by Lacey Black
My last conscious thought is how good it feels to have her in my arms. When I stayed that first time, I was gone before the sun. Tomorrow, however, I get to wake with her in my arms, and hopefully, make slow, sweet love to her. I’m not making any pretenses that this is just a one-time thing. It can’t be. It feels too right for it not to be.
Convincing my head and her that we should continue is going to be the challenge. Is it wrong to sleep with a client? Sure. But it’s not forbidden. I’m just afraid of getting myself into a situation similar to the one I found with Brooke six years ago.
And Payton? She has a serious hang-up about the possibility of a relationship. In just a short period of time, I can tell she has some sort of past hurt. Something keeps her from going all-in with a guy, and I’m sure it’s going to be my greatest test to build up her trust to take down her walls. And her walls are thick, this I can already see. That’ll take some serious effort on my part, but my mind is made up. She’s the one that I want. And I’m up to the challenge.
I can already tell she’s worth it.
Chapter Thirteen
Payton
Warmth. I’m wrapped in it to the point of sweating. My skin feels damp, my limbs heavy as I try to pull myself from whatever deep slumber I was in last night. But, oh, what a glorious night it must have been. I awake feeling completely refreshed and ready to tackle day two of the show.
But then I move and encounter the reason for the heat.
Opening my eyes, I find Dean sleeping on his side, his arm wrapped around my abdomen. A flush creeps up my face as I remember everything about our date last night. The park, the elevator ride, the wall by the entrance. My skin starts to tingle again, but for another entirely different reason. Heat floods between my legs, reviving that dull ache I’ve had since I agreed to share a room with him.
Ah, who am I kidding? I’ve had this need since the first moment I saw him.
Glancing up at his face, I take in the peacefulness of his features while he sleeps. His angled jaw is more relaxed and his full lips slightly agape. His hair is tussled from sleeping, or maybe from me gripping it in my fists last night right before I came so hard I was temporarily blind.
The sheet is pulled up to his waist, but there’s no camouflaging the erection just beneath the surface. He’s pitching a tent that would have made my old Girl Scouts troop leader proud. My mouth salivates at the sight of his dick. Could I really be ready to go another round? The way my breasts feel tingly and heavy and the apex of my legs wet, I’d say the answer is an undeniable yes.
As I stare lustfully, a little drop of liquid appears on the sheet right where the tip of his dick is. My fingers itch to touch and my tongue tingles to lick that little droplet. Before I can stop myself, a little moan slips from my lips.
When I finally pull my eyes away from his erection, I glance back up to find Dean awake, eyes ablaze and filled with desire. The breath in my throat lodges as our eyes connect. And if I were being honest with myself, something more than just our eyes is making a connection. I feel something different, something crazy, something scary when we’re together. But there’s no way I’m ready or willing to think too much about those pesky feelings right now.
Right now? I want to devour the man beside me.
I’m moving before I have the chance to chicken out. Tossing the sheet back, I reveal the most mouthwatering specimen of man-meat I’ve ever seen. Damn, I’ve been hanging around Grandma too much.
Crouching between his legs, I take his cock in my hand. I’m licking my lips in anticipation of finally getting to taste him. Even after half a dozen of sexual encounters, I realize that I have yet to return the oral sex favor. And we can’t have that, now can we?
Bending down, I lick the moisture on the tip of his dick. “What are you doing?” his question is harsh, breathy.
“Doing something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.” I swipe my tongue over the tip again and swirl it around the wide crown.
“Don’t let me stop you. Please, continue.”
He inhales sharply as I take him inside my mouth. His skin is velvety and pulled taut, the scent of him infiltrating my senses. Slowly, I move down his shaft, licking and wetting his skin as I go. Keeping my hand firmly wrapped around the root, I lower myself as far down onto him as I can go. I have to mentally turn off my gag reflex the closer I get to my throat. A deep garbled groan rips from his throat.
Slowly, I begin to pump my other hand with long, fluid strokes. Glancing up, his eyes are locked onto the action, his breathing labored and choppy. Using my other hand, I reach down and grab his balls. When I glance up again to see his reaction, I watch his eyes roll back in his head.
Dean reaches down and gently grabs a hold of my head, guiding me down onto his shaft. I begin to bob in earnest now, taking him into my throat as far as I can.
“Fuck, Payton.” It’s a mix between a choke and a moan.
I feel his balls draw up and take that as my cue that the end is drawing near. His hips start to buck, his grip in my hair tightening almost to the point of pain. But I ignore it. Instead, I focus on the way he moves, the way he tastes, and the way he sounds. He’s so sexy when he’s on the verge of coming.
“You need to stop. I’m going to come,” he grits through his teeth.
There’s no way I’m stopping now. I want to taste him–all of him. Tightening my hold on his shaft, I hollow out my cheeks, sucking him with everything I have. He curses like a sailor moments before stilling momentarily and thrusting upward into my mouth one last time. His release is warm and tangy and slides down my throat easily. His dick twitches in my hand as he falls back onto the pillow utterly spent.
“Jesus.”
I smile. That one word was the greatest compliment I could have possibly received. That, and the fact that he can’t even move right now. His breathing is reflective of someone who just ran a full marathon in record time.
With a quick pat on his thigh, I turn and smile. “Time to go!”
“Wait, go? Where?”
“You have a very compelling accounting conference to get to, while I go play with flowers all day,” I say as I start to slide off the bed.
He reaches for me, halting my progress. “I say we just stay here and do more of that all day.”
“Can’t. Very important things to do today,” I say as he lines up our lips, mere inches apart.
“I can’t think of anything more important than burying myself between your thighs.”
“Hmmmm,” I respond, contemplating. “How about you go do your thing and I’ll go do my thing and we’ll meet back here tonight and do more of that thing you suggested.”
He grazes his soft lips over the top of mine. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You’re promising me an orgasm. I’m not going to flake out on you,” I quip with a smile.
Our kiss is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. While he goes to answer it, I slip into the bathroom to shower. While a part of me wants to know who’s calling at seven in the morning, it’s not really any of my business. So I shut the door and crank on the water under the pretense of giving him privacy. But really it’s because I don’t want to be tempted to press one of those glasses against the door to hear his conversation.
After my shower, Dean jumps in, taking a quick one while I get ready. He dresses in another button-down shirt, this one in a light green color, with tan slacks. His tie is green and brown plaid, and I don’t even have to offer to tie it. He turns towards me with a smile on his face and hands me the material.
When the knot is perfect, we both head towards the door. Before I can open it, though, he pulls me into his arms. My legs turn to noodles as his lips take mine in a bruising, perfect kiss that leaves me breathless. Dean’s hands wrap around my back and pull me flush against his body. He’s hard already. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I give myself into the kiss.
It ends before we have the chance to rip each other’s clothes off, and frankly, I
was ready. With a sly smile, he takes my hand and pulls me out of the room. We walk together to the elevator and wait for it to arrive. While inside the car, memories of last night filter through my mind, causing more warmth to flood my already soaked panties.
“Tonight,” he whispers into my ear as our car fills up with other hotel guests.
Dean continues to hold my hand as we make our way into the lobby of The Freemont. He offers to escort me across the street, but again, I tell him it’s not necessary. Honestly, I could use the little bit of alone time in the cool air to calm my racing heart and raging hormones. If he walks over with me, I’m liable to find the closest supply closet as soon as we set foot through the door.
“I have to attend the convention dinner tonight, but I’ll be upstairs as soon as I can break free.”
“Don’t rush on my behalf. I can order room service and watch a movie. You certainly aren’t required to entertain me.”
He steps closer, invading my personal space. “I’d much rather spend tonight entertaining you. And I will. Unfortunately, I have to make an appearance at the dinner, but know that I’d much rather be spending every second of my time with you, naked, in bed. Or in the shower. I’m not picky.”
I smile at the thought. “I’ll see you tonight,” I confirm before stepping out into the sunny January morning.
* * *
After detouring to the gourmet coffee shop down the block, I head inside The Country Garden, wide-awake and full of energy. I’m ready for day two of the floral show. I didn’t have an opportunity to chat with some of the vendors and businesses in the massive convention hall, so that’s on my agenda today. As well as attending two of the featured programs; one on bringing out the natural fragrances of the flowers, and the other on working with exotics and hard to care for buds.
Stepping in through the front door, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Upon digging it out, I find a text from Grandma. Considering the shop has only been open for an hour, I hope nothing is wrong. I received message from AJ and Rachel yesterday stating that everything was going well.
Grandma: Code Blue, Payters. Code Blue!
Me: OMG! What does Code Blue mean?
Grandma: Nothing. I just wanted to get your attention.
Me: What?!?!?!? *insert growling emoji*
Grandma: Did you know there’s a flower named Clitoris?
Me: Are you kidding me right now? I thought the place was burning down!
Grandma: The only thing burning is my loins, Payters. The flower. Clitoris. Should I order some?
Me: NOOOOO! They’re called Clitoria, Grandma. I don’t want to sell flowers named Clitoria. That’s gross.
Grandma: I admit, they’re a little odd. Plus they’re native to Asia so the shipping will probably cost you a fortune.
Rubbing my head, I gaze down, dumbfounded, at my phone.
Me: Do not order those. And do not order anything, please. I already ordered before I left.
Grandma: Yes, I know. I sent back the poppies.
Me: Why?
Grandma: They looked like hairy vaginas. *insert photo* Even grandpa said they look like they need a good wax job. I can’t, in good conscience, sell hairy vaginas to your customers, Payters. That’s just wrong. Even I think so.
Me: They’re not hairy! And when they open, they’re beautiful!
Grandma: Oh, well, no one told me that.
Me: *insert eye roll gif* Never mind. I’ll order more next week.
Grandma: Grandpa says hello. Oh! Have you found a strapping young stud to do a little service work underneath the hood?
Me: Am I a car now?
Grandma: Never underestimate the power of a good mechanic, Payters. If you find one with a good dipstick, you might not mind a good servicin’ every now and again.
Me: How are we related? Seriously.
Grandma: I’m your favorite relative, and you know it. Anyway, I have go. Gpa has a handful of my poppies right now.
Me: GRANDMA! You’re at my shop!
Grandma: I know where I am, Payton. No one is here so it’s ok.
Me: No. No, it is most definitely NOT ok! *insert angry face emoji*
Grandma: Don’t act all high and mighty. I already found ass prints on the stainless steel table. I’m not pointing any fingers, but it’s not my ass print and it’s not Rachel’s – I asked her. That only leaves one ass, Payton.
I stare wide-eyed and shocked at my phone. That romp on my workbench was weeks ago. There’s no way there’s butt prints, but how else could she know about them? Unless she’s making it up in hopes that I’ll give myself away, and that’ll open a whole new can of worms I’d rather not open with Grandma.
Grandma: Got a customer! Gotta go! Toodles! *insert kissy face emoji*
See, this is why I can’t have nice things. My family is whack, and it started two generations before me.
Chapter Fourteen
Dean
The dinner drones on and on as the president of AICPA, or the America Institute of CPA’s, talks about proposed IRS changes in the upcoming year. Usually, discussing and debating the pros and cons of tax law changes with fellow numbers nerds would be the highlight of my night, but not tonight. Not with Payton in my room.
I’m stuck at a table with nine other professionals, one of which is Althea. She keeps smiling at me, giving me that flirty little smirk that basically says she’s game for anything sexual I’d suggest. But the thing is, even before I found Payton standing in the lobby of my hotel, I just wasn’t feeling it with her. Althea is gorgeous, sure, but not in that simple, natural way. She’s pretty with three hundred dollar shoes and pristine and professionally applied makeup. Her hair is perfect and her business suit spotless.
But she’s not Payton.
Payton wearing a pair of jeans and a simple tee. Payton with her hair pulled high in a ponytail. Payton with smudges of dirt on her cheek from replanting a potted plant. Payton in nothing but my dress shirt, unbuttoned and gaping open to reveal soft curves and luscious breasts.
There’s only one woman who piques my interest and makes my cock throb, and it’s not the beautiful woman sitting across from me.
Payton. That’s where my focus seems to be, no matter how much I try to listen to the speakers or to my tablemates sharing client horror stories. There’s plenty of stories of my own I could contribute. My personal favorite was the time a male client tried to write off hookers as a business expense. He called it stress management. Or what about the woman who wanted to start a business with her late husband’s insurance money. Did I mention he wasn’t actually dead yet when she submitted to cash in the insurance policy?
My point is that I have something to contribute to the conversation around me, but my mind is stuck in the gutter. Specifically, how quickly I could get Payton naked and moaning beneath me.
“What about you, Dean? How do you think this new legislation will affect the economy? Rumor has it that it’ll be harder on the middle class, therefore changing the way they spend and save money.” This question comes from Raymond, a tax advisor from Detroit.
I blink rapidly, trying to catch my bearings. No way can I confess that I’ve basically completely ignored all discussion around me for the last hour and a half. No way can I admit to be so distracted by a woman that I can’t even carry on a casual dinner conversation without all thoughts drifting. Because then I’d be that guy. You know the one; the guy who basically follows his woman around like a puppy dog, sending cute little text messages throughout the day like Miss you and Thinking of you.
Fine. I’m soooooooo that guy. I’m man enough to admit that I’m completely smitten with Payton Summer. Even if it’s one hundred percent the worst decision in the history of mankind, I’m still willing to take the chance. Just like that, my mind did a complete one-eighty, and I find myself racing towards Payton, not in the opposite direction I’ve been going for the last several months. Even though I’m certain I’ll come out mangled and destroyed when it ends, and heaven knows,
it will end.
Life is anything but predictable. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. The only thing right–perfect, even–in my life is Bri. My daughter’s the one thing I did right. Even if the way I got her wasn’t so right. She’s my light in total darkness, my sun breaking through the clouds.
“I’m sure Dean would agree that the economy will forever fluctuate, but people will always still spend. Whether it’s a want or a need, society will still spend more, and if we’re lucky, saving a little bit along the way,” Tim adds to the conversation. Relief courses through me, and I’m grateful for the help.
Before I can add anything to the discussion, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. Normally, I’d let my voicemail catch the call, but with Bri and Mom out of the area, I jump at the distraction of a phone call.
“Excuse me,” I state as I stand up. “I need to take this,” I add, indicating my phone.
“Hello?” I ask quietly as I slip out the big double doors and into the expansive hallway.
“Hi, Daddy!”
“Hi, pumpkin. Are you having fun with Mimi?”
“Yep! We’re drawing horses and monkeys.”
“Horses and monkeys? That’s a great combination.”
“I miss you.” My gut clenches tightly.
“I miss you, too. But I’m going to be home by the time you get out of school tomorrow. I’ll pick you up from Miss Nancy’s house after school, okay?”
“Okay! I can’t wait to see you! I made you lots of new pictures for your office.” I smile at the thought of adding one more drawing to the side of my filing cabinet.
“Sounds good, sweetheart. I can’t wait to give you tickles.”
“No tickles, Daddy. You’ll make me pee!” she exclaims through fits of giggles. And that’s why I say it. Just to hear that sweet sound from her little lips.
