“Yes, Master,” she finally replies.

I chuckle and don’t even try to hide it. “As if that was ever a question.”

“It was a question, Asher,” she snarls. “Make no mistake, I hand you control under the assumption that I can revoke it at any time.”

“Of course,” I reply, leaning into her neck so I can breathe softly into her ear. “Of course,” I whisper. “You are in control of yourself at all times, Grace. But just know… you will never, ever be in control of me.” She swallows against my hand again and my c**k grows, pushing against the fabric of my suit pants and right up against the crack of her ass. I want to f**k her in the ass so bad I almost can’t control myself and her thin dress is not enough of a barrier to calm me down. I growl in her ear. “Moving on. Do you like to be gagged, Grace?”

“Can I turn around and face you? Can I look you in the eye for this conversation? I mean, I’d like to see what’s behind all this, if you don’t mind.”

“Behind what?” I ask back, a bit annoyed.

She brings her hand up to her throat and places it over mine, then gently pulls it off her neck so she can turn around. Her face is passive, not angry like I expected. Just calm. “I want to look at you to see if you’re a monster or just a kinky ass**le.”

I laugh again, this time a little heartier, and then I shoot her the smile. My movie-star smile. “What if I’m both?”

“I’m not going to lie, Asher. I find the submission stuff sexy. I’m not sure I’m a submissive at heart, but I can get on board with some of what you’re looking for. But the minute I feel manipulated, I’m out.”

“Then you better leave right now, Grace. Because all of this, every bit of it, is manipulation. My goal, as your master, is to push your limits and make you enjoy things you never thought you would. I do that by manipulating you sexually. With teasing, with erotic spankings, with psychological conditioning that will allow you to let go of the monster mentality and accept the fact that, believe it or not, this shit is just f**king fun.”

She huffs out a laugh and then the smile follows. “Just f**king fun?”

“Yeah.” I smile back at her. “I mean, look at it rationally. If we weren’t getting off on it, we’d get bored and stop. If it was really hurting us, we’d manifest that in our professional lives. I’ve had a lot of submissives over the years, Grace. None of them ever claimed I’d hurt them mentally or physically. An NDA does not excuse me from being punished for criminal activities. If I rape you, that piece of paper will not prevent you from seeking justice. If I break your arm, that piece of paper will not keep me out of jail. It becomes meaningless if I abuse its power. And besides, I’m not interested in hurting you. I just want to excite you erotically.”

She’s on board, I know she is. But she’s still struggling to allow herself to say the words.

“Grace, you’re not a victim if you agree. You’re not a victim if you enjoy my domination. I’m not interested in forcing you to bend to my will. You’ve missed the whole point of submission if that’s what you believe. Everything I do, if you agree to this relationship, is geared towards gaining your trust and allowing me to arouse you sexually in ways that I prefer. That’s it. If I pull your hair, I’m trying to get you off. If I stroke your neck and then palm it with a little bit of pressure, I’m trying to make you come. If I stuff my c**k down your throat and force you to salivate and breathe through it, you should let me do that because I like it. And because you like it as well.”

My fingers play with her clit again as my other hand comes back to rest on her throat, reminding her that the whole purpose of this is pleasure. I want to f**k her right now, but I can’t. Not until we get the ground rules figured out. She’s not signing anything tonight, so this verbal sparring is all we have to set it straight until she’s ready to commit. I take her hand and place it over the hard pulsating bulge in my pants. “You should want to submit to me because it makes me hard. It makes me want to f**k you in every way possible. It makes me addicted to you, Grace. Submitting to my whims so that I am pleased is addictive. I want that more than anything. I want a woman who will give me that when I ask for it.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why the NDA? I mean, if you’re so convinced that this is good for me, and you’ve checked me out, then why do you have to gag me with the threat of legal action?”

“Please, Grace. I’m a Hollywood movie star. My father is a Hollywood legend. My family’s production company has hands in more than two dozen high-profile projects at this very moment. What I like in private is no one’s business but mine.”

“You’re wrong,” she says, interrupting me. That ticks me off a little, but since she’s not mine yet, I let it pass. “It’s not just your business, it’s my business too. Which means it’s unfair that I can’t articulate my experiences with a confidante just because your career might be impacted. You seem to think that there’s only one person in this contract, and that’s you. And honestly, that’s a big red flag for me. Because if my feelings and experiences are that inconsequential to you that the contract is written to exploit me and favor you, then you are preying on me. Pure and simple.”

“So leave,” I say impulsively. “Leave. And forget everything I said to you tonight. Just move on with your life and I’ll move on with mine.”

She swallows under my palm again and it takes all my self-control not to flip her over and f**k her blind. Her hand comes up to her neck once again, and once again she pries my fingers from her throat. And then she smiles a big fake smile and tips her head up. “It was great to spend time with you, Mr. Asher. Perhaps we’ll meet again some other day.”

And then she picks up her shoes, discarded when, I have no idea, and walks back down the pea gravel path to the beach.

“You’ll get lost,” I call out to her. “If you take the beach. You’ll get lost because you won’t know which path to take back to the 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?”