The Boss' Surrender (Callahan's Secretary)

Chapter One

             
Grace Marcum was settled firmly into the heated, passenger seat of Anthony Callahan’s luxury car as they approached the Grand International Resort.  She had been quiet during the drive from the city, preoccupied with thoughts that served no purpose.  It didn’t help that she was being driven in a vehicle that was worth more than the house she’d grown up in.  As the thought reoccurred, she couldn’t stop the heavy sigh that escaped her. 

             
“Penny for your thoughts.”

             
Looking over at Anthony, at the concern that etched his handsome face, she smiled.   “They aren’t worth that much.”

             
The car cruised along the circular drive at the front of the resort.  It hadn’t paused more than a second when a valet was there, opening the door for her.  Bellmen were already getting their bags from the trunk.  Anthony relinquished the keys along with a healthy tip.  Grace savored the weight of his hand at the small of her back as he guided her into the exclusive hotel.  It was incredibly luxurious.  Built at the turn of the century, it boasted all the modern amenities but had retained the lush, romantic style of a bygone era.  Marble floors and gilt framed mirrors were illuminated by hand-cut crystal chandeliers.  She tried not to gape as they approached the desk.  Check in was a merely a formality.  

             
“Here you are, Mr. Callahan.  We hope you enjoy your stay, and if there is anything you need, our concierge and staff would be happy to assist you.”

             
Anthony accepted the keys and signed the registration slip.  As he stepped away from the counter, his cell phone dinged in his pocket.  “I’m sorry, Grace.  I need to check that.  Go grab the elevator and I’ll be right behind you.”

             
“Of course... What about the bags?”  Even as she asked the question a bellman whisked past them with their bags on a cart.  “Never mind.”

             
Anthony chuckled as he retrieved the phone.  He opened the text message, but his eyes were on Grace’s bottom, watching her cross the lobby in those damned heels that drove him wild.  Tearing his eyes away, he glanced down at the screen and frowned.  The photo that had downloaded on his screen was of him and Grace, embracing at the door of her apartment building.  There was no message accompanying the picture.  Blackmail was the only logical conclusion, but whoever was behind it had things very wrong.  Anthony wanted his relationship with Grace to go public.  He forwarded the message and the phone number to a friend, along with a text asking him to find out what he could about both, before joining Grace on the waiting elevator. 

             
  At the door to their suite, the bellman opened it first, ushering them inside, then bringing in their bags and placing them in the bedroom.  The suite was easily three times as large as her apartment.  The seating area was lush and romantic, overstuffed couched upholstered in cream jacquard.  A richly patterned rug in shades of green, cream and gold covered the intricate parquet floor.  A massive marble fireplace topped with a venetian glass mirror  occupied one wall.  French doors led onto a patio overlooking the lake.  A separate dining area was filled with rich, cherry furnishings and a tray bearing champagne and chocolate covered strawberries.  It was easy to see that Grace was uncomfortable.  Her emotions were always written plainly on her face.   

             
The bellmen left and she looked at Anthony over her shoulder, meeting his questioning gaze. “This is a bit on the grand side for me.  I’m not used to this.”

             
“You should be,” he said, enclosing her in the circle of his arms, her back against the hard wall of his chest.  She could feel his breath feathering warmly over her neck.  “You could be, very easily... Say the word, Grace and the whole world could know that you are mine.”

             
“We’ve talked about this before.... and it never goes well.”

             
He sighed.  “You’re right, and this weekend is supposed to be about something else altogether.”

             
“Such as?” she asked, enjoying the feel of having him close, of the hardness and the heat of his body against her. 

             
He nipped her ear, his teeth scraping against the delicate lobe.  Goosebumps immediately raised on her skin.  “It’s about teaching you to ski,” he said. 

             
“Is that all?” she asked, arching her back so that the curve of her bottom pressed against him.   His hands immediately tightened on her hips, tugging her closer.  She could feel his cock thickening, lengthening against her. 

             
“The spa is at your disposal tomorrow... any treatment you want.  Wraps, massages, pedicures.”

             
Grace laughed.  “You won’t know me by the time they’re through with me.”

             
Anthony’s voice was shockingly tender as he spoke softly against her ear, “I’ll always know you.  You’re like no one else, Grace.”

             
“Take me to bed.  Make love to me,” she urged.  There was a note in her voice, a need that frightened her.  She ignored it, turning in his arms, until they were chest to chest.  His lips touched her and the kiss was so sweet, so tender, that it brought tears to her eyes.  His mouth settled over hers so gently, but there was an intensity to it that was overwhelming.  Her own lips parted beneath his, and his tongue glided into her mouth, softly, sweetly.  It was a seduction, unnecessary, but still divine.  His hands slid into her hair, then down her neck to the zipper at the back of her dress.  One light tug and the zipper was sliding down, a whisper of sound in the room.  Grace shivered a bit in the cold, but his hands were on her skin then, warming it.  The straps slid over her arms, then the fabric was falling, puddling at her feet and she wore only pale, ivory, lace that she had donned that morning.  The garments had been chosen with him in mind.  The bustier was utterly sheer, cupping her breasts and camouflaging her nipples with delicate embroidery.  The attached garters were delicate satin bows, and the matching panties tied at her hips.  The slightest tug on those small bows and they would simply fall away. 

             
“Beautiful,” he whispered. 

             
She felt beautiful.  All the doubts and insecurities were still there with the rest of the world, but when she was with Anthony, Grace realized she truly felt beautiful, in her clothes and out of them.  His appreciation of her body, the way he responded to her, had healed so many old wounds.  Grace wasn’t quite prepared when he swept her into his arms, carrying her with one arm supporting her back and the other beneath her knees, like a bride being carried over the threshold.  It was bittersweet. 

             
Anthony placed Grace on the bed, her skin pale and beautiful against the dark green of the bedding.  The cream lace was almost the exact color of her skin, giving the impression of nudity without the satisfaction.  As much as he wanted her naked, he wanted to savor the moment.  With everything they’d shared, he knew that Grace was holding herself back in some way.  She didn’t trust what was between them.  Getting past her sensual barriers, introducing her to pleasure in all its many forms had been the easy part.  Breeching the emotional barriers was proving to be even more difficult.  Where pleasure had failed, he hoped that vulnerability would work.  Grace would never trust him with the power to hurt her until she was certain she had the same power over him. 

             
Tugging his sweater up and over his head, he dropped it to the floor, before kicking off his shoes and joining her on the bed.  Each touch, the circling of his fingertips on her bare skin, was featherlight.  With his mouth, he traced the same path, gentle kisses and the damp pressure of his tongue against her skin.   Her nipples puckered in the lace cups, thrusting up impudently, but he resisted the temptation.  When his hands reached her thighs, he increased the pressure slightly, massaging muscles that he knew were tight, as much from their activities the night before as from the ridiculous heels she had taken to wearing.  It was the one outward sign of Grace’s sensual liberation.  She’d sacrificed her sensible shoes and had begun to wear stilettos, even at work.  They made her the perfect height, so that he could walk behind her and slide his cock right between her thighs, where it nudged against the damp slit of her pussy. 

             
Thinking of that was not allowing him to sustain his control, so instead he focused on the task at hand, soothing her aching muscles while creating a new ache in her, one that could only assuaged by him.  “Turn over,” he said.  Obediently, Grace did as he asked, turning onto her stomach.  The lace was cut low in back, and he deftly unfastened the hooks holding it in place, before unsnapping her garters.  Turning her onto her back again, he divested her of the bustier and garters entirely, until only the sheer, lace underwear and sheer stockings remained.  Moving to the end of the bed, he lifted her right foot and began to knead gently, his thumb digging into the muscles and then working over her ankle, up her calf, until he reached the top of her stocking and rolled it down.  He repeated the process on the other leg. 

             
He didn’t often get Grace completely naked, especially in the bright light of day.  Occasionally, her shyness would still rear its ugly head, but she wasn’t protesting.  With every touch, she seemed to relax more.  Were it not for the flush covering her breasts and that her nipples had pebbled into hardened buds, he would have thought she was falling asleep on him.  Kneeling between her thighs, he decided it was time to take up the heat.  Pressing his face against her mound, he inhaled deeply, savoring the musky scent of her desire.  He closed his mouth over her, sucking the damp swollen lips of her sex into his mouth, before plunging his tongue between them.  He found her clit unerringly, working it deftly.  When she gasped and speared her hands into his hair, holding him in place, he increased the pressure, lifting her legs so that her thighs draped over his shoulder.  Pressing more deeply inside her, he continued to tease and torment that little bundle of nerves. 

             
“Please, Anthony... I need you!”

             
Pulling his mouth away from her with one last, lingering lick that had her crying out, he moved up, until he could kiss her lips, sharing the taste of her.  “Taste how sweet you are, Grace,” he urged, dipping his tongue into her mouth.  “The taste of you drives me wild.”  She kissed him back eagerly and he cupped her breasts, kneading the soft mounds with a gentle touch.  His thumbs coasted over her nipples, thrumming the hardened peaks until she was moaning beneath him.  The silky skin of her inner thighs glided over his hips as she wrapped her legs around him, opening herself to him.  There was no clearer invitation.  He pressed his cock against her, nudging the thick head between her damp folds, feeling her clinch around him.  She was so blissfully, perfectly tight as he pressed into her, gliding in inch by inch.  Her nails dug into his shoulders, scoring his back as she arched against him, his name a breathless cry on her lips. He loved that he could make her so wild, that his restrained and ladylike secretary became wild an uninhibited for him--only for him. 

             
Grace’s head fell back against the pillows.  She couldn’t think, could barely breathe.  Her entire existence was centered on the point where their bodies connected.  The intense, exquisite pleasure of having Anthony inside her.  The hard, thick length of his cock filled her to perfection, her body stretching to accommodate him.  Every flex of his hips, every subtle movement inside her seemed to stimulate new nerve endings, ratcheting the pleasure to even greater heights.  Her lips parted on a soundless cry, her neck straining and her breasts pressing firmly against his chest.  His hips circled against her again, dipping and retreating, thrusting into her.  He repeated the motion and Grace shattered.  She felt her sex clench tightly, and then she simply broke apart.  Everything in her body melted.  Heat rushed inside her and then the most intense pleasure as her body pulsed and fluttered in that ancient rhythm.  It was only seconds later that Anthony followed her over the precipice.  He thrust deeply once more and she felt the first hot jet of his cum.  Her hands slid down his back, cupping his firm buttocks and holding him to her, keeping him pressed deeply inside her as he came.  Her body continued to ripple with aftershocks of pleasure.  His lips pressed against hers, another feather light kiss, and the only sound in the room was their ragged breath. 

             
Grace closed her eyes, overwhelmed with the pleasure and with the emotions that roiled inside her.  Tears escaped against her will, seeping between her lashes, only to be kissed away gently. 

             
“I love you, Grace.”

             
Her heart stopped with those words.  Her eyes flew open, more tears forming.  “What?”

             
Anthony smiled down at her, his expression so tender and so heartfelt that it simply destroyed her.  “You don’t have to say it back...But I need you to know it.  I love you, Grace.”

             
She didn’t respond.  The words were there, on the tip of her tongue, struggling to escape, but before she could even question whether or not to utter them, he had risen.  The water in the bathroom turned on, and after a few seconds, she could see the steam from the shower.  Getting out bed, Grace reached for her small suitcase and retrieved her robe.  The satin kimono had been a goodwill find from her teen years, but she still loved it.  It gave her a sense of comfort to don the familiar garment while treading such unfamiliar territory.