Sir Royston Ward - always “Sir Royston”, never “Mr Ward - was a very wealthy man. The kind of wealth that attracted power and granted access. He was the smartest man I’d ever met, and the most terrifying.

He was also my boss.

How I found myself managing the investments of the richest man you’ve never heard of is a story for another day. But after ten years, he trusted me and generally left me alone. I worked from the privacy of the luxurious corner office, a thank you from Sir Royston for a shrewd AI play which added another zero to his net worth. Besides, he was here so infrequently that he didn’t need it.

Despite his absence, though, he insisted that I come to work each day in a suit and tie. I’d amassed quite a collection, in stark contrast to my first day on the job. Eager to impress, I’d shown up in an off-the-peg number from a high street retailer - all I could afford, straight out of university. Sir Royston canceled his meetings and dragged me to see his tailor, sending me home in a three-piece number worth more than my car.

Eventually I amassed a wardrobe of fully tailored woolen suits and showed up every morning looking like a slightly out-of-shape James Bond. I thought I looked good, but wished someone would actually tell me.

Sir Royston’s ego required him to lease a full-size trading floor, but my team consisted of just two analysts:. Alex - the ubiquitous Oxbridge wunderkind - and Tabz, the working-class-boy-done good. They were usually at their desks before I arrived, and that morning was no exception. They heard me as I unbolted the large glass door of my office. My back was still turned when the usual morning banter started.

“Not you again,” Tabz shouted, ever the joker.

“I suppose we have to start working now,” Alex sighed in his cartoonishly posh accent. He sounded like a member of the Royal Family. “Unless you want us to show the new girl around.”

“New girl?” I asked. This was unexpected. I don’t like surprises.

“We got an email this morning from Sir Royston. Apparently we have an intern.”

“Probably a nepo hire,” muttered Tabz. “Or someone the old man’s trying to shag.”

“Send her to my office when she arrives,” I told them.

I like to play metal while I’m working - it helps me concentrate and keeps me motivated. The louder the better. And that’s why the Sonos speaker in my office was blasting Lamb of God when my life changed forever.

I was engrossed in a spreadsheet, oblivious to the outside world, when the music stopped suddenly. I reached out with my right hand to press ‘play’ on the speaker, but instead pushed my palm into what was unmistakably someone’s arse. Denim was the actual fabric I could feel, but it was stretched tight enough that my fingers were gripping the firm, soft butt cheek underneath.

I looked up, then recoiled in horror and pulled my arm away as I realised I’d been grabbing someone’s butt. It was a great butt, too. Round but firm, its shape complimented by skintight jeans.

The butt’s owner turned to face me. I looked up and immediately fell in love.

She had big brown eyes, framed by smoky black makeup. Its colour matched the long, curly hair which fell across her face in bangs.

i pushed my chair back and stood up. As I did so I let my eyes wander, taking in the colourful full-sleeve tattoo exposed by her flimsy vest top. Rendered even more flimsy by the huge breasts it was barely managing to contain. I felt the blood rushing to the centre of my body.

I realised I was silently staring at her. I jolted my head up and put out my hand.

“Hi, I’m Marco. Sorry about… that.”

“Grabbing my arse, you mean? Or staring at my cleavage?”

Realising I was busted, I decided to lean into it.

“That depends - does your cleavage have a lawyer?”

She laughed, flashing a beautiful smile and a lip ring which blinked in the sunlight.

“I wish. It needs one,” she replied, shaking my hand. “I’m Sophie.”

She had the kind of accent one finds at private schools. Well spoken and expensive.

Her skin was soft but her grip was firm. I was sure she held on for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Sorry about the music,” I said. “I don’t get a lot of visitors.”

“I’m not surprised,” she laughed. “But you might have to get used to it. I’m your Summer intern.”

My heart dropped. Our interns tended to be college-aged, sometimes younger. Off limits. My face must have fallen, because Sophie started apologizing.

“But I promise I won’t get in the way! And I’m a really fast learner. I got my batchelors and my Masters degree in three years.”

“That is impressive,” I said. I allowed myself one secretive glance at Sophie’s curves, but as my eyes moved back up her body, they locked with hers. Busted again.

“Let me guess,” she sighed. “It’s not what it looked like?”

“What did it look like?”

“It looked like you were staring, well, ogling me. Looking at my whole body but taking particular time,” she paused, and put her hands underneath her breasts.

“Over these.” She lifted them together.

“Then yes, it was exactly what it looked like.”

A sly grin crept across her face.

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

“You did tell me that they don’t have legal representation.”

Sophie laughed.

She leaned against the desk, facing me. She crossed her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts together once more. They squeezed against each other, spilling out of her top and directly into my line of vision. I didn’t even pretend to look away.

“So, are you going to show me what you do?” She asked. “Or are you going to stare at my body all day?”

“Your body is a lot more interesting than my job,” I told her, without looking up.

“Speaking of your job,” Sophie said. “ I’m supposed to learn about investments and risk and, like, ROI or whatever.”

“Makes sense,” I replied. Because it did.

“But the thing is this: I don’t really want to.”

“Then why -” I started to ask, but she cut me off. ‘

“I just need to pick up enough words and phrases to sound like I know what I’m talking about. So I’m going to hang out in here while you do…” she waved her hand in a vague circle. “Whatever it is that you do.”

Her confidence was sexy. She was so sure that she could get what she wanted.

“I see,” I said, desperate to cling onto some semblance of authority. “And what makes you think I’ll indulge this plan?”

“A couple of things,” Sophie replied. She hopped over the desk and stood in front of me.

“Firstly, the optics of a senior director brazenly staring at an intern’s body - they’re not great.”

“But you obviously wanted me to,” I protested.

“Doesn’t matter, Marco. They’re not going to believe you. Even if you tell them I did this.”

She put her hand out, palm down, and firmly gripped me through the front of my pants. She squeezed gently and her thumb found the outline of my cock. She pressed her fingertips around its head and stroked me through the fabric until I started to swell against her touch.

She pushed me back into my chair, then let go.

“So, do we have an understanding?” She asked.

“Do you know what I actually do here?” I asked.

“I know you make a lot of money,” she began, matter-of-factly. "In fact, Daddy says you’re a genius.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘Daddy’? Of course. Sophie.

“Sophie Louisa Ward?” I asked. I already knew the answer. Her eyes lit up as I shrank into my chair, embarrassed.

“It took you long enough,” she replied..

“I’m sorry,” I began. “If I’d known-“

She cut me off.

“Yeah, yeah. If you’d known who I was, you wouldn’t have hit on me, etcetera. You’d still be thinking it though wouldn’t you? And I’d be wondering if you were thinking it. At least this way I know."

“Know what?” I asked, cautiously.

She looked me dead in the eyes and smiled. I could tell she enjoyed seeing me squirm.

“That you want to fuck me."

“So… what now?” I asked. “Are you going to have me fired?”

She appeared to consider it for a second, before shaking her head.

“You don’t want to lose your job. And I don’t want to spend my Summer learning how to build investment reports. So let’s make a deal.”

Sophie had clearly inherited her dad’s famous negotiating skills. I agreed she could slack off all day and I’d still send weekly updates to Sir Royston praising her progress.

She in turn agreed not to tell him that, in her words, she’d “seen my erection before she’d seen a spreadsheet.”

The first few weeks were fine. Fun, actually. Sophie was great company. Even though I was having to do her work as well as my own, we bonded over music and movies, and made each other laugh.

Knowing she was off-limits made it easier to ignore her looks, but it was still tough. She favoured skinny jeans and strappy tops that showed off the tattoos on her arms a lot better than they covered her big, natural breasts.

She occasionally teased me for being a ‘pervert’. Sometimes she’d even lean over my desk, daring me to glance down her top.

But whenever we spoke, I made a point of never breaking eye contact. Gazing into her beautiful, deep brown eyes was hardly a punishment.

Week 3, however. Week 3 was when things changed.

It was Monday, and Sophie arrived at work at 10:30am as usual. But standing in my office doorway, she looked different.

Pristinely made up - her eyes smouldered. sparkly black, smoky. Her lips glossy with matching black lipstick. But more surprising was her outfit.

“Since when do you wear dresses to work?” I asked.

“I thought you’d appreciate a change of scenery. You like?”

She span round 360 degrees so I could take it in: a figure-hugging take on the classic little black dress. Tailored to wrap tightly around the curves of Sophie’s body, dramatically with dramatic diagonal slashes at each end. One over her legs, ending above her knee. The other revealing her deep cleavage, fighting to escape its confines.

“I like it, a lot actually. It just seems a bit… extra?”

Sophie pushed the door shut and slowly approached my desk. My eyes alternated between her barely-restrained breasts and the large tattoo on her thigh, completely visible in its thick, toned glory.

“I know how hard you’ve been trying to make me feel comfortable” she said, with sympathy in her voice. “And I appreciate it. I really do.”

She walked around my desk and stood next to me, sideways-on.

“We’re friends, right? Like, you can be honest with me, I can be honest with you. I can rely on you to help cheer me up when I’m down?”

“Of course! What do you need?”

“I broke up with the guy I’m seeing. He… it’s embarrassing actually. He wouldn’t go down on me.”

“As your manager, I can’t comment. But as your friend… what the fuck?”

“I know right? And I know it’s silly but like… it got me worried. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Some men are selfish,” I offered. “I’m sure that your … body… is perfectly…”

Before I could finish, Sophie pulled herself up onto my desk and turned to face me. The dress accentuated her hourglass figure and she looked amazing. She put her feet either side of my chair with her knees crossed, wriggled for a few seconds, then slid her underwear down and over her foot.

She uncrossed her knees, opening her legs in my eyeline. Her dark pubic hair was neatly trimmed, stopping just above her cute, pink clit. Her labia were smoothly trimmed and slightly puffy, with only the tight line where they met visible. I wanted to bury my face in it.

“Seems … normal?”” I said. I quickly glanced down, feeling my cheeks burning red.

“You’re not even looking!”

Sophie took my face in her hands and firmly pulled me back up until I was once again looking up her dress.

“Cute enough to get eaten out right?” She asked.

She stroked her fingers over my shaved head. The stimulation made me even more aroused.

“I don’t know if cute is the word I’d use, but…,” I trailed off. What exactly could I say? What were the boundaries?

Sophie had her hands on the back of my head now.

“Maybe you need a closer look,” she said.

She pulled my head towards her and my whole body lunged forward. I put my hands out in front of me and my palms found Sophie’s legs, making a loud slapping sound. She pushed my head, hard, between her thighs until her my lips were touching hers.

Instinctively I opened my mouth and ran my tongue over her labia, from bottom to top. I pushed the tip between them, feeling her getting wetter with every lick, her lips opening a little further each time. I used my hand to pull her thigh open further, then slid my fingers over her thigh until I reached her clit. I pushed the tip of my index finger into her, very slightly, coating it with her cum. Lubricated, I pressed it against her clit and started to stroke it anti-clockwise.

I heard her breathing change. Short, deep gasps. In one movement, I moved my finger down and pushed until it glided inside her, then replaced it with my tongue, flicking her clit with the tip. I wrapped my lips around her clit and curled my finger so it was pressed against her g-spot. As I gently sucked her clit, my finger stroked her from inside in time with my mouth.

She had her hand on my head and was panting. Between breaths, she gasped “Don’t stop.”

Her pussy was starting to spasm around my finger and I knew she was close.

Then it hit me. The boss’ daughter.

I stopped suddenly, and pulled away.

“What the fuck?” She cried. I stood up.

“Sorry, we … we just can’t.”

“I’m so close. Please,” she begged.

I took in the sight of Sophie - legs up on the desk, her pussy glistening in the office lights. I wanted her so badly, this was taking every ounce of self control I could muster.

She sat bolt upright and wrapped her legs around my back, pulling me towards her with such force I fell into her. With my arms outstretched to break my fall, she quickly unfastened my pants. She had her hands inside my boxers as I got back to my feet, stroking my already rock-hard cock.

I pushed her off me and pulled my clothes back on.

“Sorry, Sophie. It just wouldn’t be…professional.”

I went home early and took a long, cold shower. But I was thinking about Sophie all night. Her body. Her taste. The brief moment she’d held me in her hand. I was still thinking about her as I drifted off to sleep.

I got to work an hour early the next day. I couldn’t avoid Sophie, but I could at least minimise the amount of time we spent together. At first I thought I’d been successful, as I crossed the dark trading floor to my office. But there was a light coming from behind my door. I pushed it. Unlocked.

“I had a feeling you’d try to sneak in before me.”

Sophie was sitting on the couch opposite my desk, she didn’t look angry, or upset. She was smiling. Once again she was wearing a dress - black and white patterned, a looser and less revealing fit around her body but with a cut-out to show off her cleavage. And it was daringly, almost obscenely short.

“Guilty,” I replied. “But only because I had a feeling you’d be dressed like that."

She stood up, and her dress seemed to shrink a size. Her breasts looked incredible, but I forced myself to keep my eyes on hers.

“I just wanted to say, about yesterday…” She began.

“There’s no need to apologise,” I reassured her. ` Sophie laughed. She walked towards me, her dress rising and falling with each step.

“Apologise?” She repeated, incredulously. “What for?”

“I just meant… if your dad finds out,” I mumbled. “We really shouldn’t.”

“You mean, YOU shouldn't. And that’s what makes it so hot,” Sophie purred.

“So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I need to know - can you be cool? About us, I mean.”

“Cool?” I didn’t understand.

“Yeah. Like, normal. It was just a hookup. Don’t treat me differently, don’t turn into a crazy stalker. And please don’t tell me you love me.”

“Wow. You don’t have any self-esteem issues do you?” I laughed. She shook her head.

“Guys are weird sometimes.”

“You have my word. No stalking, no love letters. Anything else?”

“Just one thing.”

Sophie put her hands around my waist, leaned up and whispered.

“Last night, I made myself come three times thinking about you.”

I could feel her breasts against my body and her breath on my skin. I was so turned on. All I wanted in that moment was to pin Sophie to the couch and tear off her dress.

The tension was so thick that when the silence was broken by a phone ringing, we both gasped and jumped away. I looked at the screen. It was Sir Royston.

“I need to take this,” I told her.

“Is it Daddy?” Sophie asked. I nodded.

I sat down at my desk. As the old man grilled me on some tax issues with one of his European companies, I focused on sounding calm, professional, and like I wasn’t distracted by the idea of fucking his daughter.

I pulled myself under the desk and opened the relevant file on my computer. As I muttered yes”, “no”, or “I’ll look into it” as appropriate, Sophie moved so she was behind my screen and directly in my view. I covered the phone.

“You’re distracting me,” I told her.

“I’m not even trying,” she whispered. “If I wanted to distract you, I’d do something like this.”

She turned around and pulled up her dress a couple of inches. Enough to reveal her ass. Her cheeks were thick and toned. She wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Obviously you know best, Sir Royston, but my advisors have assured me that the new legislation w- w-,”

Sophie was facing me now. The puffy, cute lips of her pussy peeked out from under dark, neatly trimmed hair. She walked round to my side of the desk and pulled my chair back, then slowly lowered herself onto my lap. Sitting sideways on, she leaned into the phone.

“Hi daddy!”

Sir Royston asked how his daughter was getting on. “She’s never had a head for numbers. Not like her old man,” he told me.

Sophie slid her body down my legs until she was kneeling on the floor.

“I’m surprised to hear that,” I lied.

I felt Sophie's hands moving up my thighs, her fingertips like electricity shooting into my body. Making me hard.

“She’s doing really well.”

He pressed me to be more specific. What did I think were her key skills? Right at that moment, she was proving adept at giving me an erection that strained against my zipper.

“That’s a tough question. She’s an all-rounder.” I felt a tugging sensation, then sweet relief. Sophie pulled my zipper down and my cock sprung free, wobbling in the air.

“But if she had to focus on one thing,” Sir Royston insisted. His daughter wrapped her fingers around my shaft.

“What would it be?”

“She has excellent communication skills,” I said, talking about the woman whose tongue was now flicking the head of my cock. “She really understands people.”

I looked down as I said it, and saw Sophie smile. She looked back at me and held my gaze as she teased me.

“She’s really talented, Sir Royston,” I sighed, and watched as my cock slowly disappeared into Sophie’s mouth. “You should be proud.”

Somehow, I managed to stay focussed as Sophie’s head bobbed in my lap. She maintained eye contact as she moved up and down my shaft, stopping to lick the tip. It was swelling, growing thicker as she brought me closer to the edge.

“I really need to go,” I told my boss, waving urgently at Sophie to stop. “I need to prevent a minor catastrophe.”

Sophie looked up, holding my cock away from her face. I ended the call and sighed with relief.

“A catastrophe?” She laughed. “That’s a new name for it.”

“What was I supposed to tell him? Excuse me, I’m about to cum in your daughter’s mouth?”

“I would have loved it if you did. Tell him, I mean. Not actually do it.”

She let my erection loose from her grip. The air felt cold on my skin.

Sophie pushed herself up and adjusted her dress, covering herself back up. I realised with horror that she was finished.

“But … But I…” I stuttered.

“You said it yourself,” she said softly. “It wouldn’t be professional.”

As I sat, my hard cock jutting from my clothes with its swollen head trembling,I was overcome by a wave of lust. My memory of what happened next is vague.

I grabbed Sophie’s arm firmly and pulled her towards me, knocking her off balance. She stumbled, putting out her other hand and falling diagonally onto my lap.. She pushed herself back up so she was straddling my legs, holding my shoulders for support. Her dress had ridden up to her waist and I could feel the warmth and wetness of her through my clothes.

Sophie looked surprised, but that changed to shock when I lifted my legs suddenly and sharply. Her ass slid forward and she crashed into my lap. My cock was jammed between our bodies, upright. I could feel her pussy, soft and warm, pushing the underside of my shaft. I put my hands on her ass. It was soft and tight against my fingers as I lifted her up and off me, until my dick was free.

As it flopped forward, I brought Sophie back down. Holding her still, I carefully placed her in my lap, pulling her forward until my tip was pressed against her clit.

She gasped.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered. “Not here. Not yet.”

I gently nibbled her ear and whispered as I started to move my hips.

“How about this?”

I was stroking her with my cock, up and down along the line of her lips, and over her clit.

Sophie moaned softly. I kept going.

I could feel her getting wet, making it easier to glide over her skin. Soon, she was so turned on I felt her open to me. Her pussy wrapped around my cock, urging me in. I had to hold my shaft between my fingers to stop it from sliding inside her as she grinded her body into mine.

I kept my rhythm, stroking her clit with my swelling head. Her breathing was sharp and shallow.

Sophie moaned.

“Don’t stop. I’m going to cum.”

She started grinding her clit into me even harder. I had my whole hand around my shaft, trying to hold back. She was so wet that each time I stroked her, her pussy devoured the tip.

Sophie was moving so enthusiastically that eventually she lost her balance. She fell backwards, her arms desperately flailing to stop the motion. She grabbed hold of my right arm - conveniently placed between us as I desperately clung onto my dick - just below the elbow. She hauled herself upright, breaking the fall.

It happened so quickly, with the full weight of her body suddenly and unexpectedly tugging at my arm. The force pulled my hand away, leaving my rock hard cock pointing upwards as Sophie regained her balance and sat heavily back into my lap.

I felt the briefest resistance, a light pressure on the tip of my cock as it pushed her apart. We looked at each other but didn’t have time to react. She was so wet that my entire length effortlessly slipped inside her. I watched her eyes growing wider as I filled her up.

She was so tight, and I could feel her grip against my shaft. I moved my hips back and started to pull myself out of her, slowly, inch by inch. I don’t have the biggest cock in the world, but it is thick. And Sophie could feel as the head moved backwards inside her until it was between her tight lips. I pushed again, and my body crashed into hers. My cock slammed into her g-spot and she moaned.

“Oops,” I whispered. “I guess I shouldn’t do this, should I?”

I started to pump in and out of her, slowly.

“No,” she sighed. She didn’t stop me.

“Or this?” I said. I put my thumb to her clit and started stroking her in time with my thrusts. In response, Sophie ground her hips against me harder and faster. I could tell she was close.

But so was I. I was rock hard as Sophie slid up and down me. I tried to control my breathing, hoping I could buy myself enough time for her to come first.

Sophie threw her head back and I felt her whole body shake. I put my hands on her shoulders as her muscles began to tense up. Her pussy squeezed tight around my cock and I lost control.

I pushed her downwards, hard, and thrust one final time. My length throbbed between her pussy lips and she tried to push herself off me. I held her firmly in place as I pumped her full.

I let go of Sophie and slumped back into the chair. She stood up and tried to re-arrange her dress. My cum was already trickling out of her, coating her skin.

“Sorry about that,” I said, pointing to her glazed thighs.

“It’s not me you need to worry about,” she said. “But daddy might have something to say.”