Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

Could this guy be any more fun?

He takes out his phone and types Wife into the contact list.

I laugh. “You can’t save me as wife?”

“Who says?”

“Me.”

He grabs my behind and pushes me up against the door. “While you’re in Vegas, you’re my wife, and if I want to fuck you up against the door here, I can.” He growls against my neck.

I laugh into his shoulder as I push him away. I take his phone and type in my number, and he smiles, his lips lingering on mine.

“I’m coming to New York next weekend and getting a hotel for us. Where do you want to stay?”

I laugh. “You’re crazy.”

“And you are fucking addictive.” He smiles on my cheek as he grips me tight.

We laugh our way into one final lingering kiss before his lips drop softly to my neck.

“Goodbye, my beautiful wife,” he whispers as his eyes search mine.

I feel my heart somersault in my chest. “Goodbye.” I smile softly.

He starts walking backwards up the hallway as he points at me. “I will see you next weekend?”

I smirk as I cross my arms in front of me and watch him go. “Don’t bother packing clothes because you won’t be needing any,” he calls.

I smirk again and shake my head. God, he’s a bona fide sex maniac.

A porter walks past and he calls out to him. “Excuse me, do you have any wheelchairs available?”

I cover my mouth to hide my giggle. He wouldn’t?

The porter looks down at his legs, wondering what is wrong with him that requires a wheelchair.

“Oh, its not my legs. I have a very sore dick.” He points to his groin. “Hard night.”

The porter frowns as he looks at his crotch.

I burst out laughing, and they both turn to look at me. With an embarrassed wave I walk into my room and close the door. I shake my head in disbelief at the crazy events that have panned out over the last twenty-four hours. I lean against the back of the closed door with a broad smile on my face.

Wow.

What an unexpected night.

What an unexpected man.