Social Media

by JA Huss

  “Yeah,” he says back, his voice rumbling up against my ear. “I like the lazy river because you don’t have to think. You just plop yourself on here and forget. You can forget everything and just exist. And this one was perfectly made. The trees are placed so that you float in and out of the sun every few minutes. It’s almost impossible to burn because the light is so fleeting.”

  My eyes are already closed. His voice is so soothing. “Tell me more, Vaughn. I just want to listen tonight.”

  His chest rises and my head rises with it as he considers my request. “Once upon a time,” he finally says a few moments later, “in a land far, far away… there was a princess. And she was strong and brave and didn’t need a prince to save her…”

  I listen to every word. I hang on every word. Because this man is the one I dreamed about. This man is the one who comes galloping up on the white horse and sets everything back in place.

  “I do need a prince,” I interrupt. “I really do. Maybe I don’t need saving, but I like the thought of being saved all the same.”

  Vaughn Asher hugs me close as we float down his lazy river. He lightly strokes a fingertip up and down my arm as he talks. He twines his leg with mine and swipes an errant lock of hair from my eyes. Never pausing his tales of life in the Land of Happily Ever After.

  Tonight that place doesn’t seem so far away.

  Right now that place is all around me.

  I’m there.

  Chapter Fifty-Four - Grace

  #UseYourMasterVoice

  “GRACE?” VAUGHN whispers in my ear. “Wake up, sweets. I have to go to my parents’ house this morning and I want you to come with me.”

  I roll over in bed, trying to drag myself out of the best sleep I’ve had… like ever. But his strong arms pull me close and he tucks me under his chin. “Don’t go away,” he rumbles.

  “I’m not, I just wanted to look at you.”

  “Mmmm. We’re gonna take a shower and you can look at me all you want. Then we’re gonna get dressed—I have clothes for you, don’t bother asking—and then we’re going to my parents’ house. I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but Samantha left her husband.”

  “What?” That wakes me up.

  “Yeah, she called me upset and said she couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping with the guy, so I had her come home. But—”

  He pauses and this is how I know the ‘but’ is a big deal. “But what?”

  “But Tray—that’s her husband—made an embarrassing video of her and we think it’s best if she just addresses it before it gets too complicated.”

  “Oh. Wow. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. This will be good for her. So we gotta get up, OK?”

  He loosens his grip on me and I roll over so I can see him.

  God. Damn. He is so fucking gorgeous.

  He smiles and his eyes light up. A hint of a chin dimple appears that I’ve never seen before. I reach up to touch it. “I never knew you had a chin dimple.”

  “No? Well, my number one stalker is seriously slacking. You should be ashamed.”

  “Seriously, how did I miss that? It’s adorable.” But just then it fades away. “Hey, it’s gone.”

  “It’s only there when I’m smiling a certain way.” And then he grins and sure enough, the little cleft is back. “I have to be really smiling, you know. It’s my shit-eating-grin smile. And I never use it, or they Photoshop it out. It makes me look too soft for the action roles, they tell me.”

  “They are stupid,” I say as I lean my mouth up to touch his. Our lips connect and electricity shoots though my whole body. God, I want him like now. He draws me closer and presses his hard cock against my leg. “Do we have time?”

  “I don’t even think that question deserves an answer. But if you need one”—he flips me on top of him and hikes my ass up so my pussy is right over his hips—“this is your answer.”

  “Oh, fucking Vaughn Asher in a bed is my new number one request.”

  His smile drops and the dimple disappears again. “We already did it in a bed. That night you got too drunk to remember what happened.”

  I lift my hips up and slide my hands between my legs, guiding his thick cock into my entrance. I watch his face the whole time. He watches mine back. I ease down on him and let out a gasp as he stretches me. He grabs my ass and pushes down, completely filling me up.

  “Your pussy is so wet for me, Grace.”

  My hair falls over my shoulders and hangs down, draping across his chest. He reaches up with one hand and then palms my throat. I stop my slow rocking for a moment, taken by surprise.

  He waits to see if I’ll object. But I’m not about to object. We are so far from those two people who bickered on the beach about limits. So very, very, far.

  I swallow hard and his palm is tight enough against my throat that I know he feels it. This makes me start my motions again. I slide forward, lifting up a little, and then drag my clit across the flat plane of his lower abdomen.

  He tightens his grip, watching me. His eyes are attentive and not at all consumed with lust like mine must surely appear.

  I repeat my motions, more forcefully this time. His other hand reaches between my legs and then his finger is pressed against my asshole.

  I groan as he slips his thumb up against my pussy, sliding it in alongside his dick, and then uses that slickness to lubricate my ass.

  My body wants to collapse against his chest, but his palm on my throat keeps me erect. I rock harder, lifting my hips high so his cock almost fully withdraws, and then slamming down onto of him.

  His jaw clenches each time. “Fuck,” he growls. “I want to flip you over and fuck your ass so bad.”

  “Let me get off and then you can.”

  In one swift second I’m face down on the bed, his hands holding my hips in place and his cock pressing up against my asshole.

  “Don’t boss me, baby. I’ll take that ass any time I want.”

  Oh, shit, as much as this should piss me off, it doesn’t. It turns me on so fucking bad. “Sorry, Master,” I say, turning my head to see what he thinks of that.

  He leans down on me, his muscular chest, hard and corded, pressing against my chest until almost his full weight is on me. “Mmmm, that shit still turns me on, Grace, but it’s just a game. Don’t take it too seriously.”

  “Yes, Master,” I say back with a giggle.

  He presses the head of his cock against my puckered entrance and I squirm, but his palm is back on my throat, keeping me close. “If I had lube here, I’d use it. But I don’t, baby. Do you still want me to take you from behind?”

  “Go slow,” I whisper.

  “I will, sweets.” His fingers drag my wetness up to my ass to get it nice and slick for his cock. “I want all the moments we have together to last and last.” He presses the head of his dick against my opening and I gasp and pull away a little. “I want the perfect moments to drag on forever.” He brings his fingers to my mouth and slides them inside, pressing down a little on my tongue. “Get them nice and wet for me baby.” I let my saliva pool inside my mouth and then he swipes it out, dragging a sticky strand past my lips. It’s cool when it touches my ass, but that sensation is replaced by his thick cock as it enters.

  I moan through the pain and discomfort for the first few seconds of penetration, recalling that he prepared me for this the last time. But then his dick gets past some critical point and it slips in easily.

  “Fuck, you are so tight, Grace. I love this, I love fucking your ass. I love the way you clench around me”—he slips his fingers between my legs to play with my clit—“when I do this.”

  “Ohh,” I moan out as he flicks the sensitive folds with his finger. And then he withdraws his cock, leaving me wanting so badly. “Don’t stop,” I plead. “Please, more,” I groan.

  He lifts my hips up. “On your knees, Grace,” he says in his Master voice. “Get on your knees.”

  I don’t have to do much, just prop myself up mostly,
because his strong hands lift up my hips and that’s all it takes. He reenters my ass—this time it slips in easily—and pounds me from behind. I forget that a few moments ago I was lamenting the withdrawal of his fingers, because his balls slap against my clit with each forceful entry.

  “Yes,” he says, laying his chest over my back. Covering me completely. Dominating me completely. His dick far up inside me. “Come for me, sweets,” he says in a low whisper. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock.” And then his mouth is on my shoulder, biting, a sting that drives me wild, because his hand is between my legs, teasing my pussy.

  I feel my orgasm building. His fingers increase their motion, and then his teeth find my earlobe and it’s over for me. He’s biting, his dick is in my ass, and then he places his fingers, still wet from my own juices, against my lips. My mouth opens and I suck off his hand as I explode.

  My body shudders. The muscles in my legs are trembling so bad, I want to collapse back onto the bed, but his hand is still covering my pussy, holding me up as he continues to thrust.

  And I’m barely done when he withdraws and flips me over again.

  I’m jelly now. Pliable. Malleable. Satiated, still reeling from my release.

  He points his dick at my face and when I look up at him, he’s asking.

  I open my mouth, my heart beating fast from the orgasm and the fear.

  He releases the dimple just in time for me to catch it before hot semen spills on my cheek, not quite making my mouth, and his head falls back with a long groan.

  It takes several moments for him to compose himself and then he falls down onto the bed and wraps me up in his arms.

  “I love you.”

  What?

  “I love you, Grace. I love you. I don’t even care if that freaks you out or whatever. It’s real. And I’m saying it. You don’t have to say it back. But I love you and you’re mine.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five - Vaughn

  #SheDidntSayItBack

  SHE DIDN’T say it back.

  I am a complete loser for telling her I love her. I’ve known this woman for a few weeks and I’m caught in this unwinnable situation, and even though I know this shit is getting complicated, I can’t stop feeling this way.

  I fucking love this girl. She’s beautiful, and funny, and smart, and honest. And even though she thinks she wants things from me, she doesn’t. She has zero expectations.

  It’s just… I’m afraid the reason why she has zero expectations is because she doesn’t feel she can count on me. And that sucks. I feel like such a failure.

  “Wow, is this your parents’ house?”

  I look over at Grace as we pull up to the gate house. “Like it?” She cranes her neck, trying to get a better view. You can see the house from the gate, but only a little portion of it.

  The guards wave me through and we cruise up the driveway and park in front of the fountain.

  “Wow,” Grace says as I pull the e-brake on the 911. Grace lets out a long whistle. My house is Hollywood Hills nice. But my parents’ house is Beverly Hills royalty nice.

  “Stay put, please,” I say as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “I open doors,” I explain when she shoots me a puzzled look. She smiles big at that and I catch her biting her lip as I get out.

  I go around to her side and open the door. One long tanned leg steps out and I’m fixated on her pretty peach toenail polish. I smile at her as I help her out of the low-riding sports car.

  “Thank you,” she says with a hint of shyness.

  I put my arm around her shoulder. “You’re welcome.” I point to a white van with a satellite dish parked at the side of the house. “The media is here, Grace. But they have strict instructions not to approach you. So don’t be worried.”

  “Oh,” she says as we stop in front of the large white double door that stands ten feet high. The house is what I’d call ornate. Very reminiscent of Old World royal families. I hate it, but it is what it is. The door is covered in fancy scrollwork and there is no door handle, but it opens up almost immediately.

  “Welcome home, Vaughn,” my mother says. She leans in for a kiss and then directs a beaming smile at Grace. “It’s lovely to see you again, Grace. Please come in.”

  “Thank you,” Grace replies in a soft voice. One that tells me she’s not sure what to do and my mother is making her nervous.

  But my mother always greets me at the door. I could just pull around back and go in myself, but we’ve been doing this welcome-home thing for almost a decade. It’s a tradition for me. Not one I want to break. I have very few normal traditions in my life and this is one of them.

  “The crew is set up in the atrium, Vaughn. Conner is finally back from his trip, so he’s here.”

  Yeah, Conner’s trip was really a cover for the new business he’s been trying to set up for the past six months. But my parents don’t know anything about that yet and that’s how it’s going to stay. One thing at time.

  “Great, is Felicity here yet?”

  “Yes, she stayed the night. She said”—my mother chuckles—“she went home last night and you had broken the no-date rule, so she left.”

  “Oh, no,” Grace says, her face stricken with panic.

  “Felicity is just dramatic, Grace. Don’t let her guilt you. Is she with Conner, Mom?”

  “Yes, they’re both in the pool house. Why don’t I give Grace the tour and you can go talk to your brother. He’s anxious about something and he’s been asking for you constantly.”

  Grace bubbles her approval for a tour and so I kiss her on the cheek and leave her with my mother. I need to speak with Conner before this interview starts. I need to know what the fuck he and Felicity have found out about her abductor.

  I walk through the house, exit into the back yard, and then make my way past the gardens to the pool area. The pool house is actually a two-bedroom apartment that I used to live in back when I was a teenager. Now it’s basically just used for storage, though it’s still a nicely equipped apartment.

  I grab the handle on the door and twist, but it’s locked. “Hey.” I pound on it. “Open the fucking door, asshole.”

  I’m still pounding when it opens and Conner stares at me, blinking back the sunshine, shirtless and looking like he just rolled out of bed. I push past him and find Felicity making coffee in the little kitchenette.

  “’Bout time,” she says, annoyed.

  I study her. Then I look back at Conner, who is pulling a shirt over his head. I look back at Felicity and she’s already forgotten I’m here.

  “OK,” I say, a little miffed at finding them in here together. Alone. “What’s the deal?”

  “I got nothing,” Conner says as he takes a cup out of the dishwasher and pours himself some coffee while the pot is still brewing. The drips hiss on the hot plate until he returns the carafe and then it sizzles instead. “I’ve looked through every file they have, even Felicity looked. She didn’t find anything either. No one has any idea who this guy is. Grace never gave a statement beyond that one sentence. So if anyone knows, it’s her.”

  “I don’t think she’s talking.”

  “No shit, asshole,” Conner says as he pulls out a smoke and lights up. I grab his cigarette and plop it into a water-filled glass in the sink. He just shrugs and pulls out another one. I let him win that battle. I have better things to do than police my little brother’s smoking habits.

  “And I don’t want her talking either. She’s not ready.”

  “It’s been ten years. This guy made a direct threat, Vaughn. I think if we tell her that, she’ll get ready real fast.”

  I consider this for a moment. He might be right. She held herself together very well when she told me about it last night. But then again… “No,” I say, coming back to my senses. “Let’s just get through this interview with Sam and take it from there. Agreed?”

  He takes a long swallow of coffee and says nothing. But I’m running this show and his silence is the same thing as an agreement, even if it’s a contested o
ne.

  “Let’s go then. I’m sure they’re ready for Sam and I just want to get this over with. Did you prep her on what to say?”

  “No,” Conner says as the three of us walk out the door together and cross the lawn. “I went up there to do that a few hours ago, but she said she had it all planned out. I figure this is her deal, right? She should get to explain it any way she wants.”

  “I hope to God we’re not making a mistake.”

  “I hacked into Buzz Hollywood’s email this morning,” Conner says. “And the video is already there. They’re prepping it for an internet exclusive this afternoon. We’ve got our own cameras set up in the room, secretly, of course. And we’ll be taping the interview as well. We’ll release it before the Grapevine Hollywood reporter leaves the premises.”

  “Grapevine? Fuck, I hate those assholes.”

  “Well, they just hired a new reporter who went to school with Sam and since this is her thing, she got to choose the reporter she wanted to talk to.”

  Fair enough, I guess.

  We step inside the atrium and I almost have a heart attack when I see the interview has already started.

  Only it’s not Sam in the hot seat getting grilled.

  It’s Grace.

  Chapter Fifty-Six - Grace

  #BadAssPrincess

  “WHAT HAPPENED to you, Miss—do you like to be called Kinsella? Or Bryndle?”

  “Daisy Bryndle no longer exists,” I tell the reporter calmly. “That name has been erased from my life. I am Grace now. Please call me Grace.”

  “OK, good to know, Miss Kinsella, errr… Grace. Can you tell us where you were for those eight months you were missing?”

  I shake my head. “No, I can’t.”