My eyes darken. “Don’t you careful me, Bree. You know the rules in my bed.” She nods and closes her eyes. I know I’m a lot to take in the bedroom, but if she wants to love me she needs to get used to who I am. I’ve tried to control myself with her so far, but knowing she now belongs to me has released the animal I’ve been keeping caged.
I only fuck one way.
I pump her with force as I feel her dripping flesh contract around me. We’re moving hard and fast and the bed is rocking, hitting the wall.
She loves this-loves it when I fuck her with my hands. “You ready?” I ask.
Her eyes hold mine, and I swipe my thumb over her clitoris. Her body instantly contracts around my fingers, and my cock jerks as she lurches forward, her orgasm all-consuming.
“Ah, Julian,” she cries out.
I close her legs, push them to one side, and bend them at the knees. Then I slide in deep again. My eyes close. “Fuck, yeah,” I whisper.
Her legs are together making her super tight around my cock.
I slap her on the ass and she cries out, “Ouch.”
I slap her again for whining, and she closes her eyes, taking it this time. “That’s it.”
I grab her hip bone and ride her deep-so deep she’s thrashing and moaning, sending me out of my fucking mind.
My body is covered with a sheen of perspiration when I look down at the place where our bodies meet. My hard cock disappears into her soft, wet, pink flesh. The sound of our skin slapping together echoes around the room.
“Fucking hell, Bree.” I growl.
“Julian,” she whimpers. “Oh God, it’s so good.”
I look down at her flushed face and her dark hair splayed across my pillow. “Clench,” I demand, slapping her again. She does as she’s told and clenches around my cock. I throw my head back and I come in a rush, pumping her hard. She cries out at once, and I don’t know if it’s in pleasure or pain. Either way, it sounds so fucking good.
I slowly ride her through her orgasm before I lie down on top of her and kiss her gently.
“I love you,” she whispers as she clings to me.
I smile against her lips, still panting for breath. “I love you, too.”
Brielle
I hear the car pull up and I grin to myself. Julian has just been to pick up the kids. I’ve really missed them. We flew in from Rome a few hours ago after the best weekend ever. He dropped me at home first, and then he went on to get them. I hate that I couldn’t go, but his parents think he went away with Sebastian for the weekend. I don’t know how long we’re going to keep this secret of ours. I need to talk to him about it. I hate lying to the children. I hate sleeping downstairs when the rest of the family is upstairs.
I want to be up there with them.
Dinner is in the oven, and it’s then I realise how good it feels to be home.
The front door bangs open.
“Brelly!” Sammy squeals as he sprints into the kitchen and throws himself at me.
“Hello, baby.” I kiss his forehead. “Oh, I missed you.” I smile as I squeeze him in my arms.
Tillie comes sprinting into the kitchen and jumps up on my legs. Then Will appears, and I wrap my free arm around her.
“Hello, my pumpkin.” I kiss her forehead.
Julian soon follows behind them and he finds me with a child under each arm and a dog jumping up my legs. “I didn’t get this reception,” he mutters dryly, throwing his keys onto the bench.
I giggle as I stare into his eyes.
“I’ve got so much to tell you, Brell,” Willow says, her voice filled with excitement.
“You do?” I smile.
She holds her hands out. “You won’t believe it.”
“What?”
“Lola invited me to her birthday party.”
“She did?”
“Yes, and everyone is going.”
My eyes widen. “You mean the boys from golf?” She smiles and nods. “And all her friends from university.”
“This is great news.” I point at her. “You should wear the blue dress, and I’ll do your hair. We should practice some styles tomorrow.”
“Yes, can we?”
Julian rolls his eyes as he takes a seat at the counter. “May I remind you that the blue dress is for wearing at home only?”
I smirk as my eyes rise to him. He hates that his little girl is growing up.
“So, when did you speak to her?” I ask, focusing back on Willow.
“She’s been texting me all weekend.”
“She has?” I smile broadly. “Look at you, being all friendly and social.”
She smiles filled with pride.
“Dinner is about half an hour away. Why don’t you kids go shower and get ready for school tomorrow?” I ask.
“Okay.” Sammy scoots back into the living room. “Oh no! Maverick, no,” we hear him cry.
Willow walks into the living room. “Oh… shit.” She gasps.
“What’s going on out there?” Julian calls.
“Nothing,” Willow tells him calmly.
Something is definitely going on out there. I put my hand on Julian’s shoulder as I walk past him.
“Pour us a wine, babe. I’ll get the kids sorted.” That’s code for ‘please stay here while I sort out the wild animals we call pets’.
I walk into the living room to find Willow standing on the couch trying to reattach the drapes which Maverick has ripped from the window. I walk over to inspect them to see that they have actually torn at the top.
Julian comes in and frowns when he sees the destruction. “This bloody cat has been home for five minutes,” he cries. “How can he ruin the drapes in five minutes flat?”
“He’s just a baby,” I say.
“Oh… and he doesn’t know the rules yet,” Julian mimics with an eye roll before storming away and calling over his shoulder. “That cat is going back to the shelter if it doesn’t learn the damn rules soon.”
I giggle as I watch him disappear. My Mr. Cranky Pants is back.
Julian Masters
Requests the company of
Bree Johnston
Occasion: Situation inspection
Date: Thursday night
Time: 6pm
Place: Room 612: Rosewood London
Dress code: Bondage
I smile as I read the invitation that’s sitting my email. He really is set on this damn bondage thing, isn’t he? Maybe I should just go all out and buy some whips. He already slaps my behind when he’s getting into it anyway. Not that I really feel it.
He was mortified in Rome when he saw his red handprint on my behind while we were showering, post-sex. He must have apologised at least ten times.
My phone rings and I smile. Speak of the devil. The name Mr. Masters lights up my screen.
“Hello, Mr. Masters.”
“How is my naughty nanny today?” he purrs.
“She’s feeling especially naughty.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m wishing my man was here with me.”
“I’m missing you, too,” he whispers.
Who is this man, and what has he done with the emotionally disabled Mr. Masters I met six weeks ago?
“I’m just about to leave work. Are you on your way yet?” he asks.
“Not yet. I’m about an hour away.”
“Okay. Drive safely.”
I hang up and stare at my phone for a moment. He’s started saying that to me since we got back from Rome: drive safely.
Does it ever cross his mind… the phone call he got when Alina died? Is he scared he’s going to get that call again?
We have so many bridges to cross, so many inner demons to fight-both of us do. I keep thinking this horrible thought-and I hate that I do-but what about his addiction to prostitutes? Would he ever go back to that?
I mean, if I was pregnant and unable to have sex for an extended period of time, would he still be satisfied?
Stop it. Stop thinking this shit. It isn’t healthy.
His past is his past. It can only hurt me if I let it.
Knock, knock.
I stand outside room 612 at the Rosewood, smiling to myself. I’m wearing one of his black trench coats. Beneath it, I’m wearing leather bondage lingerie, as well as thigh-high, black lace-up boots.
I can be as dirty as he wants me to be.
He’s bringing out a side of my personality I didn’t know existed. I’m craving this submissive sexuality.
When we are at home and he sneaks into my bed, we make gentle, silent love. We whisper the words I love you to each other all night long. But when we stay in hotels we fuck like animals, and I am completely addicted. I’m addicted to the hit. I love the contrast of hard and soft.
Of loving and fucking.
Of Mr. Masters and Julian.
Julian loves me.
Mr. Masters loves to fuck me…. hard.
He opens the door to me, already undressed, wearing nothing but a robe. He has a glass of scotch in his hand and I know he will already have an erection beneath his robe. A thrill runs through me, a sick thrill, because I know what we are re-enacting here: his time in the brothels. And the only sick thing about it is that I fucking love it.
I love being his whore.
“Hello, Mr. Masters,” I whisper.
His eyes flame with arousal. “Hello, Miss Brielle.” His voice becomes deeper when he’s aroused. I can tell the difference between his personalities now.
Mr. Masters has a deep, commanding tone. Julian has either a playful or sad tone, depending on his mood.
He takes my hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing it softly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
He leads me into the room and I glance over and see a bottle of baby oil on the bedside table. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to ignore the nerves dancing in my stomach.