Bossy Nights

by Liv Morris

  I’d love to say they’re all overjoyed I’m dating a thirty-seven-year-old publishing mogul, but that’s not totally the case. My mother wants to be understanding and sympathetic. After all, Barclay’s from the world of books—her first love. My father feels it’s too soon for me to be so serious, and wants me to date around. But I remember what Barclay said about guys in their twenties—they’re nothing like the boys in Alabama.

  And finally, there’s Miles. He’s got Barclay pegged as Hollywood’s version of a rich Manhattan playboy. Hanging out at all the elite parties. Screwing a different supermodel every night. The list goes on. So to squash his prejudices of the man I love, Miles is meeting Barclay downstairs at the hotel restaurant for drinks and dinner.

  The funny thing about this meeting? Miles doesn’t have a clue Barclay’s been invited. He thinks he’s having dinner with Maggie and me. I can’t wait. The element of surprise will give Barclay the advantage, and that’s everything when you’re dealing with the world’s most overprotective brother and seasoned policeman.

  I put the last piece of clothing from the boxes into a drawer and Maggie comes into my room.

  “How is this our apartment?” She spins around in glee. “I figured we’d be using milk crates for coffee tables and using blow-up beds for the first year.”

  “I know.” I shut the dresser drawer and we step out of my bedroom. “I walk in every night after work and feel like I’ve broken into someone else’s place. It does seem more real having you here, though.”

  “Now I just need to find a job. I thought I’d try a spa if I don’t land one in accounting right away. At least I’m a licensed masseuse.”

  “Good idea. I’d try one down on Wall Street. Maybe you’ll have a client who can network for you. Or we can ask Barclay about some references.”

  “Good idea, and thanks about Barclay, but I want to get this job on my own. I want to sit on top of the Empire State Building in victory.”

  “Exactly how I felt,” I say, because she knows the story. I got my job at Hammond Press on my own, even if Trevor did help a bit by passing my résumé along to Mrs. Ratner. “Oh, did I tell you what happened to Trevor, Barclay’s creepy cousin?”

  “Um, no.” She grabs her bag off the kitchen table as we get ready to head downstairs for dinner. Barclay’s reserved a booth in the back and is likely already waiting for us.

  “He was fired last week. Canned and thrown out on his ass. He didn’t even get a severance package.”

  “Let me guess,” she pushes the down button for the elevator, “he was inappropriate with a woman at work?”

  “Bingo!” I sound like I just called the winning number. “The company couldn’t overlook his family connections after he was caught pressuring subordinates for sex, so the board told him to find the door.”

  “He’s disgusting. I like sex, as you know, but can’t stand men who prey upon women or pay for it. Gross.” She shivers at the thought. “They need to earn it by treating us like ladies.”

  “True,” I say. “Even your one-night stands need to take you out on a date.”

  We both laugh and enter the elevator to descend to the lobby. I pray dinner goes well for everyone, but mostly for my sweet man.

  46

  Barclay

  I throw back my bourbon and set the glass down on the bar. I’ve allowed myself one strong drink before dinner to calm my nerves. Hell, I don’t think I’ve felt this worked up about meeting a girl’s family since … well, ever.

  Miles has every right to “put me through the ringer,” as Tessa calls it. I would feel the same way if I were in his shoes. But I’m not. I’m the one who has to prove himself worthy of Tessa, and I wonder if it’s even possible.

  I take a seat at the table I’ve chosen for us. It’s to the side and back, leaving us more secluded from the hustle and bustle. There’s a guy about my height with blond hair who just sat down at the bar and immediately strikes up a conversation with Michael, the bartender.

  He fits Tessa’s description of Miles and scribbles something on a small spiral pad. The kind you can fit into a pants pocket. It reminds me of a scene from Law and Order, and I know it’s him—the man I have to impress.

  I wipe my hands over my black wool pants as Jeffrey, our best server, comes up to the table.

  “Good evening, Mr. Hammond. How are you this evening?”

  I refrain from telling him my nerves are on edge and everything I hold dear is on the line if I fuck this dinner up.

  “Hanging in there.” I offer him a small smile.

  “Would you like anything before the rest of your party joins you?”

  “Bring me the bottle of Dom Perignon, two-thousand. But only open it once I give you the go-ahead. Thank you, Jeffrey.”

  When I look toward the front of the restaurant, Tessa walks in with a pretty brunette by her side. I assume it’s Maggie, since the girl looks to be about Tessa’s age. They make a beeline toward the blond guy at the bar, confirming he is Miles.

  When the three of them start their way to my table, Miles and I lock gazes. A flash of recognition and surprise appears in his eyes. He knows who I am and turns to Tessa with a tightened jaw. The smile he was wearing has transformed into something close to a sneer. He says something to Tessa, and worry spreads over her face.

  I stand up to greet them, but Miles’ demeanor tells me this might not be the friendliest hello. My sweet girl looks about ready to cry and I fight taking her into my arms. Instead, I decide to try to save the dinner.

  “Hello.” I reach my hand out to Miles like it’s a peace pipe. “Barclay Hammond.”

  “Miles Holly,” he says, shaking my hand with a grip so tight it hurts. Point made, good sir.

  “Miles, behave,” Tessa whispers under her breath. “Barclay, this is Maggie, my bestie.”

  Maggie’s jaw is somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere, and I have to smile. “Hi … um, wow!” she mutters.

  “Great to finally meet you, Maggie.” I reach to shake her hand, but she’s frozen in place.

  “You’re … uh, so much better looking in person. I mean, you’re super hot in all the internet photos. But wow. ” She fumbles with her words, and Tessa laughs. Even Miles’ frown has slipped into a straight line.

  “Maggie, don’t you have to run out and get something from the store?” Tessa looks like she has a nervous tick in her eye.

  “Oh, yeah,” she says, hitting her forehead. “I forgot. Hope to see you soon, Barclay. You wouldn’t happen to have any hidden brothers or friends I could meet?”

  “Bye, Maggie,” Tessa says in a motherly tone, gently placing a hand on Maggie’s back to move her along.

  “Man, Tessa, you’re one lucky bitch,” Maggie whispers loud enough for me to hear.

  “Imagine driving with her for two days.” Miles rolls his eyes, and a side of his mouth tips up.

  “She seems lively.” I chuckle, and he nods. It’s our first breakthrough, and I’ll take anything at this point.

  After Maggie leaves, Tessa sits in the chair next to me, and her brother takes one on the other side of the table, directly across from me. I’m not sure how we’re going to stuff our long legs under the table, but it’s clear he wants to access me, face to face.

  I decided to be less formal tonight and dumped the monkey suit and tie, choosing to wear a fitted black V-neck T-shirt and dark jeans. Miles has on identical clothes. Aside from our opposite hair colors, we resemble six-foot-three bookends.

  “I’m sorry for the tension, but I ambushed Miles,” Tessa confesses, and Miles crosses his arms over his chest. “He didn’t know you’d be here, eating with us.”

  “I hate surprises,” he huffs.

  Jeffrey’s waiting a few feet from the table with the bottle of champagne. Figuring this is as good a time as any, I nod my head at him. He opens the bottle and has me try the first taste, then pours three glasses of bubbly.

  I lift my glass. Tessa and Miles follow. “Cheers.” We tap our glasses and
sip on the liquid. Miles raises his brow in a sign of approval.

  “Not bad,” he says.

  I want to tell him the bottle costs over five hundred dollars, so not bad isn’t what I was aiming for, but I keep my cool and smile along.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but the chef is preparing something special for us,” I tell them. “Filet mignon, corn crème brûlée, and asparagus.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Tessa says. “Right, Miles?”

  “Actually, it does.” He rubs his toned stomach. “I’ve been eating fast food for two days on the road up here.”

  “I’m going to leave you boys alone to talk for a few minutes,” Tessa says, getting up from the table, and I want to pull her back down into her seat. Her abandoning me wasn’t in our plans. “I’ll go chat with Michael at the bar.” She grabs her flute and is off.

  Miles stares at me, and I stare right back. Finally, he laughs, and I wonder what he’s found so funny.

  “You’re nothing like I thought you’d be,” Miles says, and I wait to hear if that’s good or bad. “I’ve been walking around this hotel all afternoon, looking for one person to rat you out as a rich playboy. Funny thing is, they all seem to genuinely like you.”

  “That’s good to hear.” I exhale and lower my shoulders.

  “They tell me the turnover rate is low. The pay rivals high-end hotels, and the benefits are unbeatable in the service industry.”

  “It’s true. Just like you, I’m trying to follow in my father’s footsteps, both here and at Hammond Press. Keep his legacy alive.”

  “Well, there you go and make me like you, too,” Miles genuinely smiles at me for the first time. He eyes me for a minute, but I know he has something else to say. “I want to tell you a story, okay?”

  “I’m game,” I answer, having no clue what to expect.

  “When I was seven years old, my mother brought Tessa home from the hospital. I’d never seen anything so small in my life. I was a big kid for my age, I bet you can understand.” I nod, knowing how it was to always be the tallest in my class. “She was this delicate little bundle with blonde ringlets all dressed in pink. I knew she was special and made a vow beside her crib to be the best big brother on God’s green earth.”

  “You’ve done a great job,” I say, encouraging Miles. “And it’s funny. I have a similar story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In May, I sat in this very restaurant and noticed a beautiful young woman dressed in pink, blonde hair curled around her shoulders. I just couldn’t look away from her if I tried. It took me a while to understand my feelings for her—believe our age difference was acceptable.” Miles leans closer into the table, while Tessa beams at us from the bar. “But I can promise you this, Miles. I will never break her heart, though she has the power to destroy mine.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Miles says, laughing. “You really do love her, don’t you?”

  “With all my heart.”

  Miles nods at me, and it looks as if I’ve won over one of the Holly men. Now, it’s time to take a trip to Alabama and meet the rest of her family. I understand Southern fathers appreciate a man asking for his daughter’s hand in person.

  47

  Barclay

  One year later …

  I have one more report left to go over before I can clock out for the night. Tessa said she was cooking up something special and would keep it warm for me. Her voice sounded seductive, like she had a hidden meaning behind her words.

  Truth is, I can’t keep her out of my pants. She wants sex more than a seventeen-year-old boy, but I can live with that … about twice a day.

  As I finish the last page of the report, there’s a knock at my office door. I glance at the clock, figuring Mrs. Mackenzie decided to stay late.

  “Come in,” I say without looking up from my computer. I need to get this work done so I can head home to my beautiful fiancée.

  “Special delivery, Mr. Hammond,” says a familiar voice—not belonging to my assistant.

  One peek over my computer screen reveals a blonde goddess in a dangerously short trench coat. She holds a box in her hands. I lick my lips as she locks the door behind her.

  “I don’t remember ordering anything.” I push back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Well, you asked me to bring you a cherry tart.” She holds up the bakery box, and I can’t hide my amusement.

  “I hope it’s still warm.” I give her a crooked smile, playing along.

  “Very. Want to feel for yourself?” She saunters toward me, setting the box on a table.

  She unbuckles her coat belt, and then starts to unbutton it, from top to bottom, torturing me in the process.

  When she finishes with the last button, she walks to me, and the coat parts, revealing her beautiful, bare skin.

  Her mouthwatering curves flow from full, firm breasts to soft, round hips. My fingers twitch from memory, needing to touch her now. I start to get up from my chair, but she raises her hand.

  “Stay where you are, Mr. Hammond.” The coat falls to the floor, leaving her bare except for her black stilettos.

  God, I’m a lucky man.

  She comes around the desk and kneels in front of me, rubbing her hands over my thighs. My dick presses against my suit pants, begging to be turned loose.

  Unable to keep my hands to myself, I brush my fingers across the smooth skin of her cheeks, neck, and shoulder. She’s so soft to the touch.

  “Does the Hammaconda want to come out to play?” she asks coyly, using her nickname for my cock.

  Jesus, what happened to the sweet virgin I met a year ago? I pray she never returns. I prefer this twisted version of her better.

  “He’s always ready for you, baby.”

  After easing my zipper down, she spreads the edges open, pulls my underwear down, and out he pops.

  Giving my dick a name even has me referring to him in the third person, but he’s happy, and so is she. That’s all that matters.

  Her mouth forms a big O, and she looks up with raised brows, like she’s never seen a cock before. The minx might’ve missed her calling on Broadway.

  “You’re so large, Mr. Hammond. I’ve never seen anyone bigger.”

  When she bends forward, one of her hands encloses around me, pumping and giving me some relief. Then her tongue licks over me, and I lose my flipping mind as she takes me in her hot mouth. Suck, twirl, suck, twirl—over and over again.

  She’s perfected the art of giving head and knows what she’s doing to me as I catch the twinkle in her eye.

  After a few minutes, my release starts to build, but I haven’t touched my favorite parts of her yet.

  “Stop, babe.” I place my hand under her chin. “I’d like to properly tip you for the special delivery.” She nods, wiping her mesmerizingly pouty lips. God, why did I stop her from sucking me off?

  Picking her up, I place her glorious ass on the edge of my desk and swipe everything to the sides, spilling items onto the floor. We’re unleashed and wanton in our pursuit of pleasure.

  “Lie back,” I command.

  She eases herself down onto the desk, golden hair cascading over the shiny mahogany wood. Breasts soft with blush pink nipples. Her legs dangle over the edge, and I part them, bringing the real prize into view.

  I push my pants down farther, freeing my dick completely, and line myself up at her entrance. Before I take her, I rub over her already-wet sex, making sure she’s ready.

  “Come on, Barclay,” she begs, greedily.

  I cradle both her legs in the crook of my arms, spreading her even wider while holding her still. I don’t want her falling off the desk.

  With one thrust forward, I enter her.

  “Oh, yes,” I hiss.

  “Harder, please. Harder.” She always wants more.

  “Touch yourself, sweet girl.”

  It’s so hot watching her pleasure herself while I move in and out of her tight pussy. We’re both edging closer, our
bodies in sync and tightening, and finally, she lets go, mumbling in her special orgasm speak. Her muscles pulse around me, spurring my release.

  I fall to the desk on my elbows, a panting, sweaty, satisfied man.

  “Thanks for the special delivery, Tessa. What’s the occasion?” I ask, as if she needs one. We’ve never fucked in my office before, not that I haven’t wanted to.

  “Look inside the box, please.” She points over at the table.

  I right my pants and walk to the box, picking it up and opening it.

  “Surprise?” she says in a timid voice.

  There’s a small round cake with a pacifier sitting on top, like the one Beatrice used.

  “What does this mean?” I ask, my eyes searching her face. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yes. Are you okay with that? I mean, we’ve talked about kids in the future tense, and the wedding is in two weeks.” I calm her worries with the happiest smile I can muster.

  “Holy shit, I’m going to be a father.” Overjoyed, I gently spin her around in my arms. “And yours is going to kill me.”

  “He’ll get over it, especially if we name a boy after him, or a girl Holly.”

  “There are enough Barclay Hammonds in the world anyway.”

  I fall to my knees, placing my hands on her hips. Leaning forward, I kiss her flat stomach, knowing our child is growing inside her. Talk about blowing my mind.

  I have a sexy as fuck soon-to-be wife with a baby on the way. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that she’s a sex fiend. Hell, I’m one blessed man.

  The End!

  If you’d like to read the an outtake of Barclay visiting Tessa’s family in Alabama. You’ll find the link for it on the back page!

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  Copyright © 2016 Liv Morris

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