FOLLOW(36)

“Thank you, Master.”

“Fuck,” he sighs. “You challenge me, Grace. But knowing you’re mine, that is such a turn-on. And I can’t wait to spank you for all your challenging ways. I’ll have your whole body across my lap, your head resting on the floor, your ass in the air”—the vibrator turns on and he slips it under my skirt and drags it over my crease, making me moan—“and I’ll swat you hard enough to make you cry, Grace. I will. But I told you, if you’re a very good girl, and stay still, I will reward you like this.” And then his fingertip sweeps over my clit before flicking the vibrator back and forth. I moan again and then he pulls my hair until my throat is exposed. His whole palm presses against my sex, and I’m wet, but he makes sure I know I’m wet by inserting two fingers, and then he brings them up to my lips.

“Suck, Grace. When I kiss you during lunch, I want to taste your pussy on your tongue.”

I open my mouth and take in his fingers, the sweetness of my own juices turning me on even more as he thrusts back and forth, the way I imagine he would with his cock if I was able to take him all the way into my mouth. I enjoy it, lap my tongue up and down and between his fingers until I make him groan. “Very good, girl. Very good. Now give me your purse.”

I hand him my purse, which I’ve been clutching tightly. He opens it and places the vibrator inside. “When I squeeze your thigh, you will stick it between your legs, tight up against your pussy, and then excuse yourself and go to the restroom, leaving the vibrator in place. Do you understand, Grace?”

I nod and say, “Yes, Mr. Asher,” before catching my mistake.

He smiles and takes my arm, not even asking for a correction. But if there’s one thing I’m beginning to understand, it’s that Vaughn Asher remembers everything. And he will not forget a single indiscretion. “Are you ready?” he asks as he leads me over to the restaurant foyer once again.

I nod yes and take a deep breath, not sure how I feel about this, but I’m wet, and excited, and breathless. I want more of him. He’s an asshole, but he’s my fantasy and I’m not ready to give up just yet. We only have one day together. One day and then I go home, back to Denver, back to my life, and I’ll probably never see him again. So I’m going to try and be this girl he wants me to be.

I follow Vaughn’s lead as he takes me into the restaurant. The maître d’ makes small talk as we are led to the interior of the restaurant and then I’m looking at a table up near the window with an amazing view of the ocean. I can’t take my eyes off the people because one man looks so familiar.

The maître d’ waves us forward towards that table and my heart skips. When I look up at Vaughn, he’s grinning like a boy with a vibrator remote control in his pocket. “Grace,” he says, as we stop in front of the table filled with people. I recognize the woman I saw him with last night and the man at the head of the table. “I’d like you to meet my family.”

The men stand as Vaughn pulls out a chair for me. “This is my father,” he says, panning to the older man, “Adam Asher. My mother Corrine, my sister Samantha, her new husband Tray, and my brother Conner.”

We exchange pleasantries as the waiters fill up our water glasses and ask us for drink orders. Vaughn orders for us and then in a moment when everyone else is busy chatting about wine and whiskey, he reaches over and squeezes my leg.

I reach into my clutch and pull out the little bullet, keeping it wrapped tightly in my hands. And then, as the menus come up to cover faces, I hike up my skirt and wedge the vibrator up against my clit.





Chapter Eighteen



#GettingRidOfThemIsGettingEasier



SHE doesn’t even question me. No nod, no panic, no fight.

Hmmm. I almost wish she had. I watch her lift up her skirt and place the little bullet between her legs and then she swallows hard and looks around to make sure no one saw.

No one did, but just at that moment, Conner lowers his menu and looks right at me with squinted eyes.

Did he notice me?

I smile at him and he goes back behind his menu. Grace sits with her hands folded in her lap, looking frightened. I reach over and touch her leg and she jumps. “What do you like to eat, Grace? I’ll order for you.”

She smiles at me but it’s fake. She’s doing what I ask, but she’s not comfortable with it.

Too bad.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she says as she stands. “I’ll be—”

“Grace.” I pull her back to her seat. “What should I order for you, sweetie? Fish? Pasta? Steak?”