Chapter 6
SIX
Paxton
If this motherfucker stares at Hartford one more time, I might have to deck him right here and now. I haven’t punched anyone that wasn’t one of my brothers since high school, but I can’t handle the way this man’s eyes linger on Hartford’s legs.
It’s the fishnet stockings.
I have to admit when I arrived to pick up Hartford today, and she opened her front door, I had to pick my jaw off the floor.
I’ve never seen her in fishnets and a short plaid skirt that makes her look like a naughty version of a schoolgirl.
Almost gave me a woody. Ha. I would never have told this joke if not for a man named Woody leading me to a group of people at a picnic table right this very moment.
He introduces us, and we smile and say our hellos. Before he can introduce us to the last man at the table, I smile and say, “Rigsby Collins?”
“Oh, you two know each other?” Woody asks me.
“I’ve seen him play a few times at a coffee shop a friend of mine owns. Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet.” I hold out my hand, and Rigsby stands and gives it a firm shake.
“A true fan,” he says with an amused smile. “Not too many of you around.”
I let out a low chuckle. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re a talented musician. I love your songs.”
Hartford shakes his hand next. “Hi, Mr. Collins. It’s an honor to meet you. I love your song, ‘Down By The Bayou.’”
“Thank you,” the older man says. Rigsby Collins exudes a blues singer vibe with weathered lines etched into his face and a lifetime of soul radiating from his pores.
This man has definitely lived a life, and he’s the last person I’d ever expect to see at a community munch.
Or maybe he’s the exact type of man who’d be here.
I have to admit, most everyone here isn’t what I expected.
Rigsby glances at Hartford, taking in her outfit. “You two must be into age play.” He winks as he tips his fedora at us. Yes, the man has a style all his own, complete with a fedora.
“I read a few things about that. Is that like Daddy stuff?” Hartford sounds so innocent, and I try to imagine her calling me Daddy.
I honestly think it would be too awkward if she ever tried.
“Doesn’t always have to be about that. Paxton could be the grumpy professor and you the naughty student,” Natalie says with a wink to Hartford. “I love playing a bratty student.”
I picture Hartford leaned over a desk, and me spanking her plump ass with a ruler. Her soft brown eyes glazing over with desire as I punish her for being a brat during class.
Fuck, now I’m getting a hard-on right here at this munch.
“Why don’t we get food?” I choke out.
Hartford nods. “Okay, sure.” She glances at the group. “It was so great meeting all of you.”
They all say their goodbyes, and we walk toward the food buffet.
“Are you okay?” Hartford asks while we snag a couple of plates.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Your eyes went someplace else for a minute there. What were you thinking about?”
I can’t lie to this woman. But can I tell her what I was thinking about? Doesn’t hurt to try. “I was thinking about what they were saying.”
“About me as a naughty schoolgirl?” She plops a bread roll onto her paper plate.
“Yeah,” I breathe out.
“Do you think you’d be into something like that?”
I run my hand along the back of my neck as I hold my paper plate with my other hand. “I don’t know. But this isn’t about what I’d be into. This is about learning everything we can about BDSM.”
She blinks up at me, and the way the sun shines off her auburn hair, making it look a whole shade lighter, makes my chest ignite in flames.
She’s downright fuckable today.
I know I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but damn, she’s fucking hot.
Jealousy rages through me when that motherfucker who was eyeing her earlier walks up to us and tells her she’s the prettiest woman here today.
It pisses me off that I didn’t tell Hartford first that she was the prettiest woman here today. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
Hartford blushes, and more rage rushes through my veins. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks buddy for stating the obvious,” I say, stepping closer to Hartford.
“Name’s Bryan. You’d be perfect for a scene I’m looking to try out.”
Is this dude for real?
Before Hartford can respond, I cut in, “No thanks, we’re a package deal here.”
Bryan gives me a once over and smiles wide. “You can play too,” he says.
“I don’t share,” I say. I grew up with four brothers, so I don’t share well. Especially Hartford.
“I completely understand. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” Bryan tips an imaginary hat at Hartford and walks away.
“Asshole,” I breathe out as he leaves.
Hartford nudges into me and turns back to the buffet. “He was nice.”
“He was too forward. I didn’t like him.”
Hartford rolls her eyes with a smirk as she scoops potato salad onto her plate.
I nod at her plate. “You know, they say you shouldn’t eat potato salad at a cookout.”
“Who says that?”
“They,” I shoot back. “Whoever they are. But they say potato salad is the first thing to grow bacteria at cookouts.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s completely true.”
“Says they?” She gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me.
“It’s a major concern at cookouts.”
Hartford rolls her eyes, still not believing me, but transfers the potato salad back into the container. “There,” she says.
“Classy.” I laugh and scoop the potato salad she just discarded onto my plate.
“Oh my god, you did that because I took it all and you wanted it.”
I shake my head. “Not true.” It’s completely true.
She grabs a fork and stabs at my potato salad. “I’ll just eat all of yours.”
I raise my plate above her head and grin as she tries to reach for it. Sometimes it pays to be six-foot-two and your bestie to be five-foot-four.
“I hate you right now,” she says as she moves down the buffet line to get chicken.
“You don’t hate me.”
She finishes her plate with pasta salad and sighs. “You’re right. As much as I try to hate you, I can’t.”
“You’ll never hate me.” And the thought of Hartford ever truly hating me causes a slight panic to wash over me.
She smiles wide, her real smile, and says, “I could never hate you.”
And her words cause my racing heart to stall out. “I’ll never hate you either. Now let’s eat and talk about sex.”
The rest of the community munch was interesting to say the least. We both learned a lot and decided the first thing we’ll try is public play. Once we learned what it entails, we felt this would be right up our alley. Hartford and I love having our inside jokes that are a mystery to everyone else.
Public play is similar to that. It’s basically doing things in public where only we know about it.
Natalie came up with a few ideas that Hartford wrote in her notebook. After some discussion, there was only one that Hartford was down to try. A remote-controlled vibrator. And guess which lucky bastard gets to control the remote? Yep, me.
To say I’m overly excited is an understatement.
“You missed the ramp to get on the interstate,” Hartford says as I keep my Jeep headed toward downtown Saint Pierce.
“Sorry, I have to drop off a slim keg and a tap handle at Club Greed.”
Hartford turns in her seat to face me. “The Club Greed?” Her voice is high-pitched as she asks the question. “We’re going to Club Greed?”
I catch her wide eyes for a second before looking back at the road. “Relax, they’re not open. I said I’d drop by with the tap handle and a slim keg of Horny Goat IPA from Bearded Goat Brewery.”
“Your cousin’s brewery?”
“Yeah, Ellis and Urban brewed this beer by mistake, and it’s become this phenomenon, with its own cult following. They stopped brewing it to keep it special, so now it’s a rare beer that everyone wants to get their hands on. Callum wants to do the same thing for Atta Boy.”
“You guys should. That would be great.”
“Brock is working on something special. Hopefully, it takes off like Horny Goat has.”
She smiles at me. “I’m sure it will.” She focuses on the passing scenery outside the window. “Will anyone be at Club Greed? I can wait in the car.”
“No, you can come in. Ledger knows I’m stopping by, so he’ll be there. And maybe a bartender or two setting up for the night. No big deal.”
“Ledger Thorne?” I can hear it in Hartford’s voice. She knows the quiet billionaire from all the tabloids that love telling stories about the owner of Club Greed, and his friends. “Will his twin brother, Roman, be there? Have you met the Thorne twins?”
I quirk a smile. “Of course I have. Met Devereaux Huxley too.”
“Oh my god. Will he be there?”
Devereaux Huxley is the owner of Club Greed, and the man I met with to secure the beer account for Atta Boy.
It was around the time his club was getting bad publicity about the murders of a few women who worked there.
Huxley was the prime suspect, and I was nervous I might say something stupid, like ask him if he was the one killing the Greedy Girls.
I guess I have been nervous before in my life, but I’d never let Hartford know about it.
As I navigate down the winding road that twists and turns through the thick woods, anticipation builds with every passing moment. The dense foliage shields the club from prying eyes, adding an air of mystery and exclusivity.
As we finally approach the entrance, the grandeur of the establishment becomes immediately apparent. The imposing structure looms large before us, resembling more a grandiose estate than a mere sex nightclub.
"It's breathtaking," Hartford remarks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Almost like a luxury resort."
I nod in agreement. Club Greed is a statement of wealth and refinement. Its reputation precedes it, drawing in crowds eager to experience its lavish lifestyle.
The exterior is adorned with creeping vines that snake their way up the weathered brick walls, adding a touch of organic beauty to the otherwise imposing structure. A majestic fountain commands attention at the forefront, its cascading water lending an air of serenity to the bustling scene.
I park my Jeep out front, grabbing the slim keg and tap handle from the back of my Jeep.
When we step inside the welcoming foyer, we’re greeted by Adele behind the front desk.
“Paxton, Ledger told me you were stopping by,” Adele says, smiling at both of us. “I’ll let him know you’re here, and you can head on back.”
“Thanks, Adele.” I quickly introduce Adele to Hartford, letting Hartford know Adele’s one of the managers here.
Adele stands tall on her stilettos as she comes around the desk to shake Hartford’s hand. “So nice to meet the infamous Hartford. Your boy talks about you a lot.”
I do a small shake of my head at Hartford. “Lies.”
Adele shakes her head smiling, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders as she shakes her head. “All the time.”
Hartford beams. “I hope it’s all good things.”
“The best.” Adele nods. “Head on back. Ledger will be down in a few.”
As we walk through the hallway to the open area with the bar, Hartford leans closer.
“Devereaux Huxley doesn’t run things?”
“He just had a baby with the detective who was leading the Greedy Girl murders investigation.”
“Wow, that’s insane.”
“Yeah, she went undercover as a Greedy Girl and they fell in love.”
“I love that story,” Hartford sing-songs, holding her hands up to her chest. “The Greedy Girls work in the club?”
“Yeah, they’re the host of the rooms. I’ve never been here during club hours.”
“What happens in the rooms?”
I shrug. “Kinky shit, I’m sure.” Before we can talk more, Ledger appears at the bottom of the white marble staircase.
"Paxton," his deep voice resonates through the air. "How are you?" He strides closer, and I extend my hand as he approaches. "And who might this be?" His gaze shifts to Hartford, curious.
"This is Hartford," I introduce, feeling a sense of pride in the moment. Adele wasn’t lying. I do talk about Hartford a lot.
"Nice to meet you, Hartford," Ledger acknowledges, extending his hand in greeting.
"Hello," Hartford responds in a quiet voice, her demeanor betraying a hint of awe in the presence of such a powerful man.
Billionaire.
Definitely swimming in pussy.
I'm certain this man could have his pick of any woman he desires.
He probably has countless admirers vying for his attention every day.
I can't help but notice Hartford's gaze lingering on him, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit jealous.
But I get it. I think the first time I met him I was struck with envy.
After a few minutes of small talk, Hartford leaves to sit on a nearby white couch while I check the beer kegs behind the bar.
I drop the slim keg behind the bar, and make sure they have enough beer to get through the weekend.
I hand Ledger the Horny Goat IPA tap handle, and he holds it like I’ve just given him a gold brick.
“Thanks, Paxton. Atta Boy treats us so well. I appreciate it.”
Little does he know that I’d do anything for this account. It’s not only our biggest account, but like I said…it has brought in many more accounts.
We’d be stupid not to treat them like gold.
“She’s cute,” Ledger says, nodding over at Hartford.
“Thanks. We just came from a community munch.” I’m about to explain what a munch is, but Ledger smiles like he knows all about them.
It’s confirmed when he says, “Ah, looking to explore BDSM with her?”
“Quite possibly,” I say, not wanting to betray Hartford’s trust in telling people about the article.
Ledger raises a brow. A smile splits his face and his dark eyes focus on Hartford once more. “You should bring her here one night.”
I blink. “Like we could ever afford it here.”
“Just let me know what day you want to stop in, and I’ll put you both on the list.”
“Seriously?” I’m sure my eyes are the size of golf balls.
Ledger clasps my shoulder. “Of course. We’ve got rooms to play out scenes. We also have community rooms. We’ve got it all. Just check out the website.”
“Will do. I appreciate it, Ledger. And I’ll get another keg of the Horny Goat for you.”
“Thank you. And I mean it. Let me know what evening you want to stop by.”
I nod, thanking him once more before saying our goodbyes and heading back to my Jeep.
I don’t tell Hartford just yet that we’ve been invited for a night of kink at Club Greed.
Maybe I’ll surprise her. Maybe I won’t bring her here at all.
All I know is we need to find a remote-controlled vibrator, because my fingers are itching at the idea of controlling Hartford’s climax.