#greg simmonds x reader

⸻

You were used to men underestimating you.

It made things easier.

Easier to sit at high-stakes tables, smiling like you had nothing to lose. Easier to sip expensive champagne at galas like this, your diamonds glittering under the chandeliers, while the real power moves happened in whispers behind closed doors.

And easier, apparently, to have Greg Simmonds himself watching you like you were his next prized possession.

His arm was draped around the back of your chair, his thumb idly tracing patterns against the bare skin of your shoulder. A casual touch, but there was nothing casual about Greg Simmonds.

He was a king in this world.

And kings were always watching for threats.

“I have to say,” Greg murmured, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he leaned in, voice a lazy drawl. “I find you absolutely fascinating, love.”

You arched a brow, smirking. “Of course you do.”

His lips twitched at your confidence. “Oh, I do. Beautiful, sharp, and—what was it again? Ah, yes. Very, very capable.” His voice was low, appreciative, but edged with something sharper. Curiosity. Suspicion.

Good. Let him wonder.

You tilted your glass toward his, the clink of crystal sharp in the air between you. “And here I thought you only kept women around for decoration.”

Greg laughed, full-bodied and amused. “Now, now, don’t be cruel. I’m a man of many tastes, darling.” He leaned in just enough that you caught the faintest scent of expensive cologne. “And right now, I’m very interested in knowing exactly what you’re doing in my world.”

You took a slow sip of your drink, letting the moment stretch.

Then, you met his gaze, dark and unreadable.

“I could ask you the same thing, Greg.”

For a fraction of a second, you saw it—the flicker of something calculating in his eyes.

Oh, he liked this game.

Liked that you weren’t just another pretty face fawning over his wealth.

Liked that you knew exactly who he was—and weren’t afraid of it.

Greg leaned back, considering you with open amusement. “You’re not here for me, are you?”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Darling, I’m here for me.”

His grin was sharp, wolfish. “That makes two of us.”

The tension between you was thick, electric. A dangerous game with no clear winner—yet.

But one thing was certain.

Greg Simmonds wasn’t the only power player in this room.

⸻

Greg Simmonds liked power.

He liked having it, wielding it, watching people bend under the weight of his influence.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was learning what it felt like to lose a little of that control.

Because right now, he had you pinned against the smooth marble wall of his private suite—only it wasn’t him containing you.

It was you, standing there in that dangerously tight dress, looking up at him with eyes that dared him to take this further.

Greg exhaled sharply, his grip firm where his hands had landed on your waist. “You really are something else, love.”

You smirked, dragging a manicured nail lightly down the lapel of his perfectly tailored suit. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“Not surprised,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable. “Impressed.”

His thumb brushed the curve of your hip, slow, deliberate. Testing. Watching for the moment you’d surrender to the tension simmering between you.

But you weren’t the type to surrender.

Not to him.

Not to anyone.

You leaned in, lips just barely grazing the shell of his ear. “You should be careful, Greg.”

His fingers twitched against your waist. “Why’s that?”

You smiled, slow and knowing. “Because I know exactly what you want.”

Greg let out a quiet chuckle, dark and amused. “Do you, now?”

Your hand slid up his chest, fingers pressing lightly against the steady beat of his heart. “I know you like control.” You tilted your head, gaze flicking to his mouth for half a second before meeting his eyes again. “And I know you hate that I have just as much of it as you do.”

Something flickered in his expression. He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he pressed closer, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And what are you going to do about that, darling?”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, lips just a breath away from his.

Then, with a slow, wicked smile, you whispered—

“Whatever I want.”

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle.

It was a battle—teeth, heat, dominance. A test of who would break first, who would cave under the weight of it.

Greg groaned against your mouth, hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you flush against him. He liked this. Liked that you weren’t melting under his touch, that you were meeting him head-on, unafraid.

He liked that you could ruin him.

And maybe, just maybe—he’d let you.

The kiss was a battle.

Greg’s hands were firm on your hips, pulling you flush against him, but you didn’t yield—not the way he was used to. Instead, you pressed into him with the same fire, the same hunger, making sure he knew that whatever this was, you were just as in control as he was.

Maybe even more.

And he fucking loved it.

But Greg Simmonds wasn’t a man who let things slip from his grasp so easily.

His fingers slid down, rough palms skimming the curve of your thigh. “Mm,” he hummed against your lips, voice thick. “I knew you’d taste like trouble.”

You smirked, letting your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. “And I knew you’d be stupid enough to think you could handle it.”

Greg chuckled, dark and low, but before he could fire back a response—

Cold steel kissed the side of his throat.

A knife.

Small, sleek, hidden in the slit of your dress.

And now? Pressed just beneath his jaw.

Greg went completely still.

Not out of fear—no, this wasn’t fear.

It was thrill.

His eyes flicked down, catching the glint of the blade in the dim light. Then, he looked back at you, a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face.

“Fuck me,” he murmured, equal parts amused and aroused.

You tilted your head, pressing the blade just a fraction harder—not enough to cut, but enough to remind him who was holding it. “Tempting,” you purred. “But I don’t do charity work.”

Greg let out a breathy laugh, eyes dark with something dangerous. “Oh, I like you.”

“I know,” you said simply, running the edge of the knife down, tracing the line of his throat. “That’s why you should be very, very careful.”

Greg’s pulse thrummed beneath the blade, but his smirk didn’t waver.

Then, in a blur of motion, his hand snapped up—gripping your wrist like a vice, twisting just enough to knock the weapon loose.

The knife clattered to the floor.

But before you could reach for it, Greg spun you—slamming your back against the wall, trapping both your wrists above your head.

His body was flush against yours, breath warm against your cheek. “Now, now, darling,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous. “You should know by now—I don’t like to be outplayed.”

You let out a slow exhale, lips curling into something taunting. “Oh, Greg…” You leaned in, brushing your nose against his, a whisper away from his mouth.

Then, with a wicked grin, you purred—

“Neither do I.”

And with a sharp twist, you flipped the situation on him again—spinning the two of you so he was the one with his back to the wall, your knee slotted between his thighs, hands pinning his wrists this time.

Greg let out a breathless chuckle, eyes dark and electric.

“Fuck,” he muttered, completely enthralled.

You smirked, leaning in just enough that your lips barely ghosted over his. “Lesson one, sweetheart—” You tightened your grip on his wrists, reveling in the way his breath hitched.

“You don’t own me.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Greg’s lips curled into a slow, sinfully pleased smile.

The room was tense, but Greg seemed to enjoy the quiet. He stood in front of the two men, his expression hard but patient, as if he were waiting for them to realize just how deep the hole they had dug for themselves really was.

The first man shifted nervously, sweat beading on his forehead. “We don’t have the full payment yet, Simmonds. You’re asking for too much—”

Greg’s voice was low, dangerous. Childishly condescending. “Oh, darling, no one cares about your excuses. I’m not interested in your little financial troubles. You came to me. You told me you had the money, and now you’re telling me you don’t?”

He walked a slow circle around the men, each step deliberate, making them feel smaller with each passing second. “You think you can just walk away from me, don’t you? You think you can take me for a fool.”

He stopped right in front of the second man, his face inches from his. “Let me make this perfectly clear. If you don’t pay me, I will ruin everything you’ve built. And believe me, you don’t want to see what happens when I decide to ruin someone’s life.”

Greg’s voice lowered even further, sweet as poison. “I’ll take your business, your friends, your freedom—everything you thought you had—until you’re nothing but a name people whisper about. You’ll be begging for mercy before I’m done with you.”

You stepped forward just slightly, watching them cower under Greg’s icy gaze. The way he spoke, so confident, so full of dominance—it sent a pulse of heat through you. You couldn’t deny how much you found it…arousing. The power, the control, the way he made them feel so small—it was intoxicating.

Greg could see the way you looked at him, the subtle way you moved closer to him. He smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

Turning his attention back to the men, Greg’s eyes flashed with cold amusement. “You think I’m kidding, don’t you? You think I’m going to walk away from this. But trust me, I’m not. If you don’t hand me my money tonight, I’ll make sure the last thing you ever see is your entire life collapsing around you.”

The first man flinched, his voice trembling. “Please, don’t hurt us. We’ll get it to you, just don’t—”

Greg interrupted, his tone deadly quiet. “Hurt you? Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about that. I’m not going to hurt you.” He gave a dark laugh, almost fond, before continuing. “I’m going to ruin you. I’ll take everything from you. Your family, your business, your reputation. You’ll be a joke—a warning to everyone else who thinks they can cross me.”

He leaned in closer to the second man, his breath warm on the man’s cheek as he whispered, “And when I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were never born.”

You could feel the tension in the room, thick as smoke. Every word Greg said was like a slow burn, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to the confidence he exuded. His power was undeniable—and you found it irresistible. The thought of him breaking these men down, making them beg for mercy—it was too much. You bit your lip, unable to keep your desire for him contained.

Greg caught your eye, his expression shifting into something more intense, more knowing. He could tell how his words were affecting you. His smirk deepened as he turned back to the men, his voice now dripping with satisfaction.

“Tell you what. You get me my money by midnight, and I might just let you walk away with your puny little lives. Fail me, and you’ll wish you hadn’t been born.”

He stepped back, letting the words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. “Understand?”

Both men were visibly shaken, their confidence gone in the face of Greg’s brutal calm. They nodded quickly, muttering their promises to deliver the money.

But Greg wasn’t done.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “You might be able to run your little operations and pretend to be important, but when it comes to me, you’re nothing. Don’t forget that.”

Greg turned to you, his eyes flashing with that same dark amusement that always made your heart race. “Ready to leave?”

You walked to him slowly, the heat between you undeniable. You leaned in, your voice low and seductive. “You’re a real showstopper, you know that? The way you break them down…it’s so hot.”

He smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. “You like that, huh?”

“I love it,” you whispered, feeling the heat rise between you.

Greg chuckled darkly, his fingers brushing against your arm as he led you out of the room.