Undisclosed Desire: An Alpha Billionaire Romance: + bonus novel (19 page)

This one might have been for him – yet I join him in an earth-shattering climax as he finds his release deep inside of me.

Nicky

It has been exactly three years since I first walked through these doors. Of course, I didn't have my own card back then. And the place did not have the little touch of Nicky that I have been adding steadily over time.

It’s been a long day, like most days. But still, I get home before him. I don’t mind it at all. Evan’s passion for his work, his company is something I wasn’t able to understand years ago, but I get it now. I had to find my own passion to understand what it is like to live and work like the people I used to despise before.

I get out of my shoes and lazily stroll through our luxurious penthouse. Our home.

I smile as I see the little note and the dark red roses – two of them – that Evan left on our kitchen table.

I had completely forgotten about our anniversary, mainly because work has been crazy this week. Of course he wouldn’t forget. He’s more of a romantic than I will ever be. I have come to understand that a long time ago and the beautiful roses are just another proof for that.

Three years.

Three wonderful years since the day he literally opened his door for me. 

My eyes rest on the roses in front of me. What a different person I was back then. What a different life I was leading. There are so many things I have Evan to thank for. With him, I not only found the love of my life, but also the kind of life I truly enjoy living.

Yuka made fun of me the first time I invited her to our place after moving. But she was not blind to my new found happiness. And I know she does enjoy having the place we once shared to herself, which is only possible because she changed a few things in her life as well. Even though she is hesitant about admitting it, she may have found the man she has been looking for. And a job that allows her to live on her own for once.

She even congratulated me for not listening to her back then and giving Evan a second chance.

Without him, I never would have ended up where I am right now. I am an editor at a small indie publishing company. It’s not a career to boast about, and I could never afford to live in a place like this on my own. All the luxury in our life is still thanks to Evan’s wealth, but I’ve stopped feeling bad about it.

I love my job and I work hard for it, harder than I’ve ever worked in my entire life. The kind of books and magazines my publisher is responsible for are the kind that I would want to read myself. We serve a certain niche and are far away from mainstream media in many regards. This is the reason why we will never make huge amounts of money, but it serves the right kind of people, a minority with a particular taste in fashion, music and entertainment.

This is where I belong.

I love the people I work with – and I love Evan for enabling this life for me. If it wasn't for him, I am sure I would still be at the exact same place I was three years ago.

A waitress. There is nothing wrong about that, but I was an unhappy waitress who was unwilling to face the uncomfortable questions he forced me to deal with. That’s the difference.

It was hard work. I had to finish my degree and apply for internships, gaining working experience just like everyone else.

But Evan was there to help me through it. In many regards.

I absentmindedly touch the silver ring around my neck. The lock has not been opened in a long time. I wouldn't want him to. Wearing his collar is my pride. And no one has ever asked me about it. For outsiders it appears to be nothing but tasteful jewelry. Jewelry that I truly love. I am wearing it every day.

I am collared. Yet I have never felt freer, because I finally feel like I belong.

Evan knows that I have never been a big believer in marriage. It seems obsolete and outdated to me, especially considering its origins.

But this means so much more.

Wearing his collar was a conscious choice. One that I have not regretted for a single moment since he closed it around my neck just as solemnly as one would put a ring on another person's finger.

I am his. And he is mine.

Nothing says that more than this.

Thank you for reading!

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'I am Yours'
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An excerpt from
‘Anniversary’:

"Happy anniversary, my pet," he whispered as our kiss ended, holding my chin up with two of his fingers, so I was looking at him. His dark eyes were as unreadable as ever, shielded with mystery.

I smiled. "Happy anniversary, master."

"Are you happy to see me?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

I knew he would check. I knew he would check if I had obeyed his wish. And he did. His hands wandered along my back, then moved to the front, gently kneading my breasts through the fabric of my dress.

"Good girl," he whispered, giving me a little peck on the forehead.

And then one of his hands moved along, wandering down my belly, cleverly reaching underneath my light dress. His fingertips skimmed my inner thighs as he slowly moved upwards. I moaned when he reached my center, caressing my wet clit with two of his fingers. Even after all that had happened between us, I was still amazed at how wet just being around him made me.

"You're such a good slut for me," he breathed. "Such a perfect, wet girl."

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Master Class
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For my Master('s)

His Secret Muse

His Muse's Fidelity

I am Yours

Dark Romance with Stella Noir

Silent Daughter 1: Taken

Silent Daughter 2: Bound

Silent Daughter 3: Owned

Continue with bonus book
Master Class
at the next page!

LANA

"Did you do what I told you to do?"

His green eyes hold me in place. I find myself unable to move as he angles his sharp gaze down at me, clenching his jaw for control. I can tell that he is holding back. He has had to restrain himself for so long, watching me in the classroom from afar, sitting across the table while we were engaged in our little banter. Taboo was always written all over our intimate relationship, which made it all the more exciting.

His strong jaw is dappled with black stubble, framing the hint of a smirk as he studies the reaction on my face. I know I'm blushing, fighting to maintain eye contact with him as I try to find the words he's waiting for. My lips part as I prepare to speak, but no sound comes out.

"Did you obey?" he asks again.

Even though he doesn't move, it feels as if he just took a step closer, closing a hand around my throat and choking me. I feel suffocated and elevated at the same time, swirling with emotion and completely at his mercy.

"Yes," I finally reply with a hoarse voice.

"What did I tell you to do?"

Oh, please, God, no! Don't make me say it out loud!

My face burns with shameful heat, and I have to suppress the strong urge to close my eyes. I can't look at him when I'm feeling like this. Exposed, vulnerable, confused - and so freaking turned on. I'm ashamed of my arousal, and I know how much he enjoys to see that feeling written all over my face in bright red color.

"Lana, you know we don't have a lot of time," he urges.

This time he actually takes a step closer to me. We're standing in the middle of his temporary office, surrounded by everything that reminds me of how wrong all of this is. The shelves are mostly empty, and so is the desk next to me. I'm familiar with the dark, wooden surface. A lot more familiar than any student should be.

In the background I can hear the murmuring of students walking by outside in the hall. So close, yet so far away.

"You told me to...," I whisper. The weirdly low tone of my voice confuses me. I don't sound like myself. I sound like a distant and faded version of myself. My voice is not only soft, but shaking, as if I was scared.

I'm not scared. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

You don't scare me, Mr. Portland.

But he does.

I clear my throat.

"You told me to...," I begin again, still sighing with that flat voice, but determined to finish the sentence this time. "...Put the toy inside of me."

A dark smile graces his handsome face. "And is that toy inside your delicious cunt right now?"

I nod, pressing my lips together as if I had to keep myself from speaking.

"Say it," he demands. Of course.

I start chewing on my lower lip instead of obeying his command. I've said enough, why doesn't he just let it go?

Because that's not how it works.

"How does it feel?" He asks now, stepping closer. He places his hands on my shoulders, holding me in a secure grip as if I was about to run away or faint in front of him. His touch feels so familiar, so right. My core shivers at the memory of his marvelous hands between my legs.

I want more. I've been begging for more for weeks, which is why I’m in this predicament. I'm not doing this for him, but for me.

"Tell me Lana, how does it feel?" He repeats his question, leaning forward and so close that our lips almost touch.

I instinctively stretch and get up on my toes, hoping for a kiss, but he evades me.

"Answer me," he insists. "How does it feel?"

"Good," I reply.

Obviously, that answer is not good enough for him.

"Tell me," he says, letting go of my left shoulder. His right hand travels down to my core, caressing the fabric of my skirt above my mound. "Can you feel it inside of you?"

I nod. "Yes, Sir."

He casts me that dark and up-to-no-good smile I've come to love and fear so much during the past few months we’ve spent together. His hand moves further down my skirt, the one he ordered me to wear today, despite the cold weather.

"Show me what a good girl you are," he whispers, while his hand moves further, lifting my skirt up and traveling along the inside of my thigh.

He pinches my flesh through the pantyhose, signaling for me to move my legs apart. I obey and widen my stance enough to grant him access to my center.

A moan escapes my quivering lips when he presses against my labia, his palm covering my most sensitive area.

"Can you feel it inside?" He asks, his voice hoarse and husky.

I nod. "Yes."

He called it a vibrating egg, but it looks more like a thick, pink thumb, not longer than two inches and about as wide as two fingers. I know he has a remote control for it, but he never gave it to me. When I agreed to do what he wanted me to, he just handed me the little pink toy and told me to place it inside myself for the last class of this semester.

His hand is still at my entrance, applying pressure on it through two layers of fabric. Even this subtle touch is enough for me to vibrate with lust. I can't wait for this upcoming class to be over.

"Just imagine what it feels like when I turn it on," he adds.

I blush at the thought of it and prepare myself for a first taste. I expect him to turn it on right this moment, to show me. But he doesn't.

Instead, he removes his hand from beneath my skirt and straightens up, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You will go to class now," he commands. "And you will sit through my last lecture like a good girl, without letting anyone around us know about our little secret. Do you understand?"

I nod. "Yes, Sir."

The smile that graces his handsome face is enough of an acknowledgment, but I eagerly welcome his lips when he leans forward to kiss me.

My last class with Mr. Jackson Portland will prove to be one of a kind - and I intend to end the semester with a bang. Literally.