Page 15 of The Southern Submission

“Am I offending you by getting clean, Muffin?” I ask, wiping my eyes and stepping toward the phone.

“You’re ridiculous. Why do you insist on staying on the call while you shower?” She huffs cutely.

“We’re supposed to be dating. It’s only natural that you’d be familiar with my body and I don’t mind you watching, but hang up if you want to. I have to condition my hair and wash my body first. Remember, I got worked up earlier. I need to getclean, and you called me, so we can chat while I do it.” I reach for the conditioner, shake the bottle a little indecently just for her benefit, and squirt out some product right in front of the camera so she sees the opaque white product hit my hand, to really get her dirty mind going.

“What were you doing this morning?” she asks slowly, her eyes closing tightly like she hates that she even asked. That’s my good girl, following the breadcrumbs I’m leaving exactly the way I want her to.

“Swimming laps,” I answer honestly as her reward. “I do it most mornings. The pool is salt water filtered, which is nicer than chlorine, but it still needs to be rinsed off fast or it dries out my skin. I’m sensitive.”

The look of relief that crosses her face at the innocent answer is hilarious enough to make me laugh as I finger-comb conditioner through my hair. “What did you think I meant? Something dirty, I bet. God, you must be a nasty girl if that’s the first place your mind went to. I like it.”

She growls in annoyance and narrows her eyes at me. “You’re obviously baiting me to think that way. You’re an unreliable source. I can’t trust anything you say.”

“You thought I was doing something naughty. Tell me where your mind went. I want to know just how dirty it got. My hands are slick enough with conditioner, I could do something about what that thought does to me.” I want to see if it can get a rise out of her. I’m only semi-hard at the thought, trying not to let my cock take over. Despite how deplorable she thinks I am, I’m actually on my best behavior for her. I’m just messing with her head and seeing where it gets me.

“Payton!” she chastises, dropping her head back against a pillow, and I realize she’s still in bed.

“Did you call me from bed, Muffin? Wow, did thoughts ofme not only keep you up last night, but I was the first thing on your mind when you woke up this morning? I like seeing you in bed.” I skate my hands from my head, to my chest and start to drag them lower. “Let’s play a game. You tell me when my hands should stop moving, and we’ll see what I find.”

“You’re the worst!” she growls. “Don’t touch yourself inappropriately while I’m on a call with you. That’s gross.”

“You’re still watching. You don’t actually think it’s gross, and I'm your boyfriend, so I should think of you when I touch myself, right?” I playfully tilt my head as my hands continue to slide down my torso, nearing the edge of the camera frame. They pass out of view and her lips part, but no sound comes out. Her eyes lower as if following the progress of my hands, the line of my biceps stretching out giving her the only indication of where they could be on my body. I keep my hands moving now because she seems to be playing along, even though I was kidding, initially. “Tell me when,” I growl, hitting the V of my abs and feeling my cock jump at the proximity.

“Stop,” she says, voice shaking before rolling her lips together. It could be a stop for my hands, or stop this altogether. But I’ll take it as the game.

“Good timing,” I groan, moving my hands off my lower stomach where my cock is brushing my fingers, but I refrain from wrapping my hand around the hard, thick length. “That could’ve gotten heated quickly. Who knows what I would've done or said if you let me be gross and touch myself while you’re on the call with me,” I say, raising my brows and throwing her own words back at her.

She looks away, biting her lip. “You’re the worst,” she says, lacking conviction while refusing to meet my eyes.

“Oh, Spitfire, you like it. You have my permission to if that’s what you’re waiting for. Be as depraved as you want to be, noneed to let propriety hold you back, or think I’m expecting you to be some squeaky-clean, ethically bound journalist, prickly persona and all. I just want you to be my fake girlfriend. You can enjoy all that entails, fake or not.”

“I don't need your permission for anything.” She seethes, her lips flattening. “There you go, being a dick and a pompous ass again.”

Dick and ass in the same sentence, what a naughty girl, and she doesn't even realize her slip.I bite my lip and lean a forearm on the wall over the ledge where the phone rests, coming closer to the screen, her eyes widening under my gaze.

“Oh, Muffin, you gotta stop now. Those mean words work just as well as knowing that you’re thinking dirty thoughts about me. Now let me finish showering without saying any more naughty things that make me want to do bad things while you watch, or let me handle myself and get it over with. What’ll it be? My hand’s still slick enough to feel good, and I’d like your consent to watch.”

“Fucking hell, Payton,” she says, breathless and unnerved. “Do whatever you need to get yourself under control. I can’t talk to you like this.”

“Sounds like you need to take your own advice, Ainsley.Youshould do whateveryouneed to make yourself feel better. Talk soon.” I raise my brows at her flushed face and end the call to put her out of her misery. I do take matters into my own hands and finish my shower thinking about her breathy voice, her pretty pink lips, and that blush on her skin that I put there just by saying a few choice words. Ainsley Montgomery with her unrealized words kink is going to be so much fun to play with for the next three months.

Nine

Ainsley

“What crawled up your ass this morning?” Della, my best friend and roommate, asks as I storm into the kitchen.

I’m crankier than usual. I need to fill her in on the developments with Payton and it’s been a few days since we’ve caught up. Our schedules haven’t aligned lately and this is the first morning we’ve crossed paths in weeks.

I think about the FaceTime call Payton answered while in the shower and every glorious bit of him I happened to see. Jesus, that was inappropriate. I should have hung up immediately. Instead, I let his chiseled body, the incredible way he looked wet, the flirty banter, and straight-up sex in his words distract me. I’m a damn professional,not some boy-crazy teen girl lusting after a crush. Fuck me!

I slam a pod into the Keurig, throw a mug under the spout, and press the button to make coffee before I whirl to face Della. “I met Payton Olsen of Olympus International at the café I like to work at on the weekends.”

“What?” she croaks, the bagel falling out of her hand and plopping cream cheese side down onto the plate sitting on the table below it. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“That’s not the half of it, Dell. He fixed my crappy work laptop that went on the fritz. Did you know he’s a tech genius?” I open the fridge and pull out the vanilla creamer as the coffee maker works its magic.

She shakes her head, blue eyes wide as her copper hair whips around her shoulders. “I just thought he’s a businessman like his brothers. So youactuallymet him, not just in passing?”

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