The Boss' Proposal

by Seraphina Donavan

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Chapter One

  The ride back to the city was a quiet one. The tension in the car between Anthony Callahan and Grace Marcum was palpable. It was strange, Anthony thought, to imagine that only a short time earlier they’d been lying in bed together, spent and satisfied. Now, Grace hadn’t spoken a word since she’d asked him to take her home. The photos on his phone, the mysterious texts attached to intimate photos of them, were worrisome in a number of ways. He hated the idea that someone had spied on them, stalked them. That someone had seen them together, filmed intimate moments between the two of them was a violation. He had to wonder if Grace was in danger. There was little doubt that the mysterious blackmailer, whoever they were, was after him. Such things were normally motivated by greed, and while he paid Grace a generous salary, no one would think to extort money from her. Greed made people dangerous.

  There was also the other factor. Grace was unable to see herself through his eyes. She had no idea how beautiful she was, how perfect he found her. Yes, there were those who would question their relationship because Grace was not model thin, but he didn’t care about them or their opinions. Still, Grace did. She feared their scorn and ridicule. The idea of taking their relationship public petrified her. For it to go public in such a devastating way, he knew he would lose her.

  Anthony turned the car off the expressway, taking them down the narrow city streets toward Grace’s small apartment. He parked out front and retrieved her bag from the trunk, walking her up the three flights of stairs to her door. With the key near the lock she hesitated, and then turned to him. His gut clenched, fearing the worst.

  “I don’t think you should come in… I need to think.”

  The fury that hit him was unexpected. It was fueled mostly by fear. He could feel her slipping away. “Don’t do this, Grace. Don’t let this asshole, whoever he is, destroy what we’ve found together.”

  She shook her head. He could see tears in her eyes. “I just don’t know that I’m ready to face all this… and to do it this way, with such private, intimate parts of our life laid out for the masses. You can’t even get your hair cut without it making the tabloids.”

  “Grace, is any of that as important as the fact that I love you…and you love me.”

  “No…but I just can’t think right now. I need to clear my head. Please.”

  Anthony did the only thing he could think to do in that moment. He kissed her. Pressing her back against the door, he devoured her mouth. Everything he felt—need, desire, fear, anger—he poured it all into that kiss. Sliding his tongue between her parted lips, he traced every curve, every contour of her mouth, as if memorizing the taste and feel of her. It terrified him that he might have nothing but memories to hold onto. It helped, somewhat, that she clung to him, that her hands came up and clasped his shoulders. Her nails scored him through the layers of his clothes and her breasts pressed wantonly against his chest. The soft moan that escaped her was a balm to him.

  When he finally broke the kiss, he was breathing raggedly, as was Grace. Resting his forehead against hers, he held for a moment, savoring the softness of her body against him. “It isn’t just you that’s affected by all this, Grace,” he said simply. With that, he stepped away from her, both of them reluctantly letting go and returned to his car. Driving away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Bourbon, he decided, was the only viable solution.

  GRACE stared after him, wanting to call him back, but knowing that she couldn’t. Finally, she unlocked her door and shoved her suitcase inside. Locking up behind her, she went directly to the freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream. She put it away again without even taking a bite. It wasn’t hunger prompting her to reach for it, and it wouldn’t do anything to ease the ache in her chest or the cold, hard knot of fear that coiled in her belly. Pulling out her cell phone, Grace called Celia, her best friend.

  “Can you come over?”

  “I thought this was your big mystery weekend?” Celia asked.

  “It didn’t go as planned.”

  “I’ll bring chocolate,” Celia said.

  Ten minutes later Grace was opening the door to Celia who held a bottle of wine in one hand and take out box of cheesecake in the other. “I love you,” she said.

  “Girl, it’s time you fess up. I want to know what has been going on with you and this man. Is he married?”

  Grace took the wine to the kitchen and opened it, pouring it liberally into two large glasses. “No, Celia, he isn’t married. It’s worse,” Grace said, meeting Celia’s dubious stare as she handed her the wine. “It’s Anthony Callahan. I’ve been having an affair with our boss.”

  Celia made a high pitched noise somewhere between a squeal and communicating with sea life. “You have so got to spill, baby girl! Please tell me that man looks as fine out of his suits as he does in them!”

  “Better actually… But I just don’t think this is working, Celia. It’s gotten so complicated.”

  Celia took Grace’s hands in hers. “This isn’t just a sex thing with him, is it? No friends with benefits. It’s the real deal for you. But what is it for him?”

  Grace felt the tears welling up, “He says that he loves me. That he wants the world to know we’re together… but what will people say? I know what I look like, Celia, and I’m fine with it. But that doesn’t mean I want to put myself out there for the entire world to pick me apart.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s what this is all about? You have a man—worth billions, well respected in the business world, most sought after bachelor in the state, fine as hell, too— he says that he loves you and wants to be with you and you think what someone else says matters more than that?”

  In that light, Grace knew that Celia was making a very good point. “Someone knows about us, Celia. They’ve been watching us and they have some very…well, intimate photos, for lack of a better word. They haven’t made any demands yet, but they’re coming, I’m sure.”

  “Girl, I’d be making a sex tape worthy of a Kardashian if I was you. Gracie, I love you, but you have been alone for a long time…and even when you’ve had people in your life, they’ve never loved you just for you. Do you believe that he does?”

  “Yes. When it’s just us, Celia, it’s perfect.”

  “Then go get his ass…you leave the wine and cheesecake here with me, and you go climb that man!”

  “He was so upset when he left here, Celia. I don’t know how to make it right.”

  “I’d advise nudity. Not a one of them can remember what pissed them off when they’re looking at your tits… You have a trench coat, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Strip. Put on that coat, and the highest heels you on and go get him.”

  Could she do that, Grace wondered? Could she really leave her house wearing nothing but a coat and a pair of high heels? Yes, she decided. Thinking of Anthony’s face when he saw her that way was all the incentive she needed. Dashing to her bedroom, Grace repaired her makeup and then removed every last stitch she had on. The black trench coat barely came to her knees, and it gaped alarmingly over her thighs. But with the belt cinched tightly, it would provide enough coverage to keep her out of jail. She slid her feet into the nude heels she’d worn the night before when Anthony had taken her to dinner, and as an afterthought, added the pearls.

  Celia held the door for her as she left. Outside, she hailed a taxi and climbed in carefully, trying her best to flash her neighbors.

  RICHARD Beatty watched as Grace climbed in the back of the taxi. Cold fury swept through him. He had thought tha
t when Anthony dropped her off and left, looking less than pleased, that he’d managed to destroy their happy, little affair. It had been an oddly pleasing notion. Now, overhearing Grace give the cabby Anthony’s address, he knew that wasn’t true. It seemed that no matter what, Callahan always came out on top. Richard knew then that destroying their relationship and taking Anthony’s job wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to take everything. When he considered what the Callahan’s had stolen from him, it was only fair, he told himself. They robbed him of everything that should have been his. He would now do the same.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Anthony lifted the glass to his lips again, draining the last of the bourbon and feeling it settle heavily in his stomach. It had stopped burning after the first two. The intercom buzzed and he walked over to the wall unit. The doorman spoke hesitantly, “Mr. Callahan, sir, there is a woman here claiming to be your secretary.”

  “Grace?” he asked. There was a muffled conversation between the doorman and the mystery woman.

  “Yes, Mr. Callahan. Grace Marcum, sir. She says she has something urgent to discuss with you.”

  “Send her up, William,” he said. His curiosity was getting the better of him. There was still a healthy dose of mad. But then he reminded himself that it was Grace, coming to him openly. That was definitely something new.

  He opened the door and waited. When the elevator dinged and she appeared, his cock hardened instantly. She walked toward him on those towering heels, offering a tantalizing glimpse of naked thighs. It only begged the question of exactly what she might be wearing under her prim coat. He saw the pearls lying gracefully against her neck and his mind immediately went to the gutter. It was a common occurrence when he thought of Grace.

  “This is a surprise. I was expecting never to set eyes on you again… That I’d have an emailed resignation waiting for me,” he said, not liking how bitter he sounded.

  “If it hadn’t been for Celia convincing me that I’m an idiot, you probably wouldn’t have even gotten the resignation. I would have just left. I’m not very good at being brave,” she said. There in the hallway, outside his luxurious, high-rise apartment, Grace reached for the belt of her trench coat and let it fall open. Naked, she stared back at him. “But I’m working on being more daring.”

  “I’d say you’re succeeding,” he said, and reached for her hand, tugging her against him. “Did you really come all the way here wearing nothing but a coat?”

  “I’ve never climbed into or out of a taxi so carefully in my life,” she admitted ruefully.

  He laughed as he tugged her inside, closing and locking the door behind him. “So this is it then, Grace? No more hiding?”

  She shook her head, “No more hiding.”

  “Take off the coat, Grace.” His voice was low, commanding and undeniably carnal.

  Grace shivered as she followed that order. She allowed the garment to drop to the floor and stood before him completely bare. His eyes traveled over her, and everywhere he looked, her skin heated. Her nipples puckered into taut buds beneath his hungry gaze and she could feel the dampness gathering between her thighs.

  “Up the stairs,” he ordered. “And, Grace, take your time. I want to enjoy the view.”

  Grace shuddered. Once upon a time, even looking at herself naked had been painful at times, but when Anthony looked at her, she felt beautiful, desirable. Turning, she began the long climb up the stairs, knowing that he watched her every step. He followed behind her, occasionally reaching out to stroke the curve of her hip, or slide his fingers up the back the of her thigh. By the time they reached the top, she was breathless and it had nothing to do with exertion. She wanted to stop right there and beg him to just take her.

  “That door,” he said, pointing to a carved mahogany work of art, “is my bedroom. I’ve dreamed of you there, Grace. Seeing you spread out across my bed, mine to love…to please…to punish when needed. Do you need to be punished, Grace?”

  Grace felt his hand settle firmly but gently on the right cheek of her bottom. If she said yes his touch wouldn’t remain gentle for long. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

  Anthony closed his eyes in an agony of lust. Watching her walk slowly up the stairs, the sway of her lush ass at eye level, the occasional tantalizing peek at her sex, had nearly killed him. Now, the idea of having Grace kneeling on his bed as he spanked her, and then fucked her, was driving him to the brink and beyond. Opening the bedroom door, he ushered her inside. The room was intensely masculine. Dark, modern furnishings and a bed that consisted of a padded, leather headboard on a raised dais. Beneath that headboard, attached to the dais, were metal rings, fashioned for the express purpose of binding someone. But that would come later, he thought. For the moment, he wanted Grace on her knees in front of him, her lovely bottom raised and waiting for the spanking that would drive them both over the edge.

  “Kneel on the bed,” he whispered. When she complied, he went to his closet and retrieved some of the items that he had hesitated to introduce Grace to. She wasn’t holding back anymore, and he wouldn’t either. The small leather paddle had been monogrammed with their initials. Taking up his position behind her, Anthony lifted the paddle and brought it down on her bare bottom. She moaned loudly, and a red welt blossomed on the white skin of her ass. He brought the paddle down again, in almost exactly the same spot, offset just enough to spread the intense heat. He watched Grace as she collapsed, her face pressing against the bedding and her fingers twisting in the fabric. “Have you been punished enough, Grace?”

  “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.