Page 2 of Pretending I'm Yours

“I can wait,” she whispers as she leans into me, her arms wrapping around my neck. “But I want you to fuck me. That made me so wet, Anthony. I had no idea it would turn me on so much. I want you so much right now, it’s crazy.”

I reach between her legs, groaning as her slickness coats my fingers. “That is crazy. The only thing crazier is you thinking I’m going to make you wait. Lay back on the bed and spread your legs, angel. I’m going to fuck you with my mouth before I fuck you with my cock.”

“Anthony,” she says, the way she says my name—like a prayer and a promise— making it the best word I’ve ever heard.

I’ve never been a big fan of my name, but with Maya…

“I would sell my soul to hear you say my name like that every day,” I say as I kiss my way down her stomach. “Like you can’t wait for me to take you. Like you can’t get enough.”

“I can’t,” she says, moaning as I slide two fingers into her hot pussy. “I’ll never get enough.”

And neither will I.

Which is why I have to put an end to the fucking lies.

You’ll tell her tomorrow, I promise myself as I suck her clit into my mouth.

But for tonight, I let myself get lost in the pretend one more time.

This pretend that feels more real with every passing second…

one

Four days earlier…

Anthony Pissarro

A man discovering his perfect life

isn’t so perfect anymore…

I turnright on William Street, heading uptown, the sticky snow slapping me in the face as if to say—wake up, man! Wake the fuck up and turn around before you destroy everything you’ve worked forty years to build.

The voice is right.

This isn’t me. I don’t make impulsive, life-altering decisions. I don’t make impulsive decisions—period.

I’m a logical man with a good head on my shoulders.

Most would say agreathead…

As a former math prodigy who graduated high school at thirteen and earned two masters’ degrees—in finance and behavioral economics—by twenty, I had offers to work at thetop investment firms in New York City before I was old enough to order a beer at my uncle’s dive bar. By twenty-five, I’d been scooped up by an up-and-coming private equity firm. By thirty-two, I was leading that firm to brave new heights, proving my predecessor wasn’t a fool for hiring someone half his age to steer Baxter and Halloway onward into an increasingly complex financial landscape.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to see the patterns other people miss, to cut through the noise and make the tough calls needed to keep my life—and my career—on course.

So…what the hell just happened back there?

I curse beneath my breath as I pick up speed out of the Financial District, heading into Chinatown. I drag a hand through my snow-dusted hair, wondering where I left my hat.

It’s probably back in my office along with all the rest of the personal belongings I asked my assistant to box up on my way out.

Out…

I’m out.

And there’s no going back…

One hour earlier…

---