The Intern

33

And if I wanted to draw this out, punishing her for that naughty little mouth, for not remembering our night together, for dropping that precedent in my lap while I’d been meeting with her cousins, then I had that authority.

“Don’t you dare come,” I threatened as she tightened around my finger.

My tongue stilled.

My hand halted.

“Declan! Please!”

I waited several seconds before I started up again, allowing the build to fade. But as soon as I resumed the licking, her hips picked right back up, rocking against my face, bringing her orgasm to the surface.

Once I sensed its arrival, I pulled back.

“Ah! No!”

It was a game.

But this wasn’t about winning.

This was about ownership.

Hannah’s orgasms were mine.

I decided when they happened.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t fighting for one, wringing my hair like it was a f*****g sponge, screaming like she wanted security to hear.

“Declan,” she gasped as I dived back in. “Yes!”

She was too close, so I slowed.

A cycle I continued to repeat.

A pattern I didn’t want to stop.

“Please,” she urged, staring down at me, lips wet and parted. Feral. “Please let me come.”

Maybe I just wanted to hear her beg.

Or maybe I wanted to reach the point where my d**k couldn’t wait another second to sink into her.

Both of her hands were in my hair now, and, “Oh God, yes,” was filling my ears.

It would only take a few more swipes, and she’d be shuddering.

Was that what I wanted?

To have her c*m pool on my tongue?

Or did I want her first orgasm to be on my c**k?

Knowing her p***y was so tight that it’d felt like I was taking her virginity even though I knew I wasn’t. But still, she had a cunt that felt as though it had been molded just for me.

I wanted that cunt squeezing my shaft.

I wanted her wetness soaking me.

I gave her one final lick, and as I stood, I wiped her off my cheeks but left my mouth alone. I wanted her to dry there, on that bit of skin, so I had something to smell when I got home.

Her eyes penetrated me as I took a step back. “You’re vicious.”

“I warned you.”

She tried to inhale. “But that was …”

“I know what that was, Hannah.”

I took out my wallet, where I kept a spare condom. Once she noticed what I had in my hand, her eyes changed.

They darkened.

“I want you naked, sitting on the table with your knees bent, feet clinging to the edge.”

She didn’t move. She just let the words simmer into her smile.

“Now.”

HANNAH

D

eclan Shaw was an asshole. He took his anger and frustration out on me. Maybe I could rationalize that behavior as my punishment for lying to him about being drunk. But what I couldn’t rationalize was the evidence I had of him and Madison. A photo that still lived on my phone—his lips red, matching hers. Nor could I excuse that he had left me that night for her.

But there was wine running through my veins, and the desire to come was thundering inside my p***y, my needs charged like I was plugged into an outlet. And, oh God, this man could f**k like the thoroughbreds my parents invested in. I’d be an absolute i***t to pass up a d**k like Declan’s.

So, I was making an exception.

I was thinking only with my body.

Besides, he’d made it clear that this was never going to happen again.

I could accept that.

I could focus on the now.

Because, now, he was going to make me feel the best I ever had.

That was why, when he told me to get naked and sit on the conference room table, I obeyed his order.

I tossed my tank top and sports bra, the only things I had on, and climbed onto the cold, smooth wood.

This was the table where my family had offered me my internship.

Where my aunt and uncle had told me they were proud of me.

Where, as a little kid, I’d colored with Uncle David’s highlighters on the days that Dad visited his brother and dragged me with him.

Would they be proud of this?

“Touch yourself.”

That question was immediately answered the second his command hit my ears.

He stood only feet away, fully dressed. His lips wet, his fingers damp—from me. His eyes ravenous as he took me in.

Touch myself?

Something I’d only ever done in the privacy of my own bed, never in front of a man.

This was just another thing that I could add to the growing Declan List, underneath having s*x outside, against a building, in the dark, with practically a stranger.

“Now,” he growled.

As my knees bent, my feet rounding the edge of the table, I stared into his eyes.

A man who, more or less, had become my enemy.

But in this room, I’d felt something different from him.

A hint of softness when he was coaching me through finding the loophole, the relief on his face when he found out it was Oaklyn I’d been speaking to on the phone.

His expression had changed again.

It was untamed, his stare dripping with lust.

My hand dropped down my breasts to the bareness of my navel before I stopped at the top of my p***y. I sucked in a mouthful of air as the pads of my fingers gently touched the spot he had just licked.

And sucked.

“Ahhh,” I gasped, surprised by how good it felt even though it was a touch I had been expecting and even though it was a touch I was extremely familiar with.

What made a difference was Declan.

“I want you to finger yourself while you’re rubbing your clit.” His eyes bored through me. “I want your wetness coating your fingers.” He gradually glanced down to my breasts, hips, calves, even my toes. “And then I want you to feed those fingers to me.”

Dirty.

Delicious.

And—at this moment—all mine.

Redness swept over my cheeks as I teased the area he wanted me to enter. I circled a few times, my hips sliding forward to meet the peak of my finger, to push myself in.

But I didn’t.

I stopped.

I let the want grow.

The pressure mounting, especially as my palm rubbed my c**t.

“All the way in, Hannah.”

Was I taking my time or testing him?