Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

Julian Masters is my rock god.

He’s checking us in for our flight, and it’s clear to see that the stewardesses are all swooning over his every word. He’s wearing a charcoal suit, a light blue shirt with a navy tie, expensive shoes, and his customary designer watch. My man is tall, dark and handsome. He oozes power, money, and enough sexual energy to light up a universe.

Sorry, girls. He’s all mine and he’s taking me to Rome for my birthday to give me twenty orgasms. Suck it and weep, bitches.

I smile goofily to myself. What is this frigging life? I have a hot man taking me to Rome and shit.

This is how the other half lives. Now I‘m doing it in style. I take a quick picture and send

it to Emerson with the caption:

Ready for Rome

xx

Julian turns back to me, frowning when he sees me and my exaggerated smile. “What’s that look?” he asks.

“This is my ‘I’m so happy I could burst’ look.”

He smiles softly.

“I’m sure you see it on my face all the time,” I add.

He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen it before in my life.”

I take his hand in mine. “I’ve been wearing it for a week now, Mr. Masters.”

“Oh, that. I did wonder if you were ill.” He smirks. “You’re very easily pleased, Miss Brielle.”

I smirk back at him. “Just the opposite, my love.” His smile fades as his eyes hold mine.

Shit, I just called him my love. Why did I do that?

I reach up and kiss him softly on the lips to try to distract him.

He takes my hand in his. “Let’s get going.”

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My hair is down, full of soft curls. My makeup is smoky, and I’m wearing a soft pink evening gown, which I bought yesterday, along with some matching pink stilettos. I know why he gave me his credit card now. He knew I had nothing to wear that was up to the standard of the places that he would be taking me.

“Are you ready?” he asks from the door.

I feel like a queen. Our room at the Rome Cavalieri is nothing short of spectacular. It has a huge gold, gilded bedhead over the king size mattress. Oversized paintings of angels line the gold walls, and tapestry rugs cover the floors. I’ve never seen such luxury.

He holds my hand out to open up my body to him, and his hungry eyes drop down every inch. “You look so fucking beautiful, I can’t stand it.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Masters.” That’s the understatement of the year. He’s wearing a black dinner suit, and that beautiful face of his shines for me. He’s one hell of a date. His two-day stubble shows a hint of salt and pepper in his whiskers, and it’s enough to drive any female insane.

We recovered from our little my love slip up this afternoon. I don’t know why I said it, but the fear on his face when I did took me back a little. I thought that maybe he was softening to the idea.

Maybe not…

He leans down to kiss me, and his hands roam to my behind so he can pull me close. I can feel his erection through his pants.

“Is that thing always hard?” I ask.

He smirks. “When I am around you. Yes.”

“How do you manage to think when all the blood in your body has travelled down to a dick that size?”