Mr. Masters (Mr. 1)

“I knew you would be amazing.” He hits me hard. “I knew you would blow my fucking mind.”

He starts to lose control and really lets me have it. In another breath, I convulse forward, and he comes in a rush.

He holds me close, his kiss aggressive. My breaths are strained as I try to control my breathing. He moves slowly, still inside of me, and then he pulls out and stands up to take his condom off. He carefully ties the end of it, disposing of it quickly.

He smiles down at me and brushes the hair back from my forehead. I feel so vulnerable lying here naked, weak from orgasm. He rearranges the pillows behind me so that I am propped up.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I want you to watch.”

“Watch what?”

He lies back down between my legs and his mouth drops to my sex.

Oh God.

His dark eyes hold mine as his tongue begins to explore my sex with long, hard licks.

My heart is racing wildly. No man has ever done this. No man has ever gone down on me after sex.

This is so fucking hot.

His lips are glistening, and I sit with my legs spread wide as I watch him eat me like I’m his last supper.

His hands rest on my inner thighs, and every now and then he smiles into me, as if he can’t believe this is happening, either.

I frown as I watch him, strangely detached yet completely immersed.

He loves this, he absolutely loves this. This isn’t for me. This is for him.

He never stops, continuing his exploration for over fifteen minutes, until I’m writhing on the bed, once again.

I need him inside me again. “Jules,” I whimper.

He smiles at me and bites my clitoris, causing me to jump. Then he sits me up to kiss me and I can taste my own arousal on his lips. He's only gentle for a brief moment before turns me over and positions me on my knees, spreading my legs as far as he can.

I glance up and watch us in the mirror.

He slowly rolls another condom on then runs his hands up and down my back as he studies my body. His hard cock hangs heavily between his legs. He nudges my opening, his mouth hanging open in awe, and his thumb rubbing over my back entrance.

Oh shit. I hold my breath. “No, Jules,” I whimper. “Not yet.”

He clenches his jaw, moving back to my sex to slowly slide in deep. We both moan in unison. He’s so good at this.

He pulls out slowly and slams back in all at once, knocking the air from my lungs, forcing me to cry out. Shit. Then he lets me have it. My hips are in his hands as he aggressively slams me back onto him. I watch him in the mirror and his words from earlier come back to me.

I will take my pleasure from your body.

That’s exactly what he’s doing. He knows what he wants, he knows exactly what his body needs, and he’s just feeding it. There is something so primal about the way he fucks my body, it’s turning me inside out.

I shudder as come in a rush, and I moan.

Our bodies continue to slam together, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. Julian is lost in his own headspace, and he tips his head back, closing his eyes as the ecstasy takes over. He picks up his pace, hitting me harder, and I scrunch the sheets between my fingers as I try and protect myself from the beating my body is taking.

I glance up to the mirror and see myself—hair dishevelled, red lipstick, covered in perspiration, and my breasts bouncing while I’m being fucked hard by God’s gift to women. His mouth hangs open as he watches the place where our bodies meet. His thumb sits over my back entrance, and it's clear to see he's in another world, totally oblivious to all that surrounds him.

This is definitely not your average Friday night.