chapter 1 / Damon

There are some interns that really go above and beyond at Cavanaugh Yacht. The kind you just know will go places. And right now, our newest intern is going...down.

Down, like on me, underneath my desk while I’m leaning back a little in my swivel chair, tilting my pelvis toward her because Jesus, her mouth. Eva’s taking it deep with absolutely no indication I’ve tripped her gag reflex. From the way she’s working it, it’s pretty obvious she’s been in this position a few times before.

I love watching a girl give head—seeing the way my cock slides in and out of her mouth, looking at the way her lips stretch to take it all in. She’s got just the right amount of suction, knows just how to lightly tickle my balls with her fingertips. Her college education has clearly involved more than just business classes.

I reach down to stroke her silky black hair, brushing strands of it away so I can get a better view of her face. Her eyes are closed, and there’s a blend of concentration and tranquility in her expression, like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

There is most definitely nowhere else I want her to be right now.

The friction of her wet, warm mouth is pushing me to the brink of coming. I give a low groan, close my eyes and let my head fall back as though I’m lying in my king-sized bed at home instead of sitting at my mahogany desk in my third floor office. The sound seems to excite her; I feel the pinch of her fingernails as she sinks them into my thighs. I’m on my way, sailing toward the sweet crescendo of the big O…

Only, no. The office door swings open, and in blows the CEO of Cavanaugh Yacht, while I’m getting blown by Eva.

The CEO, who also happens to be my mother.

I jerk upright in my chair, my hands beneath the desk and cupping Eva’s face as she panics and tries to sit up, letting out a small gasp of pain as the top of her head meets the hard wood. Hard wood as in desk, not as in dick, because that has gone as limp as a hose in the sun.

Can you say, boner kill?

“Damon. Why didn’t you answer when I called?”

Because I had the phone on silent while I was getting a BJ, Mother.

I somehow find my voice. “Oh, sorry...I, uh, stepped out for a bit.” Careful not to squish Eva, I slide my chair closer into my desk in an attempt to shield my naked lower half from the woman who gave birth to me.

She raises an eyebrow that’s been plucked into submission. This is a classic look for her—the I’m not buying that for one second look. It can also convey mild amusement, but don’t be fooled—most of the time, she’s really just masking major disdain. When she lifts both eyebrows in more of a how dare you defy me expression, you’re in serious, serious shit.

Believe me, I know...I’ve been there.

My mother is a force of nature. You have Category 4 hurricanes, and then you have Gloria Cavanaugh—a fifty-one-year-old barracuda in the business world with a fondness for Nordstorm cream-colored pantsuits, dirty martinis and hand-rolled Bolivar cigars. She’s tall for a woman—almost six feet—with chemically-coaxed blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun. As long as I’ve been alive, she’s had that bun. When I was a little kid, I used to tell her she needed to let her hair breathe.

But it isn’t just those things that make her intimidating; she’s...how do I put this delicately? Because I am, after all, her only son.

She’s a fucking bitch.

“You...stepped out for a bit?” She says it like I’ve committed a cardinal sin.

“Yes.”

“Did you see the latest numbers on the Sea Whisper? They’re tanking.”

“I’d hardly call a dip of eight percent tanking, Mother.” Her expression prompts me to modify my response. “But obviously, we don’t want that trend to continue.”

“No. We don’t. The good news is, we’re slightly above forecast in overall sales. But I’d like to see more. Rumor has it that Bellamy Marine is having some trouble. It’s no secret that I’ve wanted to explore expansion into Europe for a while now, and this could be the opportunity. I’m contacting the CEO this afternoon and calling a staff meeting for tomorrow morning—I don’t want to wait on this as I’m quite sure our competitors have gotten wind of it and are going to be circling Bellamy like hungry piranhas.”

My bare ass is sticking uncomfortably to the leather seat. I’m really hoping my mother will leave soon so our intern can finish what she started.

“So I’ll expect you to clear your calendar for the meeting, Damon.”

“Absolutely, Mother.”

Gloria gives me a frosty smile before turning and walking to my door. I’m sliding my chair back a bit to glance under my desk when my mother turns back around on her high heels.

“Oh, and one more thing...Eva, sweetheart, make sure you brush off your knees. My son’s been known to snack at his desk, and there might be crumbs under there.” She’s looking at me in steely triumph as Eva gives a gasp from down below. I don’t know how the fuck my mother knows, but she just knows. Everything. All the time.

And just before she heads out of my office, there’s the double-eyebrow lift.

I’m in serious, serious shit.