by JA Huss
Copyright © 2014 by J. A. Huss
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-936413-57-7
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Edited by: RJ Locksley
Formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs
Other Books by J.A. Huss
Losing Francesca
Social Media
Follow
Like
Rook and Ronin
Tragic
Manic
Panic
Rook and Ronin Spinoffs
Slack: A Day in the Life of Ford Aston
Taut: The Ford Book
Ford: Slack/Taught Bundle
Bomb: A Day in the Life of Spencer Shrike
Guns: The Spencer Book
Dirty, Dark, and Deadly
Come
Come Back
I Am Just Junco
Clutch
Fledge
Flight
Range
The Magpie Bridge
Return
#WhatADick
Vaughn Asher. I’ve stalked him relentlessly. I shaped and formed my lust into the perfect dirty hashtag…day after day… weekend after weekend. He was my prince. My fairy tale. My fantasy.
I gave him the best years of my online life and what did he do for me?
Ruined my social media experience one tweet at a time. That’s what.
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird #Fantastic #BackToNatureFucking
#MissingSomething #You
And now #TheDickWhoIsVaughnAsher thinks he can weasel his way back into this filthy blue bird’s Twitter account? He’s wrong.
His public fantasy is about to collide… ah, fuck it. He’s hot as hell, bitches. I need more than a free sample. This time I want it all and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.
Chapter One
#HappinessIsHacking
I CHUCKLE to myself as I lounge on my couch back in LA. I’ve been watching Grace’s Twitter feed for twenty-four hours now, ever since I sent that tweet, but she’s gone silent. Black, they call it. Dead.
I laugh again.
“What’re you smirking about?”
I sit up and peek over the back of the couch. Felicity’s back is to me and she has the fridge open, staring at it. “She’s hiding,” I tell her.
“Of course she is, you just embarrassed the fuck out of her—”
“Felicity, language, please.”
“—in front of her entire community of online friends. What’d you think would happen?”
I stare at my adopted daughter for a minute, noticing how tall she seems. She is all legs. I hate it. “Your skirt is too short. I hope you’re not going to wear that out of the house.”
She glares at me over her shoulder. “It’s a tennis skirt, Vaughn, relax. I told you, I’m trying to get better at a sport this year so I can be all jocky and shit.” She finally grabs a sparkling water and slams the refrigerator door with a sigh.
“‘Jocky and shit?’ First of all, language. Second—” I have to stop here and think about my word choice for a moment. Twenty-year-old girls are sensitive to any criticism, and while I do not think what I’m about to say is a criticism—it’s the whole reason we met—I do not want her to take it the wrong way. “I love the non-jocky version of you. So whatever jock you’re trying to gain attention from does not deserve you if he can’t appreciate your nerdy side.”
I smile. That was perfect.
She comes into the family room and plops down on the overstuffed chair across from me with a whoosh of cushions. The bottle cap snaps as she opens it and the fizz bubbles into the air. “I hate you.”
“What?”
“I love the nerdy you,” she says in a fake voice. “Of course you do. You’re seeing me in a non-sexual way—”
“Oh, Jesus, Felicity, please—”
“—but I’m trying to get laid by a hot dude, OK?”
“OK, this subject is over.”
“Yeah, let’s just talk about your current relationship, that’s much better. And you know what, you adopted me at sixteen. It barely counts. I’m your best friend, not your daughter, so stop with the parenting, V. I can’t take it.” She takes a long swig of her water and then wipes her mouth. “Anyway, having me figure out who she is on Twitter for you is one thing. The games you’re playing are not nice. She’s gonna flip out. And all seven thousand members of Dirty Heaven Twitter group will see every bit of it.”
I let out a long breath. I have to admit, playing this game with Grace has really injected some fun into my pathetically boring movie-star life. I have been busy most of the year with production schedules and charity benefits, but most of the sex has been… disappointing. I’ve had no real romantic fun until this past weekend. Grace has got me all distracted and bothered. I hate that she left the island before we could have a real date. Fucking her in the forest is not the same as seducing her and making her submit to me in private. Public is fun, but private has so many, many more options.
“Oh, by the way,” Felicity says, “your douche of a brother called. Says he’s gonna be gone on a business trip for a couple weeks and he’ll pay you when he gets back.”
I make a face at the change in subject. Fucking Conner and his business deal. If my parents knew what he was up to, they’d flip. But I promised not to tell them while he gets it off the ground, and I’m a man of my word.
“What’s that all about, anyway?” Felicity asks.
“Nothing,” I say to stop the conversation. “I don’t want to think about Conner.”
“Well, I’m gonna dig up some info then. I barely know anything about him.”
“Felicity,” I say in my stern father voice. “Do not hack into his stuff, do you hear me? He will know.”
“How’s he gonna know?” she laughs. “I’m careful. You know I’m careful.”
“It’s not ethical, anyway.”
“Pfft,” she says. “Please. You have me hack stuff all the time, V. Like your new girlfriend’s Twitter account? Ringing any bells?”
“That’s harmless fun, Felicity.”
“What I’m doing is harmless too. And it’s fun. For me.” She smiles broadly as she takes a sip of water and it dribbles out of her mouth. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Miss Kinsella will not be thinking it’s so funny when you start playing for real. She’s gonna be mortified. She might change her name and move away to escape the public humiliation you’re about to unleash.”
“It’s not public. It’s her Twitter account. She hides behind that FilthyBlueBird handle for a reason. So no one knows it’s her.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” And then she looks at her watch and gets up. “Well, I’ve got a two PM tennis match scheduled to perfectly coincide with my future man’s football practice so I gotta jet.” She walks over and then leans down to peck me on the cheek. “Later, V.”
“Be good!” I call after her. “And be safe if you’re going to—”
“Vaughn! That’s too far.” She waves me off with her hand as she skips down the hallway and a few seconds later I hear the door to the garage slam.
I sigh. She’s so different from the girl I found sitting in a jail cell a few years ago. Brought in on felony hacking charges after she broke into my production company’s database looking for dirt to sell to online Hollywood tabloid shows. She was living on the streets. No parents, no home. No money. No future.
I wanted to press charges, teach her a lesson and make her pay for it all at the same time. I was still reeling from
a lackluster performance in an independent project I had help produce a few months earlier, not to mention the constant headlines in Buzz Hollywood accusing me of living some kind of dark, sordid double life. I wanted to make her pay.
Luckily Samantha talked me out of it after learning what Felicity’s situation was, and I ended up not pressing charges. But I still wanted to teach her a lesson. So I made her work for me as my personal assistant that entire summer and decided to become her foster parent.
She changed my life. It went from shallow and empty to meaningful in one day. Like seriously, her first day at the studio with me. She had my whole life arranged on a tablet before lunch. She was quick and personable, and funny. She’s so funny. She lights up my life. We were inseparable that summer. People started calling us Velicity, that’s how attached we became. It’s like we were destined to be best friends.
When the end of the summer rolled around she started asking me weird questions. Would I get rid of her some day? Would I send her to another family to live with if she was bad? Would I get married and forget about our friendship? Would I have new children and replace her?
God, it killed me to hear her asking these questions. And of course, I reassured her without question. I might be a dick, but I believe in commitment. Once I’m on board with something, I’m in. I believe in the long haul. I believe in sticking it out. People who make it past my initial aloofness, and not many do, so I can’t hardly blame Felicity for wondering, but those who do get inside, I am loyal.
I just couldn’t imagine living with that level of uncertainty Felicity was displaying. So I adopted her. Sent her to the best school for the duration of high school and just as I suspected, she was brilliant. She made up for all the previous years of poor education with perfect attendance and she graduated summa cum laude right on time. Colleges came knocking and she was admitted to my alma mater, the University of Southern California, without me even pulling strings or writing an extra check.
Now, she’s a senior. Psychology with a minor in criminal justice. Still has perfect grades. Still has perfect attendance. And even if she had none of that, she’s still perfect to me.
Yes, Felicity has certainly changed my view on life. The past four years have been the best, even though my love life has seriously been lacking. I count up the number of submissives I’ve had in that time. At least fifteen. Some of them were so bad at it, I never got past the first oral sex. All were stand-ins for the real deal.
I’ve had plenty of public girlfriends too, and those I do not fuck. It’s a business arrangement my agent sets up. We go out to eat together, shop once in a while, attend functions—but, you know, public things.
I don’t take the subs to any of that stuff. And to be honest, I’ve never had the desire.
I think I can count two authentic girlfriends in my life and both were in my teens. My co-star at Disney was matched up with me for some awards show and we actually did hit it off. We’re still friends now, but she’s… well, a movie star. Egomaniac, selfish, pampered, and self-sufficient. She never needed me.
I like to be needed.
The other real girlfriend crashed and burned at eighteen. Been in and out of rehab about a dozen times. It’s too bad, she was so cute as a teenager. But that one was clingy. Too needy. I like to be needed, but not for stupid things like waking up on time every day. I want to date a grownup. That girl never quite grew up, no matter how old she got.
After that, eh, I could take them or leave them. You’d think it’d be easy to find a soulmate as an internationally famous movie star. But it’s not. People just want to use you. They want something from you at all time. They want money, they want introductions, they want help.
I never know if they like me for me, or just for what I can give them. It’s hard to separate the two because if you really want to make a relationship work, you have to be invested.
I try not to be invested. I admit that says I’m not trying to be in a relationship. Which is why I have the submissive girls. They do what I say, and while I certainly do hand things out, they don’t get to ask me for anything.
One-way streets. Those are the best kind of relationships for me. I tell them up front I’m not invested. I’m shallow, I’m using them, I’m a controlling asshole. Take it or leave it.
Very few leave it. Well, that’s not true, they all leave it eventually. When I kick them out the door. When I drop their asses off at the airport. When I stop taking calls, or answering emails, or reading messages. I don’t need to change the locks, they never come home with me anymore. Not since Felicity. This is a sex-free house. For both of us. No boys here for her, no women here for me.
Nada. This place is our safe haven from the world and that’s how it’s gonna stay.
My tablet dings with an incoming third-party Twitter notification.
@FilthyBlueBird has unfollowed you.
I laugh. “Oh, Grace, Grace, Grace. You think you can slip me that easily?”
Grace @FilthyBlueBird – 1s
OMG, I have a stalker! What do I do, #BlueBirds?
You’d think a woman using Twitter this regularly for a few years would understand how it all works. I can still see her tweets when she unfollows me. I have to stop and laugh a little.
MovieStar @VaughnAsher – 30s
@FilthyBlueBird Who is this stalker? I will set him straight.
And then the usual happens. Within minutes, there are dozens of @replies. Mostly from her girlfriends on the Dirty Heaven list, the #BlueBirds. But some random stalkerish fans of my own are in there too.
@VaughnAsher is @FilthyBlueBird your GF?
@VaughnAsher if you’re the stalker, you can stalk me any time!
@VaughnAsher who is @FilthyBlueBird? Can I be your blue bird?
They get worse from there. Invitations to fuck them. Sit on my face. #SOHF is a code word for that on Twitter. @FilthyBlueBird uses that one a lot. And I’ve got to admit, that’s something I’d like to imagine. More than imagine, actually. I’d like to lick that sweet little pussy until she’s dripping down my chin.
Fuck. I’m horny. I reach for my phone and press Grace’s number in my contacts. She picks up on the first ring.
“What the hell are you doing?” she growls at me.
“You left so suddenly, Grace. I didn’t have a chance to—”
“Get off my Twitter feed, Asher. Now!”
I chuckle. It’s one of those full-of-myself chuckles I do when my power is looming over people. “Now whyever would I do that, Miss Kinsella?”
“Because, Vaughn, I’m just a girl from Denver who has absolutely no interest in signing your contract. It was a fun fling, but it’s over now. So leave me alone and stop stalking me on Twitter! My friends are all going to see—” She’s interrupted by a continuous litany of pinging from my tablet and I admit, at this point in the conversation, I’ve got a hand over my mouth to stop the laughing. She screams on the other end of the line.
I can see why. She just got bombarded with tweets asking about me.
“Oh my God. What do I tell them? What the hell am I going to tell them?” She screams again. “Fuck! Bebe just found out, thanks a lot! I never told her about you, now she’s going to know I was with you on the island.”
“So?”
“So? Jesus, have you no sympathy for me at all? She’s my best friend and I lied to her! I fucked a goddamned movie star and I didn’t tell her! How can you—”
“Grace?”
“—be so fucking cold, you jerk!”
“Grace?”
“Oh. My. God. Do you hear that? That’s her now! She’s calling on the other line!”
“Answer it, I’ll wait.”
“Answer it? No! I’m—”
“Grace?”
“What?”
“I’ll tell them all it was a lie if…”
“If what?” she growls at me through the phone.
“If you have phone sex with me, right now.”
“Holy shit, you are i
nsane!”
“Oh! What’s that ding? Bebe again? I don’t suppose she’s very happy with you leaving the island the way you did either. I sense a girl fight coming. I almost wish I was there so—”
“Fine! Fine, fine, fine, I’ll do it. Just quick, say it was a lie.”
“No can do, Miss Kinsella. I need satisfaction first.”
There is a pause then. A blank in her freaking out. But the entire time I can hear her Twitter dinging the incoming messages. She sighs. “OK, you win. Just tell me what to do, I’ve never done anything like this before.” Her breath is all ragged and fast. It’s driving me wild. I wish she was here so bad. I’d strip her naked and bend her over the couch back, then finger her pussy until she screamed.
“Make me come. It’s that simple. With words, Grace. Make me come with words.” I close my tablet cover and it makes a little snapping sound as the operating system goes to sleep. “Did you hear that? That was me putting my tablet aside. I’m not in the least bit of a hurry to stop the Twitter chatter going on right now. But if you are, my girl, then by all means, you can make it snappy.”
“You’re lucky I’m not there. I’d make it snappy. I’d snap my teeth on your manhood so hard, you’d—”
“Now, now. While I do love the image of your mouth on my cock, your plump lips wrapped around my shaft, sucking while your hands pump me hard and fast—the teeth are not working for me. So leave that part out.”
She growls again and my pants become a little tighter as she decides what to do. “Why? Why do you like to embarrass me?”
“I’m not trying to embarrass you. Why do you think that?”
“Because you want me to talk dirty to you, you want to fuck me in public, you want to drag me kicking and screaming outside my comfort zone and you want to laugh at me while you do it. I don’t like that.”
“First of all, Grace, take a nice deep breath and then sit down, lean back on your couch or the pillows on your bed, and relax for a moment. Can you do that?”
