by JA Huss
“Yes,” she says softly.
I carry her over to the river and set her back down on the towel. “I’ll tell you the whole story as we float down the river naked. Deal?”
I get a smile from her at that suggestion. It starts small, just a slight lift, but then her eyes dart to the river and I can almost see her picturing it. Her smile grows.
I walk over to the pool shed and search around until I find a floating cabana with a sun shade on it. I pump it up since it’s probably been years since I’ve used this thing, and then take it outside and set it down in the loading area of the lazy river.
“Ready to hear all about your fairytale wedding?”
She’s shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks up at me. “Oh God, I’m not sure. Was I really drunk and stupid?”
I carry her over to the river and walk down the steps. “Baby,” I say, placing her on the raft, “I get that you were drunk. But please believe me—what I saw that night was nothing but perfection. I didn’t take any pictures. Not because I didn’t want to, but because you were so stunning in that dress, all rational thought just left the building.”
“What dress? I didn’t have a dress.”
“You did,” I insist as I climb next to her. “I swear. Now settle, sweets. And let me tell you all about it.” She squirms around a little, wincing from the pain in her leg, and then she places her hand over my heart and exhales.
That exhale says everything.
It says she trusts me. It says she loves me. It says she’s ready. She might not know it yet, but I do. She’s ready to move on. Those eight months Daisy spent as a captive changed her. And while I’m certainly not looking to change her back, I would like to change her forward.
“Ready?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“OK, this is exactly how it happened…”
“I’m yours,” Grace says as she wraps her legs around my middle. “I’m yours.”
I ease into her and I can feel her thighs as they grip me. Begging for me. Begging for me to fuck her harder. But I don’t want it to be hard tonight. I’ve had her hard and rough but I haven’t had her slow and sweet. And that’s what I’m craving right now.
She moans in my ear, so low it’s almost undetectable. Her hands are on my head, fingers threading through my hair. Her breath brushes my neck, sweeping across my skin in short bursts that match the heaving of her breasts against my chest.
“Come for me, sweets. Come for me.”
Her grip tightens.
“Come,” I encourage her again. “And I’ll come with you.” I flip over on my back and position her on top of me. My hands grip her hips, moving her back and forth as I thrust upwards. She moans louder. Her hands are on my chest, propping herself up, but with each thrust her resolve weakens until finally she is pressed against me. Our bodies are sweating from the sex, and the heat of our desire, and the strength of our emotion.
My fingers find her asshole and her upper body awakens once more, shooting up. Her head falls back. her mouth open. Her soft moans turn to screams.
We come together.
I come inside her, my hot semen spilling out in waves as her pussy clamps against my cock, and I grab her hair and yank her back down on top of me so I can bite her shoulder. “Mine,” is all I can manage. It’s primitive, but I don’t give a fuck. This girl is mine.
“Yours,” she moans back. “Make me yours.”
Fuck. Fuck. I pull her hair harder, wrapping my hands around her head in a way that leaves no doubt that I want to possess her. Completely.
Our hearts race against each other and we stay this way. Still. Silent. Satiated.
I trace my fingertips up and down her spine and every time I get to the small of her back, she bucks. That makes me smile so big. It makes me happy in a way I’m not sure I can describe. “Do you like it like this, Grace?”
“Yes,” she whispers and then bites my neck. “Yes. Like that, please. More.”
“More, and more, and more.”
“Forever. Happily ever after.”
“Baby, don’t tease me. I’ll give you forever if you want it.”
“I need forever so bad.”
“Then marry me—”
“Wait.” Grace stops me with a hand on my chest. “That’s it? You asked me post-coital and I just said yes?”
“Shhhh.” I hush her with a finger to her lips. “Just listen.”
“—Grace. I have never felt this sure of something in my whole life. Ever. You, baby. You are the secret to life. You are my reason for being. You are my soulmate. We are tethered by a string. Some mystical string that connects us and has connected us since our inception. And the day I saw your sandaled foot step out of that dingy airport shuttle, I knew. You were my other half. It’s the only explanation for how I feel about you. And I tried to deny it. Tried to prove to myself that this arrangement with you was… ordinary.”
I flip us over one more time so I can be on top again. I prop myself up on my forearms and let my hands fall gently along each of her cheeks. I stroke her softly, my thumb arcing back and forth across her soft skin. I devour her with my eyes. “What we have is so far from ordinary, Grace. It’s not a connection. It’s a reconnection. I need you to understand that and I really don’t have the words to describe what you mean to me right now. But even though my expression is inadequate, please believe me. You’re mine. That’s all there is to it. And if you need me to make that declaration permanent, then marry me.”
She stares up at me and her breath hitches like she might start crying at any moment.
“Just marry me.”
“And that makes it… forever?” Her brows knit together in confusion.
I can see her point. Why would marriage change things? “No, baby. That’s not what makes it forever. The forever between us? It just is.” I lean down and kiss her on the lips. Our tongues tangle for a second and then they do more than that. Her fingers push through my hair and she flattens her palm against my head in her own version of possessiveness. “There’s no paper or vow in this world that can surpass what the universe has declared to be true.”
She swallows hard and that makes me smile, because it proves that she’s taking me seriously. I’m spewing all this metaphysical bullshit about fate and souls and ties that bind.
And she’s in.
“We just are. And that’s the end of it. We don’t need a marriage to make that true. It’s the laws of physics, baby. It’s under God and there’s no death do us part in any of this, Grace. Because we defy—”
“Oh my God,” she laughs. “You did not say all that shit!”
“Shit? I’m offended.”
But we both laugh.
“It’s pretty good though, huh? I mean, most of that is true. I was just a little too drunk that night to gather all those words into the same speech. But that’s what I meant.”
Chapter Ninety - Grace
#NextStep
I HAVE this stupid grin on my face and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make it go away. Vaughn Asher is such a bullshitter. But it’s so fucking adorable I almost die. Fate and souls and ties that tether us through eternity. That’s what he meant. I giggle and he pokes me in the ribs, making me squirm. “Stop,” I laugh. “You’re so full of it.”
“I’m not,” he says. “I really mean all that shit. And even though I didn’t really say it that night, I’m saying it now.”
“OK, whatever. All I want to hear about is the dress. And did I at least eat cake?”
“Sweets, we were invited down to the Bellagio bakery. You got to taste everything. You dipped your newly wedded fingers into frosted cupcakes that were so pretty and perfect they looked fake.”
“Stop. How do I know what’s true if you keep lying?”
He sighs. I know what that means. He’s disappointed that I don’t remember. “You will remember, Grace. I have faith. You had a dress, but I’m not gonna tell you about it because it was so beautiful and perfect you won’t believe me.�
�� He sighs again and then he turns his head so he can gaze at me sidelong. “I can’t do it justice. You need to see it in your own memories.”
“But where is it? I was wearing a little white cotton nightie when I woke up. Did I get married in that?”
“No,” he says sadly.
God, it hurts me that my memory lapse is affecting him so hard.
“No, we picked that out from the lingerie shop. Carl was with us.” He laughs at that and so do I. I’m not sure why. “Poor Carl. I bet he gets a fat raise for putting up with me that night. I made him open the pool—”
“The pool?”
“I’m not saying another word. If you don’t remember, you don’t deserve to hear it from me. But you did demand a hundred underwater candles.”
“What?”
“One hundred. And you wanted to count them.” He laughs a little harder at that one.
“I don’t even know what an underwater candle is.”
“Well”—he kisses me, still laughing into my mouth—“that wish was not granted. But your list was long, baby. So I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“I had a wish list? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“I know. I loved that drunk Grace had grabby hands for so many things.”
“So the dress?”
His fingertips touch my lips and I open my mouth, my tongue darting out automatically. “Nah,” he says under his breath. “Nah. I don’t want to spoil it. I want you to remember all on your own.”
I think I make him sad. And it kills me. I want to remember so bad.
“It’s OK, sweets. It’s OK. I’ll wait. Now close your eyes. Enjoy the sunshine. Enjoy the peace. Let’s just float.”
And we do. We float down River Asher and my whole body just sighs with satisfaction. I think I relax. Really relax, for the first time in… well, ten years.
The masked man is dead. And yeah, I get that I’m fucked up. I understand now. Vaughn was right about that. I need help.
But not today. Today all I need is Vaughn. That’s it. One man who knows me. Who loves me. “I’m glad we’re married, Mr. Asher.”
“Mmm. Me too, Mrs. Asher. Me too.”
I fall asleep after that. And I dream. I dream of Bellagio fountains and underwater candles, and wedding dresses. Blue wedding dresses. I dream of cotton eyelet lace nighties with pink bows and bottles of champagne. I dream of the white sheepskin rug and making love to Vaughn, the soft fur against my back, under my knees, pressing against my stomach. In my dream, we have sex so many times on that rug, I lose count.
Sometime later, after the sun goes down because the trance-inducing warmth evaporates, I wake. Cooled and refreshed, but in pain. After all this, Vaughn carries me to his bedroom. I wince from the throbbing in my leg, my pain pills forgotten as we were floating.
Vaughn feeds me the little white tablets with a bottle of cold frappuccino and that drags me back to dreamland. The sheets are cool and the air-conditioning gives me enough of a chill to make me reach for the fluffy down comforter.
I’m growing used to the heat of a man next to me at night.
I never want this to end. I want to keep Vaughn Asher forever. I want more than anything to remember the night he promised to be mine.
But tonight is not my night for that. Tonight is just the first step towards healing.
Chapter Ninety-One - Vaughn
#GoingDownTogether
GRACE sleeps, but I don’t. I lie there with her for about thirty minutes, my mind on the time.
Twenty-four hours was all I had before my deadline expires. Twenty-four hours of perfection. I have my wife in my house. She’s safe. She’s even happy. Still denying herself memories of our wedding night, but I have a feeling they will come back soon. I have a feeling that the reality she twisted to help her cope with her abduction as a teen is somehow mixed up with giving herself to me.
I’m patient. With Grace, at least.
I throw the covers off and get out of bed. I dress quietly in the closet before walking into the living room. I press Ray’s number in my contacts and wait for him to answer.
“Looks good, boss,” he says as he picks up. “No action outside at all.”
“OK, you stand by and Bigmy stays in the house.”
I end the call and go out to the back yard. Bigmy and I cross paths as we exchange places, him taking up watch in the house while I go down to the security building. There’s a path on the other side of the pool that leads down the hill. It’s banked on both sides by thick green foliage. I never showed Grace this side of the property. Not because I want it to be secret that I own so many lots on this hill. I just never had the chance.
I make my way down the winding path until I come to a small stucco building. I open the door and the cool air washes over me. “Hey,” I say to Ray. He looks like shit. But he won’t go home until this is settled, even if I tell him to. He’s my number one guy. He takes care of the number one priority and he always takes care of it himself. He’ll sleep here if he has to. And the overnight bag on the floor near the door tells me he has to.
“I’m ready for you. You have thirty-two minutes until your twenty-four hours are up. Should we wait till the last one?”
“Why bother? I just want to go back to sleep. So let’s get this over with.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, handing me a phone. “Just press send.”
I press the tab and the phone starts ringing. She picks up on the third ring sounding incoherent. “Hello?”
The bitch has the audacity to be asleep? “Carey Keefe? I hope I’m not waking you.”
She clears her throat. “Mr. Asher. Why”—she chuckles sleepily—“I had assumed you’d forgotten about me.”
“Nope.”
“Do you have a time to meet that’s good for you?”
“Now. My house. My security man will pick you up one street over. Here he is. He’ll give you directions.”
I don’t wait for an answer, just hand the phone to Ray. He rattles off the street and tells her twenty minutes. I’m not sure if twenty minutes is reasonable or not, considering I’m up in the hills. But who cares. I’ll be here if she’s late.
After Ray hangs up he leaves to go wait it out. We have a path that goes down to the street below. I own four lots on the street just below my home. Most people don’t know that. I’m a paranoid fucker when it comes to my privacy at home.
Public sex on Saint Thomas is one thing. Stalkers on my property in LA is something else entirely. I used to get stalkers often, photographers hanging out by the end of my gate when I lived in Trousdale, but ever since I moved here, things have settled down.
Part of that was my obsession with never being seen in public with girlfriends. Only dates. And dates were business deals. Negotiated with contracts and signatures.
The sex came from other places. The subs. But they had contracts too. I tried to leave them satisfied, if unhappy. Money does that.
When Felicity and I first moved here, I had some paparazzi hanging out in front of the gate. Mostly it was the Buzz assholes. But I never did anything interesting. I never brought girls home. I never got drunk and made scenes. I grew up the son of Adam Asher and he taught me well.
Keep your head down and work. That should be our family motto.
Of course, not all child stars have such guidance and power behind them. I knew there was stuff going on behind the scenes—hell, I saw it at the release parties from a very young age. But every time a star fucked up, my father was there to point out how they get what they deserve. You want to party, Vaughn? he’d ask me. You want to go out and have fun? Just know, nothing you do is private.
That was the lesson drilled into my head. And I heeded it. I never got into any trouble as a teen. But like most kids who go off to college, you get that first taste of real freedom. Couple that with the money I had in the bank, and well, I did a few things I regret.
But money… it might not fix everything, but it fixes most of it.
&n
bsp; I go back up to the main backyard and walk over to the pool, then wade in up to my knees. God. I love this backyard. Felicity thought it was an extravagant luxury to put in the river and spend so much. But I love it. And Grace loves it. And even though we technically met in a bar, we met properly on that lazy river in Saint Thomas.
Just thinking about that day makes me smile like an idiot. I stunned her, throwing her dirty words back in her face. All I wanted at that moment was to possess her. Like a thing.
But even then I had this feeling about her. Like she was different. Denying my drink offer in the bar. I shake my head and smile as I recall that morning. Mr. Buttinski, she called me. Silly girl.
I sigh as I picture her back then. So carefree and happy. So sure of herself. So feisty.
And now? I’ve been in her life a matter of weeks—not even a month has passed—and I almost can’t find the old Grace anymore.
Did I do that? Did I force that change? Do I still make her sad?
I like the old Grace. No, I love the old Grace. I love her dirty mouth and her sassy self-assurance. I never wanted to tear that down.
You lie, Asher. You lie. That’s all you thought about. Taking her in the way that pleased you. Making her submit to your contract and your fetishes. Corrupting her sense of wellbeing to knock her down and keep her wanting.
I’m a sick fuck.
My phone buzzes a message in my pocket. Coming up the path, the text says.
Well, the bitch must live close, because that was only fifteen minutes.
I make my way back to the security building and then keep going right past it, down the hill a little ways.
The plan was to take her through the backyard of one of the houses below, and then leave her waiting next to an empty pool. So that’s where I’m heading. I’m quiet until I enter the gate that separates this path from that yard, and then I make a lot of noise on purpose as I wind my way through the overgrown tropical trees until I find the pool area.
