Julian

Buzz, buzz.

Buzz, buzz.

Buzz, buzz.

I frown and roll over to grab my phone—the one currently dancing on my side table. I pick it up and see the blurred name of Miss Brielle light up the screen.

I glance at the clock. It’s 4:00 a.m.

Great. She’s obviously staying out and calling to let me know.

“Yes?” I snap on answering.

“Ohhhhhhh,” she slurs.

“What are you doing?” God, she’s blind drunk. I can hear it in her voice.

“Well…” She pauses. “Can you please put Julian on the phone, Mr. Masters?”

“Miss Brielle, it’s 4:00 a.m. and I’m not in the mood for your games. What do you want?”

“I’ve told you. I need to speak to Julian, my housemate, and not Mr. Masters, my boss.”

I lie back and inhale sharply. “Why do you need Julian?”

“Because I only have nineteen days left to prove that I’m a good nanny and I really don’t want to wake Mr. Masters up.” She hesitates. “I want to speak to Julian, please.”

“Miss Brielle, enough of the games.”

“Please,” she begs. “Put Julian on the phone.”

I roll my eyes and exhale heavily. “Speaking.”

“Oh my God, Julian, my key is not working and I’m locked out of the house.”

I close my eyes. “What? Where are you?”

“I’m at the front door.”

“Why isn’t your key working?”

“I don’t know, but can you come open the door before Mr. Masters wakes up. I’m on a good behavior bond, you know.”

I smirk, stupid fool. “Fine. But I’m telling him in the morning.”

“Whatever. Just don’t tell him now, and please hurry up.”

I climb out of bed and make my way downstairs to open the front door. The front light is on, but she’s not there. I look around. Where is she? “Miss Brielle?”

“Boo!” She springs out from around the corner, and I jump.

“What the hell?” I cry. Her hair is disheveled and her makeup worn off. She has her gold heels in her hand, and to be honest, she looks even better than she did when she left.

She laughs out loud and points at me. “Ha-ha, got you.” She looks down at me and stumbles back as her pointer finger drops to my stomach. “Ohhhh, your abs are out,” she slurs. “This is an added bonus.”

I look at her, deadpan.

She points at my boxer shorts. “I didn’t know you were coming down in your cutie patootie pajamas.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Way too much. I just nearly had a nap in the front garden.” She nods and then does an over exaggerated hiccup. “True story.”

“Come in,” I sigh.

She links her arm through mine and tiptoes beside me.

I smirk at her over familiarity. “How was your night?” I ask.

“Oh God, my night,” she whispers. “You wouldn’t believe what happened.”

“Try me,” I whisper as we walk through the kitchen.

"Oh." His face suddenly gets excited. "We need to drink truth serum for this story."

I raise my eyebrows. “Miss Brielle, I am not drinking scotch with you at 4:00 a.m.” My eyes drop down her hot body. “Not with you in this state.”

“Okay, good. You watch me drink it then. I need a snack anyway.”

She pushes me down onto a stool at the counter. “Sit there and I’ll make us food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She smiles sexily and leans over the bench toward me. My eyes drop to her large breasts that are ready to break free from her tight dress.

“All men say they’re not hungry, but they always eat the house down when it’s offered.”

I don’t know if it’s the fact that she’s wearing next to nothing, or the image I get of me eating every last drop of her, but I inhale sharply as I feel my cock begin to swell.

Cut it out.

“Miss Brielle,” I reply.

“Yes, Julian.”

Something about the way she says my name like that makes me smile, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to stay with her while she eats something. “Make it quick.”

“What do you want to eat?” she asks innocently.

I get an image of myself kissing her inner thigh as she lies back over the kitchen counter, but I snap myself out of the daydream quickly. “I’m really not hungry.”

She begins to open and close doors. “Where is the truth serum?”

I point to the cupboard, and she smiles and leans over to get it. My eyes drop to her behind. That dress leaves nothing to the imagination.

Tanned muscular thighs.

This isn’t a good situation to be in…at all.

Go. To. Bed.

She grabs two thick tumbler glasses, fills them with ice, and then places them on the counter in front of us. She pours the scotch into the first and I put my hand over the top of the second glass. “Not for me,” I mutter.

She lifts the glass and sips it, licking her lips. “I think scotch nanny virgin may be my new favorite thing.

“It’s just called scotch. The nanny virgin thing is irrelevant.”

She grins. “Or is it?”

The air zaps between us, and she holds my gaze, as if daring me to say something.

Don’t get into this with her. Go upstairs and go to sleep.

I can’t help myself. I have to ask. “Why would a nanny virgin be anything but irrelevant?”

She sips her drink and licks her lips again. I feel my cock contract.

Fuck.

Go. To. Bed.

She leans forward, resting on her elbows on the other side of the counter, and my eyes drop to her large, perfect tits. “I like the fact that you haven’t let your other nannies drink scotch with you.” She smiles innocently.

I get a vision of drinking scotch from her navel.

Cut it out.

“I’m going to bed, Miss Brielle.” I stand.

“No. No. No.” She shakes her head and grabs my shoulders, pushing me back onto my stool. “We just need some music. I’ll make us some toast and then I’ll go to bed, I promise.” She looks through the cupboard. “Do you have any Vegemite?”

“I don’t want Vegemite on toast.”

“You’ll get what you’re given.” She smiles cheekily.

Our eyes lock, and I feel electricity zap through the air between us.

Okay, what the fuck? Is she trying to turn me on right now?

Because it’s working.

She’ll get what she’s fucking given in a minute.

She picks up her phone and flicks through to Spotify. She hits play and a dance tune rings out, giving her an excuse to dance. “You like this song?”

“I don’t know it.”

“Sexy Bitch by David Guetta.”

She starts to dance freely, not trying to be cool at all, and her hips move to the rhythm as she turns to look in the fridge. With her back to me, my eyes stay firmly on her ass as it sways to the beat. The words ring out.

Oh, she’s a sexy bitch.

A sexy bitch.

I hold my breath as I watch her.

Fitting song. Sexy bitch should be her anthem. The song continues and she really gets into it, picking up her glass and giggling as she dances. She spills her drink down her forearm, and then she puts her arm up and slowly licks it off.