Master Class: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (+ Bonus Book 'Silent Daughter 1') (14 page)

I
don't know
when I can expect an answer from the committee, but with every day that passes without hearing anything from them, I lose more and more hope.

Jackson tries to contact me several times. I was going to give him the silent treatment once again, but I know him too well to know that this won't work on him. If I don't reply to his calls and messages, he will just end up at my door again, so there's no escaping him.

Rather than ignoring his attempts of contacting me, I write him a single message with very clear wording, asking him to leave me alone for a while and give me some time to think about what happened.

Of course, he doesn't content himself with that and bombards me with messages, saying that the presentation had nothing to do with us and that I shouldn't let it get between our relationship.

A relationship, he calls it. I don't know what to think of that.

I don't reply to his messages, and hope that he will get the hint and leave me alone. I asked for a few days, that's all. He should give me that.

Roughly a week after the presentation, I'm starting to get anxious, about the committee and about Jackson. The more time passes, the stronger the pressure of being confronted with either of them - or both - grows.

Without telling anyone, I've started to play around with the idea of including Jackson's input. I don't want to do it the exact same way he suggested, but rather - try to find a way around it, thinking of Celia's suggestions of putting limitations on the way businesses can advertise on my app. I feel like I'm making headway with it, but there's no point in pursuing this, if I get rejected by the committee. The thought of them saying no and not having the support I need to make this a reality, weakens my motivation, but it doesn't kill it off entirely.

Maybe I should contact Jackson just to know when I might hear from them. He said there'd be no special treatment - but does that include giving me mundane information such as this?

The question of whether I should contact him or not resolves on its own when I find him in front of my dorm once again, sitting on the exact same bench one evening when I'm walking home from a late shift at the library.

A part of me is happy to see him. The part that is about to fall in love with this attractive man. The sensual part, that misses our time together. My body aches for him just as much as my mind does.

He's wearing a thick coat with a light fur collar and black leather gloves. His dark hair is hidden beneath a gray beanie that makes him look younger than he is. He's so handsome that looking at him almost makes me angry.

"I told you I need time," I say in place of a welcome. "Why can't you leave me alone when I ask you to-"

"Because I can't," he interrupts me. "And because I don't want to. I told you I'm not into silly games, Lana. I'm too old for that shit - and so are you."

I huff.

"Besides," he says, rising from the bench. "I miss you."

He approaches me, while I stand dumbfounded in front of him, my mouth slightly opened as if I was about to speak and my eyes glued on him as he closes in on me.

He places his hands on my shoulders, his signature move to calm me down and draw me in. But I don't want to make things that easy for him.

"Fuck, Jackson, I-"

"I'm not here to kidnap you again," he says. "Even though I'd love to fuck you senseless. I miss you. I miss your body. I miss you quivering beneath me. That beautiful body of yours belongs in my hands, you know that."

I blush at his words and try to ignore the warm throbbing they evoke in my core. Why is it so easy for him to seduce me that way. I feel like wax in his hands, melting beneath his touch and yearning for him to take me, control me, overwhelm me with surreal pleasure.

"What then?" I utter, trying to hide the effect his words have on me. "What do you want?"

"I want to tell you about the state of affairs in regard to your proposal," he says.

My heart stops. I stare up at him, scared of what he might say next.

"They're undecided," he says, neither lifting nor crushing my hopes. I remain in that terrible limbo that's been my companion for the past week.

"What does that mean? Undecided?" I ask, biting my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

"It means you still stand a chance," he says. "Depending on how you do in the recall round."

I look up at him. He's smiling.

"Recall round?" I ask. "What's that?"

"It's a second chance we grant to all the proposals that showed potential, but were not quite there yet. The kind of proposals that went out after their first presentation with two voices for them and three voting against them."

"I could've had three for me if-"

"But you didn't," he interrupts. "And I told you I won't give you any special treatment. I wouldn't do you a favor by doing so."

"Yeah, but why does it feel that you're even stricter with me than with anyone else?"

He frowns at me. "What makes you think that?"

"I don't know," I say. I really don't. After all, I don't know how he reacted to all the other proposals

"There were quite a few projects that I flat out rejected," Jackson says as if he heard my thoughts. "Lana, I really like your idea, and I would love to see it happen. Trust me.”

"But you'll only approve it if I do it your way," I assume grimly.

He shakes his head. "Not necessarily. If you find a good way to do it without my suggestion, go ahead and prove me wrong. I would love to hear it."

He squeezes my shoulders.

"Remember what I told you at the very first lecture: Failure is part of the game," he says. "You just have to get back up."

I nod. "How much time do I have?"

"A week," he says. "I arranged this date as early as possible, because I know you have to study for your finals soon."

"A week?" I repeat. "That's still pretty tough."

He smirks at me. "Not too tough for my girl, I'm sure."

My girl.

The words resonate through me like a beautiful chorus, filling me with elation.

"Okay," I say. "I'll try."

"Good," he says. He lets go of my shoulders and scans the area around us. There's no one in our direct proximity right now, but I know what he's thinking, because I'm thinking it, too.

"I'd love to kiss you right now," he whispers. "But that will have to wait."

We exchange one last smile instead, before he dismisses himself, once again reassuring me that I can do this.

I hope he's right.

That night, I sit down in my dorm and start working on my second chance, consulting with Celia, the only person who supports and knows about my project other than Jackson.

I
haven't seen
Lana outside of class since our last conversation. She didn't ask for any more help and I thought it best for her to do this on her own. While I want her to succeed, I want her to do it herself, at least when it comes to molding the idea and drafting the business plan.

Only three projects have been invited to return for today’s callbacks, and Lana is the first to present. When she walks through the door, I can barely keep myself from walking up to her and forcing a kiss on her trembling lips. Or from making her orgasm right on that table. It would be so easy, too, because she's wearing an endearing pencil skirt paired with her white blouse, looking so innocent and all business.

I hope she has the rest of the day off, because I desperately want to rip that blouse apart and have my way with her.

She said I'm too good for her. This wonderfully strong and troubled girl. She has no idea what those words meant to me. Years ago, it would have been the opposite. I wasn't good enough for anybody, let alone a girl like her. She was of the same opinion when we first met a few months ago, but she was willing to be convinced otherwise. Letting me in, listening to me was against everything she thought she knew. I saw her struggling through her journey.

Now she's standing in front of us, fighting a battle she hasn't even considered an option before we met.

Love is a strong word, but I'm beginning to understand what the meaning behind it could be.

For what it's worth, I'm incredibly proud of her. My girl. My Lana.

She greets us with calm professionalism, but I can tell how nervous she really is by the flickering of her thick eyelashes.

Even now, she's wearing that gigantic ring. It doesn't go well with the outfit and looks almost masculine on her dainty finger. She's touching it, nervously turning it around her finger as she takes position.

She starts her presentation in a very similar way to last time, which is good, because there was nothing wrong with the basic idea and the way she introduced it. As it is so often, the devil is in the detail.

That particular detail is mentioned toward the end of her presentation, and she changed it drastically. She took my suggestion of not only addressing individuals or small groups of people, but also provide room for local business to make their neighbors aware of their existence and special promotions. That is pretty much what I suggested, but she modified my proposition by limiting this opportunity only to small, locals businesses, to give them a head start against big chains, and she also suggests adding a filter mode that will let people decide how much of this advertising they want to see.

I can't stop the broad smile from appearing on my face as I listen to her proposal. She's done great. I'm not surprised, but feel validated in my trust in her. I knew she had something in her, and she does.

Needless to say, she'll get our approval. After this presentation, she has four votes on her side and only one against her, solely based on the fact that she can't code the app herself and - according to my colleague - is thus not qualified to enter this market at all. There are plenty of narrow minded people in the business world as well, that prerogative is not limited to ivy league campuses.

I can tell by the look on her face that she knows how well she did, but I still have to go through two more presentations - one being declined and the other being accepted as well - before we call her back into the room to tell her the good news.

Seeing her eyes light up, glistening with tears of joy, is even more beautiful than seeing her break and lose control beneath my touch. I want to hug her, celebrate her, but I can't as long as we are still here.

After everything is wrapped up, I hurry outside to see if she's still around. Lana is standing in the waiting area, idly chatting with the other guy who got his proposal accepted today. When she sees me, she kindly excuses herself and approaches me, pressing the map with her notes against her chest, her eyes beaming with pure joy.

"Mr. Portland," she says, the coy undertone in her voice evident. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity."

She winks at me, and I want to spank the hell out of her for being such a tease.

"You did very well," I say, trying my best not to touch her in any inappropriate manner. "You worked well with those suggestions, and you made them your own."

"My roommate helped me," she admits. "She gave me the input I needed."

"Is that so," I reply. "And here I was, thinking it was me who helped you succeed."

She leans in closer, casting a quick glance around before she whispers: "You know you are."

She withdraws and clears her throat.

"Also, even though it pains me to agree with you," she says. "You were right. Failure. Never underestimate the value of it. Mine certainly made this project better than it was before."

I notice that she's fiddling with her hands again and look down. She's holding that ring between her fingers, not turning it like she was before, but holding it in a tight grip between two of her fingers.

"Tell me," I say. "This ring. What's the story behind it?"

She instantly withdraws her fingers from the ring and stares up at me, caught in the act.

"It's um... why do you think there's a story behind it?"

"There must be," I assume, taking her hand and lifting it up to my face. "It's such an unusual ring, especially on a hand like yours."

She flinches. "Jackson, not he-"

"It's okay," I say. "I'm just looking at your ring, it's not like we're about to make out."

I pause and let go of her hand, catching her blue eyes. "We'll do that later."

She blushes.

"So?" I ask, nodding toward her hand. "What's the story?"

She sighs and lowers her gaze down on her hand, gently touching the ring.

"It's a promise," she murmurs. "A promise I made with a friend, to myself."

"A promise to yourself?"

She nods. "Yes. A promise to do exactly what I did today - to try to become someone different than my parents."

I'm utterly confused.

"I noticed you wearing that ring the first day I met you," I say. "But you weren't exactly living up to the promise then, were you?"

A sad smile emerges on her tired face. Now that she's no longer carried by the strain of having to present herself, it's quite noticeable how drained she is. I will have to make sure to pamper her in the upcoming weeks to make sure that she has enough energy to study for her finals.

"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 become so important to me, as well.

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

I feel like everyone is staring at me, even though there's absolutely no way for them to 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 of 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 of 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 from the 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 from 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 that 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 any minute now.

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 call things back to mind.

"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 canvas 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 the canvas to read out loud what's written on it.

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 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 while 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. With 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, now using the correct controller for it.

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 sitting left and right from me.

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 know if anyone notices or not. I can be quiet, I have been for 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.

* * *

"
T
hat 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.