breathe.

      “You’re wet.”

      “Do something about it,” she challenges.

      “Do you want my mouth between your legs? Or do you have other fantasies?” I pull my fingers free and paint her lips. “Tell me how to do it.”

      Her breath hitches, her eyes drifting closed. She’s thinking about it. Lola loves fantasies. This is her favorite thing, imagining the possibilities. When her eyes open, I know she’s picked a favorite, her expression changing from slightly awkward awareness to 100 percent sensual.

      Hazel eyes are hard to pin down. Are they goldenish or brownish green or do they change when you least expect it? This close, Lola’s eyes are almost amber today, and I fight the urge to keep tipping forward, to fall into her eyes. Falling would waste the time we have.

      She levers herself up on her elbows. “Run your hands down my body. I love your hands. They’re big and a little rough.”

      I do as she narrates, dragging my hands down her body and over her hips. My fingers press against her skin, traveling over her curves and digging in. She’s soft, her skin pebbling beneath my touch.

      “Are you cold?” I slide my hands beneath her ass.

      “Your mouth follows your hands so I’m not cold.” Her eyes darken. She’s watching me, waiting for me to do as I’m told.

      I kiss my way down her body, learning what she tastes like. When I reach the soft curve of her belly, I turn my head, resting my cheek against her. “And then what do I do?”

      She thinks for a moment. Or maybe she rehearses what’s coming next in her head because the sweet, salty scent of her arousal grows stronger. It’s as if she feels everything twice as intensely, once in her imagination and then once more with me.

      “I might be shy, so you brush one cheek over me, and then the other. You haven’t shaved recently and I love the way your stubble feels.”

      “Like this?”

      “Yes.” She exhales, eyes still closed. “Do it again.”

      “Perhaps I blow on you, teasing you,” I suggest. “Since you like it slow.”

      “I like it slow today,” she says. “Maybe.”

      Her breathing grows faster when I send my next breath skimming over her. And then the next. And the next after that. Her heels rub against my shoulders in a gentle, dreamy rhythm and I wish I could see inside her head. Her eyes are closed again.

      “But you’re impatient, so you push my legs over your shoulder so you can see me. You love looking at me.”

      “I do,” I answer. “I could look at you all day. You’re fucking gorgeous here.”

      “That feels good,” she says. “But it feels even better when you taste me.”

      She’s so right. She tastes unbelievable, sweet and juicy. I hold her open with my thumbs and I kiss her, breathing her in, licking up her wet. All the usual words tumble through my mind—peaches, sugar, cream—but those are fantasy words and the reality of Lola is even better. I wish I could tell her how good she feels, but instead I show her.

      “Do I push a finger inside you?”

      Another pause.

      “No,” she says dreamily. “You lick me deeper, over and over.”

      I do it. I drag my tongue through her slick folds, learning which spots make her moan and which make her squeal. She opens wider, her heels digging harder into my shoulders, because it feels good. Sweat dampens her body and I kiss her harder, rougher, surer. She’s told me her secrets and I know how to please her.

      “You—” Her voice catches as her thighs tense.

      I dig my fingers into her ass, controlling her movement and how she rolls against my mouth. “You want this.”

      “Yes,” she whispers. “I do.”

      “But you want to be the one in charge.” I suck lightly at her clit and she makes a noise I haven’t heard before, a rougher, greedier sound. She’s so close.

      I give her clit another kiss. “You think your way is best.”

      And she breaks character, forgets the rules of our game. “Make me come now.”

      “So bossy.” I give her pussy the smallest of smacks and she moans. “Always certain your way is the best. But what if you’re missing out on something better?”

      Another tiny tap. Another moan.

      “Too bad for you, princess. I’m not in the mood to play your games today. Naughty bosses don’t get orgasms.”

      I could sink into her.

      I should finish her.

      Instead I step back.

      She glares at me, dazed. It’s a bitch trying to lever yourself up with your arms tied. This is why I don’t let my lovers tie me up. Or take control. You end up out of control.

      “See you Monday.”

      I saunter out the door. I have to hand it to her, though. She doesn’t beg or plead. She pulls it together enough to yell after me.

      “You’re the world’s worst intern.”

      I’m not fired, though.

      Not yet.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      Dev

      I DRIVE TOO fast down the coast to Santa Cruz. I need to get out of The City and put substantial distance