Peyton

After my conference call finished, Megan’s instant message popped up, making me grin.

“I’m so ready for happy hour. Meet you at O’Grady’s?”

“You’re pregnant. How ready for happy hour can you be?”

“I will live vicariously through you. You’ll have to drink for two.”

“In that case prepare for liver damage tonight. See you soon.”

We had a standing happy hour every other Tuesday. Since I’d hardly seen her over the last couple of weeks, being so wrapped up in everything audit, I was looking forward to some girls’ time.

Especially after Simon’s little visit. As if I shouldn’t take it personally that he was interviewing my employees to see if they were worthy of keeping their jobs. Yeah, right. However, he did have a point. All of them worked hard, so with my recommendations and their prior reviews, they should all be fine. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known this was coming, so to be upset with him for doing his job was a bit unfair.

But the real reason I could use a drink tonight was because I’d had to struggle to keep things professional with him once he’d closed my door. I’d admitted to wanting to do unprofessional things, and he’d reminded me of the rules. No shenanigans. Who even said that?

I’d hidden my disappointment by messing with him over his neatness. That had been kind of fun, to be honest. At least it had kept me from asking why he hadn’t sent me a text yesterday. Or if he’d missed me the same way I missed him. After twenty-four hours, it was ridiculous, but I had. But the whole interaction in my office had felt like part of a test. He was gauging whether or not I could handle a professional aspect to our relationship. I hadn’t wanted to fail.

I sent a quick text to my brother-in-law, who assured me he’d already let out Cooper. I replied that I’d see him Saturday; I was already looking forward to spending the time with my family.

Megan was at the bar when I arrived. I gave her a hug and slid into the seat next to her, thinking it funny to see a very pregnant woman literally bellied up to the bar.

“Long week for you. You doing okay?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes. Better now. How about you? How’s the baby?”

She practically beamed. “Getting big. Making me pee a lot and breathe like a fat kid every time I walk up the stairs. I actually had to take a break while going up the one flight to my bedroom last night.”

I laughed at her description and then ordered my whiskey on the rocks with a beer chaser.

“So, it’s official. George is selling the company.”

I was relieved it was finally out in the open. “Yep.” I sipped on my beer, needing this.

“What was up with that asshole during the announcement in the main room?”

I tensed, hoping she didn’t mean Simon. He’d stayed silent during George’s speech, not showing any emotion when the announcement had been made. But why would he? He’d been through dozens of these things.

“Tom. Was that his name?”

I let out a breath, relieved she hadn’t been referring to Simon. “Yeah. What did he do?”

“Evelyn asked him if the meetings George mentioned were actually interviews to keep our jobs. The asshole looked at her all condescending and told her if she wasn’t smart enough to figure that out for herself, perhaps they could dispense with having to meet with her.”

“What a dick.” I instantly wanted to tell Simon but knew that if it wasn’t for our ‘relationship,’ I wouldn’t bother.

“I wanted to march over there and just—well, mess up his hair or something which wouldn’t get me arrested,” Megan finished.

“Ha.” I clinked my drink with her glass of soda water. “You’ve come a long way, my friend. Already thinking like a parent.”

When she’d reported to Jeff, she’d been ready to murder him on a daily basis.

“I don’t need anything to highlight me for termination. As for assault, I doubt they allow conjugal visits five times per week. It’s always kept me on the right side of the law.”

“You have sex five times a week?” My jaw hung open. Most couples I knew who’d been together for years relegated sex to weekends and special occasions.

“Hell, yes. Sometimes twice on Sundays. Especially since I’ve been pregnant. Does some crazy shit to your hormones.”

Huh. “Probably need to enjoy it while you can with the baby coming.”

“My thoughts exactly. Any word on the CFO position?”

I shook my head. “No, not yet.”

I’d been tempted to ask Simon, but I figured if he knew something and could share, he would’ve.

“I put my résumé together. Have a head hunter.” She took a sip of her ginger ale.

“Good. I need to do the same. Never hurts to be prepared.” Yet my heart wasn’t in it. I could only hope we’d both weather this change and come out on the other side.

“Yes, you do. By the way, did you know they call the hot Brit the Ice Man?”

“What? How did you hear that?”

She shrugged. “George told me this morning. Said the guy in charge was cool as ice and professional, and they called him that.”

I wasn’t surprised, considering I’d been on the receiving end of his icy words. However, he’d also been sizzling hot with me over the weekend. The two extremes were hard to reconcile. Hell, the entire thing with him bouncing between hot and cold was making me crazy.

“I call him Brexy. For British and sexy.” I blurted this out before I had a chance to think about it. The empty glass of whiskey and half-consumed beer wasn’t helping my filter. I needed to be more careful about what I shared.

“Oh, my God. I love it. Brexy and the asshole. And his fucking bombshell assistant. Holy crap, if I was a man, I’d totally hit that. You think Brexy is?”

Her question shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, hadn’t I initially wondered the same? It helped to know Simon wasn’t Emma’s type and that he thought of her as a sister. Otherwise, I’d be jealous. “I wouldn’t think he’d be one to mix business and pleasure.”

“True. By the way, speaking of pleasure, what happened with that guy? The one you went on one date with?”

I’d almost forgotten I’d told her about my date. I hated to lie, so I bent the truth. “He was only passing through town. No long-term chance for something.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yes, it was.” Although I knew this thing with Simon was short term, it didn’t mean it wouldn’t suck when he left.

I downed two more whiskeys over the course of the next hour, which had me thinking I’d need to Uber home instead of drive. I took out my phone to check the time and was shocked to see two text messages from Simon.

“Are you at home?”

“I’m waiting outside in the car.”

Megan yawned on cue. “I should get going.”

I tried not to appear anxious to get home myself. “Did you drive today? I’ll walk you back to the garage.” I could get my Uber from there.

“Nope, hubbie and I carpooled in. He’s awaiting my text and will pick me up in front. I like to pretend I’m working the street corner, and he pulls up and starts negotiating sexual favors. It all ends with me blowing him in the car on the ride home. Although the belly might make it harder, I always like a challenge.”

I burst out laughing, not shocked by a thing that came out of my friend’s mouth. Perhaps Megan and my sister had been separated at birth.

We waited ten minutes in front before her husband pulled up curbside. “Try not to get arrested, Megan.”

She gave me a wink while walking towards the truck. “That has a whole other appeal. See you tomorrow.”

It took twenty-five minutes to get home in the Uber. Although I’d texted Simon I was on my way from happy hour, I hadn’t heard back from him. Perhaps he didn’t intend to wait? That would be disappointing as I was the perfect amount of drunk to want nothing other than having my wild way with my man.

Holy shit. Where had that thought come from? He wasn’t my man. This was temporary. Hopefully my heart was getting the message.

Once home, I got out of the car and looked around, soon spotting his Mercedes in front of my house. Deciding to take a page from Megan—which in hindsight I should’ve figured was a bad idea—I went around to the driver’s side window and knocked. Since it was already dark outside, I had a tough time seeing him. I didn’t wait once the window came down to deliver my line in what I hoped was a seductive Southern accent.

“Hey, there, honey, you looking for a good time tonight?”

I realized one moment too late he was holding a finger to his lips and pointing at his center dash.

“Bloody hell, are you being picked up by a prostitute? Where are you?” Emma’s voice came through the speaker phone.

I slapped my hands over my face, praying he didn’t say something like, “Nope, that’s just Peyton pretending to be a hooker.”

Clearly, I had a tendency to embarrass myself via speakerphone.

“Uh. Just some drunk college girls daring one another to be funny.” He threw his hands up in a motion which conveyed he hadn’t a clue how else to explain.

Meanwhile, I was having a tough time not laughing my ass off. Drinking will do that to you. Deciding I’d done enough damage, I gave him a wave and indicated I was heading inside.

I was happy for the head start. I let Cooper into the backyard to go potty and found a bathroom for myself. Finally, I took off my heels, which after twelve hours were killing my feet.

I heard him knock and yelled a ‘come in’ while I was letting Cooper back inside. It made me ridiculously happy to see Simon greet my big love by rubbing his ears.

“There is something about having a dog greet you that takes away a shitty day, isn’t there?” he quipped.

“Definitely. Does that mean you had a shitty day?”

He walked over the few steps to me, cupping my face.

“I can’t remember. It all got magically better once I saw you. Although I did get propositioned by a prostitute outside. Now that was unexpected.”

I laughed, telling him the idea came from Megan.

“I did not need to know that. Now tomorrow I’ll have to sit across from her in the interview and keep a straight face whilst picturing her hooker games with her husband.”

I giggled. “Did Emma buy your story?”

“Probably. Although it did nothing to improve her impression of Dallas, I’m sure.” His hands gripped my hips, pulling me into him. “What was it, exactly, you were offering outside?”

I moved my hands down to waistband. “Guess it depends on what it is you want. I’m all about the customer service, don’t you know?”

He chuckled before quickly sucking in a breath when my hand caressed the erection pressed against the front of his trousers. I loved the way I could have this effect on him, simply with the promise of what was about to happen. The anticipation had me heady with desire as I concentrated my efforts on his buckle. I gave him a smile of triumph once it yielded to my ministrations. Luckily, his zipper didn’t give me as much trouble.

Just as I was about to slide his slacks over his hips, he took my hands in his, stopping my action.

“How do you feel about the bedroom, where we can both be more comfortable and Cooper isn’t staring at me. He has a gleam in his eye that says he either, A, understands what’s about to happen and wants to watch or, B, thinks there may be a treat in my trousers for him. Either way is making me mildly uncomfortable, although not enough to want you to stop. All this means is if you’re up for canine voyeurism, then so be it.”

I glanced over to the side. My big dog was sitting there and, sure enough, he looked like he was waiting for a show or a snack. The sight had me burst out laughing. Taking Simon’s hand, I led him into my bedroom, still smiling. But once I shoved him onto my bed and pounced between his thighs, we were both back to business.

“Jesus, Peyton,” he muttered, apparently taken off guard by my aggressiveness.

I was suddenly a woman possessed, stripping him of his trousers and boxers until he was left lying heavy in my hand. I marveled at the size of him. He was both hot and soft to the touch while growing harder. Gripping him at the base, I slid my hand up the length of him. After scooting down so it was at eye level, I thought, not for the first time, that an uncircumcised penis was a sight to behold. I took a moment to acquaint myself with its uncut glory, enjoying the way it grew larger under my tutelage.

“Love. You’re killing me here.”

I flashed him a sheepish smile, having lost myself in fascination. Recommitting myself to the task, I took him into my mouth, sucking on the tip and then swirling my tongue down his length. I enjoyed how he drew in a sharp breath with my action.

Taking him deep, I held nothing back, practically demanding he come in my mouth. But he had other ideas, lifting me up and flipping me onto my back. He wasted no time taking my lips.

“I need to be inside of you.”

“Yes.” I wanted that, too. Desperately.

His hands frantically shoved up my dress before yanking down my thong. I heard the sound of a foil packet and then he was thrusting inside.

I groaned with the delicious intrusion, rocking my hips to accept him deeper. He obliterated my senses, giving me nothing but pleasure and taking me to climax within minutes.

“I want you naked.” He pulled out and stood me up with his help. Then he unzipped my dress, allowing it to fall. Next came my bra.

“Get on your knees, gorgeous.”

Although I was a bit unsteady, drunk either on alcohol or lust, I moved to my knees on the edge of my bed, squeaking when he grabbed my hips. He lined me up to his cock and then pressed back inside, driving to the hilt in one motion. We both gasped in unison at how deep he was.

Unrelenting in his thrusts, he brought me to orgasm quickly, but he wasn’t satisfied. Instead, he pounded harder, faster, the sounds of slapping skin reverberating in the room. His fingers reached around to play with my clit before he lubricated his finger with my wetness. He moved it back, pressing against my back hole, causing me to scream with the next climax. My entire body was on fire. I vaguely heard him grounding out his own orgasm before I collapsed on the bed, straight onto my stomach.

I doubted I’d ever move from this spot. Thankfully, he took charge, turning down the bed and then lifting me up and putting me in it. My quickly drooping eyes watched as he climbed in beside me and then gathered me into his body.

Huh. Brexy was a snuggler.