Seducing the Boss Lady

by Cooper, Sharon C.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Peyton.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cutter.”

  “Call me Carlton. We keep things pretty informal around here.”

  Peyton shook his hand thinking that a recruiter for a voice-over artist would kill for a client like Carlton whose deep, bass-baritone sounded so much like Barry White.

  “Welcome to New York. I hope you’re enjoying your visit,” Carlton said.

  Her gaze met Michael’s. “Thank you. So far I’m having a great time.”

  Michael winked at her and an unexpected warmth pooled at the center of her core making it almost unbearable to stand still. She didn’t know what all he had planned for the evening, but she couldn’t wait to find out.

  Michael’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me for a minute. I need to take this.” He handed Peyton a bottle of water and squeezed her shoulder on his way out of the room.

  Peyton sipped from the bottle, her hands shaking slightly. She hadn’t met a man’s family in a long time and forgot how awkward it could be.

  “Michael mentioned earlier that you two were going to tour Manhattan. How did it go?” Carlton sat at the small glass table where Michaela was eating chicken fingers.

  “From what I’ve seen of New York so far, I love it. I think Central Park and Times Square are my favorite. The energy of the city is very different from what I’m used to in Cincinnati, but I don’t know if I would ever get used to so many people.”

  Laura flashed that same warm smile as earlier. “I know what you mean, but the other boroughs aren’t as congested as Manhattan. I’ve lived in New York my whole life and despite the number of people, I don’t think I could ever live anywhere else in the country. Like you, I love the energy of Manhattan and there’s always so much to do.”

  They discussed some of the sites that Peyton had visited and talked a little about her work in Cincinnati. As with conversation with Michael, Peyton found it easy to talk to his parents. Laura had a similar sense of humor as her son that immediately put Peyton at ease.

  “Dad, can you come here for a minute?” Michael called from the other room, and Carlton excused himself.

  Peyton took another sip from the bottled water when there was a lull in the conversation and glanced across the room at Michaela. She finished her dinner and handed her plate to Laura before strolling around the counter to Peyton.

  “Are you my daddy’s girlfriend?”

  Peyton sputtered and coughed, her water going down wrong. She stood patting her chest, trying to catch her breath, tears clouding her eyes.

  “Michaela, what did I tell you before your daddy and Peyton got here?” Laura whispered loud enough for Peyton to hear as she moved Michaela back toward the round kitchen table.

  “Are you okay?” Laura came up behind Peyton, rubbing her back.

  Peyton nodded, still coughing and unable to speak.

  Michael re-entered the kitchen, stuffing his phone into his pant pocket. His gaze met Peyton’s and his brows dipped into a frown.

  “What’s wrong?” He walked over and cupped her cheek, concern swimming in his eyes. No doubt she was probably beet red, a disadvantage of having such fair skin. “What happened?”

  “Nothing, my water just went down wrong.” Peyton used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “I’m fine, and Michaela, your daddy and I are just friends.”

  “Oh,” she said as if disappointed. Michael turned to his daughter, but before he could say anything Michaela said, “Uncle Shon said Daddy needs to get laid and—”

  “Michaela!” Michael and his mother said in unison, both looking as if they wanted to place tape over the little girl’s mouth.

  Michael shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Wait until I get my hands on that…” his voice trailed off, and he released a noisy sigh.

  “Michaela, go and get your bag. We need to get going,” Carlton said walking back into the kitchen. Apparently he had heard his granddaughter. His exasperated expression matched Michael’s and Laura’s.

  “Papa, I don’t want to go. I want to stay with Daddy and Peyton,” Michaela said to Carlton, but huddled up to Michael, her little arms around his leg.

  “Michaela, we talked about this. You’re staying with Nana and Papa tonight and tomorrow. Remember?”

  She pouted more and didn’t respond.

  “Go and get your bag now,” Michael said, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

  Michaela looked up, her teary-eyed gaze bouncing from him to Peyton and back again.

  “Can I show Peyton my room first? Pleeeease?”

  Peyton had to give Michaela credit for her stall technique.

  “What did I te—”

  “I would love to see your room,” Peyton interrupted and gave Michael a slight shrug. She didn’t know how he could say no to Michaela’s sweet little face.

  Michael hesitated, and Peyton saw the smile on his mother’s face as she turned to busy herself wiping down the kitchen counter.

  “Five minutes, Michaela, then you’re outta here.” Michael directed the words at Michaela, but his gaze was on Peyton. She read him loud and clear.

  Thirty minutes later, Michael locked the front door, set the alarm, and turned to Peyton. “I have waited all day to have you all to myself.”

  Peyton smiled and moved toward him. This had been one of the best days she’d had in a long time. Spending the day with him and then meeting his family felt normal. And she was in love with Michaela. The little girl had a big personality to be so young. She reminded Peyton of Martina, saying whatever was on her mind.

  “Now that you have me to yourself, what are you going to do with me?”

  Michael gave her a quick kiss, then held her hand and headed to the kitchen, turning off lights along the way.

  Giddiness bubbled inside of her, but she reminded herself that though they were spending the next few days together, it didn’t mean a lifetime commitment. She was okay with that. They were both consenting adults about to have some fun.

  Michael released her hand and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a can of whipped cream.

  Adrenaline soared through Peyton’s veins in anticipation of his plans. While married, she and Dylan rarely tried anything new in the bedroom and right now, Peyton was willing to try just about anything with Michael. “Um…I’m almost afraid to ask what you have in mind.”

  “Get your head out of the gutter, woman.” Michael laughed and reached back into the refrigerator. “I just needed something to go with the strawberries.” He held them up for her to see.

  “Oh.” Peyton was sure the heat flushing her face had her looking like a bright red tomato. Michael was the adventurous type, and she assumed that when he said he had big plans for her that evening, it would probably involve something freakier than the night before.

  Michael set the items down and locked Peyton in place against the counter, his powerful arms on each side of her. “I’m…” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Just…” He kissed her cheek. “Messing with you.” The feathery touch of his lips on hers tantalized every nerve in her body, and she would have puddled to the floor had he not placed a hand on her hip. Mumbling against her mouth, he said, “I plan to make this a night you’ll remember, whipped cream and all.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Minutes later, Michael handed Peyton the whipped cream and strawberries while he climbed the stairs with her luggage. He couldn’t wait to get Peyton naked and into his bed, and not necessarily in that order.

  Michael guided her down the hallway to his bedroom and pushed open the door. Setting her bags inside the room, he flipped the two switches against the wall. One bathed the room with dim lighting from the bedside table lamps. The other controlled the room’s audio system. The sound of Boney James melodic saxophone flowed softly around the room through the hidden speakers in the ceiling.

  “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  Peyton set the props next to t
he lamp on the bedside table, closest to the door, and slowly glanced around the space. “This room is huge. Ohhh and you have a fireplace. I’ve always wanted one in my bedroom.” The awe in her voice had him sticking his chest out more, glad that she liked the space that was probably more masculine than she was accustomed to. His large, king sized bed made of a dark cherry wood, took up much of the space. A small reading area, comprised of his favorite wide chair and a round table, sat near the fireplace.

  “I’ll get us a fire going and warm it up in here,” Michael said when Peyton stepped away from the fireplace and roamed around the bedroom, studying the artwork he had on the walls. Michael bent to place a log in the fireplace.

  A slight tremble of his hands when he added the log, had him chuckling to himself. This was the first time he’d ever brought a woman to his home, and never had one shared his bed. Not even Octavia. He preferred to go to a woman’s place not only because of Michaela but because he didn’t want any woman getting too comfortable in his space. But Peyton wasn’t just any woman. He knew there was something special about her from the moment they met.

  Michael pulled the flimsy fireplace screen together and stood. “If you want, you ca…” His words lodged inside of his throat when he turned to find Peyton stretched out on his bed in the skimpiest bra and panty set he’d ever seen on a woman.

  “You said to make myself comfortable.” The sexy purr of her voice had him lifting his T-shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor.

  “I did, didn’t I?” He toed off his left boot and then his right, glad he never bothered tying up the footwear. His gaze took in the lacy, pink bra showcasing Peyton’s bountiful breasts and the little strip of material masquerading as panties.

  Peyton sat forward and unhooked the bra, tossing the pink lace dramatically to the floor on the side of the bed. She went for her undies.

  “Stop.” Peyton’s hands stilled on the band of her panties. “You gotta save something for me to do, baby.”

  Michael hurried, his heart rate kicking up a notch as he hastily removed his jeans. Tossing them into the heap he’d created with his other clothes, he crawled onto the bed, clad in only his boxer briefs.

  Michael took his time and eased the tiny lace down Peyton’s long, shapely legs and brought the panties to his nose, inhaling the erotic scent as his gaze locked onto hers. The right corner of her lips lifted and Michael’s penis leaped to attention.

  Damn. This woman. This incredibly sexy woman had him all twisted up inside. He set the undies aside and grabbed the can of whipped cream from the table, shaking it.

  “You look so good. I can’t decide where to start.” He hovered above Peyton, his gaze on her perky breasts. He was definitely a breasts man.

  Michael straddled Peyton, shaking the can more and grinning when she shivered beneath him.

  She placed her hands against his chest and laughed. “Michael, I don’t know about this.”

  He grabbed her wrists in his large hands and held them above her head. Not giving her a chance to say anything, he squeezed the tip of the can, creating a circle of whip cream over one of her nipples.

  Peyton bucked under him. “Oh my God! Michael!” She giggled, wiggling beneath him, her pelvis bumping against his erection, sending a shiver through his body. “That’s co…cold.”

  “You keep moving like that, and this is going to be over way too fast,” he ground out, his shaft growing thicker, straining against his briefs.

  Wanting to finish what he’d started, Michael covered the other perky peak, eliciting the same reaction from Peyton, but ignoring her protests. He lowered his head and slid his tongue around her nipple, her sweetness blending with that of the cream.

  Peyton’s sexy moans mingling with the soft jazz, had Michael dropping the can next to them thinking he’d have to get to the strawberries later. He lifted one of her hips, grinding hard against her, knowing that he was playing with fire. He bit down lightly on her nipple, and she purred, a sound that he was quickly getting used to.

  “Michael,” she whimpered, pulling her hands from his grip and holding the back of his head as she continued squirming, her moans growing louder.

  Michael worshiped the other nipple, taking his time cleaning off the cream with slow, sweeping strokes of his tongue. He would have kept going had her hands not moved to his ass, and she ground harder against him.

  Peyton’s nipple plopped from his mouth, and Michael covered her lips with his, growling against them. Her erotic moans were like fuel, stoking the wildfire burning inside of him and his defenses were no match for the power she had over him. His tongue did a hungry exploration, ravishing her mouth as his arousal inched higher and higher, but it wasn’t enough.

  Michael snatched his mouth from hers and gripped her hips, stilling her in place, his shaft throbbing with need. “I wanted to take this slow, baby, but—”

  “Next time. You can go slow next time.” She cupped his package and squeezed, prompting curses to fly from his mouth, and pure pleasure gripped his body.

  “Ahh, hell.” He lifted up and stripped out of his briefs. He opened the drawer on the side of the bed and grabbed a condom, quickly sheathing himself. “You’re too damn much for me,” he grumbled when he nudged her legs wider with his knees.

  Michael entered her, and it was if he had arrived home after a long trip. Peyton cried out and tightened around him. Michael froze. Fear gripped his body. “Did I hurt—”

  “Don’t stop. Baby, please don’t stop.” Peyton grasped his butt, forcing him to slide up and down, and in and out of her tightness. Michael squeezed her hips, fighting against the need to take her quicker. But Peyton’s slick heat enveloped him like a thick blanket, warming him from the inside out.

  Michael knew he couldn’t take much more of this. He increased his pace and Peyton matched him, stroke for stroke, pulling him deeper into her sweet heat. Michael groaned, gritting his teeth, trying to hold onto the little control he had left, but loving the friction of her body rubbed up against his.

  Peyton’s legs wrapped around his waist, and he pounded into her faster and harder, his hands slipping on her sweat, slicked thighs.

  “Michael!” Peyton hoarse cry rang out near his ear, as she squeezed his biceps, crumbling in his arms. Michael loved hearing her scream his name.

  A few more hard thrusts and he stiffened. His body tightened as an orgasm ripped through him, sending a growl from the pit of his stomach rushing out of his mouth as his world spun out of control.

  He collapsed on top of her, his eyes tightly closed as he fought to catch his breath. Hearing Peyton panting near his ear, he quickly lifted, not wanting to crush her. The sticky whipped cream residue on her breasts stuck to him. A reminder that he never got to finish what he’d started.

  Michael rolled to his back, pulling Peyton against his side. They lay gasping for air, and Michael chuckled. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

  “Me?” she wheezed. “You’re the one doing wicked things with whipped cream and your tongue.”

  “I…I couldn’t help it. Your breasts tempt me in ways I can’t even explain.”

  “Good. I like being able to tempt you.”

  “And you do it so well.” Michael tweaked her nipple, and she yelped, swiping his hand away. He pulled her on top of him. “I love playing with you. Next time – wait ‘til you see what I can do with strawberries.”

  *

  Hours later, Michael returned to the bed and pulled Peyton into his arms, kissing the top of her head. Sated, they lay quietly in the dimly lit room, wood crackling in the fireplace and the smooth sounds of Najee playing through the room’s speakers.

  Peyton snuggled closer, her leg draped over his thigh and her small hand resting on his chest. This felt right. Hell, everything about his time with her felt right.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

  “When we were in Jamaica, you asked me about the long scar on my neck,” Michael started, knowing it was past time f
or him to tell her his story.

  “I remember,” Peyton said quietly, her fingers tracing a path along the scar.

  He covered her hand, drawing strength from her to discuss something he rarely shared with anyone.

  “I was cut with a broken bottle during a bar fight. I’d had a little too much to drink. Add that to my cocky attitude and you have a bad combination.” He had blocked so many of the details of that evening out, but there was so much of his life he wished he could erase from his memory. “I was meeting, Octavia, Michaela’s mom there with the intention of ending our relationship.”

  Peyton lifted her head, her brows raised. “At a bar?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I made a lot of poor decisions that night.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. In hindsight, maybe telling Peyton about that time in his life might not be the best idea. But this was a conversation they needed to have at some point. After spending the last couple of days with her, Michael wanted her in his life in some capacity. He wanted unconditional love. Someone he could depend on. A person who trusted him enough to depend on him. He wanted what Luke and Christina had found in each other. He wanted what his stepfather and his mother had.

  Part of Michael could see spending his life with Peyton. Would she be able to handle the baggage from his past? More importantly, was he ready to give her the type of relationship and commitment she wanted? Could he be the man she deserved?

  He let those questions marinate in his mind. Maybe they could just play that part of their relationship by ear. Michael had no intention of dating anyone else, and he knew Peyton was a one-man woman. Besides, they’d only known each other a month. It was too early to be thinking about commitments anyway.

  Peyton lifted up on her elbow. “What led to the fight?” Staring into her caring eyes gave him the encouragement needed to continue.

  “I've always had a short fuse when it comes to men putting their hands on women or children. And that night…”