Intern For My Best Friend's Dad: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  I feel myself squirting into his mouth.

  My instinct is to scream an apology. He must think I’m gross.

  But his growling animal moans tell me otherwise.

  The way he pulls me closer to him tells me otherwise.

  I pump my hips and then throw my head back, letting out a scream, the noise bubbling up from that crazy place inside of me that tells me I’m going to have this man’s babies one day.

  In the midst of this boiling eruption, it doesn’t seem so silly. It doesn’t feel impossible.

  It feels right.

  It feels destined.

  I close my thighs around his head as the last of the orgasm shivers through me, my clit beating like a pulse, my hole squeezing tight.

  Solomon leans back, staring up at me, his lips glistening with my release.

  “You horny girl,” he growls. “Do you really think I’m not going to claim you now?”

  He stands up, gazing down at me with fierce intention in his eyes as he reaches down to unbuckle his belt.

  “Your pussy belongs to me, Sophia. You need to understand that. Your cunt is mine, and mine alone. Say it.”

  “It’s yours,” I moan, shock ricocheting through me at this sudden transformation.

  I bring the beast out in him.

  And I want it, want it so freaking bad.

  But I’m not what he thinks I am, some crazy nympho who’ll be able to please him in all the ways he needs.

  “But Solomon,” I moan. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  His hand pauses on his belt as he stares down at me, his sharp eyes flitting to my pussy, more and more hunger – no, starvation, like he’ll die if he doesn’t take me – filling his expression each second.

  “You can,” he growls. “You will. Your body wants it. I can tell. So what’s the problem?”

  Part of me wants to blurt Caitlin.

  Part of me wants to tell him that she’s the problem, the elephant in the room both of us are choosing to ignore.

  But even if that’s true – even if this is a betrayal I already can’t forgive myself for – it’s not what stops me.

  “The truth, Sophia,” he says sternly. “I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”

  I shuffle to the edge of the hood and stand up, my soaked release sliding warmly down my thighs.

  Pulling my skirt down over my tingling thighs, I look up into his face, biting my lip as nerves bounce through me.

  “I want to please you, Solomon,” I murmur.

  I’ve wanted it since I understood what that means, but I don’t tell him that.

  “But I’m not—I can’t.” I sigh. “I’m not what you think I am. I’m not some crazy sexually-adventurous nympho. I’m just going to disappoint you.”

  He grabs my shoulders and pulls me toward him, pushing his body firmly against mine.

  Staring down at me, his eyes brim with barely contained fire, rage, passion.

  Something – everything – flares in those stark forest greens of his.

  “Tell. Me. The. Truth.”

  I stare up at him, fighting the urge to bite my lip again.

  He’s not going to take no for an answer.

  I avert my gaze, a shiver moving through me.

  “I’m a virgin,” I whisper.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Solomon

  Virgin.

  The word flares and sparks in my mind, my manhood getting hardening, even more, my seed making my balls even heavier and more difficult to ignore.

  I reach out and cradle her face, stroking my thumb across her cheek. Her eyes glisten as though she’s going to burst into tears at any second.

  Hate makes my muscles tighten at the thought.

  Hate aimed at anybody who’d ever make her feel small for this admission.

  “Are you ashamed?” I ask.

  She turns her face into my touch, tilting her head, looking so damn cute I almost tell her the full extent of my need for her.

  But if I told her that not only am I going to take her virginity, I’m going to impregnate her at the same time, would she run? Would she smile?

  “Yes,” she whispers. “I’m nineteen. Most girls I know lost their virginity when they were in high school. It’s weird, Solomon, and don’t tell me it’s not.”

  “It’s perfect,” I snap.

  She flinches at my fierce tone, but I don’t have it in me to speak to her gently about this.

  “You being a virgin just makes me want to claim you even more,” I tell her firmly. “It means I’ll be the first one to feel just how tight and hot you are. It means I get to take you, really take you, for the first time. It means I’m the only man who’s ever going to feel just how perfect your needy fresh hole is.”

  She gasps, reaching up and touching my hand.

  “What do you mean, the only one?” she murmurs. “I thought you just wanted me for … Well, I don’t know. I still can’t believe this is happening. But if it is—”

  I smirk, pinching her cheek ever-so-softly.

  I’d die before I hurt her.

  “Hey,” she giggles. “What was that for?”

  “Did it feel real?” I ask.

  “Well, yeah,” she laughs.

  “So there you go, my little dreamer. It’s real. What were you going to say?”

  “I thought you wanted me for sex, nothing more. I thought you saw me as the intern you could claim and then discard.”

  I clench my jaws so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t shatter.

  There’s no world in which I could claim this woman and then throw her away.

  I sigh and let my hand drop, staring down into her innocent, naïve eyes.

  I’m going to have to tell her what she really is, who she really belongs to. I’m going to have to tell her that her wide hips were destined for me, both to grab while I take her creamy hole for the first time and to part as she brings our children into the world.

  But what if it’s too much for her?

  What if my young prey isn’t ready to be claimed for life?

  “Sophia—”

  My cellphone blares loudly, the ringtone reserved for SOS calls.

  My assistant knows to only use the emergency number – the one that triggers this ringtone – when something is seriously wrong.

  Suddenly, I remember that I’m a billionaire businessman, not just a beast in the secret garage.

  Fuck.

  This has to wait.

  “I have to take this,” I say.

  She bows her head, nodding.

  “I understand,” she says. “We can talk about this another time.”

  “We can talk about it after I tell Peter to go fuck himself,” I snarl. “Give me thirty seconds.”

  I take out my cellphone and swipe across the screen to answer.

  “Peter,” I say, bringing the phone to my ear. “This better be important—”

  “Dad,” Caitlin says, her voice cracking with a sob. “I’m sorry. Peter said I could use this number.”

  “Caitlin,” I say, a spike of guilt jabbing into me when I hear the sadness permeating her words.

  Sophia takes a little step back, as though being too close to the phone will reveal what we just did to my daughter.

  “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  “It’s—”

  Her voice breaks and shivers.

  “Talk to me,” I say, my temples pulsing painfully.

  Does she know? How could she possibly know?

  “It’s not a big deal. Nothing happened. It’s just this boy—this man. He tried to hurt me. He scared me. I’m sorry. Can I see you? I tried calling Sophia, too, but her phone is on silent. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying sorry, Caitlin,” I tell her firmly. “You have nothing to apologize for. Are you in the office?”

  “Yeah. I’m with Peter.”

  “Okay. I’m in the garage with Sophia. I was going to give her a ride home.”

  Something twists in my gut at the h
alf-truth.

  I was going to give her a ride.

  But that’s not all I want with my daughter’s best friend.

  “We’ll be right up, okay? Just sit tight.”

  “Okay, Dad. Thank you.”

  I hang up and glance at Sophia, expecting to see some resentment in her eyes. The last thing she wants, surely, is to be reminded of Caitlin after what we just did.

  Hell, I know it’s the last thing I want.

  But her face whelms with understanding and concern for her best friend.

  “Is she okay?” Sophia murmurs.

  “I don’t know,” I sigh. “Apparently some motherfucker tried to hurt her.”

  Anger creeps into my voice, making my words grim and sharp. I clench my fist at the notion of anyone trying to cause harm to my only child.

  But she won’t be your only child forever, a voice whispers deep inside of me, from the primal piece of me that has claimed Sophia. You’re going to have a whole new family with Sophia.

  Maybe that’s true, but there’s nothing in this world that would make me abandon Caitlin.

  Sophia’s forehead furrows, and she sighs.

  “Kenny,” she murmurs. “I bet it’s Kenny.”

  “Her ex-boyfriend?” I say. “They broke up when she was still in high school.”

  “He never got over it,” Sophia says. “He’s a freaking creep. Come on, let’s go and see her. And Solomon?”

  “Yeah?”

  She bites her lip and releases it a moment later.

  I fight the urge to touch her face again, to feel the warmth of her cheek against my palm. There’s something so captivating about the way she’s looking at me right now, the light dancing in her eyes.

  It’s a light that beckons me toward a future, our future.

  “I don’t think we should tell her about what happened here,” she says quietly.

  I almost tell her that we’ll have to at some point, but that’s a conversation for later.

  Right now, we need to be there for Caitlin.

  “Okay, Sophia,” I say, somehow mustering a smirk. “After all, you’re the boss.”

  She rolls her eyes, a giggle escaping.

  It’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

  I wonder if our children will have the same laugh.

  I stride into my office with Sophia at my side.

  Caitlin sits at my desk, looking for a moment the same as when she used to visit me as a girl. She’d sit at my massive desk with a just-as-massive grin on her face, playing with her dolls or with her nose buried in a book.

  She always said she liked sitting there. It made her feel safe.

  She glances up, her eyes black pits where her crying has ruined her mascara. Streams of it mark her cheeks, long jet-black lines.

  Her gaze flits between me and Sophia and, for a crazy moment, I’m sure she somehow knows what happened between me and her best friend in the garage. I imagine her leaping to her feet and pointing her finger at me, screaming that I’ve betrayed her.

  We’ve betrayed her.

  Sophia hurries around the desk. It takes a herculean level of self-control not to let my gaze move to her shifting ass cheeks, my memory full of the way she looked when she lay back on the hood of my car, her fertile flesh red and excited, her fuck-me-hard pussy pink and tempting.

  I grit my teeth and glance at the windows, the city dusky with the setting sun, and then back to my daughter and her best friend.

  “Oh, Cait, I’m so sorry,” Sophia murmurs, leaning down and putting her arm around my daughter. “Was it him?”

  “Yeah,” Caitlin sighs, reaching up to hug her friend back. “He was waiting for me outside my class with a bunch of flowers. I’ve told him I’m not interested like a hundred times. I don’t know what his problem is. I don’t know what I’ve done to encourage him.”

  “No,” I say flatly, pacing over to the desk. “Never say that, Caitlin. This isn’t your fault. He’s the fucking creep. He’s lucky I don’t snap his neck.”

  “Dad, please,” she says, a sob threatening to creep back into her voice.

  “Please what?” I snap.

  “Please don’t make this worse than it already is,” she moans. “How is kicking this guy’s ass going to make my problems go away?”

  “It’d scare him off, for one,” I say, laying my fists against the desk. “What did he do to you, Caitlin? Did he lay his hands on you?”

  Sophia gives me a warning look over the top of Caitlin’s head, something like, Be nice, be careful. She’s feeling fragile right now.

  It’s like we’re a couple and we’ve already developing secret channels of communication. I have to fight the insane urge to smirk.

  “Caitlin,” I say, softening my voice as much as a man like me can. “Okay—I won’t kick his ass. But you need to talk to me.”

  “What did he do?” Sophia murmurs, massaging Caitlin’s shoulders.

  “He tried to give me the flowers,” Caitlin says, speaking slowly, voice trembling as she battles away tears. “I said no. I might’ve cursed at him. And then he started shouting at me, calling me all kinds of names. When I walked over to the car, he wouldn’t let me close the door. That’s it. He didn’t touch me.”

  I look closely at her, trying to see if she’s telling the truth.

  She stares back at me, defiant and fierce, the same way she looked the day her mother suddenly deserted us.

  “Where’s Mommy? Where’s Mommy hiding?”

  The memory stabs at me.

  What sort of a woman walks out on her daughter?

  “I promise,” she says. “He didn’t touch me, Dad. I’d tell you if he did.”

  I sigh, dropping into the seat opposite and massaging my pulsating jaw.

  “What’s this motherfucker’s surname? Philips, right?”

  “Dad,” Caitlin says, glaring at me. “You don’t need to know his surname. I didn’t call you so you could hunt him down or whatever the hell you’re implying. I just wanted somebody to talk to. That’s all. Please don’t make this a big deal.”

  I fight the urge to snap at her that it is a big deal.

  But Sophia is giving me one of her looks again.

  “At least let me put some security on you for the time being,” I tell her.

  “And make me stand out more than I already do as your daughter? No thanks.”

  “Cait,” Sophia murmurs. “It might be a good idea. Just for a little while. What if he goes further next time?”

  Caitlin looks up at Sophia and then back at me.

  Again, the deranged certainty spirals into me that she knows, and she’s angry.

  “Do you think so?” she says, returning her gaze to Sophia.

  “Yeah,” Sophia says. “Just think what you’d say to me if the positions were reversed.”

  “Damn you, Soph,” Caitlin laughs. “Damn you and your logic. Fine. But only until things blow over.”

  I glance at Sophia, offering her a silent thank you with my eyes. She smiles, her eyes alight and full of emotion, and I know that I’m going to be with this woman for the rest of my life.

  It’s complicated. It’s messy as hell.

  But it’s inevitable.

  She’s mine, only mine.

  And nothing will ever change that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sophia

  This is all so surreal.

  I sit in the back of Solomon’s car next to Caitlin, the same way we used to as kids on the rare occasions when he picked us up from school. Usually, he was too busy and would send one of his staff, but sometimes he’d come by himself and I’d sit in the back, gazing at him in the rearview mirror, imagining what it would be like to be his wife.

  They were silly, girlish fantasies, nothing more.

  And yet now my panties are damp from what we did in the underground parking lot, my body still tantalizingly alive to the closeness we shared. I ache to feel it again, but I know we’re playing a dangerous game by even considering it.


  “Do you want to hang at mine for a while?” Caitlin asks, talking to me but staring out the window, watching the city flit by.

  I can tell by the repressed quiver in her voice she wants the answer to be yes. She doesn’t want to be alone right now.

  “Phew,” I say, laughing.

  She turns to me with a shaky smile.

  “Phew?”

  “I’m just glad you asked,” I tell her. “I was going to beg and beg to hang at yours and order some takeout, so I’m glad you made the first move.”

  She laughs, giving me a playful shove on the shoulder.

  “You’re the best, Soph. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I return her smile, but something wicked and cruel twists its way into my belly. She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew what I did with her father less than an hour ago.

  She’d slap me, reject me, never speak to me again.

  She turns back to the city and I glance at the rearview, the same way I did when I was just a girl.

  Solomon’s jaw is tight, his grip firm on the steering wheel. He must be thinking the same thing I am, how wrong this is, how we can never do it again.

  And yet there’s a deep part of me that yearns to know what he was going to tell me before Caitlin’s call interrupted us.

  He said he’s the only man who’s ever going to sleep with me.

  What does that mean?

  Is this more than a fling?

  But that could never work. Surely he knows that.

  Even as I think that – this will never work – a violent instinct rises inside of me. It almost feels like my womb, like some vital piece of me rebelling against this doubt.

  My mind flurries with a thousand vignettes of what life with Solomon could be like, with a house full of laughter and children darting all over the place. I imagine us standing in the doorway to our children’s bedroom, looking at them from behind as they lose themselves in their current art project, jotting at canvases with precocious precision.

  “Sophia,” Caitlin says, calling me from my reverie.

  I turn to her, realizing we’ve stopped.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say. “I was off in the—”

  “Clouds?” she finishes, grinning.

  “Okay, maybe I say that too much,” I laugh. “Shall we head up?”