I stand up and his eyes caress my body. His heated stare makes me writhe with want. I want him to touch me very badly. All this is happening too slow for me. I’m used to men trying to get their dicks inside me as fast as possible. I’m used to being groped and left wanting more attention. But right now, I might be getting too much attention. He’s captivated. He reaches out to touch me, pinching my nipple so I gasp and then moan. He pulls me close to his body and then one hand reaches around to cup my ass, while the other one slips inside my panties.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“What?” It’s like a scratch across a record, that’s how abruptly the erotic mood ends.
“Your panties,” he says with confusion, “are men’s briefs.”
I laugh. “Oh, shit.”
“Why are you wearing men’s briefs? Whose f**king underwear are these?” When I look up at him he’s livid with the thought that I’m wearing another man’s underwear.
“Asher, Jesus, they’re mine! I just bought them today because I forgot to pack panties!”
“That’s going on the list, missy!”
I laugh. “What list?” My outburst dies because he’s serious. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You called me Asher, that’s one more spanking. And you didn’t call me Master, so that’s two. Plus, you’re wearing men’s underwear. That’s three.”
“You can’t spank me for wearing my own underwear!”
“I can and I will.”
“Oh, for f**k’s sake. You’re being unreasonable. Just tell me how you like your stupid c**k sucked so we can move on to the good shit!”
“You’ll get spanked for that too.”
“For what? What the f**k did I do now?”
“Two f**ks and a shit, plus you gave me an order. I’m the master, Grace. Me. Not you.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Fine.” I fling my arms out to my sides like I’m being crucified and yell, “At your service, Master!”
“You’re not taking this seriously,” he says with a growl.
And he’s right. Because I laugh. “Asher, lighten up, man. You want me to tell you how I like my pu**y licked or not? Because I’m horny as f**k and I want to get something out of all this tonight.”
He takes out his phone and points it at me, the little red light blinking that it’s recording. “When we do those spankings, Grace, I will remind you of this night. I will play this video back for you so you understand each and every swat across your bare ass. And when you’re crying—”
“When I’m begging for more, you mean? Because holy hell—”
“—I’m gonna laugh, and say, lighten up, Kinsella—”
“—all I want is to get laid!”
“—you asked for it!”
“OK, that’s it.” I grab my dress and pull it over my head, not even caring that the boob cups are all crooked. “I’m done here. I might as well just go home and get myself off.” I swipe my shoes from the beach and start walking again.
“And I told you, you’re gonna get lost if you go that way!”
“Well, then take me home. Now! Because I’m done playing tonight. You’re a crazy jealous ass**le. Telling me I’m getting spanked for wearing my own underwear. Pfft. Like hell!”
Actually, I’m not all that upset about the spankings. I’m like, dying for a f**king spanking right now. Anything. Some good cock-sucking directions. I’m even willing to embarrass myself and tell him how to lick my cunt. But he’s got me so wound up, I’m out of control. I’m yelling and screaming and I’m on a damn beach with a movie star trying my best to get f**ked.
And none of this is the real me.
I’m not this girl. Not in any way. I belong online with my Twitter friends. I prefer Vaughn Asher as my muse. And my heart actually beats faster as I realize this was supposed to be my fantasy and it’s anything but a fantasy. It’s… real life. And that’s not what I’m looking for.
Vaughn weighs his options as he watches me have my internal monologue, then rakes his hand through his movie-star hair and huffs out a breath. “Fine, I’ll walk you back.”
“Great.”
Chapter Twelve
FreeSamplesMakeMeWet
AS soon as we get to a place I recognize, I turn to him. “Thanks, I can find my way from here.” I sigh before I can stop myself because… Vuaghn Asher date… over.
He gives me a simple nod, but his frown is all I remember as I turn my back and make my way down the path that leads to the bungalows.
So yes, here I am. Alone. As usual. Sure, I ditched the control freak… but now I’m obsessed with thinking about him. Dirty thoughts, too. Filthy thoughts about what I could be doing with him, instead of running all these regrets through my mind.
My hands wander between my legs more times than I can count and even though I want nothing more than to get off and feel that release, I stop myself every time.
Because I can’t get into it. My perfect mast***ation fantasy has been shattered. Who do I think about if not Vaughn Asher? He’s been in my mind for years. Always reliable. Always perfect. Always sexy and hot and willing to do whatever it takes to satisfy me. I have pictured his c**k entering me, his mouth on mine, his hands on my most intimate parts and tonight I had the opportunity to take everything from him I ever dreamed of.
And I walked away.
What the f**k is wrong with me?
I contemplate going after him. I fantasize that I make my way back to that beach, walk up the pea gravel path, and find him naked at the pool, the underwater lights flickering off his perfect body with the rippled reflection of the water. He holds out his arms and I walk into them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he’s been waiting for me, and only me. Like we were meant to be together.
But of course, the negativity starts in. Eating its way into my perfect fairy tale, curling the edges with fire and disappointment, and then leaving nothing but spent ash. I see him with other women. I see him hovering over me, making me shut up or crawl to him on my knees, only to laugh when I finally find myself in front of him, looking up to his eyes for a blink of approval.
I think the laughing is the worst. I can handle the humiliation. I can handle the hair-pulling and the spanking and the dirty words and insults. As long as I know they are all fake, I can handle all of that.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“What?” It’s like a scratch across a record, that’s how abruptly the erotic mood ends.
“Your panties,” he says with confusion, “are men’s briefs.”
I laugh. “Oh, shit.”
“Why are you wearing men’s briefs? Whose f**king underwear are these?” When I look up at him he’s livid with the thought that I’m wearing another man’s underwear.
“Asher, Jesus, they’re mine! I just bought them today because I forgot to pack panties!”
“That’s going on the list, missy!”
I laugh. “What list?” My outburst dies because he’s serious. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You called me Asher, that’s one more spanking. And you didn’t call me Master, so that’s two. Plus, you’re wearing men’s underwear. That’s three.”
“You can’t spank me for wearing my own underwear!”
“I can and I will.”
“Oh, for f**k’s sake. You’re being unreasonable. Just tell me how you like your stupid c**k sucked so we can move on to the good shit!”
“You’ll get spanked for that too.”
“For what? What the f**k did I do now?”
“Two f**ks and a shit, plus you gave me an order. I’m the master, Grace. Me. Not you.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Fine.” I fling my arms out to my sides like I’m being crucified and yell, “At your service, Master!”
“You’re not taking this seriously,” he says with a growl.
And he’s right. Because I laugh. “Asher, lighten up, man. You want me to tell you how I like my pu**y licked or not? Because I’m horny as f**k and I want to get something out of all this tonight.”
He takes out his phone and points it at me, the little red light blinking that it’s recording. “When we do those spankings, Grace, I will remind you of this night. I will play this video back for you so you understand each and every swat across your bare ass. And when you’re crying—”
“When I’m begging for more, you mean? Because holy hell—”
“—I’m gonna laugh, and say, lighten up, Kinsella—”
“—all I want is to get laid!”
“—you asked for it!”
“OK, that’s it.” I grab my dress and pull it over my head, not even caring that the boob cups are all crooked. “I’m done here. I might as well just go home and get myself off.” I swipe my shoes from the beach and start walking again.
“And I told you, you’re gonna get lost if you go that way!”
“Well, then take me home. Now! Because I’m done playing tonight. You’re a crazy jealous ass**le. Telling me I’m getting spanked for wearing my own underwear. Pfft. Like hell!”
Actually, I’m not all that upset about the spankings. I’m like, dying for a f**king spanking right now. Anything. Some good cock-sucking directions. I’m even willing to embarrass myself and tell him how to lick my cunt. But he’s got me so wound up, I’m out of control. I’m yelling and screaming and I’m on a damn beach with a movie star trying my best to get f**ked.
And none of this is the real me.
I’m not this girl. Not in any way. I belong online with my Twitter friends. I prefer Vaughn Asher as my muse. And my heart actually beats faster as I realize this was supposed to be my fantasy and it’s anything but a fantasy. It’s… real life. And that’s not what I’m looking for.
Vaughn weighs his options as he watches me have my internal monologue, then rakes his hand through his movie-star hair and huffs out a breath. “Fine, I’ll walk you back.”
“Great.”
Chapter Twelve
FreeSamplesMakeMeWet
AS soon as we get to a place I recognize, I turn to him. “Thanks, I can find my way from here.” I sigh before I can stop myself because… Vuaghn Asher date… over.
He gives me a simple nod, but his frown is all I remember as I turn my back and make my way down the path that leads to the bungalows.
So yes, here I am. Alone. As usual. Sure, I ditched the control freak… but now I’m obsessed with thinking about him. Dirty thoughts, too. Filthy thoughts about what I could be doing with him, instead of running all these regrets through my mind.
My hands wander between my legs more times than I can count and even though I want nothing more than to get off and feel that release, I stop myself every time.
Because I can’t get into it. My perfect mast***ation fantasy has been shattered. Who do I think about if not Vaughn Asher? He’s been in my mind for years. Always reliable. Always perfect. Always sexy and hot and willing to do whatever it takes to satisfy me. I have pictured his c**k entering me, his mouth on mine, his hands on my most intimate parts and tonight I had the opportunity to take everything from him I ever dreamed of.
And I walked away.
What the f**k is wrong with me?
I contemplate going after him. I fantasize that I make my way back to that beach, walk up the pea gravel path, and find him naked at the pool, the underwater lights flickering off his perfect body with the rippled reflection of the water. He holds out his arms and I walk into them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he’s been waiting for me, and only me. Like we were meant to be together.
But of course, the negativity starts in. Eating its way into my perfect fairy tale, curling the edges with fire and disappointment, and then leaving nothing but spent ash. I see him with other women. I see him hovering over me, making me shut up or crawl to him on my knees, only to laugh when I finally find myself in front of him, looking up to his eyes for a blink of approval.
I think the laughing is the worst. I can handle the humiliation. I can handle the hair-pulling and the spanking and the dirty words and insults. As long as I know they are all fake, I can handle all of that.
