“Julia. Fuck.”
I stroked my cock faster as my hips moved. I could hear her voice in my ear. Chanting my name and panting shallowly as her ass jiggled against my hips. That was my favorite way to take her. I loved watching her ass bounce for me. I had dreams of taking that virginal hole of hers. Of eating her pussy and teasing her to urgent heights before stuffing myself between her cheeks and filling her pussy with my fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut as my legs began to tremble and I felt my balls curling into my body, readying my cock for its creamy end as I pressed my forehead on my shower wall.
“Julia. Shit. So tight for me. Oh, fuck.”
Before I knew it, my balls were tight, and my body felt like it was dangling from a precipice. I held onto the wall in front of me and kept Julia’s face front and center in my mind as I sped up my movements until my body finally erupted with one of the strongest orgasms I’d ever had.
I pressed my hips into my hand one last time before my balls shot electricity up my dick.
Then, I heard it.
The softest voice on a whispered wind.
I love you, Romeo.
Once I was done, and she was still in my thoughts, I stood under the cold water waiting for my breath to return to normal.
“Romeo? You in there?”
Antony knocking on my door pierced through my fantasy.
“Mom wants to speak with you,” Antony said.
“At eight in the morning?”
“Get your ass downstairs.”
“Remember who you’re talking to,” I said with a growl.
I shut off my shower, toweled myself off and padded to my closet. If I was upstairs, I could relax. But downstairs? That was business. No one was ever downstairs without being dressed for company, and I was pissed that I had to rifle through my damn suits at eight in the morning in the middle of the fucking week. I pulled on some boxers and a pair of black pants before reaching for another shirt. I chose a pale yellow button-down and tucked it in, then reached for one of my father’s more expensive watches.
I wasn’t getting dressed to the nines, but I was sure as hell going to project confidence in case work came trudging through the front door.
I went downstairs. The smell of breakfast infiltrated my nostrils. Mom was in the kitchen, per usual, cooking up a damn storm for a fucking army. She was whirling around the kitchen, cooking toast and frying bacon and scrambling eggs. Pads of butter melted on the toast already on the table, and Antony was pouring freshly-squeezed orange juice the chef had left in the fridge.
“You know I hire a chef so you don’t have to do these things, right?” I asked.
“Your chef doesn’t come until ten in the morning. Who eats breakfast so late?” my mother asked.
“The man of this house does.”
“Then tell him to get his ass out of bed and get downstairs at a proper time.”
Antony chuckled as he sat back in his chair. He propped his feet on the kitchen table as he sucked down his juice. I shot him a look, and he gave me his little shit-eating grin.
A spatula flew through the air and smacked Anthony on the forehead.
“Get your nasty feet off the kitchen table. What did I raise? Animals?”
I threw my head back and laughed as I reached for the pot of coffee on the table.
“I take it you slept well, Mom?” I asked.
“That new mattress you bought is way too firm,” she said.
“And yet you have the energy of five bulls.”
“I usually have the energy of seven,” she said.