by JA Huss
“I’m not complaining. Now get your vibrator and tell me what kind it is.”
I walk over to my night stand and pull the top drawer open. “It’s a Lelo. It’s in a black satin drawstring bag. It’s pink, and it’s the Gigi.”
“Does it feel good when you use it?”
“Yes, it better, it cost enough.”
“Who do you think about when you use it, Grace?”
“You.”
There is nothing but silence.
“Asher?”
He clears his throat. “Kneel down on the floor, spread your legs, and place the vibrator against your clit.”
“I’m kneeling. My legs are open, and—” I pause to turn my Gigi on. “And it’s touching my clit.”
“What setting do you start it on?”
“Full.”
“I’ll let that go this time, since this is all new. But when I get a hold of you and your Gigi, it will never be set on full power, Grace. A toy is used to stimulate you for me, not to get yourself off.”
Whatever, I think to myself. “Yes, Mr. Asher,” I say back to him. I’m never going to see him again and as fun as this could be, that shit right there is a mood-killer.
“I know you disagree, but that’s only because I’m not there. You think the toy is what makes you come, but it’s the visions of me that make you come. So, if we’re together, you won’t need the toy, Grace. Not for orgasms. Only for stimulation prior to my cock entering your ass or your pussy.”
Whoa. OK, I’m back. “I’m wet,” I tell him.
“Of course you are. You have a vibrator up against your pussy and we are discussing the limits.”
“Wait, what? Limits? We’re not talking limits, Asher. We’re phone-fucking one time.”
“Lie down on the floor.”
I huff out some air. He’s got me right now. I need him to stop that Twitter chatter before it gets worse.
“Stick the tip of the vibrator into your pussy, get it nice and wet, then remove it and rub it across your clit.”
I hesitate. I don’t make any noise, I swear. But I can hear him groan on the other end, like he knows. “Jesus,” I say, giving in and doing as he says. “Fine.”
“It’s not supposed to be torture, Grace. It’s supposed to be fun. And you know what? If you’re really not into it, then fuck it. Never mind.”
I get three quick beeps to let me know the call has ended and I just stare up at the ceiling. “What the fuck?” I pick the phone up and press redial. He picks up on the third ring. Like he was busy.
“What?” he barks.
“You’re like a little girl, you know that? A spoiled little girl who throws a tantrum when she doesn’t get her own way. I was playing along, Asher. But I’ve never done this stuff before and it’s embarrassing.” I huff out a disgusted sigh and then end my tirade with a, “Fuck you,” and the technology-age equivalent of a phone slam. A pointer finger press of the End tab.
“Asshole.” God, why do I let him make me so angry. He’s such a—
My thoughts are interrupted by a string of pings from my tablet. Great, what the fuck did he say now? I grab the tablet and check the Dirty Heaven list.
MovieStar @VaughnAsher – 1m
@FilthyBlueBird my deepest apologies. A hacker took over my feed but it’s in control now. Sorry to interrupt your fun.
Oh, so now I get the passive-aggressive bullshit? I don’t think so.
Grace @FilthyBlueBird
@VaughnAsher – the party just started, don’t be too quick to leave. #FantasyOrReality
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird I figured you’d be embarrassed by all the dirty tweets coming out of your #FilthyBlueMouth.
A slew of tweets flood the stream, all dirty. Hashtags start appearing that would make a porn star blush. #TakeMyButtVirginity #SOHFSlipNSlide There are even some I coined that play off his movie roles like #ThatsNotMyHand #ItsTheInvisibleMan and #IManUltimateStalker #WatchMeSquirt #OnYourInvisibleTongue
Grace @FilthyBlueBird
@VaughnAsher – #MrsInvisbleOnline and that’s the way I like it.
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird Do it any way you like, Blue Bird. Sing for me, I’m waiting to be wowed.
Shit. I giggle a little at this. OK, maybe I’m not so good with phone sex, but I’m the filthy Twitter goddess. I can be dirty and spontaneous with the best of them. And besides, he invited me in front of the entire world. It’s like a challenge.
I bite my lip as I think up a good tweet.
Grace @FilthyBlueBird
@VaughnAsher – This blue bird can sing #WithYourCockInMyBeak
MovieStar @VaughnAsher
@FilthyBlueBird Hmmm, I recently had that pleasure. #Fantastic #BackToNatureFucking #MissingSomething #You
I stare at that last tweet. Me.
A flood of tweets follow that message, but I close my tablet and sit on the bed. He did that on purpose. He took away the suspicion and rebuilt it on a whole new level.
My phone buzzes. I stare at the message flashing unknown number at me and then even though I know I shouldn’t answer that call—that giving in to him is the worst idea possible, that he will take over my life, probably in every bad way imaginable—there’s no way I can deny him.
“Yes,” I say softly into the phone.
“I liked that. It was fun. We are now @mrinvsman and @mrsinvsman. Private profiles who only follow each other. Log in tomorrow night at eight your time using ‘bluebird’ as your password.”
And then I get the three beeps.
My phone vibrates a message a few seconds later. I look down and this time the number comes up.
I will ignore you as FilthyBlueBird from now on. But you’re still mine, #MrsInvisibleMan.
What if I don’t want to play? I text back.
Then don’t. A pause from him. Then—Do you want to play?
I like being asked.
That’s not an answer.
Yes.
Are you still naked?
Yes.
I get a smiley face in return. Be naked tomorrow at eight your time, #MrsInvisibleMan.
Chapter Twenty-Three - Vaughn
#SisterSecrets
GOD, that girl, I think as I press the end tab on my phone. She’s got me. Somehow, she’s grabbed my attention like no other woman I’ve ever met. She’s naughty and mouthy and I love it. And I realize I’ve got a stupid grin on my face.
I snap out of it when my phone rings and Sam’s face lights up the screen. I smile a very different kind of smile and press accept. “Why are you calling me on your honeymoon, princess? Are you ready to divorce Tray already?”
“Do you think I should?”
“What?” Fuck.
“I mean, it could be an annulment, right? Do they still let you do those things?”
“Sam, what’s going on? What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Vaughn. I’m just so unsure of this. I mean, I’ve never been so unsure of anything in my life. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t…” She stops and huffs out a breath. “I can’t sleep with him, Vaughn. I just can’t do it.”
“Wait, you’ve never slept with him before?”
“Of course not!”
“Oh my God, you’re a virgin?”
“I’m insulted that you’re surprised!”
“Sorry, it’s just…” I guess it all makes sense. My sister has always been a prissy thing, but I’ve always assumed it was an act. “It wasn’t an act?”
“Why would I lie about this?”
Shit, I can think of like a billion reasons, but I keep that to myself. “I wonder if Felicity is still a virgin. Dare I hope she’s been as frigid as you?”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
“Sorry. OK, well, look, sis, it’s pretty normal to be… ah… Jesus, can’t you find a girlfriend to talk to about this shit?”
“I already talked to them! They’re on his side!”
“What side is his? He di
d something, didn’t he? I’ll kill that asshole.”
“He didn’t do anything, he’s just… Vaughn, he’s just not the prince I’ve been waiting for. And I know, I just feel it to be true, that if I sleep with him as his wife, I will be making the biggest mistake of my life. Bigger than marrying him. Because I’ve been saving myself for the perfect guy. And I’m sorry, I know Mom and Dad paid a fortune for this wedding, but I can’t do it. He’s not my guy. He’s not.”
She lets out a long breath and waits for my reaction. I know whatever I tell her, she will take it very seriously. So I really need to tread carefully here.
“Sam, first of all, your happiness is the only thing we care about, OK? Mom and Dad do not give two fucks about the cost of the wedding. So don’t let that be a determining factor. But before you make up your mind, I just think you should stop comparing Tray to some fictional guy who doesn’t exist. Because, honey, he’s not out there. We’re all assholes. We’re all the same. We don’t think the way you ladies do. We’re not perfect. And I’m going to tell you the truth, I don’t like Tray. I don’t think he’s good enough for you, so if you want to ditch the guy, by all means call the plane, pack your shit, and leave his ass on Saint Thomas. But before you do anything, Samantha, I want you to make sure. Because this really isn’t something you can undo. A man’s not going to forget that you had these second thoughts on the honeymoon. So if you walk away, be sure.”
She’s silent for a long time. Almost a minute. But I’m patient. I let her think. She just needs someone to listen to her and if I’m the only one who will, then I’ll wait all night for her to be ready to speak again.
I’ve always worried about her so much as she was growing up. She’s a fragile person. One prone to sadness and guilt over things she has no control over. The state of the world. Injustices in faraway countries I probably couldn’t place on a map. Kids who have no parents. She was a huge reason why I didn’t press charges against Felicity. I was so angry when that girl hacked into my personal business, I was ready to do just about anything to get even. But Samantha calmed me down. Made me see things differently. Made me see Felicity as the desperate teenager she was instead of the criminal I was trying to make her out to be.
I owe Sam for that. Because my life was a hollow shell before that girl came into it. And every day since has been better than the last. No matter what happens during my day, seeing Felicity at the end of it—hearing her smart-ass mouth, listening to her crazy plans about meeting guys, watching her change from a suspicious and angry teen to a brilliant, confident, intelligent young woman…
Well, that’s what life is about.
Sam sighs on the other end of the line again. “OK. I’m going to have dinner with him in an hour and I’ll give him a chance. I’ll stop comparing him to my perfect guy and see him for what he is. A nice-looking man with a good job who loves me.”
“Jesus, is that how you see him?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, look, Sam, I’m no expert on how women should feel about men. But on your honeymoon you should want to spend every minute with him. You should be gazing into his eyes, declaring your lust, for fuck’s sake. You should absolutely not be on the phone with your brother.”
“God, Vaughn. I don’t love him. All of that makes me tremble with fear and apprehension. And I have played sick every night since the wedding so I didn’t have to sleep with him. I’m almost out of excuses. He’s going to want to sleep with me tonight, I just know it. And I don’t want to. I don’t want him to touch me, Vaughn.”
My sister doesn’t want him to touch her. That’s enough for me. “I’m calling the airport.”
“What?”
“I’ll take care of it, sweetie. OK? I’ll call the jet. You pack your things right now, and go get in the taxi. I’ll have someone meet you at the airport and bring you home.”
She starts crying and I want to jump through the phone and hug her, that’s how bad this tears me up. “Sam, you’re gonna be all right? I’m gonna take care of it, OK? Just do as I ask and then call me when you get on the plane so I know you’re safe. Understand?”
“OK,” she squeaks out. “I’m going now. I’ll call you on the plane. And Vaughn? Thank you. Thank you so much for this.”
“It’s no big deal, sis. It’s what brothers are for.”
We hang up and I sit back against the couch and let out a long, sad sigh. I just sit there for a few minutes, running all this over in my head, then I press the pre-set for the jet service and arrange the plane. Then I call the airport concierge and tell them to meet Samantha outside departures and escort her to the jet.
And once all that is done, I speed-dial Conner. He picks up on the first ring.
“Yo, bro. What’s up?”
“Samantha is leaving Tray. I just set up the jet so she can leave without telling him.”
“Fuck, what happened?”
“She doesn’t love him. She felt pressured to accept his proposal and make it work. She hasn’t slept with him and he’s making her shake just thinking about it.”
“Fuck.”
“But that’s not why I called. I need a favor, Conner. And I need it to be done very discreetly. Can you do that?”
“Please, brother. Discreet is my middle name. Conner Discreet Asher at your service.”
I tell him what I want and we hang up after he gets the details.
God, I just hope Felicity doesn’t end up with a guy she can barely stand because she feels pressured to accept a proposal. I should’ve sent her to a public university. Get her away from the arrogant rich kids who flow with the money at USC.
I ponder all the mistakes I might’ve made with Felicity in the four short years I’ve had to influence her life, and come to the conclusion I’m a failure. No matter what I do, it probably won’t be enough to protect her from getting hurt. Not in love, not in life, not in anything.
My phone rings and I press Sam’s happy face to answer. “Tell me good news, sis.”
“I’m on the plane.” She starts to cry and I almost lose it.
“Do you want me to tell them to forget it?”
“No! These are happy tears, Vaughn. Just thank you. So much for being the best brother ever. Thank you. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Tray—”
“I’ll take care of Tray. I’ll see you when you get to LA, now get some rest.”
I look up Tray in my contacts and press in the numbers. He picks up on the fourth ring. “Yeah,” he says, his voice almost completely drowned out by the club music in the background.
“Tray, Vaughn Asher here. I’d just like to let you know your marriage to my sister will be annulled. I’ll send you the court date. If you try and contact her, I’ll take legal action. Have a nice night out clubbing.”
I press end on the phone and wait for the callback. But he doesn’t call back.
And while that’s good in the short term—I won’t have to deal with him, he seems to have gotten the message—that’s not good for the long term.
Because a man who doesn’t fight for his new bride when she gets cold feet and walks out on the honeymoon will probably turn out to be an asshole.
Chapter Twenty-Four - Grace
#YouAreCaredFor
VAUGHN invades my dreams and they are some of the sexiest dreams I’ve ever had. I dream about his hard chest, the curve of his muscles, the scratchiness of his jaw, the thrust of his cock inside me—making me wet, making me shudder, making me—
My alarm goes off on my phone and I reach under my pillow to find it. I swipe the screen and it goes silent and then I glance at the time and weather, like I do every day, and get a pleasant surprise.
Good morning, #MrsInvisibleMan.
Wow. I smile. I’m smiling like… huge. It almost feels like we’re friends now. I stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds. Vaughn Asher is texting me good morning. And he’s calling me MrsInvisibleMan. It’s weird that he’s calling me that, but I started it last night with the #MrsInvisi
bleOnline hashtag. I tap the screen to pull up the keypad and type out a response.
What kind of perks do I get for being your Mrs?
He texts back immediately and I bite my lip as I wait, my eyes glued to the little typing message.
I take care of what’s mine. Whatever you want.
Haha. Then I will get you my list. :) I gotta go to work. Toots.
I throw the phone down and get up so I’m not tempted to stay in bed and chat with him. I have to mentally shake myself for a second, because it’s just so surreal. I’m starstruck and yet not all at the same time. Last week this man was the star of all my sexual fantasies. And this week I know him intimately.
Not as intimately as I’d like, it’s been a strange introduction. But holy hell, I had sex with him. Twice.
Yeah, it was the same day, and they were both on vacation. But still. Twice.
And he’s still calling—and texting, and messaging—so that means he wants more than sex. Right? I’m not delusional, am I? He’s definitely interested in something else, because for whatever reason, he’s making sure he leaves a lasting impression. And he might even be going out of his way to make it… well, maybe not good. But certainly satisfactory.
I take care of what’s mine.
That’s not something a man says when he’s looking to move past a one-night stand.
Am I way off here? Is he just blowing smoke up my ass? But why do that? I’m nobody.
Maybe that’s why he wants you, Grace? Because you’re safe. You’re secret. You’re invisible.
But I even met his parents. Sure, it was the briefest of meetings. I barely said hello. But I met the famous Adam Asher. And his weird brother Conner. And his beautiful fragile sister, who really did marry the wrong man, even I picked up on that.
I take a shower and my fingers wander down to the cleft of my sex. I consider it for a moment, but I pull back before I even get started. If I’m going to be twexting with Vaughn Asher tonight, I want to be aching for release.