The Boss' Proposal (Book 4) (Callahan's Secretary) (2 page)

“No,” she said.  “More.”

He smiled, and then brought the paddle down on the other cheek, once, then again.  Symmetry was an important part of the experience.  From that point he alternated, the paddle slapping against one cheek and then the other, until her milk, white skin was red and hot to the touch.  Grace was sobbing and writhing on the bed, thrusting back against him, seeking.  He reached for the other item that he’d retrieved from his bag.  It had been intended to be a surprise for Grace that weekend, something new her. 

“Have you ever used a vibrator, Grace?” he asked. 

“No,” she said, her face turning nearly as red as her bottom. 

“Somehow, I thought that would be your answer,” he said.  With a deft motion, he turned on the small, egg-shaped device. 

It was faint, softly massaging, as he rolled the vibrator over her skin, massaging the welts that had been raised on her bottom.  When he turned her over and rolled it over her breasts, teasing but never pressing against her aching nipples, Grace cried out in protest.  When he touched those taut peaks, rolling the device over them, then following with his mouth.  His tongue teased each bud in turn, and his teeth scraped lightly in its wake.  While his mouth played at her breasts, tormenting them, he moved the small toy lower, sliding it over the damp slit of her sex.  Grace whimpered, arching up, opening herself for him. 

Anthony slipped the toy between the slick, swollen lips of her pussy, pressing it against her clit.  Her cry was guttural, earthy.  It was a primal response to pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.  Increasing the speed just a bit, he pressed harder against the tight, bundle of nerves.  Grace screamed again, her whole body arching up from the bed as her orgasm simply took her.  Her body shuddered with pleasure beneath him, and he watched, rapt and awed by how beautiful she was in that moment.  While Grace recovered, her body trembling in the aftermath, Anthony quickly stripped off his clothes and rejoined her on the bed.  Kneeling between her parted thighs, he couldn’t resist tasting her.  Pressing his mouth to her slit, he swept his tongue inside her.  Grace shivered and cried his name, clutching at his shoulders. 

“I want to feel you inside me, Anthony,” she said. 

He moved over her, kissing her hard as he plunged his cock inside her.  Her body opened to him, accepting him, welcoming him.  It had never felt so right.  “You’re mine, Grace,” he said.  There was a fierceness to his voice that surprised him, but he meant it.  He meant every word of it.  “Say it.”

She clung to him, her arms and legs locked around him.  “I’m yours.  For as long as you want me, I’m yours.”

“Forever,” he said, withdrawing and sliding home again.  The wet heat, the clutch of her sex around his cock, was un unbearable pleasure and he gave himself up to it.  Mindlessly, he thrust and withdrew until they were both panting, hovering on the precipice.  Moving faster, more intent on ending the sensual torment, he thrust again—deep and hard.  She shattered around him, the walls of her sex clenching rhythmically as she sobbed his name.  He tensed and then shuddered as he erupted inside her, filling her with his very essence. 

“I love you,” she whispered.  “I love you so much that it scares me to death.”

He held her, stroking her hair, savoring the feel of her skin against him.  “I’m forty years old, Grace.  I’ve got thirteen years on you, but I’ve never felt about anyone else the way I feel about you.  I love you, and you’re stuck with me.  So get used to it.”

She smiled then, nuzzling her face against his chest.  “I want to.  I really, really do.”

CHAPTER THREE

Anthony awoke to a dreary sky outside his window.  The day was gray and overcast.  He could hear Grace moving around downstairs, singing as she puttered in his kitchen.  It felt so perfect to have her there.  But there was still a threat.  Reaching for his pants, discarded last night, he pulled them on and retrieved his phone from the pocket.  He checked the messages and saw that his investigator had replied.  The number belonged to a burner phone.  He would be able to use GPS triangulation to at least get some idea of where the phone was, but it would take time.       Anthony texted him to continue and then turned to other more pressing matters.  From the top drawer of his dresser, he retrieved the small jeweler’s box.  He’d bought it at the same time he’d bought the pearls for Grace, but hadn’t felt she was ready for it then.  She probably wasn’t ready for it still, he thought.  But he was tired of waiting.  Heading downstairs, he paused outside the kitchen and simply drank in the sight that greeted him. 

Grace was standing in front of the stove, making french toast.  She wore one of his shirts.  The fabric stretched taut over her hips and bottom, and with each movement she made, he received a tantalizing glimpse of her bare bottom.  There were still faint red marks from the spanking he’d given her the night before.  When she turned to smile at him, her tousled hair piled in a knot and held in place with a pen she’d stolen from his desk, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  Artless, effortless, without guile of any kind, Grace wasn’t just what he wanted, but what he needed. 

“Good morning,” she said, with a cheeky grin.  “I was craving French toast, but since I have nothing to wear to go out for breakfast…”

“Wanton, shameless hussy,” he teased.

“If I’m shameless, you have no one but yourself to blame,” she shot back.

“Then I take full responsibility…Would it help if I said I wanted to make an honest woman of you?”  Pulling the jeweler’s box from his pocket, he placed it on the counter. 

Grace turned back to him, her eyes drifting to the small, white box.  She couldn’t breathe.  Literally, it felt as if the air in her lungs had simply frozen, refusing to be exhaled.  “Anthony?”

“It’s yours for the taking, Grace, and so am I.”

Her knees were weak as she moved toward him.  With trembling fingers she picked up the box and opened.  The ring inside was a work of art.  A large, brilliant emerald surrounded by smaller emeralds and diamonds, it winked even in the dim light.  “It’s beautiful…perfect, actually.”

“You’re perfect to me and you deserve to have beautiful things, Grace.  Just like you should have someone who loves you for who you are.  I want to be that man.  Forever, Grace.  I meant it when I said it last night.”

She wanted to speak, to say something eloquent and just as beautiful as what he’d said to her, but there weren’t any words.  Nothing would come.  With tears in her eyes, she removed the ring from the box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand.  It fit perfectly. 

“One word, Grace.  You just have to say one little word,” he said, his voice gently teasing. 

“Yes,” she whispered.  “Yes.”

Anthony pulled her close, ripping the shirt open.  Buttons skittered over the tile floor.  His hands roamed over her body, from her breasts to her hips, to the lush curve of her behind, and then dipped between her thighs, testing her readiness.  Finding her already wet and eager, Anthony lifted her against the counter and plunged his cock into her.  It was fast and hard, a claiming of everything that was his.

Grace could smell the smoke as the toast burned to cinders behind them, but she was incapable of caring.  Feeling him, hot and hard inside her, she could do nothing but cling to him and allow the waves of pleasure to crest and ebb inside her.  

In the aftermath, when they were both spent and boneless from their mutual release, Grace began to pick up the scattered buttons, while Anthony dealt with the remnants of their breakfast.  With all the buttons accounted for, Grace dropped them in a bowl on the counter, but something caught her eye.  Reaching into the bowl, she picked up the small cufflink with the intertwined A and C.  “Where is your other cufflink?” she asked.  They’d been his favorites.  She’d seen him wear them frequently. 

Anthony kissed her.  “I lost it.  In my office, doing naughty things with you.”

Grace paused, a sick feeling in her stomach.  She could remember Anthony’s hands in her hair, and then later, being on the elevator with Richard Beatty.  He’d plucked something from her hair, claiming it had been a piece of fuzz from her coat.  “Was that the day we argued about Richard Beatty?”

“Yes, it was.”

Grace recalled how he’d watched her as she’d walked out of the elevator.  “Anthony, I think I may know who’s blackmailing you.”

“Son of a bitch… you think it’s Beatty?”

“It’s purely circumstantial…just a hunch, really.  But yes.  I think it is.”  Briefly, Grace told him about the incident on the elevator, leaving out just how uncomfortable the whole thing had made her.  “Has the blackmailer asked anything of you yet?”

“He made his demands along with the last photo that was sent.  I’m supposed to resign as CEO.”

“Absolutely not!”

He took her hand, pulling her close to him.  “If I don’t, Grace, those photos go public.  I don’t want to put you through that.”

She shook her head.  Allowing him to give up something he loved for her was not something that she could do.  Having that sort of damage in their relationship was more than she could stand.  “I’d rather go through that than see you give up what you love… We’ll find a way to make this work, but we’re not giving in.”

“Grace, we’re not talking about just going public with our relationship.  You’ve seen the pictures.”

“It doesn’t matter.  We have nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to allow him to take something from you because of me.”

“Where did this come from?” he asked, more than a little surprised at her response. 

“I don’t know exactly.  But you love me.  You want me, just as I am.  It’s surprising how strong that makes me feel,” she said. 

“Then we face it together.”

“Call the investigator,” she said.  “If he has Richard Beatty as a starting point, it will go much quicker.”

“Grace, I’d rather give up the company than lose you.  You have to be certain this is something you can handle.”

Grace met his gaze levelly.  “As long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”

CHAPTER FOUR

It had been four days since Anthony’s proposal and their return to the office had been anticlimactic.  Though they had stopped hiding their relationship, and the ring flashing on Grace’s hand had raised more than a few eyebrows, Richard Beatty had been noticeably absent.  His desk had been cleared out and there was no indication of where he had gone.  Anthony continued to have his investigator work on locating him, but Grace could only assume that Beatty had been tipped off somehow to the fact that they were on to him.   Over the last few days, they’d gleaned very disturbing information about Beatty, who had apparently changed his name.  He’d been born James Richardson.  Beatty had been his mother’s name and after his father had lost control of his own company to Callahan Industries and committed suicide, he’d reverted to his mother’s surname.

Perhaps it was the very lack of activity that had exhausted her.  Living on a knife edge of anticipation, waiting for Beatty to make a move or for someone in the office to point their finger at her and call her a scarlet woman, had taken a toll.  Seating herself at her desk, she looked up as the door to Anthony’s office opened.  It didn’t matter how many times she looked at him, her stomach still fluttered nervously. 

“Why don’t you take off early?” he suggested.  “You look tired.”

“Well that’s flattering,” she responded drolly. 

“Beautiful,” he added, “but tired.  It’s been a long week, Grace.  It’s Friday afternoon.  You have the key to my apartment.  Go home, take a hot bath and relax.”

“If I go to your apartment, neither one of us will get any rest… I have some things I need to take care of home anyway.  I think I’ll stay at my house tonight and then tomorrow, I’ll come over.”

“I worry about you being alone there,” he said. 

“I’ll be fine.  I promise.  I’ll even call Celia to come over if I need her to.  You haven’t enjoyed your weekly poker game in months now,” she reminded him.  “Play cards, drink beer, smoke those disgusting cigars and enjoy the last vestiges of bachelorhood.”

He leaned toward her, bracing his palms on the desktop.  “I will.  But only because you actually do need rest and I can’t be trusted in the same room with you.” 

Grace smiled, and then her smile faded as he kissed her.  His lips caressed hers, coaxed gently, until she opened to him.  With his tongue gliding sensually against hers, Grace tried to remind herself that she had wanted to be alone for the night.  It was so hard to think when he touched her.  Forcing herself to break the kiss, she pushed her chair back, placing herself out of his reach.  “No more of that.  Save it for tomorrow.”

He sighed as he rose to his full height.  “You’re a hard woman, Grace Marcum.”

“Yes, I know.  Cold and ruthless… I will see you tomorrow.  You can me out to the little bistro we always order brunch from.”

Anthony chuckled as he grabbed her coat and helped her into it.  Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her neck, the sensitive spot just below her ear.  She shivered in response and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.  “Yes, my future wife.  We’ll meet there for brunch.  But after I get you back to my house, don’t plan on leaving it again until Monday morning.”

Grace was still smiling as she left the office.  She didn’t have to hail a taxi or fight with the subway.  Anthony’s car and driver were waiting for her at the front entrance.  Shaking her head at how spoiled and pampered she was becoming, Grace climbed into the backseat and settled in to ride home in luxury.               

When the car halted in front of her small apartment building, Grace jolted awake.  She’d dozed the entire ride home.  Shaking off the cobwebs of sleepiness, she climbed out of the car and up the three flights to her apartment.  By the time she reached her front door, she was simply too tired to do much of anything.  Unlocking the door, she stumbled inside.  After securing the door again, she collapsed onto the couch and snuggled down for a nap.  She wondered briefly if she were getting sick and made a mental note to call her doctor.  It was her lost thought before she once again fell into a deep sleep.