Pretending I’m Yours (Forbidden Billionaires #3)

Epilogue

epilogue

Anthony

The late afternoon sun slants through the chapel’s stained-glass windows, painting my graduating students in jewel tones as they file past Columbia’s president to receive their diplomas. The historic auditorium smells of wood polish and tradition, filled with the rustle of robes and muffled excitement.

Five months ago, I wasn’t sure if teaching was the right next step. I thought it might end up being a temporary thing, a way to fill the time while I reflected on where I want to go from here in my life and career.

Now, watching my brilliant students launching into the world, better prepared for everything they’ll encounter in the financial sector because of the work I put in, I can’t imagine doing anything else.

I love my new job almost as much as I love my new life.

And it’s all because of one person…

As if sensing my thoughts have turned to her, Maya squeezes my hand from her seat beside me in the front row. She insisted on coming, even though she’s had one hell of a week with the reno crew. The conversion of the lobby into studio apartments hit another snag when the custom windows she ordered arrived in the wrong size and the plumbers put the toilet in the kitchen in unit two, pushing her timeline back another three weeks. But she rallied by shifting her attention to other projects and got the all-clear on the new electrical several months ahead of schedule.

That’s just Maya—nothing keeps her down for long. She already has a waiting list of potential tenants for the studios, mostly young professionals drawn to her vision of affordable micro-living spaces with built-in storage solutions and Murphy beds. The existing tenants love her, too—she’s raised the rent less than any landlord on the block, while improving their quality of life and the safety of the building as a whole, just as she promised.

She keeps her promises. It’s one of the many things I love about her, this woman who hooked me hard at first sight and has spent every day since proving she’s the best thing that ever happened to me in a hundred ways—big and small.

“No sex eyes in front of the students,” she mutters out of the side of her mouth, making me grin before forcing my attention back to the stage.

“Can’t help it,” I mutter back. “You’re a snack in that sundress, woman.”

She squeezes my hand again with a happy smile, sending a wave of gratitude rushing through me. It’s so easy with her. So easy to make her happy, so easy to feel at home and at peace while still wanting to ravage my girl every chance I get.

Especially this afternoon…

She looks stunning in a pale blue-and-white striped sundress that matches the spring sky outside, her hair swept up in an updo that shows off her elegant neck. Paired with the sapphire tennis bracelet I got her as a twenty-fifth birthday present, she looks effortlessly classy, like she belongs in this prestigious hall or anywhere else in the city she wants to be.

I know her friends were surprised by how quickly their “shy little Maya” assimilated to city life, but I wasn’t. Maya can hang back in unfamiliar situations, until she feels comfortable, but at her core, she’s a lion. She’s brave and bold and always ready for a challenge.

And I really hope she’s up for the next challenge I’d like to throw her way…

With my free hand, I touch the ring in my suit vest pocket, assuring myself the vintage diamond is still where I put it this morning. It probably would have been safer in its box, but on this unseasonably hot May afternoon it’s too warm for a jacket, and none of my other pockets were large enough to hide the box without making a noticeable lump.

And I want this to be a surprise. I booked a table at the cat café where we first went with Pudge in December, and the pet sitter is transporting Pudge up there an hour before we arrive, so he can get ready to play his part. As soon as we reach the café, I’m going to pass the ring to Penny, our favorite waiter, who will place it in a locket around Pudge’s neck.

I think Maya will be happy that I included our fur baby in the big moment. Pudge is part of our family, after all…a family I hope will grow even bigger in the coming years.

Maya says she wants at least two children, and I can’t wait to give them to her. The thought of fucking my baby into this beautiful woman is unspeakably hot. And something I shouldn’t think about until we’re alone, if I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the entire graduating class.

After the ceremony, we linger in the courtyard as the graduates take photos with their families. I shake hands and congratulate my students and their proud parents, wishing them the best for the future, until most of the crowd has filed out for pictures in front of the trees.

The cherry trees are in full bloom on the quad, their petals drifting on the breeze like snow as Maya and I head toward the parking garage.

“Oh no,” Maya says, stopping dead beside me on the paved path. “I think I left my purse in your office. Do we have time to run grab it before our reservation?”

“Absolutely,” I say, checking my watch. “We’re not due at Bernard’s until six.”

We’re not going to Bernard’s, but I don’t want Maya to know that until we arrive at the café, and we still have plenty of time. I wasn’t certain how long the socializing would take, so I made sure to give us a sizeable time cushion between the end of the ceremony and our dinner.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says, as we head down the path in the opposite direction. “I’ve been forgetting everything lately.”

“You have a lot on your plate,” I say. “Like I’ve said a hundred times, I think you should hire an assistant.”

“But if I hire an assistant, I won’t be able to keep making loan payments every two weeks,” she says as we pass through the arched doorway into the mathematics building. Inside, the halls are quiet now that the semester is over, and our shoes echo on the marble floors as we start up the steps. “And I’m proud of those payments, even if they are still small. For now.”

“I’m proud of you, too, but your quality of life is my primary concern. And if your quality of life would be improved by bringing on someone to help manage all the moving pieces…”

She hums beneath her breath, trailing her fingers along the oak paneling as we reach the door to my small office on the second floor. “Maybe. But right now, I have another concern.”

“What’s that?” I ask, unlocking the door and holding it open for her.

“Well,” she says, caressing the lapel of my vest as she pauses in front of me. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, Professor Pissarro, but I’m really struggling in your class.” She looks up, blinking wide, innocent eyes.

And just like that, I’m hard.

Because I know my girl…

I know she has a professor fantasy she’s been wanting to live out, and I know we’re not here because she “forgot” her purse.

“Is that right?” I ask, playing along. “Well, come in, Ms. Swallows. And we’ll see what I can do to help.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she says, swaying into the room in front of me, her hips pure temptation beneath her dress. “I really appreciate that.”

“So, where are you struggling the most?” I ask, closing—and locking—the door behind me.

She turns back to me, perching on the edge of my desk. “Oh, all of it, but especially the complex equations. They’re so long and hard…” Her fingers play at the top of her dress, making my mouth go dry as she slips one button through its hole and then another. “Just long, hard equations that keep me up all night wondering if I’m ever going to make it as a financial professional…”

I arch a brow, torn between laughter and a groan of desire. She’s ridiculous and playful and sexy and perfect and I love her more every day.

“Perhaps you need some extra tutoring,” I say, stalking toward her.

“I think so.” She bites her full bottom lip, making me ache to do the same. “You’re just such a demanding teacher.”

“I don’t think it’s demanding to expect a student to turn their final paper in on time, Ms. Swallows,” I say, drinking in the sight of her as she slides fully onto the desk, her skirt riding up her thighs.

“I’m sorry I was late, Professor,” she says, spreading her legs, making my heart skip a beat as the damp crotch of her pink panties come into view. “But isn’t there something I can do to make it up to you?” She teases idle fingers up her thigh, and it’s all I can do not to fall to my knees, jerk her panties to one side, and fuck her with my mouth right then and there.

But we haven’t played the game to its conclusion just yet…

“Are you trying to negotiate your grade?” I ask in a hard tone, loving the way she shivers in response.

“I don’t know.” She rolls her shoulders, causing her unbuttoned dress to gape wider in the front, revealing the tops of her breasts and a matching pink bra. “Is it working?”

Her words hang in the air, thick and electric, and I swear I can feel them settle over my skin. The sight of her perched on my desk, flushed and teasing, is easily the hottest thing I’ve seen since the last time she decided to ambush me in the library at our place, determined to act out a very naughty version of Beauty and the Beast.

Fuck, she’s the best…

The very, very best, and I mean to show her just how much I appreciate her playful side.

I lean forward, bracing my hands on either side of her thighs, caging her in but not quite touching. “Ms. Swallows,” I say, my voice low and rough, “attempting to seduce your professor into changing your grade is a serious offense. It could lead to consequences.”

Her breath comes faster as her nipples tighten against the silk of her bra, making me even harder. “What kind of consequences, Professor?” she asks, her voice a mix of mock innocence and breathy anticipation.

I let my gaze trail slowly, deliberately down her body. Her dress is barely clinging to her shoulders now, the fabric slipping lower with each subtle movement she makes. “The kind I’m not sure you’re ready for,” I murmur. “You have no idea how I like it, Ms. Swallows. I could have deviant proclivities.”

Her lips part, hunger filling her gaze as she whispers, “And what if I’m not afraid, Mr. Pissarro? What if I want to be deviant with you?”

“Then you should pull your skirt up and show me your panties,” I command.

Her breath quickens again as she slides her hands higher, jerking her skirt up to her hips and slowly spreading her legs. Her panties are even more soaked than they were a few moments before, the damp fabric clinging to her sex in a way that nearly destroys the last of my control.

I circle her wrist with my fingers, guiding her hand to her own body, pressing her palm between her thighs. “Touch yourself, Ms. Swallows. Show me how you’d get yourself off if your professor wasn’t watching.”

She gasps, her eyes widening, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she obeys her deviant professor, rubbing herself through the fabric until her lashes flutter and she’s making soft, eager sounds that have my cock testing the integrity of my zipper.

“Look at you,” I rumble, slowly working open my belt as I watch her play with herself. “You’re a good girl, Ms. Swallows.”

“I want to be good for you, Professor, I really do, but I…” She whimpers, her hips shifting restlessly against her own hand. “But I want you so much. I want you inside me, not my fingers. Please?” She pulls her panties to one side, baring herself to me completely.

A second later, my lips are crashing into hers as I jerk her panties down to just above her knees. I drag a finger through her slick heat, teasing her entrance before circling her clit. She moans, her head falling back as she clutches the edge of the desk for support.

“Why are you so wet, Ms. Swallows?” I ask, my voice tight with control. “Are you like this with the boys in your class, or is this just for me?”

“Just for you, Professor,” she gasps, her thighs trembling as I rub slow, deliberate circles over her sensitive skin. “Just for you.”

“This drenched little pussy is practically begging to be fucked,” I murmur into her ear. “Is that what you want, Ms. Swallows? To be fucked on your professor’s desk?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice breaking on the word.

“Say it. Tell me how much you want to be fucked.”

“Please, Professor,” she whispers, her hips bucking against my hand. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl.” I step back, my fingers leaving her just long enough to shove my pants and boxers down. Her eyes go wide as she watches me stroke myself, the tip of my cock glistening with need. “Off the desk and turn around,” I order, my breath coming faster now, too.

She hesitates for only a moment before sliding off the desk and turning to bend over it, her hands braced against the wood. Her skirt is bunched around her waist, her panties still pushed to the side, and the sight of her like this—bare and ready for me—makes me curse under my breath.

I grip her around the waist, loving the way she moans as my cock brushes against her slickness. I reach down, positioning myself, teasing her with just the tip as I ask, “Is this what you were imaging when you decided to seduce your professor?”

She moans and squirms in response, pressing back against me, trying to force me deeper, but I grip her tight, holding her in place.

“Tell me, Ms. Swallows,” I say, my voice low and steady. “Are you a dirty little girl who needs to be fucked hard?”

“Yes,” she cries out, her voice thick with desperation. “Please!”

Heart hammering in my chest as I fight to go slow, to draw this out for both of us, I push into her swollen folds, savoring the way her body stretches to accommodate me. She moans and her pussy gushes fresh heat over my bare cock, snapping my control like a thread.

She cries out, her hands clawing at the desk as I fill her in one swift, savage thrust.

“Good girl, so fucking good,” I groan, gripping her hips as I take her with a wild abandon, setting a punishing rhythm that has her crying out with each thrust.

Her back arches, her body meeting mine with every stroke, and the sounds she makes—raw, desperate, shameless—drive me wild.

“But I’m not using protection and I don’t pull out,” I pant, leaning over her, my chest pressed to her back. “I hope you’re ready for me to come inside you, Ms. Swallows, to fill this wet little pussy.”

She whimpers with desire, her head falling forward as I drive deeper, hitting a spot that makes her legs tremble. “Oh God, Anthony. Anthony!”

I reach around, finding her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles as I thrust into her, so close to the edge I’m nearly blind with it. But I force myself to wait until she shatters with a scream, her body clenching around me, before I let go.

I come with a roar, my release crashing through me in waves of bliss as I empty my balls in thick, hot streams deep inside her.

And for a moment, the world stops, and it’s just the two of us, tangled together, sweaty and sticky and smelling of sex in my tiny office.

When I finally pull out, reaching for tissues on the far side of the desk, she turns to face me, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen.

There’s a gleam of wicked exhilaration in her eyes, and I can’t help but laugh as I reach for her, pulling her into a kiss that’s as soft and sweet as our role-playing was dirty.

“That was so fun,” she whispers as I wipe come from her thighs and clean up my cock before tucking myself back into my pants.

“So fun,” I agree, tossing the tissues in the trash can nearby. “You’re an excellent student.”

“And you’re a very bad teacher,” she replies, her voice full of warmth as she grins up at me. “Next time would you spank me a little? For being such a shameless hussy who’s trying to seduce her professor? I think I’d like it.”

I laugh again and kiss her forehead. “I think that could be arranged.”

She exhales a happy sigh. “You’re good to me. And I love you. And now I’m hungry.”

“Then, we’ll need to feed you,” I say, the moment so perfect and my girl so beautiful, I can’t make myself wait or stick to the plan. “But first I have a question for you.”

She blinks at my shift in tone. “Everything okay?”

“More than okay,” I say, reaching for the ring that’s been burning a hole in my pocket all day. “I had an elaborate plan for dinner—champagne with our bagels at the cat café, Pudge bringing this over in a locket…but this feels right. And I don’t want to wait anymore.” I open my palm, revealing the vintage engagement ring I bought at Sotheby’s last week, an Art Nouveau masterpiece as elegant and timeless as she is.

Her hands fly to cover her mouth, her eyes wide as I sink down on one knee in front of the desk. “Maya Swallows, you are the best person I’ve ever met. Every day with you is my new favorite day. I love your good heart and your enthusiasm and your drive. I love your passion and your silliness and your sweetness. But most of all, I love the way you love me.” Her eyes begin to shine, making my throat go tight and my next words emerge rougher than the ones that came before. “You’ve made my life so much brighter than it’s ever been. And all I want for the rest of that life is to share it with you, hopefully making you as happy as you make me.”

Swiping tears from her cheeks, she nods. “Yes,” she says, a smile brighter than any diamond stretching across her face. “Yes. You’re all I want, Anthony Pissarro. Just you and me and as many days together as we can beg, borrow, and steal.”

I slip the ring on her finger with shaking hands before pulling her in for a hug so tight her feet come off the floor. “Love you, baby,” I whisper into her hair.

“Love you, too, baby,” she says, the sweetness in the words making my chest tight with gratitude. When she pulls back, I soak in the smile on her face, wanting to memorize every second of this. Of her. “I can’t believe you had this in your pocket the entire time you were banging your naughty student,” she laughs, holding up her hand to study the ring. “Wow, this is pretty. I love it so much, Anthony. Really. It’s beautiful.” She looks up at me again, her eyes shining. “And it means I’m going to be yours.”

“I’m already yours,” I reply, drawing her against me as she moves back into my arms, cradling her close.

Later, at the restaurant, we’ll celebrate with Pudge and the staff at the cat café. We’ll call our families and friends, share the news on Maya’s social media, and do all the things people do when they’ve decided to roll the dice on forever.

But right now, holding her close in the fading light of my office, surrounded by books and lesson plans and all the dreams we’re making a reality together, I’m so glad it’s just the two of us.

Just me and my girl.