Ainsley
twenty-two
Payton can read me like a book. Absolutely nothing gets past him.
On top of that, my own damn body is betraying me where he’s concerned, humping him like a horny puppy and letting him feel me up because he has the sexiest voice known to womankind and I have an inner slutty clingy koala who spreads her legs when he asks if I’m wet for him and wants to be in his arms every possible moment.
Of course I’m wet. I’m a woman who sees his appeal and what he said was sexy as hell to a twisted part of me.
I know what he’s capable of, what he can do to me with his hands, a silk scarf, and some choice words.
For whatever reason, I like when he calls me a cumslut, a cockwhore, or Daddy’s little whatever.
Fuck. I turn the shower to cold and blast myself with an icy spray to cool the inferno of lust that simply thinking the words stokes in me.
While I won’t tell him, I loved everything about the sensory session he put me through.
I’ve been waiting for him to initiate another, but since that one instance, every interaction we’ve had has all been for show in public.
It’s a good reminder that this thing between us isn’t real and I shouldn’t expect anything from him outside of the fake roles we’re playing, even if he says we can introduce sex.
Yeah, because that wouldn’t complicate things even more.
He may tease me mercilessly with his never-ending innuendo, but we haven’t talked about how I asked him to tie me up and spank me, which got me off.
I submitted to him willingly and gave up control in a way I never thought I’d be able to.
It was easy to trust him when I wasn’t able to see and didn't have the use of my hands.
I was dependent on him in a way I otherwise wouldn't have been.
I couldn't have my walls up in that situation. I needed what he could give me, and he needed me to be honest and let him in. I told him what I wanted. He gave me that and more I didn’t realize I needed.
I crave it. To be at his mercy and just a little out of control of the situation, letting him do what he wants to me because he’s capable of making me feel good no matter what he does.
The way I came while grinding on his lap as he spanked me and called me his whore was unexpected and hot as fuck.
When he took off the blindfold and we locked eyes, it clicked that we had a level of mutual trust that doesn’t come easily to either of us.
Later, I realized he’d come, too. Despite his immense amounts of control, he’d been so turned on by bringing me pleasure, he couldn’t help himself.
I’d broken that part of him while he broke down my walls.
It was a revelation that made me feel so powerful. I blast myself with more icy water.
My next dilemma is clothing. The pajamas I packed—a tank top and boy shorts—are for the privacy of my own room, not sharing one with Payton. I sigh. He’s seen me in a bikini, so I guess it’s fine.
I open the door and find him reclining in bed, phone in hand.
My mouth drops open when I look at him, shirtless, only wearing a pair of loose shorts, dark hair wet from his own shower.
He looks up with a smile, but it slips and his blue eyes quickly darken when he gives me a slow once-over that feels heavy as I put my bag away and walk toward the bed, trying not to feel too awkward under his perusal.
I snatch up my own phone and crawl into what I assume is my side of the bed, ignoring Payton.
I cross my arms to try to hide that my nipples are straining through the thin material of my tank top.
“What?” I snap, unable to take it any longer.
“Want to talk?”
I shake my head.
“Want to cuddle?”
I roll toward him and prop my head on my hand. “Why would I want to cuddle with you when I know exactly where that would lead?”
He rolls to mirror my position so we’re only a foot apart. His naturally intoxicating scent is mixed with a clean soapiness that is divine.
“I can cuddle without having sex. Why? Do you only cuddle when sex is involved? That’s so sad. Cuddling’s nice. It releases feel-good hormones. It’s been a while since I’ve had another person in my bed to cuddle with. I figured the same for you since you said you don’t date.”
My phone vibrates on the bed between us, the screen lighting up with an unknown number texting me.
We both look down at the same time and I quickly put my hand over it, hoping he didn’t see the screen.
I swipe away the notification as my heart hammers a rapid staccato beat. It vibrates again and I silence it.
“Who’s texting you from an unknown number, Ainsley?” Payton asks evenly as he gives me an inscrutable look.
“Probably spam,” I evade. “I need to block it. Happens a lot.” My face heats as I evade his probing eyes.
“Why would a spam number mention my name and call you a fucking whore?” Payton’s voice is deadly quiet and I’ve never seen him look so serious.
There’s no trace of his usual smile or effervescent energy.
He doesn’t even get the same reaction using the word whore now, in a different context.
I guess it’s good to know I don't have to worry about always reacting to the word, only to the way he uses it in certain situations.
I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them to keep from shaking. “It’s nothing. Just some ex drama I’m dealing with.”
Payton sits up against the headboard and pulls me between his legs until I’m leaning into his chest. He wraps his arms around me, holding me together, too.
“What about you being with me makes your ex want to call you names?” he asks quietly as he runs his fingers through the ends of my hair, sending goosebumps dancing along my skin.
God, why does him holding me feel good? I shouldn't like the way he’s comforting me, and there’s no reason for him to even care, yet for some reason, I know he does.
The way his whole demeanor changed told me everything.
And now I want to tell him everything. I sigh and shift deeper into his hold, his arms closing tighter.
“This is personal to him. Olympus led a hostile takeover of his father’s company a few years ago, but it was after we broke up, so I wasn't around to know the details. It’s no surprise that created bad blood he’s not over.
We’ve been broken up for years, but he contacted me a few weeks ago out of the blue after he saw us on the Atlanta Haute List. He’s been pretty nasty in his messages, which was standard for the end of our relationship.
I changed my number when I left New York after our breakup, but he’s kind of a tech genius, like you, and has always had a way of finding information, so I guess he tracked me down.
I’ve blocked every number he’s used, but he hasn’t stopped. ”
“Who’s your ex, Ainsley?” Payton asks quietly next to my ear, his fingers stilling the delicious movement in my hair.
“His name is Archer Donovan. Do you remember taking over Donner Investments? That was his father’s company.
” I partially turn to look at Payton’s face.
“His dad was part of the group that went to prison last year for orchestrating all that stuff with the mine collapse y’all were framed for.
It’s no surprise Archer’s pissed at me.” I let my head fall back against his shoulder in frustration before leaning forward again.
Payton swears under his breath. “No, Princess. You’re not to blame for anything and Archer shouldn’t be taking his frustration out on you, even through texts.
His issue is with Olympus and what we did.
He’s cyberstalking you.” He brushes my hair away from my neck, kneading at the tension that’s jacking my shoulders toward my ears.
“He has easier access to me to take that frustration out on, so I’ll be fielding his aggressive texts, not Olympus. Mmm, that feels good.”
Payton has magic hands, strong enough to work out the knots that have settled in my overly tense muscles but gentle enough to send shivers racing down my arms and to lower places.
“Tell me how you met Archer.” His voice is quiet as he works at stubborn knots in my shoulders and neck.
This could be a very effective interrogation tactic because I’m willing to tell him anything as he touches me like this.
I even want to grind my ass against him a little.
I don’t care if that’s his motive. It feels too damn good.
“I worked at Donner Investments as a summer job before I started my grad program at NYU.” My words are quiet as I sink back into the sludge of memories that are hard to dredge up, knowing where the story ends.
“My scholarships wouldn't cover as much of my tuition so I needed more money than my internships or odd jobs were getting me. The admin position a friend hooked me up with paid better than anything else I’d had before. Mmm, right there. Good God, your hands are amazing.”
He chuckles. “I’ll leave that comment alone for now, but know it’s taking everything not to crack an inappropriate joke.
” He ghosts his lips over the shell of my ear and I shiver.
“Keep going with your story, Princess.” His voice carries that note of command that stirs something low in my body as his hands work up my neck, effectively turning me into putty in his grip.
It takes me a moment to collect my thoughts through his effect on me.
“Archer came into the office occasionally. He liked to lord it over us plebeians who had to work for our paychecks and found it funny that his father was always stressed over the market and deals. He hated everything his father did.”
“He sounds like a real winner,” Payton deadpans.
I laugh quietly and drop my head down, remembering seeing Archer around the office and being attracted to his tall, blond, lean build and cocky attitude, but knowing he was off-limits because of who he was. It made him that much more appealing.