Social Media

by JA Huss

  I look up at Vaughn’s face and his fingers brush against my lips as he says, “Shhh.” And then his hand leaves my face and he flips the guy off behind him.

  “Prick,” the guy’s girlfriend says. “You sick fuck, we should call the police.”

  Vaughn responds by crouching down, pulling his slick cock out of my mouth as he descends, and then kisses me on the lips.

  The door slams down the hall and he smiles as his tongue thrusts inside me. “Now, continue.” He stands up and guides my face to him once more. I open and he thrusts, filling me up again. This time I take a deep breath through my nose and tip my head back. His hand finds my throat and he feels for the movement of the muscles in my neck as I swallow the pooling saliva and then he’s inside me. Completely. His entire cock is inside my mouth, his large balls tight up against my chin. A few seconds later the warm rush of salty semen gushes down my throat as he tips his head back and growls out, “Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes.”

  I swallow him. Every bit of him. I’m breathless and elated, and humiliated, and turned the fuck on so bad, I start rubbing my clit and then the release finds me again and I moan out my whole body trembles from the shock of it all.

  A few seconds later he pulls me up by my hair. I’m still trying to catch my breath when his lips cover mine like he wants nothing more than to have his mouth on mine, drawing heaving breaths together, celebrating our pleasure with the seal of a kiss.

  “Grace,” he says breathlessly, “That was so fucking perfect. You are so fucking perfect. Thank you, baby. Thank you for trusting me to get us through that.” He grabs the back of my neck and presses his lips to my forehead in a gentle kiss that has my head spinning. “Come, on baby. We’re not done yet.”

  He tucks his dick back into his pants, and then takes my hand, giving me a small, reassuring smile as we walk back to my apartment. The door is still open, I realize, so any hope of that neighbor not knowing who I am is totally out the window.

  “He never saw your face, Grace.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head as he closes the door behind us. And then I look up at him, his expression still so clearly hungry for more. For more playful fun. For me. And then his hand is between my legs, his fingers pushing inside me, so slick with my wetness they slide around.

  “You liked it?” he asks, his words so low and soft that I feel another gush between my legs as he plays with me.

  I let out a long exhilarating rush of air and nod. And then I laugh. “Jesus. That was…” I look up to him, for guidance maybe. Or reassurance. He nods and in that moment he gives me both. He gives me just what I need.

  “Fun? Sexy? Dirty? Hot? Fucking incredible? The way you sucked my cock, Grace… Christ, I want to pull my dick out and come on your face just thinking about it.”

  I bite my lip and drop to my knees, my legs open a little, just enough to give him a peek at my swollen and sopping wet clit. I swallow hard and look up at him. “Do it, Mr. Asher. Come on my face.” And then I open my mouth and wait to see what he’ll do.

  He only hesitates for a moment, and then he’s unbuckling his pants and pulling out his half-hard cock. He sticks it back inside my mouth and this time I put my hands behind my back and take a deep breath as he begins to face-fuck me. It starts slow and gentle, but he speeds up, almost losing control, his hips thrusting harder and harder.

  “Oh, yes. Grace, you have no idea how good you feel. You have no idea.”

  He grabs my hair again, but instead of the tight fist, he weaves his fingertips through it and strokes my scalp softly, all the while whispering comforting things, showering me with pretty words that make me feel special. “Your pussy is so tight, it grips my cock like a fist. Your lips wrap around my cock so perfectly, I never want to take it out. That’s it,” he says, guiding my head to pleasure himself. “Just like that,” he moans as I let him in farther, gagging and choking. And then he throws his head back and withdraws from my mouth. I stay open, looking up at his face. But his eyes are closed and when he comes a second time, he misses my tongue and it squirts on my cheek, then he aims down and the rest of his pleasure spills out across my chest.

  He fists my hair one more time, asking me to stand, and I do, still watching his face. I want to see the moment he opens his eyes. But he spins me around and wraps me up in his arms, hugging me tightly, burying his face in a mess of hair, breathing hard on my neck. So hard that it tickles my ear and causes a shiver to race up my body.

  An embrace that is something other than sex. Something more than sex. Something I can’t quite recognize, let alone define.

  “Come, shower with me,” he says after a few seconds of ragged breathing from both of us. “And then I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?”

  “The box,” he says as he nods to the wrapped package still sitting on my coffee table. “You have to open that box and then I’m taking you somewhere.”

  “You are?” I ask, as he leads me down the hallway, searching out the bathroom. I point to the closed door across from my bedroom and he opens it and feels around on the wall for the switch. The fluorescent light takes a moment to flicker and decide if it wants to work, and then flashes on with an intensity that makes me blink.

  “Oh, Grace,” Vaughn says. “This is not a bathroom. It’s too small to allow us to fuck. And there’s no tub.” He turns back to look at me and drops my hand so he can loosen his tie and drag it over his head. He reaches over my shoulder, the warmth of his arm pressing against my bare skin, and checks the back of the door, finds a hook, and then hangs it up and goes to work unbuttoning his dress shirt. My eyes are transfixed by his fingers as they nimbly undo each button, starting from the bottom and working his way up.

  I gulp a little as his chest appears. I’ve seen it before, of course. But here in my tiny, extremely inadequate bathroom everything is different. It’s not the vacation fantasy. It’s not a one-night stand. It’s not a… relationship.

  What is it?

  “Why do you have that look on your face?” he asks me as he shrugs off his crisp white shirt and hangs it on the small hook with his tie. I have a moment of panic that the hook will distort that perfect garment and ruin it.

  “What?” I have to take a deep breath because my heart is beating so fast. Why am I feeling like this?

  “What’s wrong with you? You look… afflicted.”

  I swallow hard. And shake my head. “Nothing, I’m just hungry.”

  “Oh.” He reaches for me, pulls me into his chest in another one of those hugs, and then leans into my neck. “Let’s wash up and you can change. We’re going to eat.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes, baby. I have to feed you. You need to eat.”

  “Who are you?”

  He laughs so loud he startles me and I step back a pace. This makes him stop and frown. “Tell me,” he says in the authoritative tone I’m used to. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “What are we doing?”

  He stares at me with that famous intent gaze, his deep blue eyes bearing down on me with confusion. I think I’m sending it right back, because I’m so off balance I might faint. “We’re fucking, Grace. We’re fucking, we’re showering, we’re eating, we’re discussing. In that order. We’ve just checked off number one and we’re about to complete number two. Then we will go eat and have a conversation. Clear?”

  I nod. OK, I can deal with that. I move over to the shower and turn it on. The stall is barely big enough for me, let alone the both of us together. So I jump in before the water is even hot and begin to wash myself, taking care not to get my hair wet so I don’t have to worry about it.

  He finishes taking off his clothes and steps to the shower, ready to get in. But I put a hand up. “I’ll be done in a minute and then you can get in alone.”

  “You must be joking.”

  “No,” I say with chattering teeth since the water is not quite hot yet, “there’s really no room—”

  He physically moves me backwards un
til I’m pressed up against the cold tile wall, and steps in. He sucks in a breath at the water temperature and then adjusts it, standing over me to shield me from the cold. A few seconds later the hot water steams up the tiny stall, and he turns to me with a bar of soap and a wicked grin.

  “I made a mess. It’s my job to clean you up.” He lifts up my arm and rubs the soap up and down the length of it, paying close attention to the crevice of my elbow and my ticklish armpit. He chastises me with a simple, “Shhh,” when I giggle and pull away. And I bite my lip and let him continue. He does this for every limb, his deft fingers slipping between my legs and into my folds to massage my clit with the sweet-smelling suds. I groan, I can’t help it.

  “One more fuck before we call it a night? I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back again.”

  I look up at him and imagine him as Vaughn the man and not Vaughn the movie star. What would it be like to have a relationship with him? Like a real relationship? Is he this attentive all the time? Or does he just want something from me?

  I shake my head no to his offer.

  He grins. Not a big, wolfish one, but a slight, sympathetic one that tells me he knows. He can see right through me. He knows I’m having some kind of… emotional experience.

  “Grace,” he says softly as his fingers slip between my folds. “Relax, let me do this for you. It gives me pleasure.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head again, grabbing his hand and taking the soap from him. I lather myself up after that, quickly, as he watches with a keen and still hungry eye. And then I slip under his arm and rinse off in the water. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me with a smile.

  “What?”

  “Why do you have such trouble accepting kindness?”

  “Is that what you’re calling this? An act of kindness?”

  “What do you call it?”

  I just stare at him, because even though it’s an obvious response to my question, I’m at a loss for words. “I’m finished,” I say instead.

  “As am I,” he says back.

  I shut the water off and step out onto the ragged blue bath mat. We both reach for the towel at the same time. There’s only one, I always leave my hair towel in my bedroom after, and he gets there first.

  “Shall we fight over the towel too? Do you enjoy this battle? Or is this true insecurity?”

  “Oh, God. Just give me the towel.”

  “Why do you insist on making me repeat myself? I told you, I made a mess, so it’s my job to clean you up. I’m not done yet.” And then he brings the towel to my chest and gently presses it against my body, like I’m a fragile piece of art and rubbing me too hard might break me.

  This from a man who was dragging me around by my hair and stuffing his cock down my throat not ten minutes ago.

  And as I’m still thinking this, he dips his head and his mouth is on mine. Not a kiss so much as a caress, like the towel against my breasts. His tongue slips in and tangles up in mine, the water from his face drips into my mouth, making the kiss wetter than normal.

  I close my eyes.

  He moans, “Yes, that’s my girl,” into my ear.

  I swallow hard and lean into him.

  “You’re mine now, Grace. Can you feel it?”

  I want to say no, but his lips caress me into submission. I want so, so badly to say no. But I can’t. Because I’m a yes-girl. Because a wave of heat rushes through my body and I’m rendered speechless and weak. Because my knees buckle and I begin to fall, but Vaughn scoops me up into his arms, never ending our kiss, and he holds me tight until I finally look up into his eyes and give him what he’s waiting for.

  “I can be yours,” I say, my chest all aflutter with my uneven breathing.

  “No,” he says, his steely gaze dropping to my breasts, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. “Not you can, Grace. You will.” His eyes dart back and forth, searching mine for acceptance, or surrender, or maybe just attention.

  “I will be yours if you’ll be mine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Vaughn

  #WinWin

  I IGNORE her statement and instead carry Grace into the living room and sit down on the couch, keeping her head in my lap. She wriggles, but I tsk my tongue at her. “Stop now. Just sit still. I need to explain something before we go any further and I need you to be OK with this, or we’ll have to part now as friends.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I already know what you’re going to say.” I want to look away from her accusatory look, but I can’t. I need to make this very clear, so I urge her on with a nod instead. “You’re not mine. You’ll never be mine. And no matter what you do, I’m your plaything and I’m not allowed to stray.”

  I nod again and she shakes her head and looks away. “I’m sorry, Vaughn.” She pushes my hands off her and tries to get up, but I flip her legs up near her head and then smack her bare wet ass with a crack.

  She squeals, wriggles, blushes, and pants all at the same time.

  Jesus. I need to keep her long enough to get to the spankings, that’s for damn sure. This was just a tease. “Don’t move, we’re not done. I can negotiate. Your characterization is harsh.” She draws in a long tight breath that turns into a long, sad sigh. I’ve upset her and I feel a little wave of sympathy wash over me. “I don’t have girlfriends, Grace. Your position is one of a kind. Does that help at all?”

  She laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “No. You make me sound like an employee. I don’t need another job.”

  “What do you need?” I ask quickly.

  “I don’t know. Something… more than what you’re offering. This… position, as you call it, means that I’m your kept woman.”

  “Is that so bad?”

  Her laugh is a bit heartier this time. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Grace, you’re thinking about it emotionally. Think about it objectively for a moment.” She puts a hand up to silence me, but I grab it and wrap her little clenched fist in mine. “Hold still and be quiet.”

  “Quit ordering me around, Asher. And let go of my legs.” She kicks and wriggles some more until I let them fall back down. I’m desperately aching to flip her over on my lap and turn her ass red.

  But I need to set this up right. I need to keep my wants to myself until she’s willing to comply with my unique demands. One step at a time. “Oh, we’re back to Asher, are we? Fine, girl. What’s wrong with two adults having consensual and erotic sexual encounters? It’s an outlet, Grace. A way for you to explore new sexual boundaries. A time to draw new lines, make new limits, and try new things.” She makes to protest but I cover her mouth with my hand. “Shush, I said. It’s a way to do all those things while remaining under my care and protection.”

  “See?” She pushes my hand off her mouth. “This is where you lose me with your caveman shit.”

  “Language, please. And it’s not caveman shit, it’s necessary. The world is filled with unsavory characters, Grace. Especially those who would take advantage of you sexually. I will not take advantage of you. We can talk more about that later, if you agree to be faithful. But now that I’ve awakened your sexual curiosity, it’s my duty to ensure you don’t allow yourself to be drawn into another man’s influence.”

  “But your influence is fine? How does that makes sense to you?”

  “Because I’m famous and if you talked, you could ruin me. With or without a NDA, this is your hold over me. I’m trusting you to keep our life together private.”

  “Secret, you mean.”

  “If you prefer to use the word secret, by all means. But I prefer private. Something between the two of us.”

  “Except the people across the hall, they’re in on it too.”

  I bend her legs forward and slap her hard and quick across her exposed pussy and then stick my fingers inside her, moving them in and out slowly as the shock wears off her face. “Did the people across the hall see you?”

  “No,” she moans. “But they knew what was happening, and they knew
it was me. So what’s the difference?”

  “The difference is they will remember me being an asshole, flipping them off. Not you on your knees with my dick in your mouth. Because that’s private. When I slap your pussy, that’s private. When I pull your hair and come down your throat or on your breasts”—I lower her legs again and look into her eyes—“or whatever else we do. All of that is private. I don’t want anyone to know about it.”

  “Is what you want to do to me that disgusting?”

  “No, for fuck’s sake. No. It’s… beautiful. It’s an agreement of trust. You allow me to dominate you sexually, and in return I make sure you’re safe as you push yourself outside your comfort zone. You will never be forced, but most of the world sees my sexual preference as disgusting, and violent, and degrading to women, and it’s not. It’s consensual. It’s highly erotic and it’s a kind of escapism that doesn’t come around very often.”

  She’s silent for a moment, thinking presumably. “OK, but listen, that’s not what’s bothering me. I don’t think I should have to be faithful to you, especially when I don’t know how often you’ll be around to”—she offers me a shy smile—“take care of my needs. And yet you can go out and get laid if the mood strikes you. I won’t agree to it. Either we both follow the same rules, or I’m not interested.”

  “We can’t both be in charge, Grace.”

  “I don’t need to be in charge. I just want to be treated as your equal.”

  “We can’t be equal, because I give the orders and you obey them.”

  “In bed? Or in life, Vaughn? Because those are two very different things. In bed, fine. Be the caveman. But in life, no. I’m sorry, I’m in charge of that. I make my own decisions and you live with them.”

  I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling for at least a minute. I expect her to get tired of waiting. To struggle to get up, release herself from my all-encompassing embrace. But she’s patient as I think this through. I’m not interested in someone who wants to whore around when I’m not present, but Grace doesn’t strike me as promiscuous.