Five thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money for Ryan Hart. He offered it to me for doing something I would have done anyway, something that’s already part of my job.

The trip itself would have been a fabulous bonus on its own. Preparing a presentation would be a challenge, and with only two weeks to complete, it would have been extra hard. But again, it’s already part of my job.

I don’t know if I’m going to be able to ever say no to the boss, even if he asks me to do something decidedly outside of my job duties.

Aside from being the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen, he makes me laugh, which is one of the hottest qualities in a guy.

And this fabulous house isn’t so bad, either. It beats my place. I make my way into the home through the large sliding glass doors and allow myself to explore the first floor a little. In addition to the movie screening room, there’s a small studio where I assume he records occasionally, a large guest bathroom with a soaking tub and an incredible view of the ocean, and a guest bedroom made up with what I can only describe as opulent simplicity. Its modern lines and soothing grey and earth tones are complimented with luxe fabrics and textures.

I sit down on the edge of the King-size bed and smooth my hands across the luxurious silver and grey threaded damask fabric. Whoever decorated this room knows my style to a T, and it’s how I’d decorate my apartment if I had the money. The bed is like a souped-up, grown-up version of what I have back at home.

Allowing myself to indulge a bit, I lay back and let myself fall backwards onto the bed. The sumptuous fabric envelopes me and I close my eyes, attempting to let my worries fall away for just a moment.

I’m so grateful for the opportunity to go to New York with Ryan, maybe even more than I am for the big bonus I’ll receive for coming along. The absolute last thing I need right now is to allow myself to cross the line with him from something professional to something more. The line is thin, and I’m already dancing precariously on it, the risk of falling over into forbidden territory growing greater by the second.

Forbidden territory. I stretch my arms out over my head, letting my thoughts drift away to my boss. His chiseled jaw and body made for sin. It’s making my head spin.

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, I quickly bolt up straight and adjust my bathing suit top, brushing my hair away from my face. It’s still damp and heavy falling down my back.

A few knocks at the door precede Ryan popping his head in before I have a chance to clear my throat and tell him to come in.

“What are you doing in here?” He comes in and closes the door behind him softly, striding over to me confidently, his chest still wet and glistening with a combination of sweat and pool water. He puts his beer down on the low chest of drawers against the wall across from the bed and leans back on it.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, starting to get up. “I probably shouldn’t be snooping around.”

“No,” he says, “it’s okay. Sit. Relax.”

I sit back down and he walks over to me slowly, the corded muscle in his chest and arms flexing in front of me, sending a flush of heat into my body, starting at the top of my head and radiating out to my fingers and toes. Ryan hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks, leading my eyes straight ahead to the tantalizing V leading down lower.

“I was just admiring your home, sir. I like this room in particular. I like the colors.” He takes his fingers out of his pants and crosses his arms in front of his chest as my voice hitches in my throat. “They’re very soothing.”

“Is that what you like?” he asks. I tilt my chin up, taking him in. I feel his eyes drink me in in return, and as he licks his lips an arrow of heat hits between my legs.

“Yes,” I whisper. I should get up and leave. I should fight this tooth and nail.

“You remind me of a caller I had once. She wanted to know how to tell her boyfriend to make love to her better. Give her what she wanted. Listen to her. The first thing I asked was if she ever tried just talking to him.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she didn’t know how. I told her to use her words. To tell him exactly what she wanted. To show him.”

“Why does she remind you of me?” I whisper.

“Because I think you want to ask me for something and don’t know how.”

“You have all the answers, Mr. Hart. Why don’t you tell me what you think I want to ask?”

“I think you want me to kiss you right now.” He looks down into my eyes, and I feel myself getting lost in his words.

“I already told you I want to keep things professional.”

“Pleasure is my profession.”

“This internship is important to me. You told me yourself that your interns end up in the gossip pages. What would my future employers think if I had a letter of recommendation from you and they read about us being together? Would I be taken seriously?”

“I would take you seriously.”

“You’re not my future employer. Like you said, this is a temporary internship. This isn’t going to turn into something else.”

“Then why not make the most of it while it lasts?”

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat remains.

“How can I do that?”

“Ask me a question. Pretend you’re a caller.”

“Okay,” I say. “What do guys really want?”

“We just want a kind girl with a dirty mouth. That’s what I want. I don’t know if I can speak for other men. Everyone has their type.”

“What is your type, Mr. Hart?”

His eyes focus on mine, then drag down to my lips, to my body, his eyes drinking me in. His chest rises and falls with lust, and he reaches out to put his fingers under my chin, lifting them up to meet his gaze.

“What’s the next question?” he says softly.

“What do women really want?” I reply, aching pressure building up between my legs.

“Women want a man who’ll listen to them. Who’ll take care of them. Who won’t give them shit and won’t take any in return. And oral.” He flashes his big, signature, cocky grin, the one plastered on billboards on the 101. “Women want oral.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, my breathing shaky and uneasy.

“What, you don’t want that?” He cocks his head to the side. “I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t like having her pussy eaten.”

I avert his gaze. I can’t look him in the eye. But I want him to go on. I want so badly for him to keep talking, to keep going, to give me more. Looking down at my hands, I busy myself with the label on my beer as it starts to peel off and crumble in my hands.

“You do like being gone down on, don’t you?” he chuckles, stepping a little closer to me.

“Yeah,” I say. “Of course. What girl doesn’t like that?” The sharp ache in my clit makes me want to jump on top of my boss, anything to relieve the sweet pain, give myself a reprieve from the overwhelming feeling of desire I feel for him.

“How do you like it, Sara?” he whispers, hooking his thumbs into the waist of his swim trunks. I brace myself and prepare for him to pull them down, but he pauses. “Tell me how you like it. It’s for research, so I can give better advice to the men who call in and want to know how to go down on their girlfriends and wives.”

“I don’t know,” I say, shooting my gaze up to him, my cheeks on fire. “I don’t know.” I purse my lips into a straight line.

“You’re going to have to learn what you like, Sara, if you’re going to be able to give good advice.”

“I thought you said every person is different.”

“They are, but you have to be able to give yourself advice, be honest with yourself, before you can counsel others.”

He puts his fingers under my chin, tilting it up and letting his thumb sweep across my lips.

“Do you like it slow, or fast?”

I swallow hard, willing the lump in my throat to go down. I’m getting very wet, but I can’t make myself leave. I’ve never been with a man like this before, and I’ve never had anyone speak to me like this. I feel intoxicated, drinking in his words, gulping them down in big, refreshing sips. But it’s not satisfying me. It’s just making me more and more thirsty. It’s making me crave more - his touch, his lips…

“I don’t know,” I say again. “Tell me what you think I like.” His thumb slips into my mouth and I part my lips. He presses his finger into my bottom teeth, scraping it along them gently.

“I think you like it slow. You want to be teased. You want it drawn out. Am I right?”

I nod as my eyes flutter closed, his thumb leaving my lips as I whimper.

“You like to keep your panties on, don’t you? You like to feel a man’s breath between your legs, against the fabric separating your skin from his lips. You like to beg for it. You like it to be given to you slowly, not all at once.” His thumb snakes down my chin, to my neck, and he wraps his fingers gently around my throat. “Am I wrong?”

I open my eyes and shake my head, peering up into his eyes carefully. My eyes linger on his face, coming down to his chest and his abs, and I see the outline of his cock tucked hard against the inside of his tight swim trunks.

“No,” I say. “You’re not wrong.”

“And then you like your panties pulled down slow. Some girls want them ripped off fast. Not you. No, you want them pulled down nice and slow, you want to feel the fabric against your skin, the air caress your body bit by bit. And then you want to spread your legs out slow, too. You want to tease the lucky fucker you’re with. And then you want him to go down slow, making love to you with his tongue.”

I’m soaking wet, and I feel my eyebrows knit together as I gasp for air. Ryan’s thumb rubs the front of my throat gently, but I’m dying inside. One more word, and I might not be able to take it. I might have an orgasm from just his words and his touch of my throat and my lips.

I can’t do this. I break away from him, standing up and pulling my sarong tight around my waist.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.”

He steps back, a look of concerned surprise painted on his face, but he says nothing.

I slip out of the room without looking back and dart further into the dark hallway leading away from the party now raging in the backyard. I see an open door to the left and duck inside. It’s dark, and I close the door behind me quickly but quietly, groping along the wall for a light switch.

The lights flick on, and I find myself in a large powder room, with just a large vanity with a stone bowl-style sink and a toilet. I realize I’m barely breathing, and I grip the edges of the sink, steadying myself against it, feeling Ryan’s touch on my neck and his words deep inside me, swimming somewhere unknown.

I look up and see myself in the mirror. My face is flushed pink, my eyes are wide and my chest is heaving with the weight of Ryan Hart finally off my shoulders. I close my eyes and lean back against the door, the thrum of my heart pounding somewhere lower.

My clit aches, and I know it’s wrong, but I slip my fingers slowly against my stomach. Something, anything to take this feeling away, to feed it, to satisfy it, to give it what it wants.

I go lower. My fingers glide down, past the waist of my bikini bottoms. Fuck, I should not do this. I stop when I feel the edge of my slit, closing my eyes tightly. I take a deep breath in and let my fingers inch down further, feeling the hard nub, wet and engorged, and I trace against it lightly with one finger.

I shouldn’t let my mind go where it’s headed. I shouldn’t. But I can’t help it, as I imagine being back in that room with Ryan, his words edging me closer and closer to bliss, until he finally stops asking me what I like and giving me what I want. In my mind, behind the darkness of my tightly closed eyes, he kneels down in front of me and pulls my bathing suit to the side, kissing me softly, bringing my clit into his mouth, between his delectable lips. I allow myself to rub myself a little harder, thinking of his tongue swirling against my clit, sweeping over it sweetly, the blissful release right there.

He looks up at me and then flashes his cock grin before licking my clit with his wet, wide tongue, sending me spilling over the edge.

I press my fingers hard against my clit as I come, the hint of Ryan’s name on my lips. I feel my body spasm and go rigid, my orgasm flooding my body. I rub harder as I ride the pleasure, the threat of tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I struggle not to moan.

Finally, my body goes limp and I open my eyes, breathing heavily, unable to move except for the rise and fall of my chest.