I want to f**k someone so bad. I need to bend the will of a new submissive and I need to do that soon.

Chapter Four

SurpriseMe

JUST so you understand, my hashtag brilliance doesn’t come quick and easy. It takes me some time to come up with just the right tweet. I completely understand that Mr. Asher’s time is valuable and that’s why I take such care in my composition.

@VaughnAsher My fantasy: The soft tropical breeze caressing my bare pu**y right now is really your invisible tongue on my clit.

He played the Invisible Man in that last superhero movie, get it? I chuckle softly to myself as I sit at the resort bar. Bebe and I are on our fake honeymoon. It’s a long story, but she won this trip for two to Saint Thomas in a contest and since neither of us plan on getting married anytime soon, we came together.

Her new boyfriend Steve showed up last night as a surprise and since I’m not a bitch, I told her to go have fun with him. He should’ve been the one here with her anyway, but I’ve never been to the Caribbean, so Bebe took me instead.

Anyway, back to my tweet. I still have a few characters left and it kills me not to use them all, so I ponder it a little more as I swing my foot to the bar music. Saint Thomas is a fantastic place. The beaches are lined with spectacular white sand and the water is a color of blue that I just can’t describe. Our hotel is fabulous—way, way, way out of my price range—but since the contest was a honeymoon package, we have to share a bed. And now that her boyfriend Steve decided to join us, well, I’ll probably be sleeping on the beach tonight because the rattan couch on the bungalow patio has my back all in a crick.

Not that I care too much that Steve is here. It takes a lot to get me riled up. I’m the kind of girl who lets things go. Steve is OK and Bebe has always been so good to me, so a night on a tropical beach is hardly a sacrifice so they can share the room and have some real privacy in paradise.

“Another drink?” the bartender asks me as he strolls by to check on this end of the bar. There’s no one over here but me, so that’s sweet that he’s paying attention. Of course my bikini top is pretty small so maybe he’s just trying to cop a look at my girls?

“Yes, please,” I say as I continue to play around with my phone. “I want another martini, but this time”—I look up and bat my blue eyes at the dark, handsome man pouring drinks today—“surprise me.”

“How about I pick?” a rough, sexy voice asks over my shoulder. “Let the lady try the key lime pie.”

“Hmmm.” I hum to myself as I continue to rearrange today’s perfect dirty tweet so I get the hashtag in just the right place. “Thanks a bunch. But lime is not my thing, so”—I look up at the bartender who’s got his eyebrows raised to the ceiling as he waits for my response—“I’ll let you choose.” I give the hot bartender a flirty wink and he lets off a hearty laugh.

“You sure about that?” he asks in his Caribbean English. “Maybe the lime is not so bad.”

“Oh, no.” I put up my hand and laugh with him. “I’m sure.” I hike my thumb back over my shoulder. “Mr. Buttinski here can order himself a key lime pie martini. I want you to choose”—I look at the name tag on his resort shirt—“Dewain.” I smile at him and then go back to my tweet, the matter settled.

“Have it your way, but I think I tried them all last night and this one is definitely the best. And I only bother with the best,” that husky voice replies behind me. He reaches over my shoulder, pressing his body up against mine in a way that creates an explosion of chills down my arms, and then places a ten-dollar bill on the bar. “It’s on me.”

I swivel around on my bar stool to see who this guy is, but he’s already turned away, so all I catch is a muscled back. It’s tan. And hard-looking. My eyes travel south to the curve of his perfect globes. He’s wearing a pair of lime green board shorts and that makes me smile.

“Nice shorts,” I call out after him.

He glances over his shoulder and I catch a smirking grin before he rounds the corner and calls back, “Nice tweet.”

“Oh, shit,” I mumble to myself. I click out of the app and blush. “How embarrassing.” At least he couldn’t see my Twitter handle and Mr. Asher’s handle was mostly covered up by my thumb, so he probably didn’t see who it was for, either. “Eek!” I say under my breath. I hope I don’t see him again.

“There you are!” Bebe says as she skips under the thatched-roof hut of the beach bar. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh my God, Bebe, some random hot dude just caught me composing a tweet! I think he read it!”

“Hmm,” she says with a wide smile. “Did he frown or laugh?”

“I’m not sure, he was walking away before I knew he saw it.” I hold the phone up and she nabs it out of my hand.

“Let me see.” Her laugh turns into a squeal as she reads it. “Bare pu**y, tongue, and clit all in the same tweet.” She laughs again. “Girl, no man will frown at that.”

“One key lime martini for the lady,” Dewain the bartender says as he sets the drink down in front of me with a conspiratorial wink. “This one really is the best, the man does not lie, so this is the one I choose for you.” And then he picks up the ten-dollar bill key lime shorts guy left and walks off to help a couple who just arrived.