21. Twenty-one
Twenty-one
Payton
“ T hat’s yours? It’s huge.”
“Thank you, Muffin, just what every man wants to hear.”
I laugh at her expression of disdain when I turn to her and see her looking between me and the yacht as it comes into view. I chuckle and pull her by the hand along the dock in the private marina off the Georgia coast where the yacht is moored. She’s letting me touch her far more tonight, even when it’s not for show and I’m taking every opportunity she’ll allow me to do it.
“I told you it has lots of space.”
“You said you had a boat. This is basically a cruise ship. The two are not the same. I was expecting something else entirely,” she mumbles as we board the yacht.
“I’ll let you berate me about the differences all you want later, but first, you have to meet the small crew who’ll be on board with us.” I wave at the people waiting in the main cabin. “Ainsley, this is Captain Roycroft. Evans is our chef. Grant, Eamonn, and Brockway are our deckhands. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Ainsley Montgomery. She’ll be staying with me and should be afforded the same treatment and respect you’d use for me,” I direct to the crew, whom I’ve already messaged this information to but figured Ainsley would benefit from hearing it as well.
She squeezes my hand in warning, and when I look down at her, she gives me a murderous look that’s not well-hidden before she schools her face and returns her eyes to the crew. “Nice to meet you.”
“We’ll have our food in my cabin whenever it’s ready, Evans,” I instruct.
“Yes, sir. Your requests were received and I delivered your meals myself a moment before you arrived,” Evans responds with a nod.
“Perfect timing. Thank you,” I say before turning us away and leading Ainsley toward a hallway into the heart of the yacht.
“ I’m staying with you ?” Ainsley whispers in indignation as she follows along, her hand tugging to be released from my grip. I hold on tighter. “I thought this boat had space was code for I would have my own room and spending the weekend with you meant I’d see you in common areas only, not that I’d be staying in the same room as you.” Now she sounds pissed.
“Of course you’re staying with me. My staff is discreet, but even they can’t know about this arrangement. Outside of us, everyone has to believe this is real.” I push into my room, wishing it could be real for us, too. The huge bed looks more than inviting after a week that took more from me than I care to admit.
“There’s only one bed,” she says, sounding positively mortified.
“Yes, and it’s nice and big, but if you want to cuddle, I won’t mind.” I smile as she rounds on me, her hazel eyes flashing angrily at my humor.
“This isn’t a good idea. In fact, it’s terrible. We shouldn’t be in the same room, let alone the same bed. This is all wrong.”
I drop her bag on the floor and walk her over to the bed she’s so worried about until her knees hit the edge and she’s forced to sit, then lie back. I keep moving until I’m hovering over her body, feeling her chest heave under mine as I hold myself on my forearms above her.
“What are you so worried about, Muffin? Think you won’t be able to keep your hands off me if you have to sleep next to me? Or maybe you’re worried about having a naughty dream and I’ll hear you moaning my name and grinding against me looking for a release?” I roll my hips against hers for the briefest moment and feel her unconsciously rise to meet me before I’ve lifted again. “Or maybe I’ll see you unguarded and raw, and that scares you more than anything else.” I trace the soft curve of her cheek with my finger as she stays silent below me, her face pink and her eyes simmering pools of golden-flecked amber in the low light.
Her small hands find my chest, but instead of pushing me away as expected, she leaves them there, tentatively curling into my shirt as if she’s fighting the urge to pull me against her. I decide for her and move away, her hands dropping as I do. I walk into the closet, hanging my jacket before returning and finding her holding her face on the edge of the bed where I left her.
“You’re a real mind fucker.” She scowls up at me.
“When was the last time you ate?” I nod at the small table and chairs where the dinner service is set up. “Maybe you’ll be a little nicer after we get some food in you.”
“I don’t do nice with arrogant assholes who aren’t used to hearing no.”
Her face is set in that perpetual pout that’s way too cute.
“I’m fine with hearing no, Spitfire. I just think you need someone else to take control and give you a chance to relax for a change. You’re so rigid and stuck in this angry, prickly thing you have going that you’re missing out on a whole lot of the fun life offers. We’re going to work on that together. Starting right now.”
Ainsley visibly bristles as she rises to her feet, still considerably shorter than me even in heels, and stomps toward me.
“The audacity you have is unmatched. I have no interest in working on anything with you.”
“Wrong. You’ve agreed to be my girlfriend, you’ve joined me here, and you’ve come at my hand turning your ass red. You fucking loved giving up control and submitting to me because you trusted me to give you what you needed. You’re going to work on a shit ton with me, and it starts right the fuck now, Princess. Now sit on my lap so I can take your shoes off and feed you some fucking dinner.”
I sit at the table and pull her down onto my lap, settling her on my thighs as she squeals in protest. She’s in the sweetest silky pink skirt that floats around her thighs and lets me feel the heat of her on my legs. I toe off her heels under the table and kick them away so her feet dangle above the ground. God, I love that she’s fun-sized and fits perfectly right here against my chest, her head lower than mine so I can see over her, and my body wider than hers so it’s easy enough to move around her.
“Payton,” she warns once she realizes I’m not joking. “I’m not a fucking child who needs to be fed.” She vibrates in frustration against me, not sure what to do with herself and me as I push her need for control and independence that wars with her need to be taken care of.
I’ve already boxed her in with my arms to uncover the trays of perfectly cooked chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables on the table. “Relax and let me take care of you, Ainsley.”
She turns her head and looks at my profile, and I pause from cutting the food on the plate to meet her stare.
“Why the hell do you want to take care of me? You’ve said that a few times when we’ve been together. What delusional world do you live in where that’s the default for a perfect stranger who has never asked you for anything?”
She looks truly curious and a little put out. I abandon the silverware and wrap my arms around her waist to hold her against me, her eyes growing wide, but I don’t miss the amber warming right along with the heat from her body against mine. I confuse her further by kissing her nose, getting a huff of surprise. She’s so fucking cute when she’s indignant.
“How long have you been taking care of yourself?” I ask instead of answering her question.
Her eyebrows bunch as she considers. “That’s a weird question.”
“Did you have to grow up quickly because you were a middle child in a large family, slightly overlooked, a bit shy, reclusive, and left to your own devices more often than not? As a child, were you packing your own lunches, organizing your own school things, and in high school were you babysitting for extra spending money so you weren’t a burden on your parents?”
She stays silent, her eyes growing wide, so I know I’ve nailed the conclusions I’ve drawn from the little she’s told me about her family and upbringing.
“I bet you worked through college, too. Where’d you go?”
“NYU,” she answers sulkily, guarding her answers as usual, but she relaxes against me a bit, and I take that as a win.
“New York would suit you with that attitude. No wonder,” I tell her, nuzzling her cheek as I chuckle. She ducks her head but doesn’t pull away, and she crosses her arms over mine where they rest around her middle. I open my fingers and lace ours together. Surprisingly, she lets me. “What did you do for work in New York?” I ask quietly, bringing my face next to hers as she relaxes further into my body.
“I did a bunch of things,” she replies, sounding introspective.
She curls her legs up into my lap and I tuck an arm under them to support her. She’s so little and adorable, I just want to keep her here forever.
“I wrote for the school paper, took food service jobs, interned at The New York Times . I even worked at an investment firm as an admin for a summer.”
“See, I knew you were a hustler and likely haven’t had anyone take care of you for a long time. Let me. Allowing someone else to take care of you and remove that burden from your shoulders, even for a little while, doesn’t undermine your independence or say anything bad about your ability to do it yourself.”
“Is that another one of your things ?” she asks quietly, turning her head, which is now fully resting against my shoulder.
I can’t fight the urge and place a lingering kiss against her forehead because it’s right there . She doesn’t pull away from my kiss, and her eyes are soft when she opens them and meets mine.
“Yes, baby. I want to take care of you. Make you feel good. Find what works for you. Explore anything you like and do that for you. I hate seeing you deny yourself the things you want. It drives me fucking crazy knowing I could give you everything so easily. Let me be what you need.”
“You don’t have to do that. There’s no one here to put on a show for. Isn’t the point of all this to prove to Harlowe that you don’t need her to set you up with her friends? It’s not about what I need or want. I’m here filling a role as a favor, which is fine.”
I can feel the tension in Ainsley’s body despite her relaxed posture.
I consider my words before replying. “That might’ve been what got us here in the first place, but why shouldn’t we get something out of the charade that’s beneficial? I want to take care of you, and you have needs that should be explored. I can be a safe way for you to do that. Completely outside of our arrangement, of course. This has no bearing on what we’ve agreed to do in public for my image as a perpetual bachelor. Though it could lend credibility to the story of me being in a committed relationship if we look sexually satisfied.”
She stiffens in my arms. “You’re saying we could have sex and it wouldn’t be real or mean anything, but it wouldn’t be for our fake relationship? Why even do it, then? Why not just keep it off the table completely and not complicate the situation any more than it needs to be?”
“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be real.” Fuck, how I want it to be real. She’d go running if she knew that, though. I try a different tactic. “How wet do you get when I call you my pretty little cumslut?” I ask, voice low and commanding.
I feel the change in her posture immediately. She goes soft and attentive, her face turning toward mine, eyes wide, lips parted, back arching as her ass grinds into my lap unconsciously.
“W-wet,” she says haltingly, her cheeks growing pink either from embarrassment or desire.
“I bet if I slipped my fingers up your skirt, I’d find my sweet cockwhore’s panties soaked for Daddy, wouldn’t I?”
She subtly parts her legs in invitation, and I take it, sliding a palm between her knees and up to the apex of her thighs, where I feel her hot and wet for me, just as expected. I groan as I stroke the tips of my fingers under the edge of her lace panties and she lets out a breathy sigh.
“Oh, God,” she says quietly, turning her face into my neck, her whole body shaking from that one light touch. Fuck, she’s more responsive than I could have imagined. I haven’t even brushed her clit or sunk a finger inside of her and she’s already trembling. I reluctantly remove my hand from her thighs.
“Tonight, it’s Daddy. Now eyes on me.”
I taste her on my fingertips while I wait for her to turn hazy eyes to mine. She’s sweet, as expected, and it makes my cock harden, digging into her ass where she’s still curled on my lap. I want to bury my face between her thighs and feast on her while she eats her dinner.
“You could get off just from my voice and the filthy words I say because I want you to. Isn’t that right, Princess? Now taste yourself and suck.”
I move my hand to her mouth and push two fingers with her arousal coating them across her parted lips and she sucks them in, swirling her tongue around. She keeps her eyes on mine as I press them farther into her mouth and test her abilities. She may be confused about her reactions to what she wants, but she has no problem acting on them in the moment, and she can deepthroat my fingers just fine. I push until she gags, eyes watering, before I pull my fingers out.
“The next time I tell you to suck, you’ll be on your knees, begging for my cock and I’ll be watching your pretty pink lips suck me off.” I brush my thumb along her cheek and smile at her. “You took it well. You’re so fucking perfect, Princess. Such a good little slut. And that’s why we’re going to explore this together.”
She blinks, clearing the sex haze from her eyes when I let my voice return to a normal tone before she unfolds out of my arms.
“How are you doing that? What sort of mind games are you playing with me?” she asks, eyes narrowing as she stands on shaky legs and moves to her own chair without me stopping her. I would prefer she stay curled up right here in my lap, but she needs her distance to think clearly, and I’m happy to give her that.
“I’m not playing mind games. I just tapped into something you need and respond to that I’m capable of providing. If you want to play games, that’s something I’m quite good at and we can come up with all sorts of scenarios that would be lots of fun.” I grin at her as she shoots me a glare that could freeze the fiery pits of hell. I push the plate of food toward her. “Now please eat. I know you’re hungry.”
I pour us each a glass of wine before I take my own plate while she eyes me suspiciously. Finally, she takes a bite of the food I cut for her and lets out the most erotic-sounding moan of pleasure that instantly makes my cock hard again. My head snaps up at that noise and a small smile tugs on my lips when I see her eyes are closed and she’s finally making a happy, blissed-out face. Okay, so she likes tasty food. If that’s one way to get her to relax and stop being so prickly, I can work with that. If I can get her to make more of those hot little noises and her face to look like that when she’s experiencing pleasure without food involved, I’ll call this a successful weekend.
“This is incredible. Your chef is amazing.”
She takes another bite and tips her head back and forth like she’s doing a happy food dance to some internal music only she can hear while she hums her pleasure. It’s the most innocent and sweet she’s been around me. All over food.
Fuck, this is a side of Ainsley I want to see more of. Her prickly personality and wanting to figure her out up until now has intrigued me, but this authentic joy is something I could easily want to make mine. I’ve just doubled down on my resolve to loosen Ainsley Montgomery up and see who she is under her layers of anger and control because she could be exactly what I need and I already have her right where I want her.
“So are those noises you’re making. They’re making me as hard as when you were in my lap. You do realize we’re sharing a bed tonight. I've felt how wet your pussy is for me, figured out how far you can deep throat, know I can probably make you come with words alone, and see you’re pacified with good food. You’re giving me all the power here, baby, and as much as I fucking love it and will use it to my advantage, I want you to be the one to direct where this goes.”
Her eyes grow wide as she swallows her mouthful of food and sets her fork down. “Am I that easy to read?”
I reach out and stroke my thumb over her cheek, not able to resist touching her. “I’m sure to most people you’re a locked down vault. To me, you were a puzzle I wanted to solve as soon as I met you, and I’m really good at reading people. ”
“Why do I…respond…to all this kink stuff? To what you said. I don't like it. That’s not me at all.” Her tone is accusatory like I’ve forced the response out of her rather than evoked it from somewhere she’s repressed.
I nod in understanding as I take a sip of wine. “You don't think you should like it, is what you mean. You think because you’re an independent, empowered woman who takes no shit from men, those words are belittling and not at all aligned with the image you’ve created of yourself.”
She nods. “I don’t like it. I shouldn’t. It’s all wrong.” She sounds less sure with each statement.
“You fucking loved it when I had you blindfolded and tied up, begging me to keep spanking that perfect ass of yours.”
She blushes and frowns in annoyance. “I asked you a serious question and you immediately turned it into something that would make me uncomfortable. Don’t be a dick. Just help me understand.”
I take her hand in mine and run my thumb over her knuckles in a soft motion, reassuring her that I’m taking her seriously.
“Degradation can be healing in a way. It may help you overcome past trauma by reclaiming the words that were used to hurt you, by turning them into something that makes you feel sexy and powerful instead. The moment that changes for you, this stops. My words are for your pleasure, not punishment or disrespect.” I give her an understanding smile. “It’s okay to like it. There’s nothing at all wrong with the things that bring you pleasure, even if they differ from what you think you should want.”
She blinks at me, but she doesn’t stop me, so I continue.
“There are a lot of reasons to want to submit and freely give up control—to take you to the edge of your boundaries, to test your limits with pain, or to discover what brings you pleasure that’s outside of your comfort zone.” I stand and walk behind her, letting my hand trail along her arm. “Maybe you want to relinquish the control that you hold onto so tightly in every other aspect of your life. Maybe you need someone to finally take care of you. Or maybe you want to let go of the image you have of yourself as the morally righteous, squeaky-clean, does all the right things woman so you can be the filthiest version of yourself possible. The desperate slut who wants to be dripping with cum and have every hole filled by a Daddy who’ll tell you what a good girl you are for giving yourself up for his pleasure.”
She visibly shivers and closes her eyes as if that’ll stop her reaction. I pull her up into my arms and walk her to the bed where I sit and place her in my lap. I wrap her legs around my hips to hold her to me, even if it pushes her skirt up toward her hips. She’s so damn little, yet she fits around me so perfectly.
“Hey!” she protests, weakly fighting me to let her go.
“Just hold on to me. Look, I’m not even touching you.”
To prove my point, I lean back on the bed and let her see my arms are behind me, not on her body. She tentatively puts her arms around my shoulders and leans away from me, so we’re not flush together the way I’d initially positioned us, which is fine. Whatever she’s comfortable with as long as she stays here with me. I’ve had a taste of what it’s like to have Ainsley trust me, letting me touch her as I please, and now I can’t get enough. I want her in my lap, my hands on her, any chance I get. Fake or not, I’m interested, and that’s more than I can say about any woman who’s crossed my path in years.
“Will you stop saying all that shit about sluts and daddies and stuff tonight? I can’t handle it,” she says, her face angry, likely at having to ask for the concession at all.
“There’s a part of you that wants it very badly, judging by your reactions,” I tell her quietly, all the humor gone from my tone. Her legs tighten around my hips a fraction as if in confirmation.
“Well, the rest of me isn’t comfortable with it, and that’s enough to want you to stop.” Her face is set in determination, yet there’s a war going on that’s evident in her struggle to meet my eyes.
“Okay.”
Her eyes snap to mine, mistrust in the hazel depths. “Okay? That's it? From you?”
I smile at her again. “I’m fully capable of respecting your requests when you mean them. Just remember, I can read you better than anyone and I’m going off that more often than what your words say.”
“You’re so arrogant!” she snaps, her eyes flashing.
“I sure am, but you know I’m right. I’ll stop like you asked.”
She visibly relaxes as I speak.
“But you have to be honest with me about your requests, and yourself.”
“I’m being honest,” she says forcefully, and it’s cute to watch her grow prickly again as she’s wrapped around me, vibrating with indignation.
I chuckle darkly. “You want me to call that bluff and lay you bare? I can and you’re not going to like it, even though I sure will.”
“I don't know what you’re talking about,” she says, maintaining the denial, and I know it’s going to suck when she realizes I know her this well. She needs to come to terms with her own body, needs, and desires.
“I warned you,” I tell her as I bring a hand to her back and she stills. “You’re so tightly wound and into the slutty submissive side we’ve discovered that you’ve been subtly grinding your sweet little cunt against my abs since I put you here, and I have a much better spot for that if you want to get off quicker, no touching on my part needed unless you want me to spank you again. I can just lie back while you straddle me and rock all you want.”
Her face blanches in horror at her body’s betrayal and she unhooks her ankles from behind my back, but I keep her pressed to me.
“Let me go,” she protests, eyes wide as she pushes against my chest.
“You sure about that, or are you just embarrassed that I noticed how your body was reacting and read you so easily? Get used to it. I see you, Ainsley, and I like everything, whether or not you do.”
She lets her head tip forward in defeat, relaxing in my arms and burying her face in the spot between my neck and shoulder. I hold her gently so she knows I’m not keeping her against her will. She lets out a groan before she picks up her head again, and I see her mortification, cheeks flaming red, eyes a raging fire of anger at us both.
“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met. I need to shower and get ready for bed. Can I do that now, or do I have to ask for your permission, Daddy ?” she asks sarcastically.
I smile brightly at her use of the honorific for the first time, loving hearing her say it, even with that tone. “Say that and mean it next time, Princess.”