15. Fifteen
Fifteen
Ainsley
Annoying Payton: Thinking about me, Muffin?
I look at my phone while walking to my car after work and roll my eyes at Payton’s presumptuous text. I slide into the hot seat, crank the engine, and blast the air conditioning before I reply.
Me: Haven’t spared you a second thought, but it looks like you’re thinking of me since you're the one texting.
I can't get him out of my head.
He showed me a side of myself I was entirely unaware of, all because he’s some evil genius who can read people so effectively, it’s as good as mind reading. The filthy, depraved words he spoke to me and the way it made me feel—confused yet excited, disgusted but needy, wanting to refuse and obey, to balk but give up control, to dig in my heels yet follow his commanding voice and do as he bid—were the antithesis of what I feel about myself as a strong, independent, controlled woman.
The antithesis, yes, but I can't deny the allure it created. An attraction I don't quite understand. I'm not the kind of woman who wants to give myself up to a man to debase and degrade. To be put in my place and used for his pleasure. To be filled with cum and called a whore. To call a man Daddy who isn’t my father.
Holy shit, I think I need to change my underwear from the flood of warmth that just hit me as I sift through the destruction that Payton left in my head. He really is a master manipulator of epic proportions who says the shit most people would have the good grace to ignore. He’s a dangerous man to be friends with.
My phone vibrates on my lap, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
Annoying Payton: You’re right. Those fucking lips of yours are always on my mind. I need to see them in person while they say more mean things to me. I’m taking you to dinner at Rare tonight at seven. Prepare your best insults. Wear something sexy. I’m showing off my girlfriend. We’ll be front and center for all to see.
My eyes widen at his text and everything it includes. Is he serious? He thinks about my lips and he wants to take me out and show me off? I type back a furious reply.
Me: You chauvinistic prick, you can’t tell me what to wear! I’m not your doll to dress up and show off. You asshole!
Annoying Payton: ?? Keep the insults coming, Spitfire. I like you in pink, but blue is my favorite color. I can’t wait to see you again.
He ignored everything I said.
Payton arrives at seven sharp and knocks on my door instead of texting to let me know he’s arrived. Della giggles and hops around the apartment like a bunny on crack as I grab a clutch purse and check my blue minidress one last time in our hallway mirror. I didn’t wear the color for Payton. It’s just the first thing I found that works. I curled my hair and Della forced me to put on makeup, so my eyes are heavy on the sparkly shadow and mascara. I’m even wearing a pink gloss that enhances my full lips to luscious proportions. If he’s thinking about my lips, he won’t be able to stop now.
“Have so much fun and stay out late. Wait, don't even come home,” she says, disappearing down the hallway before I can open the door. I roll my eyes.
“Bye, Dells, I’ll see you later,” I call back. At least she didn’t want to be obnoxious and stand around to meet Payton like a worried parent. Instead, she’d rather make herself scarce so the date starts faster.
I open the door of my apartment and suck in an audible breath when I find the obnoxious billionaire on my threshold, towering above me as he leans against the doorframe, looking incredible in gray slacks and a white button-down, smelling absolutely divine. The knowing smirk on his face drops when he takes me in, and I get a thrill of excitement when his smiley mask slips, his eyes darkening to something so primal and wanting even I can't mistake it for anything other than what it is. Pure sexual desire.
“Ainsley Montgomery, you look like the kind of trouble I want to get into.” His voice is deep and resonant, sending heat into my core, my thighs clenching as I work to breathe normally.
My cheeks flush at his words. I look away to fight past this flustered feeling. His hand catches my chin and turns my face back up to his as he steps closer, molding our bodies together, his free hand smoothing down my back and keeping me close. His warmth aligns down my front, and though my initial thought is to back up and get out of this, a part of me wants to throw myself into his arms, wrap my limbs around him like a clingy koala, and never let go. That part of me is obviously a horny slut for attention and I work to tune her out as I know better than to give in to her desires, especially with a man like Payton.
Not tonight, demonic koala.
“Good thing we know this is all fake and there’s a contract in place to keep us out of trouble,” I remind him in a shaky voice, stepping back with more difficulty than expected. Disappointment crosses his face, but an easy smile quickly replaces it as he holds out his hand for me to take and turns us to leave.
Rare is the kind of fancy steakhouse I’d never go to on my own given the cost of a single item on the menu and how hard it is to get a reservation, but of course that’s not an issue for a man like Payton. We’re led directly to a table when we check in with the hostess. It’s set off to the side of the restaurant but still within view of the main dining space, so plenty of eyes are on us as we make our way to our seats. I feel the weight of stares without having to look for them and raise pleading eyes to Payton.
“We want to be seen. That's the whole point,” he says quietly, reading my look with stunning accuracy. “You’re my beautiful new girlfriend I want to show off proudly.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand, then runs his thumb over my knuckles in a way that is both performative for our audience and soothes my anxiety at being watched.
“I’m normally the one watching and taking notes. This is new to me. I don’t like it all that much,” I tell him. He flips my hand and laces our fingers together on the table, continuing to smooth his thumb along my skin.
Our server stops at our table, keeping me from saying more. He fills our water glasses and takes our order before leaving.
Once we’re alone again, Payton returns to the conversation. “This can be a short outing. We’ll eat and leave. We don’t have to stay long. Now tell me about your week. Has it been busy? Have you given more thought to what we talked about on Sunday?”
I frown. “Which question do you actually want me to answer? The banality of working at a tiny paper, the mundane things that keep me busy, or my research into some uncovered kink and what that could mean?”
“You were thinking about it. Do you have any questions?”
Again, he doesn’t answer my question. He focuses on what he wants and asks me more. I sigh and look down at our entwined fingers. I have plenty of my own .
“What kind of Dominant are you?” This was something that came up in my research quite a bit. There are variations to the Dominant role that align with different styles of kink or play and meet the needs of different submissives. I don’t know if I’m submissive, exactly, but I think I respond to Payton’s commanding tone and the words he uses in a way that should be discussed.
He smiles calmly and squeezes my hand. “Good girl, you’ve been doing your homework.”
I blink at the words and a shiver runs through me because he used that deeper, commanding tone when he praised me.
“I fit a few types, but I tend to gravitate toward softer Dom styles. You might’ve seen it called something like a service Dom or a pleasure Dom, which I think you’d respond to.”
“Pleasure Dom,” I repeat, rolling the title around my brain. “So you don’t do things like spankings or use whips and chains?” I ask quietly. My face heats. I must be bright red at this point, but my researcher brain is fully engaged and I want to know more than I care about my own embarrassment.
Payton’s eyes become churning ocean swells at my question, and his smile slides into the sexy one, not the fake one he pulls on for the benefit of others. He leans toward me, his fingers sliding up my arm in a soft caress.
“I’ll do anything that brings pleasure to my sub. If the thought of my hand striking your bare ass makes your pussy weep, I’ll make your skin blush the most beautiful rosy shade of red, then spend hours worshiping your body so you don’t even remember the sting. You’ll have the proof of it the next day as a reminder of what I did to your perfect ass.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. An intense shiver works its way from my scalp to the tips of my toes. I just experienced a tiny orgasm from his description of a spanking. This man is dangerous. He has far too much power, too much of an intense magnetism that my body feels acutely.
“Got it, spankings are still on the table with a pleasure Dom.” My voice is husky and has a shake I can’t control.
“If you want to test your limits when it comes to impact play of another kind, I have other impact implements and would happily lead you down the path of caning, flogging, or paddling. If you want to experience the heights of pleasure during sensory deprivation, we could try soft silk blindfolds, heavy leather cuffs, and pretty ball gags that would leave your gorgeous mouth so full you couldn't talk back. If you decide that rope bondage is a kink that gets you off as much as degradation does, you better believe I’ll be your rigger and turn you into my ultimate rope bunny just as much as my cumslut.”
He’s slouched back in his chair, relaxed as ever, speaking about the kinkiest shit like we’re talking about the weather, whereas I’m leaning over the table toward him, my body wound tight as a spring, practically vibrating with the tension. Our hands are still connected by the barest brush of fingertips and it feels more intimate than it should due to the subject matter.
“It sounds like you’re very familiar with this. Have you…had a lot of partners?” I can’t bring myself to say subs. Everything about this feels weird. I don’t even want to know this much, but it feels necessary. His experience is important.
“I’ve had many casual play partners for individual sessions when I wanted to release tension, but I’ve never had a true ongoing Dom/sub dynamic. It’s always been too much work to maintain and foster the kind of partnership I’d want with the level of”—he pauses for a moment and levels me with a dark-eyed gaze before continuing—“care…I’d want to provide.”
“And your version of care includes spankings and…ball gags?” My voice trembles on the last words, thinking of losing my ability to say something harsh that would keep him out of my head.
“You’re really interested in spankings, aren’t you?" He looks at me curiously before he continues. "We’d negotiate all that for a play session. Your limits, your comfort level, your curiosity would be discussed, and safe words established. Kink is all about safe, sane, consensual play. Nothing would happen without ensuring your safety, frame of mind, and consent at every step. Submission is given, never taken.”
He’s drawing small circles along my palm as he speaks, making goosebumps climb my arm. He didn’t speak hypothetically. He spoke about me like this is an inevitability that’s bound to happen.
Our food arrives and stops the kinky conversation but allows me the chance to finally ask about him. I need to put my reporter skills to use and I want to know more about the nerdy side of him he showed me at the café.
“How is it you’re head of marketing and PR when you’re obviously a tech genius? Shouldn’t you be lording it over the nerds in the IT department or hold the CTO or CIO title instead of COO?”
He looks at me over his wine glass before answering. “I do what Olympus needs. We have more pressing marketing and PR concerns than ongoing technology issues. I’m able to oversee both segments of the company through operations, so that’s where I’m needed and put the majority of my energy.”
“What about situations like the data breach this past winter? Would it have changed anything had you been focused on the technology side of the business, or would that still have occurred?” I press, looking for answers to something no one has been able to pull from the tight-lipped company.
Payton’s face darkens, eyes cast down toward his plate with a stormy expression. He leans back in his chair, the movement causing his fingers to finally leave my skin. I close my hand around empty air, immediately regretting that I’ve caused him to pull away and leave me without his touch after he’s been so generous with it.
“There’s no way to know for sure. I built the technology and platform our company runs on. I thought it was bulletproof. I’d run countless penetration tests, gone through every conceivable possibility of attack and still the hacker was able to get in and steal proprietary information. I don't know whether that says more about the flaws of my system or their skills.”
“What’s Olympus doing with the real estate developments you’re working on? You’ve bought up blocks of downtown Atlanta and are in talks with the city, but you haven’t announced what the project is. Can I have the exclusive?” My cheeks heat again but for a completely different reason than before. I’m asking for something that benefits my career and is a bit of a stretch, ethically, due to the complicated nature of our current situation.
Payton smiles and steeples his fingers in front of his face, tapping them softly against his chin. “Look at you, using our relationship to your advantage. I thought you were against mixing business with pleasure.” The way he says pleasure is obscene. I know he intended it that way by the sly smile he offers. “Of course you can have it, Princess.” He picks up my hand and brings it to his lips. “But you have to shop the story around instead of printing it in the Gazette. That paper’s too small for an exclusive like this. At least sell it to a larger Atlanta newspaper with more credibility.”
“I can do that, but my editor’s going to be pissed. ”
“Your editor can eat shit. Your paper isn’t a hard-hitting news organization known for breaking stories about multibillion-dollar conglomerates entering into million-dollar deals with the city to build an entertainment complex and bring a professional sports team to the city. That’s the kind of story that’s better suited to another paper and he can’t deny it. If you want to write up a smaller piece that covers the basics that the Gazette would actually run, he should be grateful you’re willing to do that.”
“You’re bringing in a sports team? What kind? Don’t we have everything already? And an entertainment complex? We have the Georgia Dome, the ballpark outside the city, and the arena where the basketball team plays. What else could we need?” I’m confused. I know this is huge, but my mind is working to figure the details out. I don't follow any professional sports, so this is beyond my comprehension.
Payton looks around us, ensuring there aren’t any listening ears too close before he returns his attention to me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’re buying an NHL franchise and bringing professional hockey back to Atlanta. The last time we had a team was over a decade ago. Since then, the sport has exploded in popularity. We got into real estate to buy the land and build the complex and entertainment around it. It should be profitable in the long term, but it’s a huge initial investment, which is why the city’s behind the project because we’re willing to take on the financial responsibility.”
“That’s absolutely crazy. Do you know anything about owning a hockey team, or building a sports complex?” I ask. My mind is spinning through the logistics and what it must take to put together this monster of a project. I’m also filing away everything he says for a story.
“We have a team of experts for every part of this project and we’re already interviewing for a general manager and coaches now. We’ll be hands-off with the actual hockey part since we don’t know anything about it. We’ve learned how to initiate projects, organize what’s necessary, and compile the right teams to run them as needed. It’s called delegating.” He smirks at me and I scowl.
“You’re such a smartass. So hockey and real estate development. I never would’ve guessed this is the direction Olympus International would be headed in after engines and private jets, hotels, shipping, investments, and mining.”
“We diversify our assets and ensure we’re always ahead of the curve.”
Payton tells me more about the development plans while we eat and I’m already planning out the story I’ll write. It has me fully engaged and hanging onto his every word, which keeps him talking. Before I know it, the check’s been paid and he’s holding his hand out to me, signaling that our dinner date is over. Unexpected disappointment floats through me, despite initially wanting to keep this a short outing.
“This wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I begrudgingly offer as he opens the door of his Range Rover for me. He waits for me to slide in and hands me my seat belt. He laughs and leans on the doorframe, studying me.
“I’m not as bad as you think, Ainsley. You just want to hate me for all the wrong reasons.”