Rival Interns

Jade and Karlee hunch over keyboards, ears pricked. From her office, Sovereign roars at her assistant and fires her on the spot. The door opens. Sovereign steps out, eyes dark, and orders the two interns into the ring: whichever one can prove herself strongest takes the empty chair. Tasks fly like punches all afternoon—paperwork, coffee runs, typed reports lined up without a smudge. Late, Sovereign sends Karlee on an errand. Silence presses once she’s gone. When the door finally swings wide again, Karlee freezes. Jade is on her knees under the big oak desk, face buried, tongue working deep between Sovereign’s spread thighs. Wet sounds echo. Jade’s hands clutch Sovereign’s hips; Sovereign’s fingers twist through Jade’s hair, guiding the rhythm. Sovereign’s smile cuts like a knife. "Jade already advanced. Now that you’re back, let’s see you both fight for real. Strip, girls. Fuck each other. Winner stays." Karlee’s throat bobs. Jade licks her lips, chin glossy. Neither wants to step on that line, but the prize stares them down. They lean in. Lips meet, soft at first, then crash harder, tongues tangling. Clothes drop in crumpled heaps. Jade shoves Karlee onto the leather couch, climbs over her, mouths a stiff nipple, bites just enough to make Karlee gasp. Fingers slide between folds already slick and hot, two at once, curling, thrusting. Karlee bucks, drags Jade’s mouth back to hers, desperate. Every moan bounces off the walls like gunfire. They grind, they push, they claw for the job that now feels like breath and blood, rival bodies locked and driving toward that one thin shot at staying.