Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

“I need to get my tongue between your legs.”

What the fuck?

He smiles darkly. “I’ve needed to know how you taste for twenty-two days. I’m salivating, and I can’t take the suspense a moment longer.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Let’s cut to the chase and get straight to it then,” I croak.

He chuckles, and it’s a deep, sexy sound. “I’m not here to romance you, Bree, I’m here to take my pleasure from your body.” He leans forward and takes my face in his hands. “And I’m going to fuck you so damn good, no man will ever compare.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

Run… run the fuck away, right now!

No man can even compare already and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

He stands and holds his hand out for me to take. I drain my glass in one gulp and take his hand, and then the two of us walk to the elevator.

Once inside he rubs his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand.

My nerves are at an all time high.

What if he’s into kinky shit?

Anal.

What if he wants anal?

Oh God, I didn’t think this through at all.

A trace of a smile crosses his face as he watches me, like he knows what’s running through my head, the bastard.

Maybe I'll be the tenth nanny to leave, because I'll be in the hospital with a broken vagina.

What a way to go, though.

Nobody even knows I’m here tonight. I didn’t tell Emerson. He could be a serial killer for all I know.

The lift goes all the way to the top. When the doors open, he picks up my hand and kisses the back of it, and the two of us walk down the corridor.

This hotel is out of this world–so luxurious.

He takes the key from his pocket, opens the door, and my eyes widen.

In front of me is a huge sitting room, housing a beautiful couch along with two armchairs that sit in front of a fireplace. On the table, there's a silver bucket filled with ice, as well as a bottle of champagne and a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries to compliment it. There are also two very expensive crystal glasses waiting to be filled.

To the left, there's a king-size bed with velvet coverings draped over the top, and a huge, gilded gold standing mirror has been placed in front of the window, facing the bed. I can see the white marble bathroom down the hall.

“Wow,” I whisper as I look around.

Julian walks to the table and pours two glasses of champagne before he hands one to me. I take a sip, and he cups my face in his palm, licking the remnants of moisture from my lips.

His tongue explores my mouth, and my insides begin to melt.

I pull back and take another sip, my breathing becoming ragged.

“Don’t be nervous. I won’t hurt you.”

“I just haven’t…” My voice trails off.