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“Miss Brielle,” he sighs. “Brelly,” I correct. He raises his eyebrows. “No offence, but I’m not calling you Brelly. You’re not an umbrella.”
“Do you like your women wholesome and pure, or dirty and slutty?” Satisfaction flashes across his face, and I realize that I just played straight into his hands. He used the truth serum tactic to see what I really wanted to know: his taste in women. Shit, I need to up my game if I’m going to keep up with this master manipulator. He sips his scotch and the air swirls between us. “I like the first to act like the latter… but only for me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. God, good answer. What would he be like in bed with all this dominant power? “Oh,” I mumble. I get a vision of him naked, and suddenly, I can’t think of an intelligent reply. Think… Think… Say something intelligent. “Wholesome sluts must be hard to find these days,” is all I manage to come up with.
Samuel swings my hand in his and I smile down at him. “What would you like me to call you?” I ask. He glances at his father nervously before he brings his attention back to me. “I like it when you call me Sammy,” he whispers.
I follow him as he walks down the front steps and out to the garage. The roller door goes up slowly and the Porsche lights beep as it unlocks. My eyes widen in excitement. “Are we taking the pimp car?” His face falls. “The pimp car?” He slinks into the lowered seat.
I laugh, and his eyes twinkle with a special something. “What would you call me? I mean, if we were friends?” I ask. He bites his bottom lip. “Bree.” A warm, soft feeling runs over my body. “Nobody has ever called me Bree,” I whisper. “That’s not true, I just did.”
“This place is fucking freezing,” she mutters into her coffee. “I know, right? Witches tits cold.”
“You’re dating?” I ask, acting surprised. Thankfully, he has no idea on my spying activities this week. His eyes dance with delight… or mischief. I really can’t tell. “I date.” He smiles against his glass. “I’m not that old. I’m not dead… yet.”
“Haven’t you ever watched cat videos on YouTube?” I ask, shocked. “No.” “Will, have you?” I call, knowing that she’s eavesdropping. “Nobody does that except losers,” she hits back.
“How well?” he asks sexily. “How well is my nanny?”
From: Mr. Masters To: Miss Brielle Miss Brielle It seems that there was a privacy breach in the master bedroom last night. As one of my employees, I would like to give you the opportunity to explain your behavior. Yours Sincerely, Mr. Masters
Sir please😭
Julian Masters Requests the company of Bree Johnston Occasion: Situation inspection. Date: 28th May Time: 8pm Place: Scarfes Bar, Rosewood London Dress code: Slutty
“You need to protect yourself, because I can’t protect you from me,” he whispers against my skin.
“Do you know what that bully said?” I call. “I heard her. I heard her say it with my own ears.” He turns to face me. My eyes fill with tears at the sheer memory of it. Poor Willow. “She said that Willow’s mum probably killed herself just to get away from her. Do you have any idea what it would be like to hear that being said to you?” He scowls, clearly torn between disbelief and hurt. “You’re her father, for fuck’s sake.” His face falls. “You were going to ground her without a second thought,” I whisper in disgust.
“I didn’t know,” he says quietly. I inhale sharply, but I don’t answer. “I’m sorry.” “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” I tell him dryly. We stay silent for a little while longer. “When will you be back?” he asks quietly.
I look around, wondering what to do. “Go back to your book and relax.” She smiles. I frown. She is the most confusing woman on the planet. Is she going to spike my food with arsenic?
“Sammy, wake up, little angel,” I call as I walk in and sit on the end of his bed. We have a morning routine now. He crawls out of bed, onto my lap, and we cuddle for a few minutes until he wakes properly. “Good morning.” I kiss his perfect little forehead, and he snuggles in closer. “How’s my little man today?” I ask.
I glance at my watch. Come on. What is he doing? I can’t believe I fucked him.
“Hello,” I answer. “What do you mean you’re not interested?” “It means what it means. I’m not interested.” “You enjoyed yourself the other night. I know you did.” “Not as much as you, it seems.” He stays silent, and I smirk as I imagine his angry face. “Don’t play games with me,” he growls. “I’m not.”
“Is this about Bernadette?” “Are you deaf, dumb, or just plain stupid?” I snap. “Of course this is about Bernadette.” “I broke up with her last night.” “Why?” “Because she’s not you.”
“And?” Spencer frowns. “What happened then?” I shake my head and wipe my mouth with my napkin. “We screwed, and it was the hottest fucking sex of my life.” Their eyes widen even further, if that was at all possible. “We met again yesterday, and she fried my brain with dirty talk, and then fucked me stupid. Afterwards, she left, and I’ve been hard ever since.”
He steps back and takes my hand in his, slowly lifting it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Where does my girl want to go tonight?” His eyes hold mine. His girl. Fuck, he was safer when he was a typical asshole who just wanted to fuck me.
“Your mother is trying to marry you off,” I whisper. “Yes.” “Promise me that when the time comes for us to part...” A frown crosses his face. “Promise you what?” “Promise me that you won’t make me the other woman.” His eyes hold mine, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “Promise me that you’ll make a clean break and pursue any future wife without me on the side.”
I smile, trying to snap myself out of these sappy emotions. “You said you were taking me dancing.” His hand rests under his chin. “Where would my girl like to dance?” he whispers. My eyes hold his. “Anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”
“How do you want me?” He leans over to kiss me. I cup his face. “On top of me, holding me close.” We kiss. “I need it slow tonight, baby.” He closes his eyes and his lips take mine. He’s right here with me. He feels it, too. Whatever this is.
“You’re doing a really good job.” He frowns, waiting for me to expand. “With the kids. You’re doing a really good job with the kids. You’re a great father.” He smiles softly, offering his thank you in silence. “Let’s go.”
The adrenaline hits me hard. Let’s do this. Let’s fuck at home. We tear up the driveway, and my stomach drops when I see his mother’s car waiting there. Damn her for interrupting my angry sex.
The children follow her, but I hang back, hunching my shoulders and smiling broadly at Julian. “I love it when nuts are on the house.” He looks at me, deadpan. “Or in your mouth.” I laugh. “That, too.”
No wonder my children adore her. Just being around her is addictive because she oozes happiness.
Great. Not only do I now have to deal with having blue balls, but I have to watch out for a cat attacking my dick in my sleep.
I imagine he’s the kind of man that would want you every day if you were his wife. His wife. What would that be like? What would it be like to have him love me and take care of me forever?
He chuckles. “And I can assure you that there will be no marks left behind.” “Jules, no,” I whisper. He chuckles again. “Only buy what you’re comfortable with.” I glance over and see a huge black strap-on dildo. "Fine. I'm going to get a huge strap-on dildo and fuck you up the ass."
I whimper, “Jules.” “I know, baby.”
I turn to him, outraged at his behavior. “I don’t know how you usually treat women, Julian, but let me tell you this… you will never again get the fucking chance to make me feel like you did tonight. ” “How did I make you feel?” he growls. “Like a cheap slut you are taking home to fuck when the night is over.”
Julian’s face falls. “You have a date tonight?” he asks, horrified. “Yes.” I hesitate because I’m the worst liar in the world. “I do.” “Who with?” he snaps. “A doctor,” Frances replies as she squeezes my arm. I frown at her. What are you doing, you senile, old woman? “What doctor?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know that we were together.” I throw my high heels onto the bed with force. “We’re not together.” “She’s just a girl that I work with,” he adds. “I don’t care who she is. This isn’t about her.” He puts his hands on his hips. “What is it about then?” My eyes rise up to him. “You can’t be that fucking stupid.”
I sit at the table and rub my fingers over my forehead, back and forth. Stop her from going out. Go in there and apologize. I’m hot, I feel sick. Make her stay.
“My wife died on the day I asked her for a divorce.” Bree’s face falls and her eyes search mine. “How? How did she die?” “She killed herself.”
He came to the taste of me. I didn’t even have to touch him. That’s it. The game is over. It doesn’t get any hotter than this. I’m forever ruined.
