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“Suck, Grace. When I kiss you during lunch, I want to taste your pussy on your tongue.”

I open my mouth and take in his fingers, the sweetness of my own juices turning me on even more as he thrusts back and forth, the way I imagine he would with his cock if I was able to take him all the way into my mouth. I enjoy it, lap my tongue up and down and between his fingers until I make him groan. “Very good, girl. Very good. Now give me your purse.”

I hand him my purse, which I’ve been clutching tightly. He opens it and places the vibrator inside. “When I squeeze your thigh, you will stick it between your legs, tight up against your pussy, and then excuse yourself and go to the restroom, leaving the vibrator in place. Do you understand, Grace?”

I nod and say, “Yes, Mr. Asher,” before catching my mistake.

He smiles and takes my arm, not even asking for a correction. But if there’s one thing I’m beginning to understand, it’s that Vaughn Asher remembers everything. And he will not forget a single indiscretion. “Are you ready?” he asks as he leads me over to the restaurant foyer once again.

I nod yes and take a deep breath, not sure how I feel about this, but I’m wet, and excited, and breathless. I want more of him. He’s an asshole, but he’s my fantasy and I’m not ready to give up just yet. We only have one day together. One day and then I go home, back to Denver, back to my life, and I’ll probably never see him again. So I’m going to try and be this girl he wants me to be.

I follow Vaughn’s lead as he takes me into the restaurant. The maître d’ makes small talk as we are led to the interior of the restaurant and then I’m looking at a table up near the window with an amazing view of the ocean. I can’t take my eyes off the people because one man looks so familiar.

The maître d’ waves us forward towards that table and my heart skips. When I look up at Vaughn, he’s grinning like a boy with a vibrator remote control in his pocket. “Grace,” he says, as we stop in front of the table filled with people. I recognize the woman I saw him with last night and the man at the head of the table. “I’d like you to meet my family.”

The men stand as Vaughn pulls out a chair for me. “This is my father,” he says, panning to the older man, “Adam Asher. My mother Corrine, my sister Samantha, her new husband Tray, and my brother Conner.”

We exchange pleasantries as the waiters fill up our water glasses and ask us for drink orders. Vaughn orders for us and then in a moment when everyone else is busy chatting about wine and whiskey, he reaches over and squeezes my leg.

I reach into my clutch and pull out the little bullet, keeping it wrapped tightly in my hands. And then, as the menus come up to cover faces, I hike up my skirt and wedge the vibrator up against my clit.

Chapter Eighteen

#GettingRidOfThemIsGettingEasier

S
HE
doesn’t even question me. No nod, no panic, no fight.

Hmmm. I almost wish she had. I watch her lift up her skirt and place the little bullet between her legs and then she swallows hard and looks around to make sure no one saw.

No one did, but just at that moment, Conner lowers his menu and looks right at me with squinted eyes.

Did he notice me?

I smile at him and he goes back behind his menu. Grace sits with her hands folded in her lap, looking frightened. I reach over and touch her leg and she jumps. “What do you like to eat, Grace? I’ll order for you.”

She smiles at me but it’s fake. She’s doing what I ask, but she’s not comfortable with it.

Too bad.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she says as she stands. “I’ll be—”

“Grace.” I pull her back to her seat. “What should I order for you, sweetie? Fish? Pasta? Steak?”

She narrows her eyes at me but I simply smile. So she takes her gaze to the menu and scans her options. “The strawberry spinach salad, please. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

She tries to rise and leave again, but I’ve got a hold of her hand this time. “What kind of wine?” I squeeze her leg again and then pat it. She looks at anything but me.

“Grace.” My sister interrupts my thoughts, and Grace’s next attempt at escape, and I realize she might be watching us closely. They all might be watching us closely. “What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m an event planner in Denver.” She smiles weakly before continuing. “I got a glimpse of your wedding reception, it was lovely. Just lovely.”

And now it’s Sam’s turn to be off her game, because she glances over at her new husband and smiles the same fake smile I just saw on Grace.

“This is boring,” Conner complains on the other side of Grace. “Liven things up for me, will you, Vaughn?”

I narrow my eyes at him. Asshole. He’s such a prick. He knows, he has to know. “So how’s the new venture, Conner?” I throw that out to be a dick back, because we all know Conner is no actor. His indie films were offered because of his family name, not his talent.

My father grunts from the head of the table but does not lower his menu.

“Actually, Vaughn,” Conner says with a smile that lets me know we are in fact, sparring, “I’ve started painting.”

I almost guffaw at that.
Nice touch, brother. Nice touch
.

“Painting?” This gets my father to lower his menu. My mother as well, only she looks pleased. Conner does no wrong in her eyes. But my father, he’s the only one who matters and now all the attention is focused on the middle child. The screwup. The wandering one. The…
artist
.

I almost laugh because I know what Conner really does for a living. But I’ve got an appointment with Grace’s pussy. I reach into my pocket, pretending to pay attention to the argument over Conner’s fictitious artistic pursuits, and press down on the mechanism that makes the little bullet pulse in a repeating pattern of long, drawn-out vibrations.

Grace stiffens in her chair, but does not look at me.

I like that reaction, the abrupt stiffening. But I’m going to make her pay for it. I depress the dial on the bullet three times and Grace immediately turns to me with wide eyes.

“Is that what you did with the money you borrowed a few months ago, Conner?” I ask, adding fuel to the fire. “Buy painting supplies and studio space?”

He shoots me a death glare and I chuckle. He’s so fucking easy.

My father erupts in protest. He’s looking at me and I shrug and play dumb as he rattles on and on about how my brother will never grow up if we keep handing him money.

I flash him my serious, concerned look and promise not to do it again.

Conner vehemently objects and the fight continues.

I quicken the frequency of the bullet vibrations for Grace and she actually moans.

“Is everything all right, dear?” my mother asks.

I chuckle but then a foot strikes out and kicks me in the shin under the table. I look up at my sister, who is sitting across from me. “Hi, Samantha.”

She points her finger at me like
I’m
the baby in this room. “Stop it.”

Grace looks over at me, her face bright red, probably thinking Sam is on to us. But that’s not why she’s scolding me. I’m fucking with Conner and Dad and she doesn’t like it. I reach over and take Grace’s hand out of her lap and raise it to my lips to give her a kiss.

Grace moves her chair back and says, “Excuse me, please, I need to use the restroom.” The men all stand as she does, and then she scoots out and walks away. We sit and the fight resumes.

But I watch Grace’s ass the entire time. She’s taking tiny little steps, which means she’s still got the bullet between her legs. I dial it up just before she turns the corner of the hallway that leads to the restrooms, and she does a little jump.

I snicker at that.

“Vaughn?” my father asks. I snap my attention from Grace and take it to my father. “Where did you meet this… Grace? What’s her last name?”

“Kinsella, Dad. And I met her in the bar.”

“So she’s a weekend fling?”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s over tomorrow. No worries, Pop. She’s not joining the family.”

“Then why bring her to dinner?” Conner snarls at me. “So you can play your sex games in front of us and think we won’t notice?”

“Jesus, Conner,” Sam says, clearly disgusted.

My mother still has her menu up to cover her face, so she says nothing, and my father shakes his head. “These games will come back to bite you, Vaughn. No matter how careful you are, no matter how many papers you make them sign, they will come back and bite you in the ass one day.”

“Right, Dad,” I say as I stand up. “We’re going to skip lunch and have our fun another way, so see you later, huh?”

“You’re a pig,” Sam calls out as I walk off.

She’s right, I am. But I like being a pig. I smile all the way to the restroom hallway, then dial up the bullet to maximum. I walk by the ladies’ restroom door and hear her moaning in there. My eyes sweep the immediate area and then I push through the door. “Grace?”

“Oh my God, what the hell, Asher? Get out!”

“Open the stall door, Grace.” Silence. “Now, girl, or the tryst is over and you can go back to your bungalow.”

The lock slides and the door opens a crack. I push through and have to maneuver past the door to get inside because she’s standing up in front of the toilet. “What did you do?” I demand. “Where is it?”

She swallows and looks me in the eye and growls. “In my pussy,
Asher
. Isn’t that where you wanted it?”

“You’re getting spanked for that.”

“Whatever,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Why are you in here?”

“To get you off and then we can leave. I’ve made our excuses to my family.”

“You wanted to humiliate me? Is that why I’m here? Make me into a joke?”

“No,” I say carefully, because she’s pissed off, I think. “I brought you here to have an orgasm. This place is perfect, right?”

“Here, in the women’s restroom at a five-star resort?”

“Ready?” And before she can answer my hand sweeps under her skirt and my fingers slide in her entrance next to the bullet. She’s warm and wet. Very wet.

“Someone will hear us, someone will see us.”

“I hope so, Grace, that’s the whole point.”

“I don’t think—”

“Shut up, girl.” She shuts up and I have a moment of fear that she might slap the shit out of me. Or at the very least, deny me the pleasure I’ve been imagining all morning.

But she doesn’t. I’ve noticed she has a hard time actually saying no. Sure, she had a few moments last night where she made me believe she was saying no. But she’s been saying yes since we met. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

So I lift up her skirt and then turn us around and push her face first into the stall door. “Say stop if you want, Grace. You always have a choice.”

She says nothing, so I take that as a yes.

I unbuckle my belt and undo my pants. Her breathing picks up and she puts a hand on the bathroom stall as I press towards her. She’s shaking. “Vaughn, I’m not sure. I really have an aversion to public—”

“Why, Grace?” I turn her around, pull her close, and hold her tight. “Why does it scare you?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to catch us.”

“What will happen if they do?” I lean in so I can see her face and figure out how deep her fear runs. She’s very serious.

“I know what you’re getting at. Who cares, right? Nothing is going to happen, but that’s not the issue.”

“That
is
the issue, Grace. Is it sexy? Does it turn you on? I know it does because you’re wet. So what’s stopping you from enjoying yourself with me? Now. Here. Or this morning in front of your bungalow.”

“I just…” She looks up at me, pleading for me to understand.

“You just don’t know how to give in, Grace. I told you, I don’t want people to see you naked. Your body is for my eyes only. I don’t want them to walk in any more than you do, but I want you to submit to me when I ask. Even if it means it makes you uncomfortable.”

She opens her mouth to protest but the door swings open and several women come in, laughing and joking. The stall walls shake as they enter on either side of us, and then the doors bang closed.