by JA Huss
That’s not true. I’ve been promoted. I will, at the very least, be doing corporate parties and club events. I might even be assigned some more unusual jobs—like conventions and fundraisers. I’m moving up after only two years, so why do I belittle my job? It’s not insignificant.
Because, Grace, negativity is a lifestyle choice and you fly that flag proudly.
Right.
Which was why I was so pissed that he thinks my hesitation is all about him. It’s not. It’s about me. Who gives a fuck about him? He’s rich and powerful. I can’t possibly hurt him. He’s got nothing to lose at all in this relationship and he knows it. His smug ass knows that if I sign a NDA, he’s safe.
I’m never safe. There is no distance, no amount of running, no fairy tale or fantasy world or Dirty Heaven that will keep me safe from my secrets.
I roll over and find my phone. Three thirty. I get out of bed and pull on a sundress, slip my feet into my sandals, and then grab my key card, my phone, and a fistful of cash, and go looking for a vending machine.
Or something. Who cares, I just need to leave.
I find the cold drinks machine in the open lobby of the bar. Workers are still inside there, cleaning up or doing whatever it is that bar workers do after the drunks go home. I grab my Diet Pepsi and walk down to the beach. It’s not closed anymore, the party is over. I hope Vaughn’s sister had a nice night, but if what he said was true, she’s probably still wondering if she made the right choice.
I do think it’s sweet that he cares enough about her feelings to not influence them. The intense moment they shared earlier this evening is proof that she hangs on every word. If he says she’s not in love, she’s not in love.
She trusts him, Grace.
Good for her. That doesn’t mean I have to trust him. The perfect world I’ve built for myself is at stake, after all.
I sit in the sand and open my soda, the crack of the lid and spray of bubbles familiar and comforting.
My phone buzzes and I watch it light up in the darkness. A call from an unknown number. I ignore it and drag my thoughts back to my unsettled life.
Am I really surprised that my dream man is not what I built him up to be?
My phone buzzes again. This time it’s a text from an unknown number.
Answer me, Grace.
I pick up the phone and sigh, then press send for the number. It rings. He picks up before the first one ends. “Don’t ignore me. I hate that.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“What do you want from me?”
He’s silent for a few seconds and for a second I think the call dropped or he hung up. But then I hear him breathing. “Did I not articulate it clearly? Did I leave something out? Did I—”
“How did you get my number?” Why does my Dirty Heaven angel have to be a total demon? I look up at the stars and shake my head at some false God. Why are you fucking with me?
“I have access,” he says, as if that explains my question about the number. “I have needs, Grace. You have needs. You have one more day here, then—”
“How the fuck do you know so much about me?”
“That’s another spanking,” he says dryly.
And I have to admit, spankings are something I can get on board with. I have no idea why, but it’s so hot. The mere image of myself lying over his knee, my ass in the air, my face pressed into the mattress while he tells me I’m bad and slaps my ass. Holy Mother, just… yes.
“I’m going to make that ass bright red and I’m going to make it hurt. Do you understand, Grace? You are disobeying me on purpose and I’m going to make it hurt. I’m going to pull your hair, force your head back so I can see your eyes when the flat palm of my hand smacks against the curve of your bottom, and I’m going to enjoy every wince. Every tear. And each time you flinch or buck against my punishments, I’m going to withhold pleasure. But each time, Grace”—his voice softens now, just a whisper, just a breath of air that speaks my name—“each time you stay still, my palm will soften and slide between your legs, pushing apart the lovely folds of your pussy, and I will pleasure you. Do you understand me? This is how the game is played. If you obey, if you please me, if you submit—then I will give you whatever your shuddering body requires to release. I’ll give you a reason to scream in pleasure. I’ll make that sore bottom of yours so worth it, you’ll be begging me to come back and do it again. And if you’re especially good, Grace, I will fuck you hard afterward.”
I gulp some air and then look over my shoulder. He’s standing near the concrete pathway, leaning up against a closed concession stand, looking as free and content and in control as any person I’ve ever seen.
And why not? Why shouldn’t he feel that way? He’s beyond rich, he’s beyond beautiful, he’s beyond talented, and he’s so far beyond sexy, I’m powerless to resist his offer and he knows it.
“Say yes,” he commands. “You want to say yes, so just say yes.”
He’s so right about that. I do want to say yes. In fact, I’m a yes girl. I hate telling people no. I really do. But for some reason, this one person who I want to say yes to more than anything else in my entire life has reawakened the no girl inside of me and I’m having difficulty understanding why.
“Say yes right now or I walk away and you never see me again. Because I require your commitment tonight or I’ll just find someone else.”
“I want you,” I say breathlessly, my heart pounding in my chest. God, that was the total wrong move. What the hell am I doing?
“Of course you do.”
“I want you, but I’m not signing that paper tonight. I need to think about it. I need to be sure.”
“Grace, you have one more day left here on Saint Thomas and then you’re gone. So you’re wasting time.”
“Wait, you said you’d punish me when I was ready, implying we had lots of time to figure this out and now you’re in a rush?”
“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m in a rush because I want to fuck you, woman. I want to fuck you bad. I’m dying right now because I’m all the way over here and you’re all the way over there, and all I want to be doing is fucking you. But instead I’m having this stupid conversation, convincing you, of all things, to let me pleasure you back if you pleasure me. But if you work out and you meet my needs, I might see you again. Some other place, some other time.”
“Then no.” I hang up the phone. Oh my God! I did it again! Where the hell are all these no’s coming from?
My phone buzzes in my hand but I ignore it.
A few minutes later I feel him walk up behind me. “May I join you on the beach?”
“It’s a free beach. Or is this one your personal property too? Am I just a beach to you? Something you own and enjoy at your leisure?”
“I don’t own you, Grace. Not yet. So I’m asking if I can join you so we can sort this out. And that’s one more spanking.”
“We’re never going to get to the spankings, Asher. You just admitted to it, so stop.”
He chuckles. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want the spankings and you’re afraid I’m not going to make good on my threats.”
Pfft. “You wish.”
He kneels down and then sits. “Grace?” I look over to him, annoyed, and as soon as I look him in the eyes, he grabs my arm and pulls me to his lap, forcing me to lie across his knees. “Would you like a taste and a promise?”
My heart is pounding in my chest. He pulls my dress up over my ass, leaving my ridiculous underwear exposed.
“Panties on or bare ass for your sample?”
OMG. I bite my lip.
“Answer me, dammit.”
“Bare, please,” I squeak out.
“Bare, please, what?” he asks, prodding for the word master.
I’m not in the mood to submit that far. But I will meet him halfway since he’s giving me a free sample. I almost snicker at that. “Bare, please, Mr. Asher.”
He huffs out an almost inaudible laugh and I know he’
s smiling.
Chapter Thirteen - Vaughn
#DirtyFilthyGirl
“YOUR disobedience is alarming, Grace. It makes me wonder if you really want to submit to me.”
“I do,” she says hurriedly.
And I know she does. She’s having a hard time following through, but she wants to submit, that’s clear. I hook my fingers under the waistband of her underwear and tug on it gently until one side slips over her hip bone. She draws in a breath, loud enough for me to know this is turning her on, and then she lets it out slowly. I slide the other side of her underwear down and leave them bunched up in the crease between her thigh and her ass.
This makes her squirm in anticipation.
“Have you ever been physically or sexually abused by a man, Grace?”
She hesitates for the slightest of seconds, perhaps wondering at my line of questioning. But then she says, “No.”
“Erotically punished?”
“No,” she says again. Her breathing is faster now.
“But you want to be, don’t you? You want to be spanked like a bad little girl. Like a dirty, filthy girl, don’t you?”
She tries to turn her head to look at me, but I push her back down into the sand and then slip my hand under her neck and palm her throat.
She swallows and my dick expands. God, I want her mouth on me. Right now. I want to fuck her mouth and come down her throat. But I want to make her beg for it and she’s not even close to begging for that.
“Answer me, Grace. You insist on making me wait and that will earn you a punishment.”
She grunts against my palm.
“Darling, I already have you figured out. You like the spankings. Or at least the thought of them. The erotic stimulation they will bring you. But there are many, many other ways to punish you. Ways that are not so appealing. So think before you speak.”
“Yes, Mr. Asher,” she replies.
OK, she’s not going to call me Master, so fine. We can play that game. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Mr. Asher.”
I swat her bare bottom lightly with my hand and count out, “One,” for her.
She doesn’t even move.
And this makes me smile.
“How was that, Grace?”
“Um… well, what was that?” She turns her head, stretching her neck against my hand , and this time I let her look at me. “Was that it?”
“Did it not suit you?” I ask with a grin. “Was it not everything you expected?”
“Well, not really. I expected it to hurt. Or at least sting. But that—” She stops when she realizes I’m chuckling at her. “What’s so funny?” she growls at me.
“You. And your silly rebelliousness at my requests. If you want a proper smacking, Grace, then follow directions.” She squirms under my hold, like she wants to get up, but I place one hand over her neck and the other over the small of her back. “Hold still. You will stay like this until we come to terms.” Her body relaxes and I smile. “Good, girl.”
“I want you to call me Grace. And I’ll call you Mr. Asher, can we come to terms with that?”
“If you do not submit, I’ll get up, walk away, and never turn back. Your choice. The terms are clear, Grace,” I say her name with a little bit of contempt to hammer my point home. “You. Submit. To me. Not the other way around.”
I can almost feel her rolling her eyes and then she says, “Yes, Master,” and I chuckle. “Don’t laugh at me,” she says, growling again.
I smack her hard this time and she yelps, her body twisting to get away from it before she can stop her reaction. “I’ll do whatever the hell I please and you will shut your filthy mouth about it, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” comes out a lot easier this time.
“OK.” I put her underwear back in place and turn her over until she sits up. “Kneel right there,” I say as I open my legs and point to the space between them. She scrambles a little until she’s in front of me. We are eye to eye since she’s propped up on her knees. “Should I allow you to look me in the eye? Or should I forbid eye contact?”
I watch her watch me as she tries to put the pieces together. Grace is a true submissive, she just doesn’t know it yet, so I am patient as she works through things.
“Whatever pleases you, Master,” she says quietly after a few seconds.
“You please me, Grace,” I say back. “You please me.” She smiles and quite possibly even blushes. I’d give anything for it to be daytime so I could see that blush. “So you get to choose. Which do you prefer?”
“I prefer to look into your eyes, Mr. Asher.”
“You’re bad,” I say, smiling.
“You called me Grace and that means I can call you by your name. So I choose Mr. Asher.”
“Who made that rule?”
“We did,” she says back smartly. “Together.”
“We’ve known each other one day, there’s not enough time for traditions, Grace.”
“Maybe not. But”—she smiles with mischief and I find myself eager to hear her reasoning—“we’ve set a precedent. So same thing. You call me Grace when you want to explain things to me, so I can call you Mr. Asher after you call me Grace.”
I shake my head at her. “Fine, girl. We wouldn’t want to break past precedent, so we now have a tradition. Now, what do you want to do next? Go back to your bungalow and sleep?”
“What’s my other choice, Master?”
Jesus Christ. That right there makes me want to fuck her. “You’re a good girl, so if you’d like to stay here on the beach with me, you may.”
“OK, I choose to stay here on the beach. What will we do here?” She waggles her eyebrows at me and the grin on my face has got to be huge. Who knew she could be so sweetly manipulative? “You’re the master, so you get to decide.”
“I always get to decide, Grace. I don’t need you to tell me that.” She bites her lip to stop her smile. “Tell me about your life. Where do you work and what do you do?”
And then her mouth opens and words and sentences spill out. Paragraphs and paragraphs of details tumble out of her tender pink lips. I listen with an eager ear as she describes her new job, her old job, her loft in the city, her car, her fascination with cats—she doesn’t have any because her building doesn’t allow pets—and then, after she’s all talked out, her pause is longer than it should be and I find her almost asleep.
“I guess I don’t have to play the get-to-know-me game then. You’re too tired.”
“I’m not tired, I just put myself to sleep with my boring life. So, no,” she whispers. “I want to hear, I’m not asleep. My eyes are just heavy. Tell me. Tell me something about you.”
“What do you want to know? The plot in the Invisible Man 2 movie? My upcoming appearances? How much money I made this year? What kind of car do I drive? Choose.”
“Certainly not any of those things.”
“No? Why?”
“Asher, I can look that stuff up online.” She opens her eyes and grins up at me. “In fact, I have. I already know all of that. No, I want to know what it was like to be you growing up. What was schooling on set like? What did you do on the weekends? Who was your best friend?”
I’m puzzled at her request. And now that I think about it, she never told me anything about her childhood. Only her present life.
But it’s my turn to talk about me, and no one ever asks me these kinds of questions. Not anymore, at least. Maybe back when I was a little kid these were the kinds of questions they asked. But I never told the truth. I always lied.
“My childhood sucked,” I finally say.
Her eyes fly open immediately. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t have one. It was non-stop work. I’ve been working since I was five years old. I never had a best friend, or played on the baseball team, or had to stay up late to finish homework. It was all about acting. And don’t get me wrong, my career doesn’t span twenty-seven years because I couldn’t make the sacrifices. Acting is
the only thing I know. It’s the only thing I do.”
“You guys have a production company though, right?”
“Oh, yeah, we have our hand in pretty much every aspect of the showbusiness pot. But I’m an actor first. I do love my work, but all the sacrifices are adding up. The lack of privacy, the grueling schedules, the pressure, the politics—they all add up to an extraordinary life. And to be honest, Grace, I’d like a little bit more reality in my life.”
“Huh,” she says softly. “That’s funny. I’m always on the lookout for a little more fantasy, myself.”
I wait to see if she’ll expound, but she doesn’t. Just lies there, her head in my lap as I talk about everything and nothing all at the same time.
I like her, I realize once the darkness of night is breaking for the light of day. So I scoop her up and take her to her bed. I stare at her for a few moments after I place her on top of the sheets.
She’s different, I realize. She’s real.
I’m not sure what makes me think that or why it matters, but she’s real in a way I haven’t seen in a while. She’s got an innocence to her, but at the same time, she seems hardened by something. I want her. I wanted the last sub too. But I never liked the last sub. She was just a body to use, a mind to manipulate.
But Grace…
I turn on my heel and walk out of her bungalow before I ask myself any more questions. She has one more day here at the resort and then we both have to go back to our normal lives.
It’s best not to think too hard about her. I’ll probably never call her again after I fuck her wild tomorrow.
Chapter Fourteen - Grace
#PleasePullMyHair
I WAKE to Bebe and Steve in the room. Bebe is right next to me, and she’s not hiding her lackluster feelings for her boyfriend, because she’s arguing with him in a nasty tone. “What’s going on?” I ask as I roll over.
“I’m so sorry, Grace!” she exclaims. “I feel terrible for leaving you here all day yesterday and then brain case over there forgot to put gas in the boat he wanted to rent after parasailing, and we got stranded on that stupid island. We had to beg a local family to take us in. Did you know there’s like, no real services over there?”
