By @JA Huss
Publication Date: August 27. 2014
Novella (150 pages)
Adult Contemporary Romance
I fuck them. I use them. I pay them off. I find another. My demands are never denied. My contracts are always signed. They submit to me. Willingly. Completely. Temporarily. This is how it’s always been.
Until I saw that filthy tweet.
@VaughnAsher My bare pussy. Your tongue. #ThingsIThinkAboutToGetOff
“FilthyBlueBird” thinks she can tease me with hashtags and then hide behind a Twitter handle? She thinks I wouldn’t be more than happy to #RockHerFilthyWorld? She’s wrong.
Her online fantasy is about to collide with her public reality, and it’s about to happen… now.
THIS IS A SERIAL NOVELLA
THAT MEANS ALL ENDINGS ARE CLIFFHANGERS
THIS NOVELLA IS ABOUT 150 PAGES LONG
THIS IS PART ONE OF SIX
BOOKS ARE RELEASED EVERY TWO WEEKS
J. A. Huss likes to write new adult books that make you think and keep you guessing. Her favorite genre to read is space opera, but since practically no one reads those books, she writes new adult science fiction, paranormal romance, contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and books about Junco (who refuses to be saddled with a label).
She has an undergraduate degree in horses, (yes, really–Thank you, Colorado State University) and a master’s degree in forensic toxicology from the University of Florida. She used to have a job driving around Colorado doing pretty much nothing but shooting the breeze with farmers, but now she just writes, runs the New Adult Addiction and Clean Teen Reads Book Blogs, and runs an online science classroom for homeschoolers.
Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter
My name is Grace Kinsella and I’m a filthy tweeter.
I can turn a hundred and forty characters into living sex. I can string words together in a way that will make you wet your panties with lust. I can make a man blush before he even gets to the hashtag. I am famous for pithy filth.
In fact, my girlfriends and I have an online Facebook group called the Filthy Blue Birds. And we’re not the only ones. The world of pithy filth is booming, friends. There are endless groups like ours. There are legions of shy girls who come alive when faced with the hundred-and-forty-character challenge. And there is a very special place online where we meet, challenging each other to achieve a new level of smexy typing.
I call that Twitter list Dirty Heaven. I made it up, like literally I’m the freaking founder. So Dirty Heaven is my kingdom and I’m the queen.
I’ll stop here to take a bow.
I don’t win anymore, it’s simply not fair. I’m now the judge. But back when we were first putting this together my tweets took me to Dirty Heaven time after time after time. That’s back when we used to have the competitions nightly and the group was small. Just fifteen or twenty of my closest online stranger friends. Each competition we had an online muse and we took turns choosing who would benefit from our blush-inducing prose. Sometimes the girls picked models or rock stars.
I only ever had one muse and his name is Vaughn Asher.
Yes, the Vaughn Asher. A Hollywood legend. He started out in the boy band 2 Far Out, then when his angelic voice changed as he hit puberty he graduated into Disney sitcoms. Most child actors would fade after that, never able to make the transition. But Vaughn Asher doubled down on the workouts—gaining the title of Most Envied Body in Hollywood six years in a row from Buzz Hollywood Magazine—and the preteen wannabe turned into an action-hero heartthrob overnight.
Just thinking his name makes me sigh. He’s so freaking gorgeous. That messy dark hair that makes him look like he just rolled out of bed. Those tight abs that just make you want to drag your tongue all over them to see if they taste as good as they look. And that package, boy. He’s never done any nudes so I have to use my imagination, but my imagination is vivid. I have a very clear picture.
Besides, you know what they say about a man’s thumbs, right? Well, Vaughn Asher has incredible thumbs. And large feet. They say that too.
Yes, doing filthy things to his six-foot-two frame has been my idea of Dirty Heaven for almost three years now. I’d like to say I’ve said everything imaginable about him, but that’s not true. I never run out of ideas. It’s like my brain only exists to compose a one-hundred-and-forty-character sentence that will turn him red.
That’s my fantasy. That’s my fairy tale. Vaughn Asher doing things to me that can only be said in a hashtag.
I gulp some air and then look over my shoulder. He’s standing near the concrete pathway, leaning up against a closed concession stand, looking as free and content and in control as any person I’ve ever seen.
And why not? Why shouldn’t he feel that way? He’s beyond rich, he’s beyond beautiful, he’s beyond talented, and he’s so far beyond sexy, I’m powerless to resist his offer and he knows it.
“Say yes,” he commands. “You want to say yes, so just say yes.”
He’s so right about that. I do want to say yes. In fact, I’m a yes girl. I hate telling people no. I really do. But for some reason, this one person who I want to say yes to more than anything else in my entire life has reawakened the no girl inside of me and I’m having difficulty understanding why.
“Say yes right now or I walk away and you never see me again. Because I require your commitment tonight or I’ll just find someone else.”
“I want you,” I say breathlessly, my heart pounding in my chest. God, that was the total wrong move. What the hell am I doing?
“Of course you do.”
“I want you, but I’m not signing that paper tonight. I need to think about it. I need to be sure.”
“Grace, you have one more day left here on Saint Thomas and then you’re gone. So you’re wasting time.”
“Wait, you said you’d punish me when I was ready, implying we had lots of time to figure this out and now you’re in a rush?”
“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m in a rush because I want to fuck you, woman. I want to fuck you bad. I’m dying right now because I’m all the way over here and you’re all the way over there, and all I want to be doing is fucking you. But instead I’m having this stupid conversation, convincing you, of all things, to let me pleasure you back if you pleasure me. But if you work out and you meet my needs, I might see you again. Some other place, some other time.”
“Then no.” I hang up the phone. Oh my God! I did it again! Where the hell are all these no’s coming from?
My phone buzzes in my hand but I ignore it.
A few minutes later I feel him walk up behind me. “May I join you on the beach?”
“It’s a free beach. Or is this one your personal property too? Am I just a beach to you? Something you own and enjoy at your leisure?”
“I don’t own you, Grace. Not yet. So I’m asking if I can join you so we can sort this out. And that’s one more spanking.”
“We’re never going to get to the spankings, Asher. You just admitted to it, so stop.”
He chuckles. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want the spankings and you’re afraid I’m not going to make good on my threats.”
Pfft. “You wish.”
He kneels down and then sits. “Grace?” I look over to him, annoyed, and as soon as I look him in the eyes, he grabs my arm and pulls me to his lap, forcing me to lie across his knees. “Would you like a taste and a promise? Panties on or bare ass for your sample?”
“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.”