Page 47 of The Southern Submission

“For research purposes. To ensure we sell this arrangement in public, and maybe because I’m curious about what else you can do,” she says with a roll of her eyes as a flush creeps into her cheeks.

I nod in understanding. “You want to keep playing with me, but you still don’t think this can be serious.” I don't even touch the topic of real or fake with her now. She’s barely on board with this much.

“Should it be serious? I barely know you and you immediately asked me to fake date you to throw your sister-in-law off her mission to set you up. You’ve been hell-bent on making me uncomfortable with your Daddy vibes and slut talk even though I have no idea how in the hell you figured that shit out when I had no clue it was something I’d want.”

I cup her cheeks and push my fingers into her hair, tipping her chin up so she meets my eyes. “If I have Daddy vibes, you have your own vibes I was drawn to and wanted you to be aware of. When you responded the way you did, even that first time, I knew you were absolutely perfect for me, and if you wanted, I’d give you everything you need to fulfill those repressed desires.”

I smooth my thumb across her cheek and down to her pretty pink lips that are parted as she listens to me speak. I trace the Cupid’s bow of her top lip before I drag the pad of my thumbdown to her bottom lip gently. I keep my eyes trained on her lips where my thumb rests as my tone changes to one of patient dominance.

“Do you want me, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she says sweetly, eyes on me as her lips part, sucking my thumb into her mouth that can be so vicious when it wants to be, yet just passively told me I can take care of her and be in control, at least in the bedroom. A shudder rolls through me at her acceptance and first serious use of the honorific.

She’s going to be mine.

Twenty-four

Ainsley

Telling Payton I want him and I’m willing to explore this Daddy-Princess thing didn’t result in him taking me back to the bedroom to fuck me while calling me his filthy little cumslut like I thought it would. Instead, he smiled and kissed my forehead before taking my hand and leading me to the dining room where a breakfast spread was set out for us. He pulled out a chair for me at the dining table and asked what I wanted to eat, then made us both plates of food while I tried to figure him out.

I feel emotionally hungover after unloading on him last night. He took every sordid memory I unleashed and validated my experience in the most calming, comforting way imaginable. He didn’t swear to kill Archer or to make up for what I’dexperienced. He just sat with me and listened, hearing my pain and loving me through it. Wait, nope. That’s a clingy koala thought.Slow down, you slutty demonic koala.Just because you’ve decided to fuck him does not mean you need to show up claiming to be in love. Back the fuck up.

I frown at him. “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own food and you’re a billionaire with staff to do this. Why are you insisting on serving me like this?” I ask as he sets a plate piled with waffles, fruit, bacon, and scrambled eggs on the table before taking a seat next to me.

“I want to. More iced coffee?” He motions at my empty glass. It was perfectly made, just the right amount of vanilla creamer, and the ice hadn’t melted, so he must have allowed the coffee to cool before he made it. It's really thoughtful and attentive because the stupid man pays attention to everything and I wish I could fault him for it.

I snort a laugh. “No, one coffee is fine. You think I’m wound up and cranky with multiple caffeinated beverages.”

He leans over and traces his nose along my jaw to my ear, where he whispers playfully, “I like you bratty and unfiltered, Spitfire. Remember that the mean things you say do it for me just as much as the rest of your…very…impressive…package,” he says, nipping at my neck with his teeth between each word, causing my head to roll to the side for him as he traces kisses along my skin.

Good Lord, he knows exactly what to say and do to make me crave more. My nipples are painfully hard and goosebumps rise over my skin when he finally pulls his lips away.

“Should I put on my glasses and scold you so you’ll do that again? Or what was it you said? Push my skirt up and fuck me on the table?” I taunt, but it’s a little breathy and less sarcastic than intended.

Payton’s eyes grow dark with desire as they dart between me and the table, and I know he’s thinking of doing just that.

“Mmm,” he growls, and it vibrates deep in his chest as he catches his bottom lip with his teeth, staring down at me. Fuck, that’s so sexy. “I like you being a little cocktease. You want me to fuck you so badly now, but you have to wait. We have plans and they don’t include a marathon sex session right now, as amazing as that sounds. Be a good girl for me until I get you all to myself later. I want you wet and squirming thinking of what I’ll do to that needy cunt. You’ll be begging for my cock before the day is over. Just know I’ll have you coming on my fingers and mouth before I ever give it to you. You’ll be a dirty little whore for me today, right Princess?”

I nod, pressing my thighs together as my core throbs with each filthy word he utters in that commanding tone of his that sucks me in. “Yes.”

He takes my chin in his hand and gives me a look that says he likes me in this obedient state. “Yes what, my perfect cumslut?”

I know what he’s looking for, and I’m willing to give it to him despite how foreign it feels to the independent, controlled woman I am in my everyday life. There’s a part of me that thrills to use the term with him, to give up control and place my trust in his hands in a safe space, knowing it’ll precede something my body and mind needs for whatever reason. “Yes, Daddy.” I tremble as I say the words and he smiles.

“That’s my good girl.”

He releases my chin and caresses his hands down my bare arms, smoothing over the goosebumps his deep voice and dirty talk cause. He brings my hands to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

“Please eat your breakfast before I feed you by hand.”

I laugh as he drops my hands and turn back to my food, feeling lighter, though now I’m wet and squirming in my seat,just the way he wants me.

We take a tender boat into Jekyll Island and Payton treats me to a day of touristy activities. He takes photos of us every time we stop somewhere he deems picturesque, or he likes the background for a selfie. He’s posting them regularly to his personal social media pages, knowing his family and the thousands of people who follow him will see them, for the purpose of spreading our couple status. He’s really convincing at playing a besotted boyfriend, and it’s pretty hard to distinguish the lines between real or fake with him when he keeps pulling me back into his arms, kissing my head, and tucking me against his side, even when no one’s around to see us.

My text notifications are going off like crazy, mostly from Della wanting to know how things with Payton are going, and what we’re up to, so I give her regular updates. She’s thrilled, obviously, and wants details, but I don’t have much I can say. She hearts my photos when I send her a few I’ve taken of us, including one where Payton is standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, kissing my head while I scrunch my face up in a mix of a smile and grimace. Her response is in all caps and curse words, so I think she’s both shocked and happy.

I’m also getting regular nasty messages that I know are from Archer, and I keep blocking those unknown numbers. Payton notices each time I tense up or sigh in frustration but doesn’t say anything. He pulls me closer and runs his fingers through my hair or smooths his hand down my back until I relax again.He doesn’t seem to mind that I pull my phone out often while I’m with him. He just gives me an indulgent look and smiles when I catch his eye as I finish up whatever I’m typing. I take plenty of photos of him looking incredible against the coastal backdrop and historic scenery for research purposes. And maybe for my own use. The man is drop-dead gorgeous, after all.

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