I almost laugh because I know what Conner really does for a living. But I’ve got an appointment with Grace’s pu**y. 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 f**king 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 f**king 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 pu**y, 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.”