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My cock is now at full length and dripping. Her scent is all around me and I just need to fuck her.
I throw her on the bed, and she laughs freely as she falls back onto the mattress. Her eyes hold mine as she giggles playfully, her arms are up above her head and her long dark hair splayed across her pillow.
“So bossy, Mr. Masters,” she whispers.
I clench my hands into fists as I stand over her. “You have no idea,” I whisper. God, she looks fucking edible.
Leave…
My heart is racing.
I hesitate as I take a moment to control my voice. “Goodnight, Miss Brielle.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Masters,” she breathes sexily.
I leave the room and practically run up the stairs. I tear open the bathroom cabinet and take out the baby oil.
A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.
Brielle
Pound, pound, pound.
Oh God, my head.
What the fuck happened last night?
I frown as I try to focus around my room, and then down at myself. I’m still in the clothes I wore out last night.
I feel so sick. What the hell was I thinking, drinking all those cocktails?
I can hardly remember anything since I got in the car to come home.
That’s weird. I was fine when I left the club.
I get up, go to the bathroom, and then take a look at myself in the mirror. My hair is wild. My hot, smoky makeup from last night now looks like a half dead racoon. I look like road kill.
Oh, dear God, my breath.
I squeeze toothpaste on my toothbrush and begin to brush my teeth while I feel sorry for myself, staring at my reflection. And now I have to babysit today while Mr. Masters plays golf.
A fleeting image of myself dancing in the kitchen crosses my mind.
Wait, when was that?
Did I?
I close my eyes as I try to remember what happened last night.
Was he already awake? Did I wake him up?
Oh no.
Fuck.
I spit out the toothpaste with force and quickly wash my face. Then I run into the bedroom and start climbing out of my dress.
Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.
