The Billionaire and The Virgin Intern

by Bella Love-Wins

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” he jests.

  “It’s not funny. Nothing about what happened is funny.”

  “I never said it was. Look…you know what? Never mind,” he huffs. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him get out of his chair.

  “No,” I say, looking back at him, stopping him in his tracks as he starts to walk away. “Go ahead. Finish whatever you were going to say.”

  “I was about to ask you if you think you’d ever let go of what happened. I get that it’s all my fault, but you need to realize that you can’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”

  I should be breathing more easily when he finally leaves, but I don’t. I’m more angry now, if that’s possible. And no way am I going to let him walk away without knowing how upset I am.

  Snatching up my clutch purse, I slide down from the chair and race after him.

  “How dare you?” I shout at his back, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going until we’re both in some deserted hallway behind the banquet room.

  Then he pivots around and eyes me squarely. “How dare I what?”

  My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely talk without my voice sounded winded and strained. “You let people you know take so much from me that night. And at one of the hardest times of my life. You don’t get to walk into my life like this, trying to turn this around to make me feel bad!”

  “I’m not turning anything around. I just don’t understand how all these years can pass and you’re still just as upset with me.”

  “What the hell do you want from me? Forgiveness? Well, I don’t have to ever do that.” I rest a hand on the hallway wall, hoping my knees won’t buckle underneath me. “I used to be so afraid. Now, all I feel is anger,” I say honestly, and wish I weren’t being so damned honest or vulnerable with him. But my mouth won’t stop spilling the truths that flood from my heart. Resting my back against the wall for support, I drop my purse on the floor, step out of my shoes, and slide down to the ground. I don’t even care about how I must look to Caleb, or to the female server who passes by with a tray of empty dinner plates.

  “I don’t want to be filled with this rage anymore,” I admit in a whisper, and look up at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in that one moment in time, like a slave to the worst experience of my life. But I can’t stop. And I can’t let myself come to terms with your role in what happened. Seeing you just brings it all back.”

  He takes a seat beside me on the floor. “I’ve said this before, Rose. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what you went through. It’s my fault, and I’m so sorry.”

  “You told me that a lot of times before. It didn’t help any of those times. You don’t need to keep telling me.”

  “Yes. I do. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing. I took you to that house party. I was responsible for you, and I didn’t look out for you.”

  “Nothing happened to me. No one touched me. It’s that drink someone gave me…those pictures someone put online… those hurtful words people said about me… those lies…” I hear my voice trail off and am thankful that I didn’t say more.

  “None of it would’ve happened if I was watching over you like I should’ve. Not a day goes by without me regretting the way I dropped the ball, Rose. You have every right to hate me. I was your boss, and that night, I was also your date. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. I was supposed to protect you. I am so sorry.”

  I’m surprised at my reaction to hearing the deep pain and remorse in his voice. It feels like I’m outside my body as I watch my hand pat his knee. It’s just for a second, but he quickly covers my hand with his, curling his fingers around my palm.

  We sit there silently for a while, and after a few minutes, as one server after the other files by with their trays packed with half-empty dinner plates and used glasses, I pick up my shoes and purse.

  “We should get out of their way,” I tell him. “Actually, I think I’ll call it a night.”

  “All right, but let me walk you up to your room. Nothing bad is ever gonna happen to you on my watch. Not even a hangnail.” Crossing his legs, he pushes off the ground and stands up. He extends his hand to help me up.

  I take his hand. For the first time, I look up at him and don’t only have the memory of that night. I don’t feel the same intense ache that used to go with it. The pain is still with me, but it’s more of a dull tightness in my chest. I smile softly. To me, it’s progress. “I appreciate you saying that.”

  But he doesn’t just help me to my feet. Caleb pulls me into his body and wraps his arm around my back. “It’s taken more than eight years to have you in my arms where you belong,” he whispers in my ear. “That’s a long wait, but it’s more than worth it.” My body stiffens at first, but as he lowers his chin onto my shoulder and tightens his embrace, I relax into him. Time seems to turn back as we stand there, and I feel a flood of emotion drain from me, allowing me to heal and let go of that night, little by little with every exhale.

  Eleven

  Rose

  Nothing has changed, yet everything has, as we stand side by side on the elevator up to my room. His arm is protectively around my shoulder. I just don’t expect my nipples to ache or my core to throb, or the moan that leaves my lips as his words downstairs run through my thoughts again. He wants me in his arms where I belong.

  God. Those words are hotter now than when he first said it. I have to cross my legs and press my upper thighs together to regain control of my core before I say or do something I shouldn’t. He runs his fingers along my shoulder blade. His touch is electric. I picture those fingers reaching a little further south to the flesh of my cleavage, or lower still, wandering to a spot no man has ever touched. I shouldn’t fantasize like this, not about him, but my mind refuses to shut it off.

  But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Caleb was at the center of my most deep-seated feelings of hatred. It stands to reason that as I begin to let go of them, my mind would distort some of those emotions into primitive, carnal need.

  As the elevator opens on our floor, I know deep down that I don’t want my night to end with him leaving. But at the same time, the idea of inviting him into my room terrifies me.

  I’m not that kind of girl, but tonight as he walks me to my room, I want to be. I can already picture him touching, tasting and teasing every part of my body. Is it so bad to want those fantasies to play out? Maybe it’s the whole wedding thing. Seeing a couple tie the knot, utter sweet and romantic vows to each other, exchange rings and dance like they’re surrounded by only love and magic, well, it must do strange things to jaded, cynical people like me. I should promptly say good night and sleep this shit off. But I can’t. I want his lips on mine, his kisses, his warm body covering mine. I want to know whether this strong, sexual tension rocketing around my body is all in my head, or if he’s feeling it too.

  We cross in front of Caleb’s hotel room door before mine, and he comes to a sudden stop. I stand there in anticipation, waiting for him to explain what he’s thinking. But through my pounding heart, it’s not his voice I hear. It’s my own as it whispers his name.

  He turns to me, his eyes piercing mine, studying and searching my face, but he doesn’t utter a word. The only movement between us is his hand sliding into the pocket of his slack. He pulls out his room keycard, unlocks his door, and backs up inside, holding the door open, his unspoken invitation for me to enter.

  This time, I’m the one stepping into his open arms. He lets the door close on its own and runs his hands up my arms, his eyes locked with mine.

  “Is this what you want?” he asks in a raspy, shaky exhale that goes straight to my core.

  “I don’t know what I want,” I admit. “All I know is I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

  He continues to back up until he’s on the side of his bed. As he sits, he motions for me to sit beside him. “I’m not going anywhere, Rose. Stay here with me tonight, if that’s what you want. Sleep beside me, or talk, or
relax in my arms…whatever you need. We don’t have to do anything. It’s probably better this way, because I want you to be sure whenever you decide it’s me you want.”

  “But that’s… I want…” I try to say the words, but they won’t come. They’re stuck beneath a lump in my throat that threatens to suffocate me. My heart is beating so hard, so loud, so fast, it pounds in my ear, affecting my ability to think.

  Caleb cups my chin, his fingertips grazing along my jaw. “What do you want? Just take a deep breath then say it. Blurt it out. Don’t think.”

  “I want you to make love to me.”

  My words, my plea, my desire. It cuts through the air, adding to the urgency of capturing the tension I feel and turning it into action. “I want you,” I repeat, and see desire darken his eyes.

  He tilts my chin slightly and presses his lips to mine. I don’t expect the intense shockwave that hits me. It’s like a jolt, a potent surge that brings me to life. It’s addicting, all that heat, power and energy between us. His hand travels to the center of my back, and as he parts my lips with his tongue, I grip onto his suit jacket and let him in. Soon, it’s not enough to sit beside him like this. I want more contact between our bodies. In one movement, I turn my body and climb into his lap with my legs straddling his. As I lower onto his lap, I feel the thick corded muscle of his heated erection at my folds. Our kiss deepens as he pulls our hips together and slips his fingers beneath the hem of my dress. They slide up my legs. Higher…higher… higher…until his palms are holding onto handfuls of my ass cheeks, and the only clothes between us are my panties and whatever he’s wearing.

  And I still I need more.

  Twelve

  Caleb

  If she keeps grinding on my cock like that, I’m liable to rip off the rest of her clothes and fuck her senseless.

  But this is one time I need to take my time, keep my cool, and let her set the pace.

  She kneels above me, lifts her body up, and then goes by feel to lower my zipper. Her tiny hand reaches into the opening and wraps around the base of my cock. I undo the waistband and get to my feet, picking her up with me as I take the strip of condoms out of one pocket and let the pants drop to the ground. My boxers are the next to go, leaving only the drenched shred of her panties between our lower bodies when I take a seat again. Fuck, even with the lower half of her dress bundled up around her waist, she feels amazing.

  Slowly, I slip the neckline of her dress lower and reveal her bra-clad breasts. I press my mouth to one of her nipples, sucking it and the lace of her bra between my lips. As I flick my tongue against the spot, she uses all her leg muscles, lifting and lowering, rolling her hips sliding along my shaft. One wrong move and I’ll be deep inside of her, far past her folds. She makes a circular rotation of her hips at one point and the head of my cock was almost planted in her. It quickly pulls me back to my senses, to the fact that I need a condom. My promise to protect her doesn’t stop at my hotel room door.

  It’s a good thing I’m always prepared.

  She moans out an objection when I lift her off of me again, showing her the wrapper that I rip open then roll on the rubber. Something flickers in her eyes. She freezes for an instant. Then, just as quickly, she relaxes again. This time, as she grips the base of my shaft again, I slip two fingers under the side of her panties. With a sharp tug, I rip it off of her, leaving her gasping in surprise. Returning my fingers to her inner thighs, I glide them along her folds until I’ve wedged them inside of her. She’s so fucking tight. So hot. So wet as she rides my fingers the way she’ll soon be on my cock. I can’t wait.

  I honestly can’t.

  I wrap the entire length of one arm around her narrow waist. With what feels like one fluid motion, I raise her high, position my cock below her, and drive into her as I pull her down onto me.

  Fuck, Rose is impossibly tight. I look up at her face and don’t just see pleasure, but also pain. It’s more than I can handle.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I say.

  “You feel...great. Please, don’t stop.” Except her words are spoken, yet her face doesn’t reflect the same desire.

  “You look like you’re in pain.”

  “I want this,” she presses. “Need. You feel so good this way. God...I think I’m...” She trails off, her inner thighs trembling, her body shaking as she comes, tightening even more on my cock. Every primal urge in me wants to keep going, to fuck her until she screams. Still, a question burns at my tongue, hoping to be wrong but suspecting that I’m right.

  I give her a moment to bring her breathing under control, and as I open my mouth to ask, she answers my unspoken question for me.

  “I guess I always believed you’d be my first,” she pants into my ear, still clinging to me.

  I don’t want to fucking stop, but I do. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a virgin?”

  “Was,” she corrects me. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want either of us to overthink it or make a big deal of it.” She kisses my neck and rolls her hips again. “Please, keep going. Please, Caleb.”

  Slowly, surely, I do.

  Thirteen

  Rose

  I wake up beside Caleb. I’m in his bed, my head resting on the crook of his shoulder, my body aching a little, but not the way I thought. I let him explore me in every which way, and I want him all over again. I have no regrets about not telling him I was a virgin. I wasn’t saving myself for marriage or the one. It just never happened for me.

  Tilting my neck up, I look around the darkness toward a dim light a small distance away, allowing my eyes to refocus and adjust. Then I smile. It’s the door that joins our hotel rooms together. The vague recollection of him asking for my room key card comes to mind. All I’d done was point him to my clutch purse, and he did the rest. He must’ve thrown on his clothes and gone down the hall, because opening that door requires undoing two latches—one in my room and one in his.

  It saves me from any case of needing to do the walk of shame whenever I make it out of bed.

  He groans in his sleep, and one arm wraps protectively around the flare of my hip. A sigh of new-found need escapes my throat. I cover my mouth, not quite ready to wake him. His knee bumps into my outer thigh as he stirs, but he doesn’t wake up. Looking down at where his knee grazes my skin, I take in his dense leg muscles. My eyes travel up his thighs to the thick length of his cock. That’s all it takes for my core to pulse and ache. As tempted as I am to touch him, I don’t want to wake him, not now. Not yet.

  The dim sliver of light hits his lower abs, showing the ridges of his firm, hard muscles. I can stay like this for the rest of the night, admiring every inch of him until he wakes up. Because like the last three times, when he wakes up again, it’ll be to worship me, then ravage me, and make me come yet again.

  I still can’t believe that less than eight hours earlier we kissed for the first time, and before that, I believed all I had for him was hatred. And now we’re in his bed, our limbs tangled and our spent bodies connected as one. I couldn’t predict this would ever have happened this suddenly, but it feels so right I don’t want to be anywhere but here. The raw, sore sensation between my legs captures my attention again, and my breath catches. I smile. It’s happened a few times tonight, so natural yet so unexpected that my body knows what it wants. More of this man deep within me, creating an unexplainable pleasure that’s so absolute, so complete that I almost feel guilty for being this insanely satisfied.

  And I almost don’t remember that night. It’s the dullest, vaguest, most far away memory. I hear a small hum of a laugh form in my throat as I think this could’ve been exactly what I needed. To have the memory fucked out of me. It’s sick and perverted on one level, but at the same time, I’m just glad it doesn’t dominate my thoughts anymore. I’m much happier to fill my mind with the most intense, most desire-filled, most carnal experience of my life. As I turn my body slightly toward Caleb, the warmth of his torso comforts me like a warm blanket. My muscle
s relax, and I feel my thoughts calm again as I drift off.

  He’s not the only one who’s exhausted while aroused. I love the feeling.

  I can still almost feel him inside me a week later.

  Every time that happens, I find myself smiling. My roommates keep telling me there’s something different about me. That I’m radiant and glowing. Everywhere I go, friends, co-workers and acquaintances compliment me. Except, of course at my internship, where it’ll be a cold day in hell if anyone ever notices I exist. It’s as though I walk into Levine Holdings and I become invisible. Perhaps that’s a good thing, considering I’ve been snooping around, little by little, looking for a smoking gun I still can’t find.

  Caleb has texted me a couple of times, and we spoke on the phone about nothing in particular around midweek. He’s been patient about my lack of results. On that front, we have a simple communications protocol in place. If I find something, I’m to send a message between two burner phones and then dispose of the one I have. My best guess is that Caleb or one of his partners have a way to access the other. Both are New Jersey numbers that no one can ever triangulate to Caleb or his phone or to me. I suppose I’m exposed while I carry that phone with me. So far, we still haven’t exchanged a word about what I have or haven’t found out since the beginning. Maybe he understands these things take time. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to put undue pressure on me. It could also be that we’re both still getting used to being on good terms with him.

  The next Saturday, I fall into a new routine during my lunch hour at the department store makeup counter. As money is tight, I grab the sandwich I made at home and my bottle of filtered water from the break room cooler, and I head outside to get some fresh air. The small parkette on the other side of the street is often empty, but as it’s the weekend, a couple of moms stand around as their young children play on the swings or slides in one corner of the space. I marvel at how clean it is. If this were the park beside my apartment in Brooklyn, I wouldn’t dare sit for lunch. No one maintains it, so it’s frequently overrun by the same demographic frequently seen near there. Junkies, prostitutes, homeless people, and the odd dealer.