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T
HE
box is large, white, has a black bow, and everything about it says it’s expensive.

I squeal after I close the door and then skip over to the bed and almost touch the precious, perfect gift box before remembering I’m a filthy mess of naked mud.

I run to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

Je-
sus
Christ. He saw me like this. I’m a fucking mess! I’ve got mud streaked down my whole body, my hair is a rat’s nest of tangles and that’s not easy to do with hair as straight as mine. I run the shower and jump in. I’m not sure how long I have before I need to meet him, so I wash quickly and wrap myself up in a large plush towel. I wrap my hair up next and then walk back out to the room and take in the box for real.

Yes, it’s definitely out of my price range. And I’m just talking about the wrappings. God only knows what he’s got inside.

I walk slowly over to it, circle it a little, like it’s a dangerous animal.

When did he have time to buy me a present?

I pull on the thick black loop of satin and it slides so easily, the bow practically dissolves with one slight tug. I push it off to the side and then lift off the lid. It comes off with a whoosh of air, and then it’s a flurry of white tissue paper. I rip the little sticker holding the two ends of tissue together, eager to see what kind of present a movie star gives a submissive on their second meeting, and have to gasp as I pull out the skirt and blouse.

The skirt is white flirty chiffon. It’s short. Like very short. The blouse is white, crisp tailored cotton—very classic—like all the women were wearing last night at the wedding. There’s a thick black belt that settles high on the waist to make the legs look longer once it’s on.

He got these clothes from the gift shop. I know this because I was longing for this outfit the day we checked in. Bebe and I stopped just to look—and this was one I had my eye on. The two tags combined came to seven thousand dollars. And if that wasn’t enough to give me a heart attack, I pull out a box filled with sexy shoes that have the trademark red soles of Louboutins. A classic black patent-leather shoe with a peekaboo toe and a cage of thin straps that climb all the way up over the ankle.

I set them on the bed and pull out another little pink bag that I know comes from the lingerie shop because my horrible men’s underwear came in one exactly like it.

I peek inside and there’s one of the bra and panties sets I looked at yesterday, in black.

Oh.

That’s about all I can think right now.

Oh.

This is what it feels like to be taken care of by a wealthy man whose only desire is to turn me on and fuck me hard as I submit to his sexual fantasies.

Why the hell have I been fighting him? I drop my towel and comb out my hair in the nude. I feel so dirty, in a very sexual way, right now. I feel filthy and I want to be naked. I want to do that walk back to the bungalow again just so I can be braver. So I can flaunt my body in public and make him appreciate my boldness, the way I want to please him. And it’s not because he bought me expensive presents, but because what he’s asking for is something I want.

I want to surrender. I want to let someone else take care of the details for once. I want to be cared for. It’s been so long since I’ve felt cared for.

Bebe always cares for me, but that’s not what I’m talking about. She’s a friend. And her family was my family after the incident with my parents. But I was too old to nurture like a real daughter would’ve been..

Vaughn is not nurturing me, but he is caring for me in his own way. And even though I’m excited—I love these presents, I want to go meet him now and continue to say yes to all his requests—I also feel a little… sad. Sad that this is the first time in my life I’ve experienced this kind of emotional reaction to a man’s attention.

He’s giving me something I want so badly. In a very specific way, yes, but is it wrong to enjoy it?

It’s not wrong, I decide as I finish my hair, dust my face with a light powder, apply some pink lipstick, and drag some mascara across my lashes. Once that’s done I stand in front of the mirror and appreciate who I am and what I look like. I’m not sophisticated and dark, like Bebe. But I’m pretty. And yes, cute. But naked I’m so much more. I’m sexual. I can see the lust in my eyes, the glow of my skin as I think about how he makes me feel, how he turns me on.

I put on my matching lingerie and immediately feel a hundred times sexier. I look at it from every angle in the mirror. And then I slip on my skirt and tuck in the blouse. I cinch the black belt high up on my waist and then buckle the incredible stiletto heels on my feet. Inside the box is also a small black clutch that looks like it matches the shoes, and I transfer my room key and a credit card inside.

I take one more look at myself and realize I have no idea what I’m supposed to do once I’m dressed. I fish around inside the box until I find a small white card.

Meet me in the restaurant lobby at one thirty.
I check the clock and let out a breath of relief when I see that it’s only one twenty, and then step outside, pulling the door closed behind me.

It hits me then.

I’m having a date with Vaughn Asher.

I have to bite my lip to stop the grin. I walk into the restaurant knowing full well that heads are turning. But the only person I have eyes for is Vaughn. He’s standing at the bar off to the right, talking to Dewain, wearing a delicious black suit tailored to every curve of his body.

Dewain nods in approval as Asher gets up and walks towards me. He holds out his hand and I take it.

“You look lovely, Grace.”

I smile back, but before I can say anything, he guides me over to the hallway where the restrooms are located. “Come with me, girl,” he says in his master voice, and I gulp down my apprehension.

He holds the door open to the men’s room. I pass through and then he closes it behind us and locks it.

“Take off your panties, Grace.”

Even though he’s calling me Grace, I know I have no chance of talking my way out of this. He gave in back at the bungalow and let me win. Now it’s his turn.

I lift up my flirty skirt that could blow up and expose my private parts with the slightest wind, and slip my panties down my legs, step out of them, bend over and pick them up. And then hand them over to his outstretched palm.

He brings them to his face and inhales. My eyebrows go up and he smiles.

“Fuck, that’s intoxicating. Now listen, girl. I let you have your way but now it’s time to perform. You owe me a public orgasm, Grace. And I want it here in the restaurant.” He produces a small bullet vibrator from one suit pocket and a remote control from the other. “And I’ve got everything you need to be successful this time.”

“No.” It comes out so fast, we are both equally stunned. I take advantage of his pause, because this is the only chance I’ll get. “I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I’m not masturbating in a restaurant. I won’t do it.”

He scowls at me. “You will do it. You already promised me.”

“So? I didn’t know that what you wanted would get me arrested for being a public whore!”

“Would you just trust me, please? You haven’t even heard what I want yet.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t we just have lunch?”

“I’m adding that
fuck
to your list. And to answer your question, because I gave you an order and you didn’t want to follow through. This was the agreement. You do as I say and you get rewards. You disobey and you get punishments.”

“But why can’t you just say,
Grace, you look lovely. Let’s eat some fucking food
?” I smile at his scowl and have to cover my mouth with my hand to stop from laughing. He’s so easy to mess with.

“I don’t appreciate that, Grace. Now bend over so I can get you nice and wet first.”

“You’re insane. I’m not bending over for you, and you are not”—I shake my head at the vibrator—“using
that
on me here in this restaurant.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” I actually stomp my foot and raise my chin.

“Then you’re released.”

I flick my fingers at him in a mocking wave and walk out the door.

He follows me out hissing, “Grace, Grace,” as we walk towards the maître d’.

I stop to beam up a smile at the very tall man standing at the podium. “Table for one, please.”

“You can’t afford to eat here, Grace. Charles, we’re eating with my parents, thanks.”

I whirl around and point my finger up at his face. “Who the hell—”

He clamps a hand over my mouth and then nods to poor Charles, who looks like he’s about to go into panic mode. “We’re eating with my parents, but if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Miss Kinsella for a moment.”

Charles clears his throat and waves Vaughn to a dark and empty dining room. I get a push to my back and start walking in that direction. When we’re far enough into the shadows that no one can see us, Vaughn removes his hand. “We need to discuss the rules again, girl. Because there is only one master in this relationship and that’s me. I give orders, you follow them, understand?”

“I’m not putting a vibrator up my vagina so you can have your fun humiliating me. And in front of your parents? What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s a game. They all know I play with my girls this way.”

I just stare up at his handsome face. “How? How is this the person you really are?”

“What person?” he asks, but it’s a flippant question and he’s looking around, like he’s anxious about people seeing us arguing.

“An asshole. You’re an asshole. God, I feel so stupid for having this major crush on you all these years. I’m so disappointed.”

He flashes me a glare and snarls, “You wouldn’t be disappointed if you’d just follow directions and trust me.”

“Well, excuse me for having an opinion about sticking a vibrator up my hole in a five-star restaurant in front of your
fucking parents
!”

He closes his eyes and massages his forehead, like I’m giving him a headache. “Do you want to have lunch with me or not, Grace?”

“I do,” I say softly.

‘Then you have to submit.” He’s still massaging, his eyes are still closed. If I don’t give in, he’s going to walk away. And even though he’s an asshole and not anything like I expected, I really
do
want to have lunch with him.

“I will submit, but not in front of your parents. It’s too much.”

He removes his hand and opens his eyes with a sigh. “I’ll find a way.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“If you eat lunch with me, I’ll find a way. You’re mine, you agreed to be mine, and I want to fuck you. Here. In this restaurant. But I will do it when and where I want. And I will get you wet and ready in the manner that pleases me most.”

I turn away so I can hide my grin. Jesus, he’s intense. And he’s serious. He will find a way, I believe him. “So I have no say in how I’m
pleasured
?”

“No. We discussed this earlier. You trust me and I make you feel good.”

“And humiliate me at the same time.”

“Were you humiliated this morning? Did anyone see you?”

“They could’ve seen me. And then I would’ve been.”

“Grace,” he says, taking my face in his hands and then leaning down to kiss my lips softly. I melt. If my panties weren’t still in his pocket, they’d be wet from the gushing. “My attention was one hundred percent on who was on that path and where you were at all times. You’re mine, no one else is allowed to see you. I made sure of it, so even though there was the possibility of being humiliated, you were not. Your job was to walk back to your bungalow naked. My job was to make sure no one saw you in the process. And I did that. And if you trust me now, all my attention will be on you and while there is the possibility that you will be humiliated, you should know that I will make sure that does not happen.”

I gulp as I stare up at him. His mouth is still so close, his soft breath tickles my cheek.

“Understand?”

“OK,” I whisper back. “OK, I’ll trust you.”

His hand lifts up my skirt and his palm passes over my round bottom. “The curve of your ass is perfect, Grace. I love it.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Fuck,” he sighs. “You challenge me, Grace. But knowing you’re mine, that is such a turn-on. And I can’t wait to spank you for all your challenging ways. I’ll have your whole body across my lap, your head resting on the floor, your ass in the air”—the vibrator turns on and he slips it under my skirt and drags it over my crease, making me moan—“and I’ll swat you hard enough to make you cry, Grace. I will. But I told you, if you’re a very good girl, and stay still, I will reward you like this.” And then his fingertip sweeps over my clit before flicking the vibrator back and forth. I moan again and then he pulls my hair until my throat is exposed. His whole palm presses against my sex, and I’m wet, but he makes sure I know I’m wet by inserting two fingers, and then he brings them up to my lips.