Page 41 of The Southern Submission

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 youshouldlike 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 pleasurethat’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 frommy 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.

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