22. Twenty-two
Twenty-two
Ainsley
P ayton 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.
“I was taking notes on a deal, and Archer saw me when I left the meeting. He followed me back to my floor and asked me out. I turned him down. I knew about him and didn’t want to get myself into trouble or lose the one job that was actually paying decently. Archer’s a narcissist, but I didn't know that at the time, so he took it hard that I wasn’t instantly his and I became a challenge. He pursued me all summer, and I agreed to give him a chance when my internship was up, thinking it was finally a safe time.”
“It sounds like things turned ugly for you if you realized he was a narcissist and was nasty to you.”
Payton sweeps his thumbs up the sides of my spine and I moan at the incredible way it feels. Not seeing his face while I reveal this makes it easier to divulge the details. At least it’s been the simple stuff so far. Now he’s asking for the hard. The lump already rises in my throat as I dig for the strength to open this box, share the ugly truths, and reveal my weaknesses to a man who’s far too similar to Archer, at least on the surface.
“He was great at first. Attentive, doting, made me feel so special, and like the only woman in the world who mattered. I was so dumb. I realized later that’s exactly what a narcissist does. A few months in, he asked me to move in with him. He wanted me to focus more on school and not worry about paying rent. It was too good to be true and I was head over heels for him, so I was thrilled. But he quickly changed. He became possessive and controlling. He didn’t want me to hang out with my friends and demanded all my time be spent with him. He said he cared and didn’t like when we were apart, but he was jealous if I wasn’t focused on him. He even interfered with school and work. I kept my newspaper internship but quit my waitressing job because he didn’t like me out late, so I became financially dependent on him, as well as dependent on him for my housing. He was super manipulative. Every argument became my fault when I knew he was the cause. It was so messed up. He had the upper hand at that point and I didn’t know what would happen if we broke up over something stupid, so I’d apologize to end the fights. I was walking on eggshells, trying not to upset him, worried that I’d suddenly be left without anywhere to go or a way to get by. It was scary to realize later just how much he’d manipulated my situation so I needed him for everything and couldn't leave even when I wanted to.”
I shrink with this admission, becoming smaller as I round over my knees away from Payton’s hands. I hate this part of the story. I was so weak and stupid. To not realize that was gaslighting…God, listen to me, I’m still making it my fault. I don’t want to admit the rest because it only gets worse from here and it’s already bad enough.
“He sounds like a fucking nightmare. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.” Payton pulls me back against him, threads his long fingers into my hair, and massages my scalp, eliciting a little moan from me as my body relaxes against his minutely. “Tell me the rest of what he did to you. I know that’s not the worst of it. I want to know everything.”
I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. “He tracked my phone, I think, because he’d call or text and ask who I was with and why I was at a certain place if I hadn’t told him I was going to be there. It was all super weird. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but I was in so deep by then I couldn’t end things. Where could I even go and how could I pay for it? I’d alienated all my friends and I didn’t have a way to afford a Manhattan apartment on my own. It was such a change after he’d been so good to me, at first.”
I sniff and force the tears that blur my vision not to fall. I won’t let Archer make me cry again. I clear my throat and shake my head. He’s had enough of my tears. Enough of my anxiety, my fear, my pain. But not tonight.
“His parents hated me. They made sure to mention that I was a scholarship student from the South every time I had to see them as if that somehow made me less. They insisted he’d never marry someone like me and made it known they thought I was dating him for his money. I guess it looked that way. I was living with him and he was paying for everything. Looking back, that’s probably what he wanted them to think. How sick is that?”
I shake my head, shame settling over me as I unburden myself of the shadows of my past to a man who is too much like Archer in his wealth and status that he could think the same things. Payton could be a carbon copy of Archer if he wanted to be, given a malicious streak. I should worry what he’ll think of me after hearing how naive and dumb I was to fall for someone like Archer and his manipulations. I’m supposed to be smarter than this.
Payton’s hands still against my neck and he pulls me back against his chest. “Archer’s a predator. You didn’t do anything wrong. You know that, right?”
I stay silent.
He grips my knees and spins me around to face him. He wraps his arms around my back, holding me close. It’s incredibly intimate being face-to-face with him like this.
“He’s the one who fucked you over and that’s why you don’t date, right?”
“It’s a pretty good reason not to. He’s horrible and I was so stupid.”
He tilts his head like he’s seeing something I’m not saying, and I look away, not wanting him to pry into what I’m keeping from him, but in true Payton fashion, he catches on too easily.
“It was you who ended things, right? How did you finally break up with him?”
I nod, still not meeting his intense ocean-blue eyes. “It’s a long story and it’s already late. I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, especially since it’s not relevant to our fake relationship.” I wave at him to deflect, looking for an edge of anger to add to my voice, but I can only muster embarrassment.
Payton captures my hand in his and pulls it up to his lips, kissing each of my fingertips in turn. “It’s relevant because it happened to you. Besides, it’s going to be too hard for me to sleep with you next to me if you won’t let me cuddle, so I have all night to listen to your story, and I want to hear it. Please tell me, Ainsley, even if you’re embarrassed or it hurts. I won’t judge you.”
I look at Payton, seeing the truth of his words and the openness on his face. I hate sharing this part of my history with anyone. It took me a year to tell Della, and my parents still don't know the full story. But for some reason, I want him to know. I blink and look at the stubble on his jaw before I can work up the nerve to tell him. I take a deep breath of his glorious scent to fortify myself before I can begin. When I blow it out, I see him shiver a bit from my breath on his neck.
“He asked me to do something for him, to write a story using information that he said was from a source at the company. I agreed, and the story was really good, one of the best I’ve ever written, but it ended up costing me my integrity in the end. My editor was able to substantiate the claim, but I shouldn’t have accepted the information. It’s a story that earned me a really great scholarship that would have paid for the rest of my grad program. It opened doors for me after my time at NYU—it landed me an internship at The New York Times , which led to a promised spot on their staff once I graduated.”
I laugh bitterly, remembering how great my life was going for about six months before it all came crashing down on my head. I risk a glance up at Payton. He’s looking at me sincerely, with no judgment in his stare, just patience.
He cups my cheeks in his big hands and forces me to maintain eye contact.
“I’m listening. I know this is hard. I won’t judge you for anything you say.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, hating the next part and the way it reflects on my character, and possibly how he’ll feel about me, despite what he says.
“Everything was going so well after that story. My confidence was at an all-time high, so my writing was better than ever. I won an award for it. Everything was great. Until I found out it was all a lie. Archer’s father, Andreas, had provided the insider information I was given. Donner Investments had fabricated the whole thing. Archer used me, knowing I was desperate to prove my worth as a journalist. I didn't care when I wrote it that the story would have the kind of life-altering consequences it did. When I heard Archer and his dad talking about how they'd used me, I was devastated.”
I hug my arms around myself as my stomach twists even now, years later, thinking of walking up to their table to meet them for dinner without them seeing me and hearing them discussing how easy I was to manipulate. I’d stayed long enough to hear all the incriminating evidence because they were planning to do it again now that they’d been successful. The repercussions of my actions and how Archer manipulated me using false information for the financial gain of a company that already had more money than they knew what to do with still affect me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and glance up at Payton, feeling guilty even admitting it now. He cups my jaw and brushes his thumb over my cheek before he leans forward and kisses my forehead tenderly, lingering long enough for me to relax into the intimate gesture. I blink a few times to hold back the tears pricking my eyes.
“What did you do when you found out?”
“I tried to have the story retracted. I begged my editor to pull it even though it had been out for over six months by then. I said I’d own the fuckup. But he had substantiated the story and it was true at the time, so there was nothing we could do. The company I wrote the exposé about had quickly collapsed after it ran and Donner Investments bought them out at bottom dollar, which was the whole point in Archer giving me the information to begin with. I cost a lot of good people their livelihoods because my ambition blinded me. Everything happened so fast after that. I outed myself to NYU for using falsified information in a story, which cost me my scholarship. I had to drop out of my grad program without a way to pay for my classes. I needed to break up with Archer, but I had nowhere to go and felt so alone, and honestly, I was afraid of what he’d do. I begged an old friend to let me stay with her for a while just so I could leave him. Archer didn’t take it well when I told him my reasons. It was nasty. He punched holes in the walls next to my face as I packed my stuff up, pushed me onto the bed when I tried to move past him, broke glasses as I was trying to leave, so I had to walk through the shards, and he probably would have done worse because he had his hands on me, shaking me when my friend arrived to help me leave and buzzed the intercom. That finally made him stop. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see him as less than perfectly in control and the greatest.”
I stop and take a quick, trembling breath as I sink through the deepest, darkest memories of my adult life. I feel like a wreck, the same mess of a woman I was when Archer was raging at me as I tried to leave. I hear his taunts, his screams, feel the terror, not knowing if I’d make it out alive. All because I’d made the wrong choices.
“Was that the end of things, or is there more?”
Payton is rubbing comforting circles on my back, his voice soft as his caress, but I know he’s angry. I can tell by the set of his shoulders and the way his jaw ticks while I talk. He’s being so calm, for me, knowing I need this more than him raging against the treatment I received. It softens my heart even more toward this stupid man who just wants to comfort me and make me smile for some reason. He’s been so good to me when he’s had absolutely no reason to, and now he’s proving once again that he knows exactly what I need without me even asking. It gives me the strength to continue the story.
“He was pissed at me and embarrassed that he’d ever be the one dumped, especially by a nobody like me. He hacked into the NYU newspaper server and ran a story that was supposedly by me about the false information incident that wasn’t very flattering. Of course my editor retracted it the next day when he realized what had happened, but once something’s on the internet, you can’t pull it back completely and Archer ensured there are still sites where it lives on, so it’s haunted me ever since. I can’t exactly get a job at a big-name paper with an unfinished master's degree and unflattering stories that pop up when you do a deep dive while researching my name. Archer made sure of it.”
I roll my lip between my teeth and the sting of tears pricks the backs of my eyes and chokes me again. I had everything I wanted right in front of me. It was so close. Then it was snatched away because I made the wrong choice. I blink and a tear tracks down my cheek.
Payton swipes it away with his thumb and tilts my face up, making me meet his eyes. “You’re right about one thing. Archer and his father used you. They manipulated you. You wrote the story you did on the information provided. You did your duty vetting the information. It was substantiated, so you ran with it. There’s nothing you could have done differently at the time.”
I shake my head at him, having gone down this route so many times in the last two and a half years. “I could’ve refused to take the information from my boyfriend at the time because he was a bad source. I could’ve stood on the principle that I was too close to the story, knowing the company was one Donner Investments had an interest in had I only looked a little deeper. Instead, I saw an easy story handed to me and I ran with it. Not only that, I fucking thrived under the attention and success it brought me after. I was so stupid to think I could have a win like that and not have to sell my soul for it. Now I know life doesn't work like that. There are no such things as handouts, favors, or free rides. Life will always expect its fair share for every scrap of luck I receive, and I know I’ll have to pay for every bit of good that comes my way.”