The Intern Vol. 2

By: Brooke Cumberland

I allow Bentley to use me until he’s satisfied I’m telling him the truth. I keep eye contact and never flinch at his abusive tone. I let his aggressive hold take control as he controls my body.

I’m convincing in my lies—I told you I was a master manipulator. It’s not hard, considering every scenario he’s thinking about is wrong. I don’t work for anyone and technically, my name is Ceci—well, nickname. Too bad he never thought of a high school student turned makeshift college student would be out to attain information for personal gain—because that would be a bitch to explain. Or deny.

I laugh to myself at the irony. When it’s said like that, it sounds ridiculous. What I’m doing is ridiculous. But I don’t care. If I don’t take the risk and at least try, I’ll never know. I already live with regrets. I didn’t want to live with the ‘what if’s.’

There’s no denying that my body craves Bentley. I want everything he’s giving me…and more. I let him do everything to me because I want it. I love it. I don’t want him to treat me like a little girl that can’t handle it. I can.

And I did.

Bentley slams us into the wall—my bare back pressed against the cold drywall. It’s chilling on my overheated skin, but much welcomed. It feels good.

“I want to, Ceci. I want to trust you so fucking badly,” he confesses. His forehead is pressed against mine, and I can feel his hot breath against my mouth. He’s battling with himself. He’s torn between letting me in and keeping me at a distance.

I inhale the alcohol that he’s exhaling, a strong vodka aroma. I thought I had smelled it on him earlier, but now I know for sure he was drinking.

* * *

After my dad had died, my mom hid in her room a lot. Casey was left to cook and take care of me most of the time. She took advantage and watched mostly adult shows and movies on TV. I’d sit with her and ended up learning much more than I should have. By the time I was seventeen, I had lost my virginity. I was more curious than in love, but once I lost it, I didn’t feel the need to protect it. It was the only time I ever felt anything besides anger and sadness. It was the only time I didn’t think about my dad and how much I wished I had died right along with him that day. It was the only time I wasn’t numb to the pain.

When I was seventeen, I met Jason. He was a year ahead of me, but we hooked up my entire junior year. He was never more than that for me—a hook up. After awhile, he wanted more. He wanted to start going on dates, holding hands, being a couple. I told him I couldn’t and that I wasn’t wired that way. I hadn’t felt that need to have that with him. I kept him at a distance, not wanting to let that part of my heart open for him. I didn’t want to be in love. I never felt like I deserved it. How could I allow myself to love when I was still mourning my dad’s death all these years later? I just knew I could never give him what he wanted.

We stopped talking after he graduated. And my heart never skipped a beat in missing him. I always felt I was incapable of caring that much for someone, so much that I wanted to let them in. And this is how I knew Bentley was struggling with the same thing. Between letting me in, trusting me, and pushing me away. It was too late for the both of us. We were both way too far in, and now I had to cover my tracks before he found out the actual truth.

* * *

“You can trust me, Bentley,” I say again. Because it’s true. Besides the lies I’m forced to hide, my feelings are real. I’m ready to give Bentley anything he wants to prove it.

He presses his hips into me, binding us together. He grabs my ankles and forces them on top of his shoulder so the only thing holding us against the wall is my ass and his hips. I’m literally folded in half between Bentley and the wall.

He smirks as he sees how flawlessly I bend. “I told you I was in gymnastics.”

He grins before saying, “At least I can believe that much.”

He thrusts inside me deeper. My head falls back against the wall as my body opens up willingly for him. He’s completely hard and thick, stretching me out farther than I’ve ever been before.

The tight sensation is intense. I can feel every thick inch of him—the way he grinds into me makes everything go away. I don’t feel numb anymore. I don’t think about the dangerous territory I’ve gotten myself into—it’s just him and me.

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