Too Curious Complete Series (Books 1-5) Box Set Romance Series: (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Series)

by Brooke Kinsley

  “She doesn’t hold a candle to you,” Trevor said. “I mean sure she’s beautiful but women like her are jaded and cold-hearted. Do you really think she loves him?”

  I took a closer look at the older man with the chubby, reddened jowls and the balding head.

  “No. I suppose she doesn’t.”

  “Most relationships are a sham. That’s why I don’t get too involved.”

  I felt a sinking feeling in my belly, one that alerted me to the fact that I wasn’t going to be on Trevor’s arm much longer.

  “They can’t all be terrible,” I protested. “There are plenty of happy people in the world who are married.”

  He chewed deliberately as he thought, placing his knife and fork on his plate as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth.

  “Name me three.”

  I parted my lips to speak then abruptly closed them. I couldn’t think of three married people who were happy. Most families I grew up with broke apart and became increasingly splintered then blended.

  “I can’t,” I hung my head. “But I wish I could.”

  “You’re a pure romanticist,” Trevor laughed. “That’s why you’re so special. I imagine the inside of your head is all red roses, chocolates, Paris weekends and Mr. Darcy.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s a lot darker than that.”

  I didn’t mean to sound so sinister. The words hung in the air, awkward and embarrassing. I thought of Sebastian. He was a dark person. Then I thought of the little, small town girl that was Tammy. I was about as mysterious as a girl scout.

  “So,” I tried to change the subject. “Is there no hope for you? Are you never going to fall in love?”

  He shook his head.

  “Hopefully not.”

  “What if it happens anyway? Like you can’t stop yourself.”

  He laughed haughtily and leaned his head on his hand.

  “A romanticist,” he repeated. “You have so much to learn. Love isn’t spontaneous like in the movies. You’re not afflicted with a flurry of palpitations like Cupid struck you. It’s more mundane than that. People, through evolution, have learned to need one another to procreate. Over time this has come to mean stupid people like our parents feign romance in a futile attempt at giving their life meaning.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say! How could you be so… cynical? So cruel?”

  He held my hand in his and leaned in close.

  “Practice.”

  Chapter Six

  “Can’t I get a day off?”

  I was pushing my luck, hoping that our day didn’t have to stop here.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  He wrapped an arm around me as we strolled.

  “Are you not tired of me yet?”

  I wanted to spend forever with him. Ask him a hundred questions and lay in his arms as he stroked my hair.

  “I don’t see how anyone could get tired of you.”

  “You’re sweet,” he smiled. “How about you come up to my room for a drink?”

  ~

  His office lay within the heart of Wylde Tower concealed by so many doors and corridors it felt like I was on the path to discovering an ancient chamber.

  “You don’t make it easy to find, do you?” I joked as I watched him press his thumbprint into the fourth scanner.

  “Nobody’s really allowed back here, although I do make a few exceptions.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I said as I tried to dissipate my nerves.

  He didn’t answer.

  At last, a large mahogany door clicked open. I was expecting to see an office like my own, a room with a desk and a large window, a place where I imagined Trevor would see to his great fortune. I imagined walking in to find business books scattered all over the room with maybe the occasional half-empty glass of scotch laying on his desk. What I walked into, however, was more like the Smithsonian. I stopped in my tracks as soon as I took one step inside.

  “What is this place?”

  He laughed as my eyes grew wide. There were glass display cases lining the walls with soft lighting illuminating the priceless articles from below. Yet, as I approached each item, I realized there was something strange going on.

  “What the hell is this?”

  I was staring at a plaster face. It wasn’t like anything I’d seen before, the features were somehow flat, the eyes sunken as though they had deflated. The lips were thin, almost too thin.

  Trevor came up close behind me.

  “I collect things,” he said.

  “Eh?”

  I spun around and saw the strange, lustful look in his eyes.

  “I love the macabre. I can’t help it. I’m such a dark soul trapped in a celestial body.”

  His face appeared more radiant the closer he got to the cabinet.

  “Who is that? Why does he look so strange?”

  I pressed my fingers up to the glass as though I could somehow sense the answers.

  “At one point in time, he was known as the wickedest man in the world. His name was Aleister Crowley.”

  “I’ve heard of him! Wasn’t he some crazy Satanist?”

  He gave me a sideways glance.

  “Those were the rumors anyway.”

  “So what is this?” I asked again.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling he didn’t want to explain it. With a weary sigh, he placed a hand on my shoulder and took a lock of my hair in between his fingers.

  “I hope you’re not squeamish,” he whispered into my ear. “It’s his original death mask.”

  I’d never heard of such a thing but it sent a cold shiver down my spine.

  “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “In the olden days,” he stepped back and began walking around his private museum as though he was a tour guide. “People were crazy for such macabre oddities. Not like today when you’re thought of as a serial killer or a teenage Gothic vampire if you so much as wear a black shirt. People used to love things associated with the dead. They created trinkets called Memento Mori to remind them of how fleeting life truly was. Of course, this was a time when you could kick the bucket from a bad case of the measles. But this,” he tapped the glass. “Is one of my most treasured possessions. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Satanist but Crowley was the most, how shall I say it, interesting men to have ever lived. Many years ago it was common for a plaster cast of someone’s face to be taken only moments after their death. I only wish people still did such a thing. Imagine a world where you could own the moment George Bush died.”

  “You’re insane,” I took a step back from him. “You’re completely insane and I love it as much as I hate it.”

  He burst out laughing.

  “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

  He walked me past a dozen more cases where medical oddities and faces leaped out at me. I kept my head down the entire way and marveled at the shiny texture of my shoes. Something I had never noticed before but somehow now seemed so safe and wonderful.

  We came to yet another door. One that was more mysterious than the last with its black wood and star-shaped handle.

  “This is where I work, mostly.”

  He showed me inside and I was delighted, at last, to be in a room that actually resembled an office. There was a desk, a computer, a bookshelf and a plate glass window. I was back to reality and finally out of his cabinet of curiosities.

  “Take a seat,” he gestured over to a couch in the corner.

  It was made of pure white suede and I was certain that I was going to ruin it. I tentatively balanced my bottom on the edge and tried not to get my hands on it.

  “This is much better,” I smiled. “I could almost believe that work gets done in here.”

  He wasn’t listening. He was clinking glasses and bottles in the drinks cabinet.

  “I take it you’re not having the absinthe again?” he said as he looked over his shoulder.

  “Erm… no.”

  He laughed. I watched as his
muscular shoulders heaved up and down. When he walked over to join me I was pleased to see he had a glass of red wine in his hand. Taking a seat next to me, he leaned back and spread his legs, arrogantly placing an ankle on his opposite knee. It made his groin bulge and I blushed and looked away. He knew the impact he was having on me, knew full well how wet he was making my panties.

  “You have the strangest quirk of getting shy at the weirdest times,” he said as he stroked a hand down my arm.

  It wasn’t going to be long until my body gave in and I would be his. I already felt myself melting, felt my body leaning closer to him, so close that I could smell his rich cologne. I breathed it in and let out a deep breath.

  “There are so many things I have to ask you,” I squeaked nervously before taking a sip of wine. “You’re a real man of mystery.”

  “Oh really? And what do you want to know?”

  “Last night. You knew I was there, didn’t you? You would have been able to hear me pleading with the butler.”

  “Maybe… I mean well, yes. I may have heard a voice and thought it was you.”

  “Well, why did you not come to speak to me?”

  “I told you. Ophelia can be so difficult. She’s jealous of you, you know.”

  “So you’re telling me she’s in charge of you, is that it?”

  A stormy look came over his eyes.

  “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”

  He was mad, really mad, but he attempted to keep his cool, sitting back in his seat as though wasn’t bothered. But I could tell he was, his foot was jittering up and down and he was tapping a manicured finger against the side of his glass.

  “Let’s put some music on!”

  He jumped up and wandered over to a record player that was situated by the window.

  “You like music, don’t you? I mean real music, not that crap that’s in the charts.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Huh…” he gave a little derisive laugh.

  I was conflicted and confused. There was something so bizarre about him, he was a real dark horse but I couldn’t stay away no matter how much I knew I should. He was trouble and full of secrets but it somehow drew me closer, as though I could make him confide in me. What I wanted more than anything was for him to not see my like all the other girls he’d been with. I wanted to see the real side of him, understand what it was like to be inside the head of the handsome billionaire.

  I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of the stylus hitting the record. There was a short scratch and then the music whirled into action. I wasn’t sure what he meant by real music. I’d never listened to anything that wasn’t in the charts before. But as the sound of a melancholy violin began to fill the room, I suddenly understood what he meant. I felt like an ignorant kid. No wonder Ophelia hated me and wanted me as far away from him as possible. I wasn’t anywhere near classy enough to date someone like Trevor, wasn’t from the thoroughbred stock that they came from.

  “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” he asked as he turned around.

  If I were, to be honest, I would have said that I didn’t understand what was so great about it. If I were to tell the truth, I would have said it sounded like a cat being strangled. But I was trying my hardest to impress him so I said:

  “Yeah, it’s awesome, really great.”

  Idiot, Tammy. No one says that classical music is awesome.

  He laughed again, mocking me with that special way he twists up the corners of his lips.

  “Awesome eh?” he joked. “Well if you like it so much, would you care to dance with me?”

  He held out a hand and waited for me to take it. My fingers were trembling as they locked into his. I didn’t know how to dance. I mean I’d been to clubs before, I’d winded and grinded on the dance floor but I’d never truly danced. Not in the way that was expected of me.

  “I’m not sure I know how to,” I said as I stood up beside him.

  I was intimidated by his size. Up close to his chest with his shoulders grazing my ears, I felt like a tiny and pathetic human up against a demi-god.

  “All you have to do is follow my lead,” he explained.

  His voice was hot and moist in my ear and sent a shockwave of tingles across my scalp. My nipples became erect and I gave a little shiver.

  “You ok?”

  He stroked the side of my face.

  “Yeah, just nervous.”

  I looked up at him with pure adoration in my eyes.

  “Don’t be,” he soothed. “I’ll show you. Here, step left like this.”

  I followed his instruction.

  “Now like this to the right.”

  Again, I copied his movements.

  “See? It’s not that hard is it?”

  We were moving in time to the music, the slow violin accompanying us as our hearts beat against one another.

  “Yeah, it is easy!”

  “A girl like you should be in a fancy ball gown, should be at the most exclusive parties. A girl like you should be seen by everyone, should be shown the time of her life.”

  He stopped and stood still, placed a finger beneath my chin and lifted my gaze to meet his.

  “A girl like you should experience every known pleasure in life, even if it hurts.”

  What did he mean by that? A little jolt of anxiety ran through me.

  “You’re so sweet,” he pulled away from me and took a step back. “You’re so innocent and lovely but here you are in the center of this big bad world. You’ll learn the ropes soon enough, know what it takes to be one of us.”

  What the hell was he talking about? He sat on the sofa and beckoned me over.

  “Come here.”

  His voice was gruff and commanding.

  “I’ve wanted to put my hands on you for hours.”

  I looked in between his legs and saw he was hard already. I took a step over and he grabbed me by the thighs, pulling me onto his lap. I stumbled in my heels and collapsed onto him, my skirt in a crumpled heap around my waist.

  His hands were on me, his strong fingers digging into me, finding their way inside my clothes. His erection was pushing into me, making me moist as it ground against my wet panties. Gripping my jaw, he pulled my lips to his. Our tongues met and I lost my breath. It was like heat was radiating from every part of my body.

  His fingertips were tracing their way across my scalp, driving themselves into my skin and tangling around my hair. It hurt, it stung and made me wince but I wanted more, wanted to feel more of him taking control of my body. Then his hands were at his waist frantically pulling at his clothes before he freed himself. He seemed larger than before, wider, more intimidating. I cupped both my hands around the head of his penis and massaged it gently. He let out a grown as he gritted his teeth together.

  "Yeah, like that."

  He was chewing down on his lower lip, writhing as I moved my hands faster and faster.

  "Uuurgh... yeah, do it again. Do it faster."

  I pumped my hands up and down, struggling to hold his almighty size.

  "Get down," he ordered. "Get down on the floor."

  He pushed at my head and I fell between his legs, landing on the floor on my knees, the soft carpet caressing my skin.

  "Here," he took himself in his hand. "Do you wanna taste it?"

  I nodded eagerly and looked up to him with my doe eyes. Softly, he pressed the tip into my lips. For a moment I thought of Sebastian, and how only the night before I had breathed in and tasted the sweet saltiness of his manhood. Then I looked up to Trevor in awe, glaring up at his great stature and dominance.

  "Suck on it," he said.

  I didn't need to be told twice. Swallowing up the head of his penis with my wet mouth, I groaned as I felt him inside me, moaned at the pleasure of feeling his swollen penis throbbing inside my mouth. I sucked as hard as I could, felt the way he leaned back in his seat and threw back his head. I looked up and caught a glimpse of him tearing at his own hair as his eyes clamped shut.
He was on the brink of coming, I could tell from the way his cheeks were tinged pink and from how his abs were clenching as he moved his pelvis in a steady rhythm.

  "Oh, God. Let me fuck your mouth harder."

  He clamped his hands to the back of my head, ramming himself into me over and over again. For a moment I was scared. He hit the back of my throat and made me gag. I lurched forward, my nails digging into his thighs. Then I found my breath and continued, wanting to please him as much as possible. I would have swallowed him whole if I could have, would have pushed him all the way to the back of my throat just to see it bring him a moment of ecstasy.

  The shuddering began in his thighs then spread throughout his body. Then with one violent convulsion, his buttocks clenched tight and his voice ripped out of him, a great big bellowing roar that made my ears hurt. Coming hard, he ejaculated in between my lips, the sour liquid spurting into the back of my throat.

  I reeled back and sat on my heels, coughing and wiping my face with my shirt sleeve.

  "Good girl," he gasped.

  He sat up straight and looked down at me. Noticing my smudged mascara, his face softened and he pulled me to him, enveloping me in a hug.

  "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

  "No," I smiled despite my eyes stinging. "Just not used to it. I'll do better next time, I promise."

  A wide smile spread across his cheeks.

  "You're learning fast."

  He stroked my cheek before kissing it. Pulling me back onto his lap, I wrapped my arms around him and cuddled him close, feeling his hard muscles up close to me. Closing my eyes, I reveled in the feeling of being held by him, of being encapsulated by his powerful body. His hands were warm as they held me, his face smooth as he breathed into the side of my neck.

  "I can feel how wet you are," he whispered into my ear.

  Embarrassed, I looked down and saw I had created a wet patch on his pants.