Master Class: A Billionaire Romance

by Linnea May

  “No,” she says. “I wasn’t. Contrary to my friend, I didn’t follow up on that promise at all. She’s already living it, her dream. But I caved in, and did the exact opposite, until…”

  She pauses and looks up at me, her blue eyes radiating.

  “Until I met you.”

  The depth of her words hits me right in the chest. When I decided to teach this class, I told myself that I would be happy if I’d manage to reach one student.

  Never in my life did I expect this student to reach me as well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  LANA

  I leave his office on wobbly legs, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, almost as if I was drunk and trying my best to walk in a straight line for a police officer’s inquisition.

  I feel like everyone is staring at me, even though there’s absolutely no way they know about the little secret I carry between my legs. I can feel it with every step, pushing against my walls from the inside as I walk.

  He has yet to turn it on, and I have no idea if or when he will. A part of me, the dark and kinky side, can’t wait for it to happen.

  The last few weeks flew by in a nebula of warm affection. After I passed the recall round and was approved for support by the angel investors, Jackson revealed to me that he had already set aside the necessary funds for me in an account, and that he did so well before the recall session. All that is left for me to do is to finish this degree. After that, I’m free to follow up on that dream. A dream that even Celia has now become a part of, as she’ll be my official co-founder once she’s done with her own degree.

  I have so much to be thankful for when it comes to Jackson, the man whose attention I earned by dissing him in a way that I feel ashamed of now.

  The sexiest man I’ve ever known.

  We still had to remain careful and secretive about our relationship, but that didn’t stop us from spending as much time as possible together. He marks me with more than just his belt now, and I enjoy every moment of it. I crave it. I crave his rigor as much as I crave his sweetness.

  When he asked me if I wanted to make our last class together as teacher and student a special one, I immediately said yes. Now, in retrospect, I think it would have been smart to think about this at least for a second.

  “I’ll show you just how kinky things can get with me,” he promised once I agreed, and I spent more than a week wondering what he could possibly have in store for me.

  Now I know.

  A vibrating toy has been placed inside me - and he has control of it.

  I walk into the auditorium like any other day, taking my seat in the third row and preparing my things to take notes. I know there will be no need to take notes on anything, as Jackson will only use this last class for a little roundup on the things he talked about during the semester, but I need to keep occupied to distract myself from the toy that’s stretching me inside.

  Why the hell am I doing this?

  Because I like it. Because it excites me to sit in this class, looking like the perfectly good girl on the outside, while I’m hiding this naughty secret beneath my skirt.

  My heart jumps when Jackson walks into the auditorium, wearing a black blazer with a light shirt underneath and gray jeans that accentuate his ass perfectly. He looks incredible. He always does, but even more so that he went the extra mile today.

  He turns his dark gaze in my direction, suggesting a wink, so quick and short that I’m the only person in the room who’s aware of it.

  My pulse races, knowing that he brought the remote control with him, or at least assuming he did. He enjoys messing with my head, and it could just as well be part of his plan to never use the control on me, but have me sit on the edge of my seat during the entire class, fearing that he might turn the toy on at any minute.

  However, his plan is a different one.

  “Good morning, everybody,” he greets the room. An indistinct murmur greets him back. He sets up a laptop, presumably to share a PowerPoint presentation with us. There were very few classes during which he used slides, but it shouldn’t surprise me that he decides to do so today. Slides are perfect to sum things up and review things.

  “We’ll cut today’s class short,” he announces, while he’s still busy setting up his laptop. “I’m sure you all have better things to do with your time anyway, now that finals are coming up.”

  The first slide appears on the giant screen behind him, and he steps aside, reaching into his blazer’s pocket.

  My heart stops when I see what he’s reaching for. Considering the situation, it would make sense for him to produce a little pointer to highlight certain points on the slide, or a remote control so he can flip slides without having to stand next to the laptop.

  But the little controller he’s getting out of his pocket is pink.

  Just like the toy inside of me.

  I hold my breath, preparing for him to turn it on. But instead, he just holds it in his hand for a moment, making sure that I can see it before he turns around to read out loud what’s written on the screen.

  My vision blurs and I can barely hear what he’s saying. My eyes are glued to the little pink controller in his hand.

  “Basically, we’ll just wrap up this class with a little chat about what you might have learned in here,” he babbles, nonchalantly waving the control around. “I’ve prepared a few slides for you to recap this semester, and we’ll talk a little about it afterward. Sound good?”

  He’s scanning the auditorium, obviously receiving no reply whatsoever.

  “Alright, then,” he says, pointing the pink remote control toward the laptop, and toward me.

  A strong tickle erupts inside of me, causing me to flinch in my seat, my left hand clawing on the surface of the little table in front of me while my right one clenches around the pen I’m holding.

  The vibrations are strong and constant, not giving me any time or room to process the sensation. I have nothing to focus on but the overpowering dizziness of the vibrations inside my core.

  “Huh?” I hear him saying, casting a quizzical look at the pink controller in his hand. “This doesn’t seem to be working.”

  My cheeks burn with fiery heat, and I crouch over the table, trying to hide the turmoil between my legs. While the sensation was just plain awkward at first, it’s driving me insane now.

  I can’t believe he’s doing it like this, in front of the entire auditorium, drawing attention to the controller in his hands as I’m bending over my desk and breaking into a sweat as the vibrations are driving through my insides.

  He pointedly hits the remote again and again. Each time he punches the button, the vibrations grow in intensity, toying with my insides and slowly but surely finding their way to my g-spot.

  Fuck, he’s going to make me come.

  I cast a look around, hoping that no one notices my predicament. A gasp escapes my lips when he hits the button again, and this time he’s even looking in my direction. The suggestion of an evil smirk travels across his face, before he concentrates on the canvas behind him.

  “That’s odd,” he says, studying the remote control again.

  “Oh, this is the wrong one!” he exclaims, and I almost collapse as he puts the controller away, leaving me alone with this tantalizing pleasure, still humming inside of me.

  The pink control is replaced with a black one.

  “This is it,” he says, successfully changing the first slide of his presentation.

  The class is giggling and murmuring, but just because of our professor’s wacky behavior, not because they’re aware that there is one among them who’s about to reach her climax at one of the most inappropriate places one could think of. Right in the middle of class, with unsuspecting students all around.

  Somehow, the thought only adds to my arousal, and I find myself wavering back and forth, trying to bring the most intense effect of the vibration to my sweet spot.

  I’ve reached a point of no return. I must come. I don’t kn
ow if anyone notices or not. I can be quiet, I have been the entire time since this started.

  Jackson continues his lecture, speaking as if nothing unusual was going on, but I catch him glancing at me more often than usual, and every time he does, my agitation reaches a new high.

  My release rolls over me with a sudden urge, taking control of my entire being while I surrender. My hands claw into the table top, the pen rolling out of my right hand and noisily dropping to the floor, while I reach the peak of my climax in that exact moment.

  It’s the sound of the pen that causes a few heads to turn my way, but some of them get stuck on me, because they can see. They can see my flushed cheeks, my contorted face and the sweat rolling down my temples.

  Jackson’s eyes are on me, as well. I cast him a pleading look, as the vibrations continue to torment me. He winks at me and reaches into his blazer’s pocket. A moment later, the vibrations stop, and I sigh with relief.

  ***

  “That was cruel,” I say, walking up to him after all the other students have left the auditorium.

  He packs up his laptop and smiles without looking at me.

  “You loved it.”

  I did. A very kinky side of me loved this, a side I didn’t know existed until I met him.

  “I wish you would have been more discreet,” I say.

  He closes his briefcase and looks at me, a warm smile gracing his handsome face.

  “I’m not your teacher anymore,” he says, stepping closer to me.

  I instinctively try to take a step away, to keep up the appropriate distance between us, but he holds me, placing one hand on my back while the other cups my cheek.

  “You’re not my student anymore,” he whispers. “Just my girlfriend.”

  I cast him a coy smile and lean into his soft hand.

  “We can do as we damn well please,” he adds, leaning in for a kiss.

  Our lips meet for the first time in this forbidden place, and I lean into him with passion so deep it feels as if it was our very first kiss. There’s an innocence in this kiss that doesn’t measure up with who we really are. The good girl, turned by her naughty teacher.

  As if he wants to prove my thoughts right, Jackson reaches into his pocket and sends me to another level of bliss.

  EPILOGUE

  LANA

  One year later

  Our glasses clink, and when my eyes meet his, I see deep and honest adoration reflected in them. Jackson is wearing a new suit in dark anthracite with a matching tie, a color that brings out the vibrant green of his attentive eyes. He looks at me with a smile so sincere and happy that it melts my heart.

  We are at a lavish banquet hall inside the hotel that served as a getaway on our first date, if one can call it that. While it was not a proper date with a dinner and a movie, it ended with more than most first dates do. So much more.

  The hall is rather small and intimate, but provides more than enough room for all of today’s party guests and a setting that almost feels too big and too festive for the occasion. Speeches were presented and congratulations were exchanged. I was the first to speak, crazy nervous and flushed with an overload of happiness.

  Now that the formal part of the evening is done, I am finally starting to relax a little and just relish the feeling of accomplishment.

  I still can’t believe that today is all about us, our project, my idea. It would never have come to reality if it wasn’t for Jackson. How will I ever thank this man for the support and love he has been giving me for the past year?

  In my eyes, he is the true hero of the day, but that is not what the event suggests. Today is all about the work I - we - have put into this project for the past year. It was a struggle to get where we are, but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that it would be so rewarding. We are celebrating the success of our app, Neighborhood, and the fact that this was the first month of operating in the black.

  While these past twelve months have been a phase of investing, learning and failure, it looks like we are now entering the stage of success. Of course, it’s a stretch to speak of an entire year, as I was still busy with my thesis and finishing my degree during the first few months. But once that was done, I could finally use all my time and power to make this happen.

  Jackson and his investor angels enabled me to hire a programmer right from the start, as well as providing a salary for me and Celia, who became our marketing girl. She has become a great asset to the company and is not limited by a timid spirit as I am. I could never do what she does as well as she does it. Promote, network, spread our name out there as if we were the greatest thing ever.

  Maybe we are. Now that things are finally falling into place and more and more users are using our app, I’m beginning to feel a certain degree of pride myself.

  However, it’s not the same kind of pride that I know from my family. It’s not labeled by a title or by an esteem bestowed upon me for being the smart girl. It’s a sense of accomplishment in a way that I haven’t known before.

  Quite frankly, it feels amazing.

  “To my little rebel,” Jackson says as he raises his glass. “A good girl no more.”

  “Only for you,” I add, winking at him.

  His gaze darkens and adopts that mischievous expression I love so much.

  “Yes,” he whispers. “My perfectly good girl.”

  He wraps his arm around me, placing his hand on my hip. I’m wearing a dark red cocktail dress that hugs my curves so perfectly, as if it was custom-tailored. Jackson bought it for me, just for this occasion. I have fought off his extravagant presents for months after we started dating officially, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. Accepting his generosity has become a lot easier since I’ve started to make some money of my own.

  I take a sip of my champagne, while Jackson regards me with his loving eyes. He has been especially sweet during the past few days, so much so that it almost scares me. My life is enshrouded in a surreal cloud of wonder, and I’m beginning to grasp more and more of its beautiful aspects.

  Still, sometimes it’s hard to believe who I am now, where I am, and who I am with. I knew I had to move out of my dorm once I received my degree, but when Jackson suggested I should just move in with him, I was sure that he must be joking. We only knew each other for a few months, and most of that time was spent with banter and in secrecy. I was surprised at his certainty at such an early stage.

  “Why not?” he said when we were talking about it shortly before my graduation ceremony. “I have plenty of room, and I…”

  He broke off at that moment and just looked at me. We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and we both knew what he wanted to say. I will never forget that moment, seeing him like that. The handsome, dominant Jackson Portland, holding my hand and looking at me, at a loss for words, as he struggles to express his feelings for me.

  So, I made it easier for him.

  “I love you, too,” I said in a soft voice.

  The smile that appeared on his face will forever be imprinted in my memory as the most beautiful expression I have ever seen.

  I moved in with him a week later, not a doubt left that this was the right decision. There has not been a single moment of regret.

  We were both freed of the confining environment of that college campus, and he did everything in his power to help me with my business plan.

  I love living with him. I love everything about it, even the fights we have. Working together has been a challenge, but I learned so much in such a short time, about the startup world I was about to enter, and about him.

  Just a little more than a year, but we have become close enough for me to know that Jackson is nervous today. He is standing next to me, displaying the same confidence I saw on him when he taught at my school, but I can sense that something is up. His tension is traveling through my veins as if it was my own.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask in a whisper, leaning in closer so only he can hear me.

  He
looks at me, shaking his head a little too fast to be convincing.

  “Nothing,” he says. “Why would anything be wrong on a day like this?”

  He turns away from me and scans the small hall like an emperor assessing his realm. In a way, that’s what this is. Most of the people who are gathered here today are associates of his, people who are working for and with him - and with me.

  My company is still small, with only six employees, plus Celia and me as co-founders, but our support network is nothing to sneeze at. My favorite angel is standing right next to me, but he is not the only one who supported our endeavor financially. The other investors are here, too, the same people who sat in front of me about a year ago, deciding my future as I stood before them with trembling knees and a burning heart.

  I didn’t think I would have a chance with them, but here I am, co-founder of my own little startup, the boss of six wonderful people who worked their asses off to make this happen. All of them are my age or even younger, and despite all the hard work we put into this, we still find time to be silly at our private office in a co-working space. I love going to work, and I love working overtime. I’ve never felt this kind of passion for anything before, and I’ve never had this many people in my life who I could call friends.

  My thoughts of gratitude always travel back to him, Jackson, who is now smiling and nodding toward someone. I follow his gaze and spot Celia who is approaching us with a bright smile on her face and a glass of champagne in her hand - most likely not her first.

  “Hello, lovers,” she pipes as she comes to a halt in front of us. She is especially hyper today and casts a suspiciously broad grin in Jackson’s direction.

  Seriously. Something must be going on. Something that I am not aware of.

  “You seem to be enjoying the champagne tonight,” Jackson remarks, throwing a look at Celia.

  She grins. “Oh, yes I am, Mr. Portland.”

  She winks at him, and Jackson clears his throat, before taking another sip from his own glass.