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 f**king 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 f**king clueless. Trust? You’re telling me to trust you when you’ve never earned it. Why the f**k 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  p**n  stars blush. And it would be very easy to just let you f**k 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 f**k—”

“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 f**king 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 c**k presses against her belly. “It will take time. But I have a long memory. I’m counting up all your indiscretions so I can dole out the consequences when you’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath.

“I promise, Grace. I respect you. You’re not my victim. I like you and I think you’re gorgeous. I love that you just cracked me in the neck and sent me to my knees. It makes me feel good that you can do that, although I’m not into physical fights, so if that shit turns you on—”

“No! No, no, no. It doesn’t.”

I smile big because while this night has had its share of ups and downs, it’s all coming out in my favor now. “OK, then. Are you ready?”

She gulps some air, like she’s not sure if she’s ready to agree to my offer, but at the same time, she’s not ready to walk away either. “I’m ready.”

“Then let the game begin.”

Chapter Eleven

JustFuckingSpankMeAlready

GAME.

He’s playing a game with me.

OK, ass**le, I can play. I stare up at him and smile. “One, two, three, go.”

He sits up, straddling my hips, and then leans down into my neck. “You smell good. Like the sea.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.”

“Say Thank you, Master. That’s what you do with that.”

Oh, Jesus. This man is something else. But ten seconds ago I agreed to this, so it would be a monumental failure on my part if I didn’t at least try. “Thank you, Master,” I say back.

He smiles and stands up, then reaches down to offer a hand. I grab it and he lifts me to my feet. “You’re welcome.”

I’m at a loss now. He just stands there staring at me and I have no idea what to do. “Now what? I’m not sure what you want.”

“Why not ask me, then?”

“OK.” I look up into his eyes, unsure if that’s allowed. Unsure of anything, really. But he’s sexy. Beyond the fact that he’s Vaughn Asher, the guy I’ve masturbated to for the better part of three years, he’s sexy in another way too. His smile looks genuine right now. Like I’m amusing him. And I don’t feel it to be condescending. It seems genuine. Like I give him pleasure.

I do want to please him, I realize. I’d like to please him. I’d like to keep him smiling. I’m probably more submissive than I’d care to admit and that scares me. Control is something I crave. It keeps my life orderly and neat. It helps me deal.

But ever since he peeked over my shoulder in the bar, I’ve lost sight of who I am. Snapping at him, chopping him in the throat. Who does that? Not me. That’s so not like me.