by JA Huss
I gulp a little as his chest appears. I’ve seen it before, of course. But here in my tiny, extremely inadequate bathroom everything is different. It’s not the vacation fantasy. It’s not a one-night stand. It’s not a… relationship.
What is it?
“Why do you have that look on your face?” he asks me as he shrugs off his crisp white shirt and hangs it on the small hook with his tie. I have a moment of panic that the hook will distort that perfect garment and ruin it.
“What?” I have to take a deep breath because my heart is beating so fast. Why am I feeling like this?
“What’s wrong with you? You look… afflicted.”
I swallow hard. And shake my head. “Nothing, I’m just hungry.”
“Oh.” He reaches for me, pulls me into his chest in another one of those hugs, and then leans into my neck. “Let’s wash up and you can change. We’re going to eat.”
“We are?”
“Yes, baby. I have to feed you. You need to eat.”
“Who are you?”
He laughs so loud he startles me and I step back a pace. This makes him stop and frown. “Tell me,” he says in the authoritative tone I’m used to. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“What are we doing?”
He stares at me with that famous intent gaze, his deep blue eyes bearing down on me with confusion. I think I’m sending it right back, because I’m so off balance I might faint. “We’re fucking, Grace. We’re fucking, we’re showering, we’re eating, we’re discussing. In that order. We’ve just checked off number one and we’re about to complete number two. Then we will go eat and have a conversation. Clear?”
I nod. OK, I can deal with that. I move over to the shower and turn it on. The stall is barely big enough for me, let alone the both of us together. So I jump in before the water is even hot and begin to wash myself, taking care not to get my hair wet so I don’t have to worry about it.
He finishes taking off his clothes and steps to the shower, ready to get in. But I put a hand up. “I’ll be done in a minute and then you can get in alone.”
“You must be joking.”
“No,” I say with chattering teeth since the water is not quite hot yet, “there’s really no room—”
He physically moves me backwards until I’m pressed up against the cold tile wall, and steps in. He sucks in a breath at the water temperature and then adjusts it, standing over me to shield me from the cold. A few seconds later the hot water steams up the tiny stall, and he turns to me with a bar of soap and a wicked grin.
“I made a mess. It’s my job to clean you up.” He lifts up my arm and rubs the soap up and down the length of it, paying close attention to the crevice of my elbow and my ticklish armpit. He chastises me with a simple, “Shhh,” when I giggle and pull away. And I bite my lip and let him continue. He does this for every limb, his deft fingers slipping between my legs and into my folds to massage my clit with the sweet-smelling suds. I groan, I can’t help it.
“One more fuck before we call it a night? I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back again.”
I look up at him and imagine him as Vaughn the man and not Vaughn the movie star. What would it be like to have a relationship with him? Like a real relationship? Is he this attentive all the time? Or does he just want something from me?
I shake my head no to his offer.
He grins. Not a big, wolfish one, but a slight, sympathetic one that tells me he knows. He can see right through me. He knows I’m having some kind of… emotional experience.
“Grace,” he says softly as his fingers slip between my folds. “Relax, let me do this for you. It gives me pleasure.”
I close my eyes and shake my head again, grabbing his hand and taking the soap from him. I lather myself up after that, quickly, as he watches with a keen and still hungry eye. And then I slip under his arm and rinse off in the water. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me with a smile.
“What?”
“Why do you have such trouble accepting kindness?”
“Is that what you’re calling this? An act of kindness?”
“What do you call it?”
I just stare at him, because even though it’s an obvious response to my question, I’m at a loss for words. “I’m finished,” I say instead.
“As am I,” he says back.
I shut the water off and step out onto the ragged blue bath mat. We both reach for the towel at the same time. There’s only one, I always leave my hair towel in my bedroom after, and he gets there first.
“Shall we fight over the towel too? Do you enjoy this battle? Or is this true insecurity?”
“Oh, God. Just give me the towel.”
“Why do you insist on making me repeat myself? I told you, I made a mess, so it’s my job to clean you up. I’m not done yet.” And then he brings the towel to my chest and gently presses it against my body, like I’m a fragile piece of art and rubbing me too hard might break me.
This from a man who was dragging me around by my hair and stuffing his cock down my throat not ten minutes ago.
And as I’m still thinking this, he dips his head and his mouth is on mine. Not a kiss so much as a caress, like the towel against my breasts. His tongue slips in and tangles up in mine, the water from his face drips into my mouth, making the kiss wetter than normal.
I close my eyes.
He moans, “Yes, that’s my girl,” into my ear.
I swallow hard and lean into him.
“You’re mine now, Grace. Can you feel it?”
I want to say no, but his lips caress me into submission. I want so, so badly to say no. But I can’t. Because I’m a yes-girl. Because a wave of heat rushes through my body and I’m rendered speechless and weak. Because my knees buckle and I begin to fall, but Vaughn scoops me up into his arms, never ending our kiss, and he holds me tight until I finally look up into his eyes and give him what he’s waiting for.
“I can be yours,” I say, my chest all aflutter with my uneven breathing.
“No,” he says, his steely gaze dropping to my breasts, making me feel exposed and vulnerable. “Not you can, Grace. You will.” His eyes dart back and forth, searching mine for acceptance, or surrender, or maybe just attention.
“I will be yours if you’ll be mine.”
Chapter Nine
#WinWin
I IGNORE her statement and instead carry Grace into the living room and sit down on the couch, keeping her head in my lap. She wriggles, but I tsk my tongue at her. “Stop now. Just sit still. I need to explain something before we go any further and I need you to be OK with this, or we’ll have to part now as friends.”
She takes a deep breath. “I already know what you’re going to say.” I want to look away from her accusatory look, but I can’t. I need to make this very clear, so I urge her on with a nod instead. “You’re not mine. You’ll never be mine. And no matter what you do, I’m your plaything and I’m not allowed to stray.”
I nod again and she shakes her head and looks away. “I’m sorry, Vaughn.” She pushes my hands off her and tries to get up, but I flip her legs up near her head and then smack her bare wet ass with a crack.
She squeals, wriggles, blushes, and pants all at the same time.
Jesus. I need to keep her long enough to get to the spankings, that’s for damn sure. This was just a tease. “Don’t move, we’re not done. I can negotiate. Your characterization is harsh.” She draws in a long tight breath that turns into a long, sad sigh. I’ve upset her and I feel a little wave of sympathy wash over me. “I don’t have girlfriends, Grace. Your position is one of a kind. Does that help at all?”
She laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “No. You make me sound like an employee. I don’t need another job.”
“What do you need?” I ask quickly.
“I don’t know. Something… more than what you’re offering. This… position, as you call it, means that I’m your kept woman.”
“Is that so bad?”
> Her laugh is a bit heartier this time. “You’re joking, right?”
“Grace, you’re thinking about it emotionally. Think about it objectively for a moment.” She puts a hand up to silence me, but I grab it and wrap her little clenched fist in mine. “Hold still and be quiet.”
“Quit ordering me around, Asher. And let go of my legs.” She kicks and wriggles some more until I let them fall back down. I’m desperately aching to flip her over on my lap and turn her ass red.
But I need to set this up right. I need to keep my wants to myself until she’s willing to comply with my unique demands. One step at a time. “Oh, we’re back to Asher, are we? Fine, girl. What’s wrong with two adults having consensual and erotic sexual encounters? It’s an outlet, Grace. A way for you to explore new sexual boundaries. A time to draw new lines, make new limits, and try new things.” She makes to protest but I cover her mouth with my hand. “Shush, I said. It’s a way to do all those things while remaining under my care and protection.”
“See?” She pushes my hand off her mouth. “This is where you lose me with your caveman shit.”
“Language, please. And it’s not caveman shit, it’s necessary. The world is filled with unsavory characters, Grace. Especially those who would take advantage of you sexually. I will not take advantage of you. We can talk more about that later, if you agree to be faithful. But now that I’ve awakened your sexual curiosity, it’s my duty to ensure you don’t allow yourself to be drawn into another man’s influence.”
“But your influence is fine? How does that makes sense to you?”
“Because I’m famous and if you talked, you could ruin me. With or without a NDA, this is your hold over me. I’m trusting you to keep our life together private.”
“Secret, you mean.”
“If you prefer to use the word secret, by all means. But I prefer private. Something between the two of us.”
“Except the people across the hall, they’re in on it too.”
I bend her legs forward and slap her hard and quick across her exposed pussy and then stick my fingers inside her, moving them in and out slowly as the shock wears off her face. “Did the people across the hall see you?”
“No,” she moans. “But they knew what was happening, and they knew it was me. So what’s the difference?”
“The difference is they will remember me being an asshole, flipping them off. Not you on your knees with my dick in your mouth. Because that’s private. When I slap your pussy, that’s private. When I pull your hair and come down your throat or on your breasts”—I lower her legs again and look into her eyes—“or whatever else we do. All of that is private. I don’t want anyone to know about it.”
“Is what you want to do to me that disgusting?”
“No, for fuck’s sake. No. It’s… beautiful. It’s an agreement of trust. You allow me to dominate you sexually, and in return I make sure you’re safe as you push yourself outside your comfort zone. You will never be forced, but most of the world sees my sexual preference as disgusting, and violent, and degrading to women, and it’s not. It’s consensual. It’s highly erotic and it’s a kind of escapism that doesn’t come around very often.”
She’s silent for a moment, thinking presumably. “OK, but listen, that’s not what’s bothering me. I don’t think I should have to be faithful to you, especially when I don’t know how often you’ll be around to”—she offers me a shy smile—“take care of my needs. And yet you can go out and get laid if the mood strikes you. I won’t agree to it. Either we both follow the same rules, or I’m not interested.”
“We can’t both be in charge, Grace.”
“I don’t need to be in charge. I just want to be treated as your equal.”
“We can’t be equal, because I give the orders and you obey them.”
“In bed? Or in life, Vaughn? Because those are two very different things. In bed, fine. Be the caveman. But in life, no. I’m sorry, I’m in charge of that. I make my own decisions and you live with them.”
I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling for at least a minute. I expect her to get tired of waiting. To struggle to get up, release herself from my all-encompassing embrace. But she’s patient as I think this through. I’m not interested in someone who wants to whore around when I’m not present, but Grace doesn’t strike me as promiscuous.
“I want a weekly STD test from you,” I say without giving in to her demand. Let’s see how far this goes. “I will set up a private service to check.”
“Absolutely not!” she huffs in disgust. “You’re not getting control over my health care.”
“Then how can I be sure you’re clean if you refuse to be exclusive?”
“You’re the one who’s not using condoms, Vaughn. I haven’t had sex in eight months, I’m not a whore or a porn star who needs to be checked for sexually transmitted diseases on a weekly basis.”
I smile at her. Eight months. “Who was the last boyfriend?”
“Who was your last slut?” she retorts.
I wince. “You’re not a slut, I know that.”
“Then don’t insult me with a demand for weekly STD testing. It’s not like I’d even have sex with anyone else, it’s just not fair that you expect me to be exclusive and I’m not allowed to expect the same from you. That’s bullshit.”
“The only other option is for me to stop seeing other women and I just told you I don’t do that.”
“Then this conversation is over.”
She makes to rise up out of my lap, but I hold her down again. That’s the third time in five minutes I’ve had to do that, and so far this conversation is not easing my mind that she will accept my offer. “You will not fuck anyone else. You are mine.”
“Then you will not fuck anyone else either. If you agree to that, then I will be yours.”
I stand up and set her on her feet, then point to the box. “Dress, please. My clothes are still in the bathroom. We will have dinner and discuss limits and the NDA. You will sign tonight, Grace. Understand?”
I expect her to balk at that order, assert her independence and put up a fight. But she simply smiles and says, “Yes, Master,” as she turns her back to go get the box.
Chapter Ten
#SheepskinRugsEnoughSaid
HE doesn’t move to go get his clothes. Instead he stands still behind me. I can feel his heated stare on my body even though I can’t see him. I could feel him get excited when he spanked me. And holy shit, was that amazing or what?
I have to be honest with myself, I want to sign that damn agreement. Everything about this night has been erotic, and hot, and I’m so ready for him to fuck me again, I am starting to think I’m abnormal.
“Bend over, Grace. I want to see your pussy.”
Oh. Fuck. I take in a deep breath. No, I gasp for air. I can’t draw it in fast enough, that’s how turned on I am with that request.
“Do it, please. I’m asking nicely. Bend over, like you’re going to tie your shoe, but keep your legs straight.”
I nod yes without turning around and then gulp down another fortifying breath. I bend at the waist and the air rushes in as my ass opens and exposes my soft folds to him. His hand rubs the round curve of my ass and then dips between my legs. “Will you ever be satisfied?” he asks as he flicks my clit.
“I was just wondering the same thing. I’ve had more orgasms in the past hour than I have all year.”
His fingers withdraw from between my legs and then he bends down and he traces them across my lips. I open my mouth and taste my own sweetness. “I want to eat your pussy so bad right now, but we have to discuss the contract and have dinner.” He pauses and I can almost imagine the smile on his face at procuring my compliance. “And an impromptu lesson in obedience.”
Before I can ask what that means, he grabs my hair roughly and pulls until I stand up and face him. “Good, girl,” he says once I’m looking him in the eye. “Does it hurt when I pull your hair?”
“No,” I tell him hon
estly. “It’s a little uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt.”
“Good,” he says as he leans in. His scent, the soap from my shower, the leftover cologne from when he dressed this morning, and even the slightest hint of something sweet that I can’t place—all these things rush in as his lips gently touch mine. “It’s a delicate balance, Grace. The pain and discomfort playing off the desire and pleasure. Pulling your hair and smacking your pussy should make you uncomfortable and turned on at the same time. Otherwise I’m doing it wrong.”
I gulp and nod. “It does. I mean, you’re doing it right.”
“Good.” His lips touch mine again and then he pulls back. “We’ll never get out of this apartment if I don’t stop touching you, but I’m finding it very difficult.”
I place a hand on his chest, fully intending to push him away, but I feel his beating heart and I’m distracted. It’s fast. A staccato rhythm that betrays his excitement inside, while the cool man on the outside maintains control. He places his hand over mine and I look up at him. “I make your heart beat faster.”
“You do,” he says with a smile. A genuine smile. “Now get dressed and we’ll eat. I’m starving.” And then he turns and walks down the hall to retrieve his clothes.
I take my attention back to the box. The satin is smooth and silky under my fingertips. I pull lightly and the bow instantly dissolves into a river of pink ribbon that looks so delicious I’m trying to think of a reason to keep it next to my skin.
“Hurry,” Vaughn calls from the bathroom.
I nod, even though I know he can’t see me. It’s to keep myself on task, because everything in this room is making me think of sex. I’m imagining that ribbon tied around my head, covering my eyes. Or binding up my wrists, so Vaughn can fuck me constrained.