She leans forward, resting on her elbows on the other side of the counter, and my eyes drop to her large, perfect tits. “I like the fact that you haven’t let your other nannies drink scotch with you.” She smiles innocently.
I get a vision of drinking scotch from her navel.
Cut it out.
“I’m going to bed, Miss Brielle.” I stand.
“No. No. No.” She shakes her head and grabs my shoulders, pushing me back onto my stool. “We just need some music. I’ll make us some toast and then I’ll go to bed, I promise.” She looks through the cupboard. “Do you have any Vegemite?”
“I don’t want Vegemite on toast.”
“You’ll get what you’re given.” She smiles cheekily.
Our eyes lock, and I feel electricity zap through the air between us.
Okay, what the fuck? Is she trying to turn me on right now?
Because it’s working.
She’ll get what she’s fucking given in a minute.
She picks up her phone and flicks through to Spotify. She hits play and a dance tune rings out, giving her an excuse to dance. “You like this song?”
“I don’t know it.”
“Sexy Bitch by David Guetta.”
She starts to dance freely, not trying to be cool at all, and her hips move to the rhythm as she turns to look in the fridge. With her back to me, my eyes stay firmly on her ass as it sways to the beat. The words ring out.
Oh, she’s a sexy bitch.
A sexy bitch.
I hold my breath as I watch her.
Fitting song. Sexy bitch should be her anthem. The song continues and she really gets into it, picking up her glass and giggling as she dances. She spills her drink down her forearm, and then she puts her arm up and slowly licks it off.
I clench as I feel it all the way to the tip of my cock.
Jesus Christ. I pick up the scotch and pour myself a glass too quickly. It sloshes over the side. How much seduction can a man take before he fucks his nanny on his kitchen floor?
I sip my drink as my eyes rake her in. She’s laughing freely as she dances.
The warmth of the liquor heats my throat, but its nothing like the fire that’s starting down below.
Stop dancing like that, baby, or you will wake Mr. Masters… and he doesn’t treat naughty girls like you so well.
She looks down and notices my drink. “Oh, you’re drinking now.” She smiles as she bounces to the beat. “Can we play truth or dare?”
I lick my bottom lip. “If you like.” This is dangerous territory, but I can’t make myself go to bed. At least… not alone.
“You go first.” She beams.
I sip my scotch as I think of my first question. “How did your night go with the man you met on the plane?”
She curls her lip. “Started out okay.” She shrugs. “We kissed.”
“How was it?”
Her eyes drop to my lips and she licks her own. My cock clenches in approval.
“The kiss?” she asks.
I nod.
“The kiss was okay, I guess.”
I can’t help myself and I have to ask. “You went home with him?”
This is so inappropriate.
She shakes her head. “No.” She shrugs. “He asked me to have a threesome with him and his friend.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who on Earth would want to share you?”
Our eyes lock.
She leans over the counter onto her elbows, our faces only inches apart.
Electricity zaps between us.
“Did you come home because you were angry with him for asking you for a threesome?” I ask.
“No. I came home because when I was kissing him I was thinking of somebody else.”
“Who?”
“I think you know.”
Julian
A trace of a smile crosses my face. “I have no idea who you would be thinking about.”
She sits down on her stool and tips her glass at me. “If you were out on a date tonight…” She rearranges herself and pulls her dress down. “Who would you be thinking about?”
I raise my eyebrows. Where is she going with this? “I would be thinking about the person I was on a date with.”
She narrows her eyes, questioning me. “Really?”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “And why are you surprised that I give my full attention to my dates?”
She rests her hand under her chin and smiles up at me playfully. “I don’t know,” she breathes dreamily. “I just am.” Our eyes linger on each other’s just a little too long. She’s soft, beautiful and playful, and I know if I stay here I’m going to do something that I’ll regret later. Something that entails her being naked and bent over the kitchen counter, while I fuck her hard from behind. I would hitch her right leg up to rest on the counter to give me better access.
I get a vision of her bent over, naked and wet.
Open… wide open.
Her big beautiful tits would be free for me to look at.
She hasn’t had sex for twelve months. Imagine how tight she is.
Cut. It. The. Fuck. Out!
I shake my head and clear my throat, disgusted where my thoughts are going. “Miss Brielle.” I stand abruptly, hoping that she doesn’t see the tent in the front of my shorts. “I’m going to bed.”
She jumps up and grabs my hand. “Come on, let’s dance. The night is young.”
“Go to bed!” I demand.
“Oh… but I’ll fall down the stairs and break my leg.” She pulls a whiney face. “I’m too tired to walk all that way. Can’t I sleep here on this stool?”
“No. You cannot.”
I grab her hand. “In bed, now, please.” I lead her through the house and down the hall to her bedroom. My heart begins to beat faster and faster with every step closer to her door.
“Julian,” she purrs playfully from behind me.
“Mr. Masters to you,” I snap. This is way too familiar for my liking.
Her hand is small and deliciously soft, just how I imagine her body to be.
For fuck’s sake, rein it in.
“Mr. Masters,” she repeats in a gruff voice, mimicking me.
I open her bedroom door and am greeted with her scent. Sweet smelling perfume fills my nostrils, and I start to hear my heartbeat pump in my ears as my arousal begins to take over.
Get out of here.
Get out of here now!
My cock is now at full length and dripping. Her scent is all around me and I just need to fuck her.
I throw her on the bed, and she laughs freely as she falls back onto the mattress. Her eyes hold mine as she giggles playfully, her arms are up above her head and her long dark hair splayed across her pillow.
“So bossy, Mr. Masters,” she whispers.
I clench my hands into fists as I stand over her. “You have no idea,” I whisper. God, she looks fucking edible.
Leave…
My heart is racing.
I hesitate as I take a moment to control my voice. “Goodnight, Miss Brielle.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Masters,” she breathes sexily.
I leave the room and practically run up the stairs. I tear open the bathroom cabinet and take out the baby oil.
A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
Brielle
Pound, pound, pound.
Oh God, my head.
What the fuck happened last night?
I frown as I try to focus around my room, and then down at myself. I’m still in the clothes I wore out last night.
I feel so sick. What the hell was I thinking, drinking all those cocktails?
I can hardly remember anything since I got in the car to come home.
That’s weird. I was fine when I left the club.