Epilogue

epilogue

?. . .?

Three years later

Zander

I close the door to my office, locking it behind me with a satisfying click. Chrissy stands before me, her curves hugged by that sinful black dress I love so much. Even after three years of marriage, the hunger for her only grows stronger each day.

"Mr. Shaw," she purrs, running a manicured finger down my chest. "You wanted to see me?"

I grab her wrist, pulling her flush against me. "Always, Mrs. Shaw. I'll never get enough of you."

My hands roam her body possessively as I claim her mouth in a searing kiss. She melts into me, soft and pliant, her desire matching my own. I lift her onto my desk, shoving aside papers and pens. Nothing else matters when I have my wife in my arms.

I hike up her dress, revealing silky thighs and lacy panties. "You're so sexy, baby. I want to fill this sweet pussy with my cum. Put my baby in your belly."

She moans as I rub her through the damp fabric. "Yes, Zander. I want that too. Want to carry your child."

I nearly rip her panties in my haste to remove them. She helps me unbuckle my belt and release my aching cock. I position myself at her entrance, teasing her slick folds. "Tell me you're mine, Chrissy. Forever."

"I'm yours," she breathes. "Only yours. Always."

With a powerful thrust, I bury myself deep inside her welcoming heat. She cries out in pleasure, nails digging into my shoulders. I set a relentless pace, driven by an all-consuming need to claim my wife.

Chrissy's face is flushed, eyes glazed with passion as I take her on my desk. Her hands clutch at me desperately, urging me deeper. I can never resist her, this gorgeous woman who owns my heart so completely.

"That's it, baby," I grunt, pounding into her willing body. "Take my cock. Gonna fill this pussy so full."

She whimpers and writhes beneath me, lost to the pleasure. I feel her walls start to flutter around my shaft and I know she's close. I reach between us, finding her swollen clit. I rub firm circles and she shatters with a keening cry.

"Zander! Oh god, yes!"

Her pussy clenches me like a vice as she comes undone. It's too much, the erotic sight and sensation sending me over the edge. I bury myself to the hilt and explode inside her, marking her womb with my seed.

"Fuck, Chrissy! Take it, baby. All for you," I groan, emptying every last drop.

We stay joined as the aftershocks ripple through us, foreheads pressed together. I pepper her face with soft kisses, savoring the intimacy. She sighs contentedly, snuggling into my embrace.

"I love you, Mr. Shaw," she murmurs against my lips. "More than anything."

"I love you too, Mrs. Shaw. You're my world."

We reluctantly separate and right our clothes. She's always beautiful, but when she's all disheveled from recently being fucked, she takes my breath away. I cup her face tenderly, still in awe that this incredible woman chose me. Chose us .

Chrissy bites her lip, eyes sparkling with a secret. She takes my hand and places it low on her stomach.

"Zander...I have something to tell you." She smiles radiantly. "I'm pregnant."

My heart stops, then kicks into overdrive as her words sink in. Pregnant. My wife is pregnant with our child. Joy surges through me, so intense it steals my breath.

"Really? You're sure?" I manage to ask, voice rough with emotion.

She nods, happy tears shimmering in her eyes. "I took a test this morning. We're going to be parents, Zander."

I crush her to me, burying my face in her fragrant hair. "Oh Chrissy. You've made me the happiest man alive. I can't wait to start our family together."

I drop to my knees and press reverent kisses to her still-flat tummy. She threads her fingers through my hair, cradling me close. In this perfect, shining moment, I feel complete. All my dreams have come true, with the woman I adore by my side.

Rising, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the leather couch. I sit and settle her on my lap, needing to keep her near. She curls into me trustingly, fitting like she was made just for me.

"I hope they have your eyes," I murmur, picturing a little boy or girl with Chrissy's soulful gaze. "And your smile. Your compassion."

"And your strength," she adds softly, tracing my jaw. "Your loyalty and big heart. You're going to be an amazing father, Zander."

Emotion clogs my throat. I swallow hard. "You've already made me a better man, Chrissy. Now you've given me the most incredible gift. I'll spend my life cherishing you both."

I seal my vow with a deep, tender kiss, pouring all my love and devotion into it. She responds with equal fervor, winding her arms around my neck. The kiss turns heated, desire simmering in my veins. I trail my lips down her neck, suckling the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Let me show you how grateful I am, Mrs. Shaw," I rasp, hands molding her curves. "Let me worship this gorgeous body growing my child."

She shivers, melting into my touch. "Please, Zander. I need you."

I take my time undressing her, layering each new expanse of skin with ardent kisses and caresses. She's a goddess, my very own fertility queen, ripe and lush. I lay her bare before me, a feast for my eyes and hands and mouth.

I make love to her slowly, reverently, savoring each breathy moan and sigh of bliss. I bring her to the peak again and again, wringing out her pleasure until she's boneless and sated beneath me. Only then do I allow my own release, spilling deep inside her, a benediction.

After, I gather her close, nuzzling her damp temple. My perfect wife.

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Keep reading for an excerpt from Unmasking the Billionaire .

Eve

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!" I practically have to yell over the music to be heard by Jenny, my best friend since childhood.

Jenny just smiles her dazzling, millionaire-dollar, rich girl smile at me from behind her sparkling, Swarovski-crystal mask.

We're at some sort of masquerade ball for New York's elite. It's the Halloween party of the season and surprisingly not as stuffy as I'd expected it to be.

Honestly, it's kind of cool with the dim lighting, high-end decorations, elaborate costumes, and all the masked faces on parade, but still.

This isn't my element.

"Oh, come on, Eve! This is fun! You need to lighten up and live a little for once!"

That's easy for her to say. She's a trust fund baby without a care in the world. Her mommy and daddy pay for everything, from her expensive haircut to the designer shoes on her feet. She doesn't have to worry about anything.

Not that I begrudge my bestie anything. I'm glad she hasn't had the same struggles in life I've had. It's how she's able to have that beautiful, happy glow about her.

She doesn't know the worry that I do of how she's going to pay next month's rent or how she's going to juggle the electric bill so that the power doesn't get cut off.

And while she's offered to pay my bills before or let me move in with her, I have way too much pride to accept her offers.

I've been making it on my own since I turned eighteen and aged out of the group home, and I'm not about to start accepting charity now that I'm twenty.

"Your birthday only comes around once a year!" she reminds me, flinging an arm around my shoulder familiarly. "It's time to turn up and party!" She pronounces "party" like "par-tay," and I can't help the smile that ghosts across my lips at her giddiness.

Jenny is a blonde bombshell. Model thin, tan, and tall, she's all bubbly and light whereas I almost look like a goth chick with my midnight black hair, pale complexion, and short stature. And although Jenny's slender, she has a little bit of curves in all the right places.

Me? Nothing. I'm so thin my breasts and ass are laughable at best, and it's not because I don't eat because trust me. I've gone hungry before, and you'll never see me turn down a meal or feign a weak appetite. I can put it away like a football player, and I'm not even the least bit ashamed of it. At barely five foot, though, I'm teeny tiny and still look like a pre-teen—no matter how much I eat.

My best friend and I are total opposites. She's outgoing whereas I'm quieter. I'm not exactly shy, but I don't have a desire to be the life of the party either. She's like the light, and I'm the dark. Seriously, I was born on All Hallow's Eve, and she was born on Jesus' birthday, a perfect little Christmas baby.

"Come on," Jenny grabs my hand and starts dragging me along with her, "let's go find some hot guys."

I roll my eyes. That's another difference between us. Jenny is boy crazy, and I couldn't care less about the opposite sex. I'm not a lesbian or anything, but I just don't have any experience with men.

Survival has kept me from getting into any serious relationships. The most I've ever done is let a few boyfriends in high school kiss me, and I wasn't impressed with those slobbery attempts, so I've never been tempted to even try anything more.

So, yeah, I'm a twenty-year-old virgin. Pathetic, right?

Jenny drags me by a table filled with Halloween-themed cookies, cakes, and other confections, and my mouth begins to water.

I pull back on her hand to try to stay her. "Let's get some refreshments instead!" I yell to her over the pumping music.

She looks over her shoulder at me and rolls her eyes. "I swear, Eve, you're always freaking hungry. I don't know where you put it all."

I smirk at the obvious envy in her tone. Jenny is the stereotypical gym bunny, counting every calorie she eats to maintain her perfect physique.

"Don't hate," I grin at her smugly before reaching out to grab a miniature black cupcake covered with purple frosting.

I barely have time to pop the bite-sized confection in my mouth before Jenny is yanking on my hand again, pulling me through the crowd.

"Jenny, slow down!" I hiss at her, afraid I'm going to break my neck in these five-inch heels she insisted I wear tonight to make me not look like so much of a smurf. Her words—not mine. Plus, she claims they're just the perfect addition to the lacy black dress she dressed me up in.

I swear sometimes I think Jenny is my friend just because she wants a real-life doll to play dress up with. There's no greater joy for her than dressing me up in fancy clothes, doing my hair and makeup, and dragging me to shit like this with her.

And I go along with it because I love my best friend and want to make her happy.

Her eyes are scanning through all the masculine choices, and then she suddenly stops dead in her tracks.

"Oh. My. God." she breaths out.

"What?" my brows furrow at her melodramatic reaction.

"Check out Mr. Big and Scary," she breathes, and my eyes follow her line of sight and widen when they meet the object of her gaze.

A huge man in a black mask stands in a corner looking surly and brooding, towering over the other guests. The mask covers most of his face except his mouth. Think of the Don Juan mask Gerard Butler wore in The Point of No Return scene in that film adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera . That's what his mask reminds me of.

His hair is dark brown. It's stylishly disheveled, like it's windblown and wild without looking messy. When he tilts his tumbler up and takes a sip of some liquid that's probably brandy or cognac or something else equally expensive, I watch his suit rustle as his muscles bunch with his movements like it's all the fabric can do to contain the beast within.

I don't know who the hell the guy is or what he does, but he exudes power and wealth. He's not wearing a costume like the other partygoers. No, he's wearing what I already know is a custom-tailored suit.

I don't need to be able to see all his features to see that he's gorgeous and dark and dangerous-looking. I've never seen a more perfect specimen of male masculinity, and my heart speeds up as my breath catches in my throat.

I've never reacted to a man this way before, and Jenny notices it if the sly, mischievous grin she gives me is any indication.

"I dare you to go over there and kiss him," she elbows me.

I laugh and push her back. "You're crazy! I'm not going to do that! I don't even know the guy."

"Exactly!" Jenny's eyes are excited. "You don't know him…" her voice sing-songs, "he's super smexy."

I roll my eyes. Only Jenny would make "smexy" a word in conversation.

Jenny ignores me and goes on, "You're twenty years old today, and you've never had a decent kiss."

I glare at her, suddenly wishing I hadn't told her all the embarrassing details of my failed boyfriends.

Again she ignores me and keeps ticking off reasons I should follow her insane suggestion. "It's dark in here, and you'll never have to see him again. You can simply go lay one on the hot stranger and have a great memory for your birthday, and then we'll go eat cake and dance and party and everything will be perfect! You have nothing to lose and everything to gain!" she says happily.

I stare at her like she's sprouted another head.

Jenny is seriously out of her mind sometimes.

I'm laughing and shaking my head ‘no' at her when she narrows her eyes and adds, "Plus, I'll give you a thousand dollars if you do it."

My laugh dies off as I nearly choke. "Whoa, wait. What?" I shake my head at her. "You can't be serious, right?"

Jenny's not laughing, though. She's looking at me challengingly with that I-want-to-get-you-in-trouble look that only a best friend can have.

"Dead serious. I'll give you a thousand bucks to walk over there and kiss that guy." She nods her head in his direction before that evil twinkle enters her eyes again. "And not just a quick peck on the lips. A real kiss. Like with some tongue."

I glance back over at Mr. Smexy. Jesus, did I just refer to him as Mr. Smexy in my head? I obviously need new friends. Jenny is rubbing off on me too much.

The man might be good-looking, but he's terrifying too. God, he could crush me with one hand.

And what the fuck will he think when some random girl comes up and kisses him out of the blue?

He'll probably have me arrested.

I'll embarrass the hell out of myself.

God, am I really considering this?

But, fuck, a thousand dollars? That'd give me a huge boost on paying my bills.

I look back over at Jenny. She's grinning at me impishly. She knows my struggle, and I think she halfway expects me to chicken out and not do it.

And that is what cements my decision.

I cross my arms and tell Jenny, "I want it in cash."

I see the surprise skitter across Jenny's face before she raises one delicate eyebrow and smiles like the Cheshire Cat, the glee practically oozing off her as she claps her hands together and laughs, "You got it, babe."

Before I lose my nerve, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and begin making my way over to the corner where Mr. Smexy skulks like some kind of standoffish canine.

I can almost feel Jenny's eyes boring a hole into my back, taking in the whole scene.

A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars , I chant in my head with each step I take.

As I get closer to him, he starts to notice my approach.

His head tips up, and his eyes laser in on me. The lighting is so dim where he's standing, it's hard to make out his features, but his eyes are golden and almost seem to glow like he's a vampire or wolf or something.

I swallow nervously and try to calm my racing heart.

A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars.

I just hope he doesn't bite me.

Lucian

My eyes are trained on a tiny form making its way in my direction, and they narrow as it gets closer.

It's dark in here, and lights flash out on the dance floor, but I've sequestered myself in this corner for a reason.

I don't want to be bothered.

In fact, the only reason I'm here is to meet with a business associate, and the fucker is late.

I'd much rather be back at my mansion. Alone. Secluded. The way I like to be.

I have no use for people beyond employing them.

Social settings aren't my scene and for good reason. The only reason I agreed to see my associate here is because he's only going to be in town for one night, and this is where he's going to be.

For some God forsaken reason.

And it's a masquerade-themed Halloween ball, so I can cover my scarred face. It's not that I particularly give a fuck what people think about it. I know that I'm still considered handsome, that maybe the cut that spans right side of my visage simply gives me that allure of danger that some women find so enticing.

But it's the questions I can't stand. The curiosity. The goddamned nosiness.

People don't know me. Nobody seeks me out. My demeanor is just menacing enough to off-put any curious eyes that glance my way.

So why in the hell does this little slip of a thing seem to be walking my way?

My eyes take in her long, dark tresses that flow down to her impossibly tiny waist. Milky white skin that almost seems to glow in the darkness.

Fuck, she's covered in lace. Her dress must be corseted if the way the two little globes of her breasts are pushed up is any indication. They're not large by any means, but just the sight of that little bit of modest cleavage has my blood roaring in my veins.

How long has it been since I've been with a woman? Since before the incident five years ago at least. I know I have enough money that I can still have plenty of women on my arm if I want.

That's not what I want, though. Shallow companions, fake smiles.

Since I can't have a connection, something real, I settle for nothing.

My hands work just fine.

But Christ Almighty, seeing a female approaching me after all this time has every nerve in my body pulled taut. I'm on edge and feel like I could blow at any moment.

My eyes drag back up her form to her head, most of which is covered with an elaborate peacock mask.

I can't make out her features through the dim lighting and all the ostentatious feathers that cover her face, but I see a flash of midnight blue before she's suddenly standing right in front of me. Her body isn't touching mine, but she's so close that I can feel her heat through our clothes, smell her scent. Violets and vanilla and something I can't identify.

Her head barely reaches my chest, and before I can ask her what she's doing, who she is, hell, anything, I hear her take a deep breath, and then she clumsily grabs my face and pulls it down to hers, pressing her lips firmly, if somewhat nervously, against mine.

I'm so stunned I don't react at first. But then my mind and body registers the feel of her tiny lips on mine. They're pressing softly against them, and then she takes my bottom lip in between her lips in an innocent, single-lip kiss. It's unpracticed, but god there's something so fucking hot about it, I feel a drop of precum bead the tip of my suddenly hard cock.

Hunger, hot and immediate, roars in my chest and bleeds through my veins.

I don't think. I just react, my hand reaching out to fist in her hair as I angle her head up to mine, deepening the kiss.

I suck on her bottom lip before my tongue forces her mouth to part, and she does so with a gasp of surprise.

I lick inside her mouth and taste her. Fucking hell, she tastes so goddamned sweet. Like pure sugar.

She whimpers, and that sound only spurs me on. I growl and mate my tongue with hers, desperate for more. More of her mouth. More of her.

I don't know who the fuck she is, but I know I'm not just turned into an animal because of five years of abstinence.

This is something more. Something primal. Like a wolf imprinting on its mate.

She tastes so fucking right . That might be a cliche, but fuck if I can help what I'm thinking and feeling.

Never, I mean, never, has a mere kiss affected me this way.

Just as I manage to set my glass of cognac down on a nearby table and am getting ready to pull her flush against my body, maybe throw her over my shoulder and stomp out of here caveman style and take her back to my lair and make her mine, she pulls away harshly, her little hands pressing hard against my chest.

We're both panting. I watch her little chest moving up and down as she gasps for breath. Her lips are ruby red and puffy and swollen from our kiss. I'm dying to see her eyes again, to demand who she is, where she came from, why the hell she planted her little lips on mine, but I never get a chance to ask any of that because she never looks back up at me.

Quick as a flash, she turns and runs away from me.

Panic explodes in my chest when I see her flying through the crowd.

Just as I start to take off after her, Adrian shows up and claps a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Lucian, my man!" he greets me jovially.

I glance over at him distractedly, irritated that he took my attention off my little raven.

By the time I look back into the crowd, she's nowhere to be found. Rage and loss bubble up inside me to create a nauseating cocktail of emotions.

And I want to fucking murder someone.

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