Chapter 7

Oliver

I dressed carefully after my shower, putting on a suit and tie. I’d asked both my assistant Megan and my driver to make sure that the reservation was set for Delsarte, a French restaurant in an exclusive neighborhood in town. Megan assured me that she spoke to the owner directly and he promised his best table.

When my driver rang that the car was washed and ready, I met him at the door. We went to the car and I did a quick inspection to make sure everything was perfect. I didn’t really need to; Yegor was a Russian who had immigrated to America with his father as a young boy.

He was the first person I’d hired when I began to realize that not only could I afford a driver, I needed to have one for when I showed up at business meetings, galas, and other social engagements.

“Excellent work as always, Yegor. I trust you know where we’re going?”

“Of course, Sir,” he said in an accent he had never lost. He opened my door for me and I stepped into the back of the limo. I looked around as he began to drive. Everything was as I’d asked. Champagne was chilling at the bar, and, on the table in front of the seats was an appetizer selection of shrimp, caviar, chocolate, and fruit.

When we arrived at Becka’s apartment building, I texted her to let her know I was on my way up.

Stay there, she texted back. I’ll come down.

Yegor and I stood outside the car, waiting. When the door opened and Becka came out, a shiver ran through me. She looked absolutely breathtaking. The dress, a red and silver body-hugging cocktail dress, looked perfect on her. The mounds of her breasts rose above the neckline and I knew I would have my lips on them by the end of the night. I felt heat rise from my toes all the way to the top of my head.

She walked toward me and the slit going up the side of her dress showed her muscular calf and perfectly shaped thigh. I exercised all the self-control I had in me to stay standing where I was. I wanted to run to her, kiss her, move my hands all over her body, breathe her in, feel myself inside her.

“Hi,” she said.

“You look gorgeous,” I said. I opened the door for her and guided her into the limo. I followed her in, and Yegor got us back on the road. I pointed at the food. “There’s some treats there, if you’d like. And some champagne?”

“How far are we going?” she asked. She smoothed out the lap of her dress. I put my hand on her thigh and squeezed.

“I hope all the way,” I said, giving her a flirtatious smile. She laughed.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “How far is the restaurant?”

“It’s about a twenty-minute drive straight there, but we have some time. Would you like a glass of champagne?” She nodded and I poured us each a glass, setting the bottle back in the ice and handing her glass to her. I held up mine. “To your extraordinary beauty,” I said.

I could see her blushing. She sipped her champagne and took a piece of chocolate and a strawberry. I watched her lips as they wrapped around the strawberry; she truly had no idea how sexy she was.

“I wanted tonight to be special for you,” I explained. “You’ve invited me into your world—the bar, the coffee shop, and you’ve seen a sampling of my world. Tonight, I want…” What was I going to say, tonight I wanted our worlds to come together? What cheesy romantic novel would she think I pulled that from? My objective for the night was to offer her the position of intern and have her accept it. She was looking at me, waiting for me to finish my sentence.

“Tonight,” I said, “I just want to enjoy you.” I tried to look as though I’d just come up with whatever words had fit the best. She leaned over and kissed me.

“That’s what I want too,” she said.

When we got to the restaurant, I met with the owner and he led us to our table. I directed Becka to the right side of the booth and I sat to her left. Each booth in that section of the restaurant was designed for two people to sit side by side; the center of the room had a stage where musicians occasionally performed, though it was empty tonight.

I ordered a bottle of wine that would go with the dinners I had asked Megan to order.

“Where are the menus?” Becka asked once we were settled in. Her dress shimmered in the light of the restaurant and offset her eyes, making them sparkle and shine.

“We don’t need them,” I said, circling my wine in its class.

“What do we order?” she asked, looking at me with confusion.

“I ordered for us already,” I said, sipping my wine.

She looked at me. “You did that the last time you took me out to a nice restaurant,” she said.

Had I? I thought back. Yes, I had. “I ordered something I know you’ll like,” I said. “Trust me.”

“I trust you,” she said. “I just… I kind of like to order my own food.”

I looked at her. “I can have the server bring a menu over if you’d like and you can pick something out that you think is better.”

Becka smiled, put her hand on my arm. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I’m sure you ordered fine.”

“Enough of talk about food,” I said, changing the subject. “I have an ulterior motive for inviting you out tonight. It’s kind of a celebratory dinner as well as a date.”

“Oh?” she said. “What are we celebrating?”

“Your job as my newest intern in the food science lab at Neuotova,” I said with a huge smile. Even just saying the words out loud, which I hadn’t done prior to that moment, made me excited about the possibilities of the future.

I had looked at Becka’s work more than just what Amy had shown me. Becka was absolutely every bit the intelligent, promising student Amy had said she was. And now, she was a part of team Neuotova.

“My what?” Becka asked, setting her wine down.

“I’m offering, and you’re accepting, a position as an intern in my company. You can do it while you work on your dissertation and it will give you great experience for your future. But… you don’t look happy.” I shook my head. What was wrong with this woman? She gets mad when I make sure her dissertation can go forward as planned, she gets mad when I order dinner for her, and she gets mad when I offer her a job.

“I thought that since we were involved, the internship would be off the table.” She pulled back and looked at me. “Do you really think it’s a wise idea for us to sleep together and me work for you?”

I looked into her eyes, still glistening but now in possession of something else, some darker emotion. I wondered if she’d been doing research on Neuotova or on me. Of course, she had; she’s a researcher. The real question was, how deep had that research gone, and what had it uncovered?

Becka

I stared at Oliver, waiting for him to answer. I was trying to keep my cool, but, on the inside, my entire body felt like it was doing an Olympic gymnastic floor routine. He was offering me the job of intern. Actually, it seemed like, just as with so many other things, he was telling me I would be taking the job of intern; no ifs, ands, or buts.

I knew that in order to amass the amount of wealth Oliver had, a person had to be aggressive, but I wasn’t ready to just roll over and have him determine my life for me.

“I think,” he said, “that I will let you make that call.” I arched my eyebrows.

“You’re going to let me make the call?” I repeated. “You won’t let me order my own dinner, but the intern versus sex deal is up to me?” I shook my head. “You’re not playing fair.”

I sat back and concentrated on my glass of wine.

“I’m leaving it up to you, Becka,” he said, reaching for my arm and pulling me back toward him, “because you just asked me not two minutes ago to have more respect for your decision-making skills.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but he kind of had me there. Go figure, I thought; the billionaire outsmarted the grad student. Story at eleven.

“I think,” I said, “that we should enjoy our dinner, and you should let me think. By the way, what are we having for dinner?”

Just as I asked, our salads arrived, along with an appetizer that looked absolutely delicious. We began to eat, and, for at least the time being, we left behind the nature of our business relationship.

“Tell me about your family,” I said through a bite of salad.

“I told you. Both of my parents are deceased.” His face didn’t betray any emotion when he said this.

“I know,” I said. “But what were they like when they were alive? What did they do for work? Did you get along with them?”

“You’re full of questions,” Oliver said as he placed his hand on mine. He grabbed an escargot with the tiny fork and popped it into my mouth. “More eating, fewer questions.”

I chewed on the escargot, which was delicious in its butter wine sauce, and watched him. Maybe talking about his parents was a really painful topic for him. I was about to change the subject when our meals arrived.

I looked at my plate and smiled at Oliver. It was Beef Wellington, potatoes, and vegetables. It looked and smelled like only something a billionaire could afford.

“It looks really delicious,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I do have a knack for knowing what people will like,” Oliver said, winking at me. He cut into his own serving and took a bite. He moaned quietly. “So tender,” he said. “Try it.” He took another small bite onto his fork and brought it to my mouth. I took it off the fork and began to chew, the beef melting like butter in my mouth.

He leaned in and kissed me, licking my lips softly. “You taste better than the finest Beef Wellington in the universe.”

I laughed. “That’s a compliment I never expected to hear,” I said, cutting into my own dinner. I could still feel the warmth of his lips on mine, and I brought my fingers to my mouth. I ran my thumb across my lips, then took a sip of wine.

I could tell throughout dinner that Oliver was waiting for me to confirm that I would be his intern. As we ate, our conversation was somewhat stilted because he was distracted. When dessert arrived, a flambé with peaches and strawberries, I turned to him.

“Here’s my answer. I will be your intern, because it’s good for my career and because I think I can help move your company forward with my research. Is it a paid internship?”

“Of course,” Oliver said. As soon as I’d said I would take the job, a huge smile had broken out onto his face.

“Then you have a choice. I’ll take it paid, and we cannot sleep together again, as long as I’m working for you.” His eyes narrowed. “Or, I’ll take it unpaid and you’ll call me a volunteer, not an intern, and we can continue to see each other socially.”

“You need the money,” he pointed out.

“Yes, I do,” I said evenly. Inside I was shaking. Outside, I was trying to remember that I was negotiating with someone who had negotiated million-dollar deals to his advantage.

“I don’t like your options,” he said. He shook his head.

I shrugged. “It’s simple,” I said. “Do you want this,” I gestured at my body, enveloped in the dress, “or do you want this?” I tapped my head just above my temple. My insides shriveled as I heard myself basically say he could have my body if he wanted it, but, as I looked at him in the darkness of the restaurant, the energy of his kiss still lingering on my lips, I was prepared to offer him that.

“I want them both,” he growled, leaning in to me. “And I’m not used to having to make choices. I want your body and I want your brain. One does me no good without the other.”

I looked at him, not speaking. Say something! my brain screamed. I held my breath instead.

***

I stood in Oliver’s bedroom in my red dress, a glass of red wine in my hand. I’d taken my shoes off and I was about to lose the dress.

Oliver reached to me and took the glass of wine from my hand. He stood before me, shirtless, and I brought my hands to his chest, placing my cool palms against his warm pec muscles. He reached up to my shoulders and, with his index fingers, pulled the straps of my gown from my shoulders.

They fell toward my biceps, loose and long. He reached behind me and pulled me toward him, at the same time slowly unzipping my dress. When he pulled away, the dress fell from my body and landed in a circular pile around my feet. I stepped out of the gown and toward him.

He kissed me, reaching for the back of my neck, running his fingers through my hair. He gave it a gentle tug and I groaned, feeling myself getting wet—wetter, since I’d been feeling the tingling sensation of arousal since we’d gotten into the limo to drive back to Oliver’s place. I kissed him and gently bit his lip. He pulled my lips away by pulling on my hair, and he looked at me.

“I like when you bite me,” he whispered.

“And I like when you pull my hair,” I whispered back.

He walked me over to the bed and I laid down on it, spreading my legs immediately to let him lie between them. Feeling his body pressed over mine, chest to chest, belly to belly, I felt myself beginning to let go of all of my concerns.

He kissed my belly, licking the soft flesh around my navel, and then moved his face down to my pussy. I bent my knees and slid toward him. He reached for my hips and pulled me roughly toward his face. I giggled, and he slapped the back of my thigh. The sensation of the slap went straight to my clit and my giggle turned into a gasp.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

I groaned in response, and he slapped my thigh again. Again, it felt like an electric shock straight to my clit. He began to lick my clit, which felt larger than life. He alternated sucking on my clit with gently biting my inner thighs, and my body nearly exploded. I squirmed under his touch, wanting him to take me fully into his mouth, wanting him to fuck me, wanting him to consume me.

Touch me cell to cell. It was as though I couldn’t get him close enough to me. I wrapped my legs over his shoulders and he buried his face in my pussy, putting two fingers into my vagina as he sucked my clit. His fingers drew in and out in the same teasing way his tongue and teeth were operating. I moaned in delicious frustration, shifting my hips to get more direct contact.

“I don’t like taking no for an answer,” he said quietly.

“I never told you no,” I said. “Ahhh, fuck, that feels so good!” I gasped as he ran his thumb over my clit, circling it, then switching back to his tongue.

“But you want this to end….” He pulled his face and his hand away from me. I shuddered with the emptiness. He unzipped his pants as I watched, pulling them off along with his boxers and tossing them aside. “Which felt better, what I was doing before, or this?”

“What you were doing before,” I said, staring at his cock standing out from his body. It was full, rock hard, quivering with a life of its on in the light reflecting from the moon outside.

“Which will feel better, when I put my cock into you and fill you up, or how you feel right now?” I looked at him longingly. That question was the most rhetorical ever asked. He knew it, too; he climbed on top of me and slid his cock into me, riding on my arousal easily until he was fully inside.

He began to thrust against me, pumping in and out, slowly at first, then gaining speed and intensity as sweat began to glisten on his chest.

I felt myself climbing to orgasm quickly and steadily. I reached my legs around him and pulled him close to my body, so that with each thrust I felt a surge of energy to my clit. When he finally brought me to my climax, I felt as if I’d just climbed a long hill and was now flying down it, suspended off of the earth, riding on air.

I cried out over and over as waves of pleasure flowed through me. His body grew rigid and I pulled him to me more tightly as he came into me, pumping his cum into my body. He grunted once and moaned, his volume increasing with each of his final thrusts.

When he was finished, he rolled off of me and I immediately rolled toward him. He put his arm around me and pulled me close to him.

“The internship will be paid,” he said.