bungalows.”
She turns around, walking backwards as she speaks. “I’m a big girl, Vaughn. A grown woman, in fact. I think I’ll manage.” And then she turns her back and skips down the few concrete stairs that stop at the sand.
“What will it take then?” I call again. “Grace! What will it take?”
She stops and turns. “Why? Why do you give a shit about me? Just stop and leave me alone. I’m not interested in feeding some sick pathology—”
“I’m not sick. It’s not sick to have a full, enriching sexual fantasy. I—”
“See,” she says cutting me off. “You’re so fucking self-absorbed, you assume I’m talking about you. But I’m not, OK? Did it ever occur to you that I have my own reasons for saying no? Reasons that have nothing to do with you.”
What ?
“And you’re so fucking clueless. Trust? You’re telling me to trust you when you’ve never earned it. Why the fuck should I trust you? Who the hell are you ? I mean, yeah, I admit I’ve stalked you relentlessly online. I’ve tweeted shit about you that would make porn stars blush. And it would be very easy to just let you fuck me sideways, as you put it, and then walk away with the movie-star feather in my cap. But Jesus Christ, Asher. You’re an Oscar-winning prick .”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“I’m glad you think that’s funny.” And then she turns and starts her trek down the beach, muttering out, “Asshole.”
I run to catch up to her and then I grab her arm. She pulls away, dropping her shoes and lifting her hands up in some kind of fake karate stance. “Don’t,” she orders. “Back off. I’m a certified Tae Bo specialist at the Women’s Health Spa in LoDo. And I’m warning you, I will not be held responsible—”
“Tae Bo? What the fuck—”
“Yah!” She smacks me in the neck with the side of her hand and I grasp my throat, gasping for air. “Tae Bo!” she screams as I fall to my knees and choke. “Oh, shit, Asher! I’m sorry! I’ve never done that to a real person before! Are you OK?”
I lower my head and try not to laugh, because holy shit, she totally got me.
“Asher? Asher? Oh my God, talk to me!” She kneels down in front of me and starts shaking my shoulders. “Asher!”
I take a long breath of air, let my heart rate settle, and then I look up and grab her lethal little wrists, forcing her down to the sand, and pinning them above her head as I move my body over the top of hers. “You wanna play hardball, Hit-Girl?”
She giggles up at me and my dick is hard again. Fuck. She’s all over the place tonight.
“I’m the master, Asher. I’m the master of playing games. So if you want to play with me, you should keep that in mind.”
“You”—I lean down into her face and stare her in the eyes—“are not the master. I’m the fucking master. You got that? And if you call me Asher one more time, I’ll make you pay for it later.”
“Oh, yeah? How?” She bites her lip as she waits for my answer and I realize what she’s doing. Evening out the playing field. Asserting control over her decision. Making me realize that if she gives in, it’s because she wants to give in and not because she’s forced.
I can’t ask for anything more, so I silently accept her terms and move the game forward. “I’ll spank you. Hard. Hard enough to make you cry and erotic enough to make you come.”
“And what if I’m bad on purpose? What if my tears are fake?”
“I’ll know.”
“How?”
“Because I promise to never push you that far until I do know. Because by the time we get to punishments, you will trust me implicitly and I will know if your tears are fake and push you harder if they are.”
“That sounds like it could take some time. So why should I care about your meaningless threats to spank me tonight?”
I smile at her and stretch my body out over the top of hers, leaning into her, pushing down on her. Hard enough that she gasps for air and my cock presses against her
She turns around, walking backwards as she speaks. “I’m a big girl, Vaughn. A grown woman, in fact. I think I’ll manage.” And then she turns her back and skips down the few concrete stairs that stop at the sand.
“What will it take then?” I call again. “Grace! What will it take?”
She stops and turns. “Why? Why do you give a shit about me? Just stop and leave me alone. I’m not interested in feeding some sick pathology—”
“I’m not sick. It’s not sick to have a full, enriching sexual fantasy. I—”
“See,” she says cutting me off. “You’re so fucking self-absorbed, you assume I’m talking about you. But I’m not, OK? Did it ever occur to you that I have my own reasons for saying no? Reasons that have nothing to do with you.”
What ?
“And you’re so fucking clueless. Trust? You’re telling me to trust you when you’ve never earned it. Why the fuck should I trust you? Who the hell are you ? I mean, yeah, I admit I’ve stalked you relentlessly online. I’ve tweeted shit about you that would make porn stars blush. And it would be very easy to just let you fuck me sideways, as you put it, and then walk away with the movie-star feather in my cap. But Jesus Christ, Asher. You’re an Oscar-winning prick .”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“I’m glad you think that’s funny.” And then she turns and starts her trek down the beach, muttering out, “Asshole.”
I run to catch up to her and then I grab her arm. She pulls away, dropping her shoes and lifting her hands up in some kind of fake karate stance. “Don’t,” she orders. “Back off. I’m a certified Tae Bo specialist at the Women’s Health Spa in LoDo. And I’m warning you, I will not be held responsible—”
“Tae Bo? What the fuck—”
“Yah!” She smacks me in the neck with the side of her hand and I grasp my throat, gasping for air. “Tae Bo!” she screams as I fall to my knees and choke. “Oh, shit, Asher! I’m sorry! I’ve never done that to a real person before! Are you OK?”
I lower my head and try not to laugh, because holy shit, she totally got me.
“Asher? Asher? Oh my God, talk to me!” She kneels down in front of me and starts shaking my shoulders. “Asher!”
I take a long breath of air, let my heart rate settle, and then I look up and grab her lethal little wrists, forcing her down to the sand, and pinning them above her head as I move my body over the top of hers. “You wanna play hardball, Hit-Girl?”
She giggles up at me and my dick is hard again. Fuck. She’s all over the place tonight.
“I’m the master, Asher. I’m the master of playing games. So if you want to play with me, you should keep that in mind.”
“You”—I lean down into her face and stare her in the eyes—“are not the master. I’m the fucking master. You got that? And if you call me Asher one more time, I’ll make you pay for it later.”
“Oh, yeah? How?” She bites her lip as she waits for my answer and I realize what she’s doing. Evening out the playing field. Asserting control over her decision. Making me realize that if she gives in, it’s because she wants to give in and not because she’s forced.
I can’t ask for anything more, so I silently accept her terms and move the game forward. “I’ll spank you. Hard. Hard enough to make you cry and erotic enough to make you come.”
“And what if I’m bad on purpose? What if my tears are fake?”
“I’ll know.”
“How?”
“Because I promise to never push you that far until I do know. Because by the time we get to punishments, you will trust me implicitly and I will know if your tears are fake and push you harder if they are.”
“That sounds like it could take some time. So why should I care about your meaningless threats to spank me tonight?”
I smile at her and stretch my body out over the top of hers, leaning into her, pushing down on her. Hard enough that she gasps for air and my cock presses against her
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