The Intern: An MM Office Romance

by Akeroyd , Serena

  Before I could answer that, he put the phone down.

  I stared at the receiver a second, pondering what he said.

  It was clear to me that I was bi, because women didn’t make my skin crawl. But, and I was aware it made me a prick, they were just holes to me. Just a means of slaking off my needs.

  They gave me pretty arms to hook around mine when it came down to the many book and marketing campaign launches I had to attend as part of my job, and I bought them prettier baubles as a thank you to which they’d show their appreciation by spreading their legs.

  It was a transaction.

  Nothing more. Nothing less.

  I liked it that way. Preferring to let everything boil down to dollars and cents.

  But what I did with men was different. It wasn’t about a transaction, wasn’t even about work. Not really. It was about my frame of mind.

  I was careful, controlled, in every aspect of my life. Much as someone would fling themselves out of a plane, I got the same high from going into VICE and traversing the sordid underbelly of the gay clubbing scene. The orgasms were unsurpassable, but the rough anonymity, the joy in being a butt to fuck or a dick to suck always made me feel free.

  In the aftermath, I’d cringe and worry about STDs, hence my relationship with Jeff, but my entanglements with men were complicated. At least, that was how I always viewed them as being.

  Maybe they weren’t, though.

  Maybe it was very, very simple.

  Not for the first time that evening, I reached up and played with my bottom lip.

  Emma was a hole to fuck. Last night, I’d been that hole.

  Then the lights had flared on, and I’d seen the beautiful man who’d screwed me.

  Somehow, it had changed everything. The adrenaline high didn’t die, instead, seemed to soar even more. Maintaining the peak until this morning, when I’d seen him again, and then this afternoon in my office...

  I didn’t want Emma.

  I didn’t want a hole.

  I wanted Micah.

  The thought was hardly revolutionary but it felt as much to me.

  The buzzer had died off by now, and my cellphone was ringing in the bathroom as Emma tried to get in touch with me.

  I could be a prick and ignore it, have Derek, the doorman, turn her away.

  But I didn’t.

  Dashing into the bathroom, I answered the phone and said, “Emma, I’m sorry. There’s been a change of plans.”

  “Oh! That’s a shame,” she murmured, her disappointment evident.

  She probably thought she’d be in the papers tomorrow and had banked on that for some Instagram photos. Even she, I doubted, would expect a bauble just yet.

  “Yes, it is.” I cleared my throat to shield my lie. “I’ll be in touch. I have to go now, though. Good night.”

  I didn’t wait for her to reply, just disconnected the call and went into my contacts to seek the phone number I’d found on the sly—Micah’s.

  Then, heart in my mouth, uncertain if I was about to make the best decision, or the costliest, of my life, I hit connect.

  Nine

  Micah

  One thing I missed about my old life was space.

  I’d grown up in a nine-bed mansion in Portola Valley. I had no idea what my father was worth, but I knew the house had to have cost him fifteen million or more.

  That was what happened when you developed a piece of tech that Google wanted to acquire—you got rich.

  Mega rich.

  So, space in a house that was over five-thousand square feet in size wasn’t exactly a commodity. It was just something to take for granted.

  My bedroom back home had been big enough for a game of tennis, yet here, my entire place was smaller than my old bathroom.

  Poor, little rich boy or not, I wouldn’t swap my life back to how it had been before. The Micah under my father’s roof and under my own were two different guys entirely, but Jesus Christ, I missed a decent-sized bed.

  Stretching out on my single didn’t have the same vibe, but inside, I felt better than I had on my California king.

  Here, I was me.

  Back in Portola Valley, I was the Micah my dad wanted.

  Straight, the heir to the family fortune, on the football team, an ardent ‘fan’ of the country club, and with the Prom Queen on my arm.

  I was none of those things in New York, which was why he’d cut me off.

  I figured he thought he was trying to buy me straight, bring me back into the fold but that wasn’t going to happen.

  So, to me, the feeling of freedom was priceless, and I’d get there again—I’d have the mansion in a swank neighborhood, just on my own merit and without his help.

  I wasn’t afraid of hard work, and with the right people for mentors, people like Rhode, I’d get there. I had faith in a Micah who was free to express himself, free to be himself.

  The thought made me smile, especially when my mind drifted onto what had happened in Devlin’s office. My dick started to harden, like it appreciated the memory as well, and I reached down to palm it through my boxer briefs.

  The way he’d tasted was a prominent flavor profile in my mouth. How I’d tasted was as well. Each time I’d been with him, I’d done something new, something I’d only ever seen in porn, but I wasn’t nervous. I was just hungry. I wanted to know it all, do it all, experience everything I could because I’d been waiting for this for a long time.

  Today was better than yesterday.

  Going through all of that with those amber eyes on me was bliss. Seeing his need, feeling his mutual hunger was something unsurpassable. Something five-thousand square feet of interior-decorated space couldn’t compete with. Something a fifty-grand monthly allowance didn’t buy.

  I bit my lip as my cock grew harder. It had a taste for what it wanted, what it’d been craving for years and—

  My phone buzzed, flashing up a number I didn’t know.

  Hesitant to answer in case it was my dad again, because just thinking of him made it likely I’d rake up that particular ghost and he had a habit of checking in to see if I was miserable enough to return to the fold, I waited. My dick grew soft like it could feel my father’s disapproval from the West Coast.

  It disconnected.

  Leaning over the bed to see the screen, when it didn’t flash with another call, I knew it hadn’t been Dad, and I picked it up and redialed.

  It rang for a long time, long enough that I almost put it down, but I didn’t.

  I was glad I persevered.

  “Hello.”

  Devlin.

  “Hey,” I replied huskily, surprised that he was calling me. Surprised he even had my number.

  He was the last person I thought I’d be hearing from tonight—just because it was out of the blue, didn’t mean I wasn’t ecstatic.

  I was.

  I could hear his breathing down the line—it wasn’t rough or anything. Heavy. Just, audible. Like he wasn’t sure what to say, how to be. I knew how that felt, but I’d been playing a part all my life so it was easy for me to fill in the gaps.

  “I was just thinking of how you tasted,” I told him, my voice so husky that I didn’t recognize it as my own.

  I had the feeling he was one foot in the closet and one foot out. Maybe he was bi, I didn’t know, or maybe he was just gay and hiding it with a string of girlfriends, but my impression was that he wasn’t comfortable with men.

  Not in the light of day, anyway.

  Knowing that opening gambit could scare him away didn’t stop me from making it.

  I wasn’t about to push him into anything, but neither was I going to ignore the elephant in the room. Not when I wanted him—badly.

  A sharp sigh escaped him, and my eyes fluttered to a close as I remembered the gentle gust of that against my ear, down along the sinews of my throat where it raked up gooseflesh. As if my body already knew how to react to him, the small hairs down my nape stood to attention like he was here in the room, his han
ds on me—how I wished they were.

  “Did you like it?” was his careful response.

  “I did. Very much. I-I’ve never tasted someone else’s cum before.”

  “You’ve always used a condom? You should anyway. What we did in the dark room wasn’t safe—”

  My lips quirked up in a smile. “Isn’t that like trying to shut the stable door when the horse has already bolted?”

  “Maybe.” He sighed again. “I just—they’re not really safe spaces.”

  “No. I assume that’s half the fun for you.” When he just gave a non-committal hum, I told him, “I’ve never been with a guy before.”

  A choked gasp escaped him. “I’m your first?”

  “First guy,” I corrected, amused by his response. “I’m not a virgin.”

  “Your ass is though.” He grunted. “Jesus, I didn’t need to know that right now.”

  Flopping onto my back, I arched a brow at my stained ceiling. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t need a boner when you’re wherever you are in the city.”

  Immediately, arousal sucked my breath away.

  He wanted me again.

  Thank God!

  “There’s always Uber,” I remarked.

  “If I’m your first, then I’d like you to know that I’m clean. I was tested recently, and I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

  Taken aback, even if I appreciated his honesty, I told him, “Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

  “You should ask for certificates or whatever,” he muttered, and I heard the slightest rushing sound of liquid against ice.

  Even as I wondered what he was drinking, I strained to hear what other noises I could discern. What I found didn’t come as a surprise, not when I knew he was an Astley.

  Silence.

  Dead silence.

  In Manhattan, that was almost more priceless than space.

  “You should ask for proof,” he repeated, his tone firmer this time. “In—” He grunted.

  It was interesting that he didn’t finish that statement.

  In the future.

  He was right.

  I knew I should. Even though that wasn’t the point of dark rooms, was it? To go in there with a list of your ailments wasn’t exactly sexy. And last night hadn’t been planned.

  Well, not by me.

  Rachel had been the one to cook up the scheme because I sure as hell didn’t carry around condoms and lube with me on the off chance of a hook-up.

  Though I’d fucked my way through the women of Manhattan, it hadn’t come easily to me. Not with my background, at any rate. Sex outside of marriage? A gross sin.

  But when I was trying to figure out who and what I was, it had seemed like the thing to do. But repeating that with guys was just something I’d never been able to follow through with. Maybe, in time, that discomfort would ease up some, but not now. I was too new to being free. Too nervous.

  Apart from with him.

  The thought had me covering my eyes with my forearm.

  Maybe now I knew what I was, who I was, I was looking for that one person who’d be mine forever.

  Like that wasn’t a disaster waiting to happen…

  “What do you want, Devlin?” I rasped edgily, my thoughts making me antsy, even as I tasted his name on my lips, savoring it like I’d savored him earlier.

  He didn’t answer for the longest time, but I heard him swallow, so I knew he’d taken a sip of his drink. “I don’t know.”

  Knowing who he was, maybe I shouldn’t have been so frank with him, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, “Bullshit. No one takes that long to think about an answer without knowing exactly what the hell they want to say.”

  A sharp laugh echoed down the line. “Is that right?”

  “You know it is. If you don’t want to say, then that’s another matter entirely. But don’t waste either of our time by lying.”

  “How old are you, Micah?”

  “You’ve read my file by now so you already know. I’m twenty-two.”

  “I was twenty-two sixteen years ago. That’s not only a massive age difference, that’s a—” He grunted. “You were raised in a different world than me.”

  Before he could carry on, and disregarding who he was to me because he wasn’t my boss at that moment, I snapped, “More bullshit? Change the record, Devlin. Raised in a different world? Yeah, that’s why my father won’t talk to me and is trying to scare me straight by cutting me off from the family. That sound like someone who was raised in a tolerant background?”

  “No.” His voice was muted, and I knew I’d shocked him. “When did you come out?”

  “At the end of last year. I finally figured out what I was in my third year of college.” I rubbed at my eyes where tears were brewing. Not from sadness or sorrow, but from annoyance.

  Not just with my dad but Devlin as well.

  Like any gay man had an easy time with coming out.

  Even if, in the aftermath, the family accepted him, there were still months, maybe years’ worth of terror in the buildup to sharing that massive secret with the ones who were supposed to accept you no matter what.

  Was there a bigger betrayal than that type of rejection?

  Of having your father drag you to church to have the Pentecostal minister glare at you beneath beetle-like eyebrows as they tried to make you what you weren’t? Condemning you to hell and brimstone because you wanted to love men and not women?

  My voice was more than just husky as I ground out, “It took me three years of being here to actually accept that I could do this. Don’t try to make out that this isn’t hard for everyone, Devlin.”

  A shaky breath escaped him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be dismissive.”

  I hadn’t expected an apology. “Thank you.” I meant it too.

  When he fell silent again, I felt more antsy than uncomfortable. I wanted to talk to him, I realized. I needed it, and hadn’t thought I’d get this opportunity.

  After today, I wasn’t sure what I’d thought would happen, but I’d just never foreseen him calling me up tonight when thoughts of what we’d done in his office had me lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to resolve the futile jealousy I’d experienced earlier.

  Just because he was my first, didn’t mean I was his.

  What happened in the dark room meant nothing to him and everything to me.

  Maybe if the lights hadn’t flashed on, maybe if I hadn’t seen him this morning, what had happened would just be spank bank material. As it was, I felt like he’d imprinted on me or something.

  Ridiculous, but true.

  “Do you—” He blew out a breath. “I’d like to see you again.”

  My heart began pounding. “In the office?” I asked, even though I knew he didn’t mean that.

  I had the feeling Devlin needed to be pinned down.

  In more ways than one.

  That had him grunting out an expletive. “No, Micah. Not at the fucking office. Preferably never at the office.”

  “Then, where?”

  “I don’t know. What do normal people do?”

  “Normal people?” I queried, wariness making me wonder if he was dissing me.

  “Yes,” he snapped. “Normal people. People who want to see each other again with the intention of doing more than just fucking.”

  My lips twitched. “You mean, date?”

  “Christ,” he groaned. “I don’t do dating.”

  His emphasis on the word ‘do’ had me smiling. “No? Well, that’s what normal people do.”

  “I’m not good at this.”

  “I can tell,” I said dryly, and I had to admit, I wasn’t offended or insulted. I didn’t have it in me to be that way.

  None of this was expected. How could it be? So his reaction to it was bound to make him uncomfortable. Especially when he was bi. At least, I thought he was. Or so deeply in the closet that he was in a parallel universe. That was also a possibility.

>   Maybe I was willing to be more lenient because of recently coming out. I knew how hard it was, knew that those first baby steps were petrifying in the extreme. Whatever Devlin was, whether it could be labeled or not, he deserved for me to treat him with a kindness I’d never had.

  He simply grunted at my reply, then muttered, “Well? Do you want to?”

  His graciousness had me grinning at the ceiling, and I liked that he had the ability to piss me off and amuse me in the span of a short conversation. One that, mostly, had been filled with silence.

  “I’d like that very much,” was all I said.

  “Okay. My driver will be at your place ASAP. Send me a live location so I can pass it on to him.”

  And like that, he cut the call, making me wonder whether or not I should dress up or down, and whether or not it was too much to expect another epic orgasm by the end of the night…

  Greed.

  Yet another sin to lay at my door.

  Ten

  Devlin

  It took guts to make that call.

  Guts I had in every aspect of my life other than this part.

  The Devlin Astley who ran a progressive publishing company, one that frequently made waves thanks to my steering of it, and was an astute businessman with a reputation across the Pond as well as in the heart of the US’s corporate landscape, was not the Devlin who was sitting here, scowling out of the window at Central Park.

  I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t date.

  Why would I?

  I took women to balls and events, had them dripping from my arm much like they dripped in Prada gowns and emerald ear bobs. They had their accessories, and I had them. Later that night, I’d fuck them, and then they’d leave.

  I liked it that way.

  Sleeping with someone who would get lipstick on my pillows, who’d make the bed linens smell of perfume, who’d expect me to hug them—how was I supposed to get to sleep with that polluting my space?

  I didn’t call them the next day, would have Sadie get in touch when I either needed their assent to attend another event together or when I was horny.