Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

He growls, losing control, and he scrunches his features together, pounding me hard. So fucking hard, I try my hardest to deal with the force of it.

When he comes, he holds himself still, deep inside of me before he convulses forward.

His face—oh, God, his face. Words cannot describe how beautiful his face is when he comes.

He falls over me and I giggle to myself.

“If that was you going easy on me, what the hell happens when you go hard?” I pant.

He chuckles and falls onto the bed, pulling me over him. “Hmm, slight change of plan,” he mutters as he kisses me.

We try to catch our breath, and I lie with my head on his, chest listening to his heavy heartbeat.

I roll off him and lean up onto my elbow so I can watch him.

“What?” he asks.

“Quite the Jekyll and Hyde, aren’t you?”

He smirks. “I could say the same about you.”

I act offended. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was born to be a sweet nanny.”

He smiles, his hand finding that spot between my legs, and he slides one of his thick fingers into me again. “You were born to fuck.” He pumps me hard and I wince. Ouch, I’m sore. “This beautiful body of yours is built for sin.”

I smile and pull his hand out of me. “Yeah, well, this beautiful body of mine can’t take any more. Down, boy.”

A trace of a smile crosses his face. “Until next time.”

I lean in and kiss him softly. “Until next time,” I breathe.

He kisses me again and again, and I can feel his dick hardening against m

y stomach. Jesus, how long can he go for?

I thought men’s sexual stamina was supposed to decrease with age, but that’s definitely not the case here. My sex is throbbing and painful, swollen from the carnage. “I just can’t, Jules,” I breathe against his lips.

He pulls back from me immediately. “Sorry.” He frowns as he stands. “I can be too much to take.”

He takes my hand, pulls me from the bed, and leads me into the bathroom to run a shower. He turns toward me and studies my face as he runs his fingers through my long hair. “Do you have a hair tie?”

I nod.

“Where is it? I’ll get it for you.”

“In my handbag.”

He disappears, returning only moments later to carefully tie my hair up into a bun on top of my head. My hands rest on his naked hips as he concentrates

on his task. He’s gentle and caring—so different from the animal that just fucked me ten minutes ago.

He really is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

He leads me into the shower and washes me tenderly with sweet smelling soap, caressing my arms, breasts, stomach, my sex, and down my legs. I feel like a child being looked after, and this feels surprisingly intimate. His attention returns to my face, and he cups my cheek in his hand.

“You’re quiet,” he whispers, his lips lingering over mine.

We share a soft kiss.