Page 33 of The Southern Submission

“You’re awfully happy about my discomfort. I’m trying to be noble and keep you comfortable, and you're rubbing it in. I don't have to be nice about this. I can go back to pushing your boundaries.”

I find what I’m looking for, turning back and smiling wickedly, enjoying the idea of torturing him a bit more. I’m wearing tortoiseshell glasses that perfectly frame my face and bring out the green and amber in my eyes. His eyes turn into blue fire as his smile disappears.

“I wear glasses when I drive at night, so I keep them in my purse. I thinkthey’re cute.”

“You’re cruel.” He reaches out and strokes my hair over my shoulder, clearing a space for his hand to rest against my throat, thumb stroking up to my jaw like he can’t stop himself.

“You’re not shit and you don’t deserve to touch me.” My voice is a low purr as I brush his hand off my neck. “You definitely don’t get to fuck me and you’re lucky I’m sitting here with you, letting you buy me drinks. Now clean up this mess,” I say in my meanest tone, indicating the drink I spit all over the table.

His lips part and his eyes burn as they stay locked on my face, and I know I have him under some kind of spell that he gave me the power to wield. I laugh again and pull off my glasses, return them to the case, and throw them back in my purse for safekeeping. When I turn back, Payton’s there, a little too close, and I jump in surprise. His hand slips into my hair at the back of my neck and I still instantly, a feisty kitten picked up by the scruff and gone docile, my eyes trained on his fiery blue gaze that sears me to my soul.

Oh, shit.

His voice is a quiet, commanding promise when he speaks just for me to hear. “You think you can be a brat and get away with playing with me and not get it right back, my pretty little fucktoy? If we were anywhere else, I’d bend you over my knee and spank your ass raw before I fucked it and filled my beautiful cumslut up. You can dress any way you want and still be Daddy’s little whore, begging for my cock to fill your every hole. Don't think you have the upper hand because I give you insight into one little fetish of mine, Princess. I know what you need, and you’re just getting a taste of what that means. Now be a good girl so we can both enjoy our night and not get too wound up or regret anything else.”

He squeezes my neck and pulls me closer to himso his lips brush over mine once and he places a kiss at the corner of my mouth before he pulls back. I moan quietly under the pressure of his fingers, the words he spoke causing wetness between my thighs. I realize my hands are latched onto his shirt, pulling him closer to me as I turn my face up to his. He’s looking at me curiously as the sound vibrates from me and my eyelids flutter. He slowly lets me go, his hand brushing down the sweep of my back and over the curve of my hip. I keep holding his shirt until his hand is on the booth between us and I finally let go, my hands flying back to my lap. I can’t believe I was holding him so tightly.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” I say on a shaky exhale.

His smile is seductive and pleased. “Too late for that, Princess. You just showed me you can play exactly how I want you to. You gave me a delicious little taste. Now I’ll eat you up.”

My stomach drops. I showed far more than I should have, and he’s all too capable and willing to use it against me. I condemned myself to whatever sentence Payton plans to dole out. I can’t deny that it stokes my attraction and the magnetic pull he has on me.

I want to touch him and have his hands all over me. I’d let him do anything he wants to me, and he can never know.

Eighteen

Ainsley

Okay Payton: What mean things have you been thinking about me today?

Isnort as I read his text while sipping coffee at my desk. We should both be working, but this insolent fool wants me to tell him I’m thinking about him, just like he has the last few days. This morning he sent me a text that said “Hope thoughts of me didn’t get you too worked up last night. I had the best dream of you, though.” I’d replied, “Only my nightmares feature you, and thankfully, I’ve been sleeping soundly.”

Looks like I need to take him down a peg. Again. I smileas I type out my response.

Me: I’m sorry, do you actually believe I give you any time or brain space when you’re not driving me crazy with texts or in person? That’s hilarious.

He’s quick to reply.

Okay Payton: I feel like pizza tonight. I’ll pick you up, and we can get Napoletana to go and come back to my place. I want to see your blissed out on pizza and pleasure face.

What the actual fuck. Is heNetflix and chillingme, but with pizza and…orgasms? That has to be what he means by pleasure, right? Jesus, this man is too much. I kind of love it. But I have to shut it down.

Me: ?? We have to fake it in front of people so Harlowe believes this. Going back to your place isn’t helping that plan, and no sex.

The Atlanta Haute List ran a Spotted story about our dinner together at Rare and our double date at Dionysus. They shared photos of us looking very cute and cuddly, our hands all over each other. I was completely unaware that I could look at someone with that kind of expression, all rapt and enamored, but apparently, when Payton talks, I lean in and listen like he’s the most important thing around. Those are the kinds of outings he needs to convince Harlowe, no matter how disturbing it is for me to see myself like that on a gossip blog.

Okay Payton: We’ll send her a selfie frommy house. She’ll love it.

Okay Payton: Besides, we don't need to have sex to see your pleasure face, Princess. You can be my needy little cumslut while still being a cocktease and never getting the brat fucked out of you. But if you’re a good girl, I’ll make you come before taking you home and you still won’t know what my cock feels like in that greedy little cunt.

I drop my phone onto my desk when I read his text, flipping it over for good measure. I look around the quiet newsroom where only a few of my coworkers remain. There’s that commanding tone and his degrading words again. Without even hearing his voice, he has the same effect on me, causing a low moan to build in my throat as a part of me wants to take him up on this salacious offer. So badly. I want to see what he can do without fucking me that would have me coming but know I should stay so far away from that temptation and keep my brain and heart from getting my feelings all tangled up in something that is fake, fake, fake. I pick up my phone again and angrily type out a reply.

Me: I have an article to write. I don't have time for pizza and chilling, you presumptuous prick.

Okay Payton: Write the article at my place. I need to read it before you publish it, anyway. See you at six. Hope youlike pineapple on pizza. I want something sweet and you know what they say about eating pineapple ??

When he knocks on my door at six sharp, I’m in an oversized, off-the-shoulder T-shirt that saysI Beg Your Partonwith Dolly’s face on it over tight, pink shorts. I’ve scrubbed off my makeup and my hair’s messy from work. I went out of my way to ensure he knows I don’t consider this a date by any means and haven’t put any effort into my appearance for him.

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