The Intern Serials: Complete Box Set (12 page)

“Yes, I was wondering if you could give me some information on one of your students. A Miss Casey West. She applied to an internship program here a while ago and actually received it. My apologies for not contacting you sooner on this matter, but I thought we should at least communicate about her references.”

I hear him clear his throat before responding. “Uh, Casey West, you say?”

“Ah, yes, sir. She’s one of your students?”

“Yes, she is. I wasn’t aware she was even looking into internships, nevertheless applying for them.”

I hear the confusion in his voice and wonder if perhaps he’s getting too old for his job.

I smirk to myself before replying. “Well, sir, I actually have a letter of recommendation from you. It says you acknowledge her skills as a student and that she would be a valuable asset to our company.” I try not to sound rude, but I’m annoyed at how he can’t even keep his students straight. “Casey West, she’s about five feet-three, maybe a hundred and ten or twenty pounds. Um, brownish-blonde hair?” I ramble off her looks as if it’ll matter.

“I’m aware of what she looks like, sir. I’m not aware of any internship she’s applied to.” His tone is harsh, and I’m immediately pissed off. “Or any letter of recommendation.”

I run my tongue along my lower lip as I take in this new information. I’m not sure what it all means, but one thing’s for sure—she lied on her application.

Cecilia

I SPEND THE better part of Friday night trying to research Samuel Anderson and what connection he could possibly have to my dad.

I end up falling asleep at my desk with all my lights still on. By the time I wake up, I’m already late for work.

“Shit!” I frantically rush to get ready and drive faster than I should. I finally arrive at 8:27 am.

I don’t have time to feel nervous anymore. All I can think about is how mad he’s going to be. And how I have no idea what we are…or how I’m supposed to act around him.

I smooth my skirt with my hands as I walk down the hall to Bentley’s office. I walk in slowly and watch him intently to gauge his mood. He sits tall as he continues writing something.

“Good morning, Mr. Leighton,” I say as I stand in front of his desk with my arms folded in front of me. I don’t have his coffee either…
fuck
, he’s going to fire me.

“Good morning, Miss West.” His voice is deep and smooth. I nervously stand there, anticipating him yelling at me soon.

He finally lifts his head and makes eye contact with me. There’s an amused grin on his face as he takes in my outfit. I wonder if he’s going to mention Thursday night, but after sneaking out early, and taking a cab to my car Friday morning, I haven’t heard from him since. And I haven’t tried to contact him either.

I watch as he squirms in his chair as if he’s fighting an inner battle. His eyes aren’t as soft, and suddenly, I feel butterflies in my stomach, as I fear something is wrong.

“I have a project for you this morning,” he says as he hands me a thick manila folder. “In order for me, as your boss, to know your abilities, we have all interns and out-of-college grads complete a practice case file.”

I nod in understanding, but inside I’m completely dying.

“It’s a simple junior college-level case, something similar you’ve probably already covered in one of your class projects.” He smiles back at me, and I feel as if he’s challenging me.

“Great, I’ll get started.” I smile wide as if it’ll be no big deal and turn to walk out the door.

“Oh, and Ceci.” His voice jerks me back around to face him. “You have
one
hour.”

I nod and hurry out of his office and into the one I’ve been allowed to use. My body is shaking with nerves as I realize the task he’s given me—something a college senior should be able to do in their sleep.

I adjust myself in the office chair and flip open the file. I read over the notes, the case information, and the evidence.

Victim: Mark Philips

Background information: 34-year-old Caucasian male, never returned home after work on Thursday, March 19. Wife reported him missing the next day.

Case Notes: Police followed up with his job at Tillman & Tillman, a sausage processing company. He worked 6AM to 6PM Monday-Thursday.

It was confirmed that he punched in at 5:57AM and punched out at 12:35PM for his lunch break. He then punched back in at 1:35PM but never punched back out for the evening.

Detectives interviewed the company owner, his supervisor, his line partner, and five other employees that said they saw him that day.

Ty Neumann, his line partner, claimed he left work early. Records proved he punched out at 5:02PM.

Randy Huntington, his supervisor, claimed to not have seen him after lunch, as he was in a business meeting from 1PM to 4PM and then left immediately after to pick up his daughter from daycare. Detectives confirmed his daughter was picked up at 4:17PM.

Jerry Sullivan, Heath Tyner, Joseph McMillian, Lenny Johnston, and David Winters were also interviewed—they noted that Mark always worked twelve-hour days. Jerry was known to not get along well with Mark, and David was currently in anger management (both unrelated, just an observation.)

His car was found undisturbed in the parking lot. No video surveillance.

I read over the rest of the papers that are included in the file, all made up notes and interviews.

With one minute left, I shuffle the papers back in the manila folder and head back to Bentley’s office.

I knock softly, and he tells me to enter. I cautiously walk to his desk, his body language unreadable. A shift has occurred since we were together the other night, and my increased heart rate tells me it’s from him finding me in his office. The alcohol that once flooded his blood veins is no longer doing the thinking for him—
he’s suspicious.

“Well?” he asks as I approach him. He’s leaning back all the way in his chair, his hands resting behind his head. “Do you have a conclusion?”

I can hear the amusement in his tone. It’s as if he’s expecting me to get this wrong, expecting me to not know the answer.

“I believe I do.” He gestures for me to keep going. I clear my throat, stand up a little taller, and respond, “His wife is the suspect.”

His eyes widen as his lips curve up into a smirk. “And what makes you think that?”

If I told him how I knew—the truth—it’d give too much away. When the shooting happened, my mother was inside. She had no idea what had happened, who was hurt, or where the shooting was coming from, but her first reaction? Get help. She didn’t waste time finding answers. A wife and mother’s first reaction should always be to get help.

I clear my throat again, stalling. His eyes wander up my legs to my chest and meet back up to mine. I smile confidently and continue. “She waited too long to call the police. Her alibi is improbable at best. Any concerned wife would’ve called his cell phone several times or the company phone, and after that, the police. Except, she didn’t. She waited until the next day. She also made sure it was a Thursday, his last work day of the week. I found the likelihood of her coming into his place of work much more plausible than any of his co-workers having anything to do with his disappearance. She had distracted him before he got the chance to punch out, which was her sole purpose in getting the attention off her.”

His lips form into a half-sided grin, a cocky smirk that could melt the panties off any girl. But right now, all I want to do is impress him—wash away any doubt that he’s feeling.

“That’s very impressive.”

“You look surprised.”

“Well…this case is used in many trial interviews and internships. It’s been used as an extensive training guide due to the fine details that often get overlooked.”

“And you didn’t think I could do it.” It’s more of a statement than a question because I can hear the doubt in his tone.

His jaw ticks as he smoothly rubs a hand over it. “No.”

I take a step back, shocked by his confession. “Then why even give me the task if you expect me to fail?”

“Let me make myself clearer. I
didn’t
think you could do it…because it takes most people
three
hours to come to the same conclusion you just did.”

“And you only gave me an hour,” I whisper, confused.

“Correct. I wanted to challenge you.”

“Why? I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. Do you doubt my ability to work here?” I ask with anger in my tone, but I quickly control myself—I have to remember he’s still my boss.

“You’re very bright, Ceci. Extremely smart and confident. Trust me. I don’t
doubt
those qualities at all.”

“Well, I can sense it’s something, so why don’t you just come out and tell me?” I snap reluctantly.

He leans forward in his chair and crosses his arms over his desk. His intensity makes me nervous, but I try to shake it off before he can sense it.

“All right.” He looks me over once more before continuing. “I was finally able to speak with your guidance counselor, Professor Hennings.”

My body stiffens as I hear his words. I assumed he had done all that before I was accepted. I didn’t know I still had to worry about it.

“Did he even know who I was?” I smirk, trying to play it as if he’s losing his memory from old age.

“He did.”

I swallow. His face is firm as his intense eyes burn into mine. I suddenly decide to switch my plan.

“I guess he doesn’t remember writing the letter since you’re bringing it up?” I ask, trying to keep my voice strong.

“That’d be correct.” I can see he’s thinking the worst in his head, and I know I need to come up with something plausible.

“Okay.” I clear my throat and blink a few times. “He didn’t write me that letter of recommendation. Professor Hennings and I don’t have a good relationship. I-I might’ve come on too strong around him when I was trying to ask why he gave me a B instead of an A. He made a pass at me and I told him off. Ever since then, he keeps his distance. I was too afraid to ask him for a letter of recommendation, so I asked his TA.”

“His TA?” His eyebrows lift as if he’s skeptical.

“Yes, Jordan Walsh. He’s a friend of mine and I asked him for a favor. It was a letter I deserved, but I didn’t want to approach Professor Hennings because of what happened last time.”

I try to sound believable and look the part. I feel pathetic.
This
is pathetic. But I have no choice. I’m too far in. If I tell him the truth now, I’m ruined.

“You understand what could happen if I told your professor? Not to mention what would happen to your internship?”

I swallow hard again. Because I do know. I know very fucking well what will happen. This game—this strategy—will have been all for nothing.

I nod. “Yes, Mr. Leighton. I do understand.”

Bentley

I WANT TO believe every
fucking
word she’s telling me. I want to believe her because I
want
her. But I need to remember what I’m doing here.

You’re a Leighton, son.

My father’s words echo in my head as I stare at the beautiful girl in front of me. She’s strong, determined, and bright. I can’t keep the thought of her out of my head for more than two seconds—the way she presents herself, the beauty in who she is, and the way she gets under my skin are all reasons I
want
to believe her.

Not many women try to use their brains to get my attention. And it’s the fucking hottest thing in the entire world watching her use both—brains
and
beauty. But she’s so much more than that. Her personality, witty sense of humor, and her ability to act professional when it’s needed are all screaming at me to believe her—forgive her for lying about one damn letter.

“All right. I’m not going to say anything to the committee about it.” She exhales a breath of relief. “
This time
,” I emphasize. “Is there anything else you need to tell me, Ceci?” I ask, but deep down, I’m unsure I want an answer. I don’t think I can handle having to let her go, telling her to walk away from this internship, since I can tell how important it is to her.

“No, Mr. Leighton. Nothing else.”

“Good.”

I watch intently as she shifts from foot to foot. We’ve slept together, and yet I make her nervous still. She swallows slowly, taking in whatever I’m about to say. I want to scream and yell at her for being in my home office and demand the truth, but I know that’ll backfire. She’s given me a reasonable explanation, yet it still isn’t sitting right with me. And I’m not sure that has anything to do with Ceci, or the fact that I need to keep her a safe distance. The closer she gets, the worse it could be.

*   *   *

I have her do a few errands for me. It’s not work related, but I need to get her out of my office. I need to clear my head.

Except I can’t. Flashbacks of the other night resurface—the softness of her body, the aching moans she screamed, and the way her tight pussy clenched around me. It’s all too distracting when I need to be thinking about my company—my future.

Being burned before—and almost ruined— I know I need to be cautious, but part of me refuses to believe she’s anything but genuine. She’s in college. She’s twenty-one years old. She’s smart. All those reasons should tell me I'm over-paranoid. But part of me is still unsure.

She walks into my office with my dry cleaning, extra bold coffee, and transcript files I asked her to find. I didn’t really need them, but I needed to keep her busy. I needed to keep her distant.

I stand up and take the dry cleaning from her, softly grazing her hand. “Thank you.”

She scowls. “You’re welcome,
Mr. Leighton.
”

“Is there a problem, Miss West?” Her eyes drop to the floor, her body tensing at the firmness of my voice. I know she’s pissed that I sent her on an errand run instead of giving her something to do here.

“No, of course not,” she insists, but I can see right through her.

I place the hanger on my coat rack. She places my coffee and files on my desk and steps back cautiously waiting for her next order.

As much as she fights it and demands control, she submits nicely. Always willing to please and give me exactly what I want.

I smile at the thought.

In the office, I’m still her boss and she’s my intern, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with her.

I sit back down with my arms behind my head and grin at her. “Take a step back,” I demand.

Her eyes meet mine as she does what she’s told. “Unbutton your blouse.”

“What?”

“I won’t repeat myself, Ceci. You’re a college senior. I’m sure you’re capable of following directions.”

She swallows hard as she questions me with her eyes. She begins unbuttoning her blouse until each one has been undone. She drops her arms to her sides, breathing heavy as she waits again for my orders.

I take her in—her perfectly fit, athletic body. She’s petite, but she’s not small. She’s flawlessly proportioned in every way I love—curvy and tone.

“Unzip your skirt.”

Her hands go behind her as she reaches for the zipper. She slowly—and torturously—unzips her skirt. I watch intently as it falls to a pool at her feet. She’s standing in fucking black stockings that end mid-thigh.

Goddamn stockings.

My cock stands at attention at the sight of her. I’m not going to be able to control myself for much longer.
Send her away. Send her home.

Fuck no.

“Open your blouse so I can see you.”

Her breath hitches, but she continues to do what I tell her.

“Beautiful,” I say softly. “Now let me see your breasts. Pull your bra down.”

She hesitates, holding her hands on her bra but not moving. “Why are you doing this?” she asks weakly.

My mouth curves into a cocky grin. She has no room for questioning my motives. I won’t give in that easily.

“Don’t ask questions.”

She sighs and jerks her bra down, exposing her perfect pink erect nipples.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

I can hear her breathing quicken as she watches me touch my cock through my pants. The sight of her makes me ready to toss all my plans out the fucking door, but I don’t. I can’t.

I stare at her, taking in every inch of her fresh, silky skin. I didn’t get a chance to see her like this the other night. It was too dark and I was too hungry to wait. But now…now I was going to see exactly what was driving me insane.

“Touch yourself.”

“What?” she gasps.

“Your breasts. Touch them.”

“This is humiliating. I’m not doing that. You can’t make me.” She’s trying to stand her ground with the seriousness of her tone, but I can see her quivering from all the way across the desk.

I stand up and round the corner of my desk. I step behind her, her back to my chest. I wrap an arm around her, squeezing her bare breast in one hand, and grabbing her hip with my other hand. I pull her toward me so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me, exactly what seeing her like this does to me.

“Good,” I whisper in her ear. “You deserve it.”

“Why?”

I rub her nipple in between my thumb and finger, pulling aggressively and squeezing her breast in my palm. She yelps at the pain.

“You’re not as confident as I thought you were,” I taunt. “If you can’t handle it, just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Just tell me why you’re doing this.”

I grab her blouse and pull it down her arms. I toss it down next to her skirt. I unsnap her bra and add it to the collection.

I palm both of her breasts in each hand firmly. She moans as her body leans into mine, her body arching deeper against me.

“You left yesterday morning without a word.” I squeeze her breasts harder.

“I had class.”

“You bailed like a one-night stand would.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” I free one hand and lower it down her stomach.

“Yes,” she pants out.

“You humiliated me, Ceci.” My hand slips under her panties, a finger making its way inside her. “Leaving me like that.”

“Like you’re humiliating me?” she counters. I begin rubbing her clit as I palm her breast harder. I synchronize the moments together, teasing and torturing both sensitive areas at the same time.

“You don’t think having that conversation with your professor humiliated me, Ceci? I’m the soon-to-be CEO and you made me look incompetent.”

“You acted like you understood,” she breathes out, trying not to react to how she is really feeling.

I spin her around and push her until the back of her thighs hit my desk. I lean over her until my lips are barely touching hers.

“I said I wouldn’t tell, I never said I wouldn’t make you pay a price.”

“I apologized.” Her breathing quickens, but her eyes are strong, determined.

“I don’t appreciate being made a fool.” I lean harder against her so she can feel me through my pants. I run both of my hands up her legs and grab hold of her thighs. I spread them wide and fit my body inside. “Do we have an understanding?”

She leans back on her hands and arches her body up for me. “Yes, Mr. Leighton.”

“Good girl.”

I lower my mouth and kiss my way down her neck and chest until I reach one of her breasts. I pull it into my mouth and devour it. One hand rests on her back, holding her in place. Her head falls back as a deep moan escapes her throat. As much as she wants to fight it, she can’t.

“You’re going to need to keep it down,” I warn as I move to her other breast and suck on it harder.

She gasps on contact. Her body relaxes against mine as her back arches again, fully giving herself to me.

I smirk at how hopeless her body is to my touch. My mouth makes its way lower toward her panties that are utterly useless in the first place.

I grab her panties and slide them to the side. I rub a finger up and down her pussy, curling a finger deep inside her. She’s slick and dripping with want. “
Jesus
…you were waiting for me.”

I kneel in between her, kissing up her exposed thigh. Her body already begins trembling and I’ve barely touched her yet.

“I guess your body doesn’t agree with your mind,” I say amused. “Or you secretly love being humiliated.”

I look up at her as she bites her lip hard— preventing her from screaming at the pleasurable torture I’m causing her. It fucking turns me on to see her like this—greedy and ready.

I close the gap between us and devour her pussy. I continue rubbing her clit as my tongue circles inside of her. Her body jerks at the intensity of my mouth and finger working her. Her hands are holding her up behind her, but the way her body arches into me, she’s practically falling flat on the desk.

“Oh, god…I-I can’t—”

“Hold yourself up,” I demand. I curl two fingers inside of her, making her hips buck forward.

“Bentley…yes…” she moans, her eyes closing as her head falls backward. “Oh, god…yes…oh, my god…”

“Sweetheart…” I say in a firm tone. I stand up while keeping my fingers in place, bringing my face to hers. “You’re going to let the entire floor know what you’re up to.”

“I don’t care…let them.”

“You want to test that theory?” I ask, curling my fingers inside of her harder and deeper. “How loud can you get?”

“Fuck…Bentley…God, yes!” she all but yells. I didn’t think she would—she’s testing me just as much as I’m testing her. I close my mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely as she lets her moans rivet down my throat. The vibrations are intense and keep up the rhythm my body has against hers.

“I love when you scream my name,” I break the kiss and whisper against her ear. “However, I’d rather hear it with my dick inside of you.”

“I don’t remember that being in the company handbook.”

I lick a trail up her neck and ask, “Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” she immediately responds. “Oh, god…yes…so fucking good.”

“Lean back,” I tell her. She drops her elbows and lays flat on my desk. She’s perfectly laid out for me in just her panties and stockings.

“Jesus, Ceci…I’m tempted to take you just like this.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Cecilia

Bentley grabs me, pulling me up to his chest. He tells me to wrap my legs around him, and I comply willingly. He carries me to a sidewall that isn’t visible from the door. He’s eerily silent as he crushes his body to mine as he kisses my neck and grinds against me. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

One arm releases me as he reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet with a condom. I watch as he unzips his pants and rolls it on. He aligns our bodies up perfectly and moves my panties out of the way before entering inside of me.

“Oh, my god…” I gasp at the size of him pressing inside of me. My body takes him inch by inch, opening up wide for him. It’s only been a couple of days, but I already missed the way it felt to have him. It feels like nothing I’ve ever had before and now that I have it, I don’t want to know what it’s like to not feel him.

His tongue licks a path from my chest to my neck. He sucks lightly as he thrusts inside me, over and over again. My thighs tighten around him, begging him for more. He spreads his feet farther apart, stretching my walls wider for him. He grinds deeper, reaching all the way inside of me. My fingers claw at his back. My nails dig into his skin, marking him as he fucks me harder.

“Ahh, yes…Bentley…oh, god…fuck, yes.” I can’t control the random screams that escape my throat. My mind is beyond coherent thoughts.