The Boss Me Series: Complete Billionaire Boxed Set Romance Books (1-3): (A Billioniare Steamy Romance Series)

by Brooke Kinsley

  "This!"

  He whips the cloth off as though he's performing a magic trick.

  "Is that a safe?" Jenny asks.

  "It certainly is!"

  He starts punching numbers into the keypad and a second later the door's sliding open. Inside lays stacks of notes.

  "What the fuck?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. "Is that real?"

  For the first time since he entered, his eyes meet mine. He holds my gaze and if I'm not mistaken there's a radiance looking back at me as though he's genuinely pleased to see me again.

  "Yeah, Stephanie. It's all real."

  Jenny is looking back and forth between us waiting to see if there's any hint of flirtation.

  "It's real because I take this championship seriously. I've donated this money because I want you all to take it seriously too. You're not here to gamble, nor are you expected to frivolously take this as a hobby. This is proper mathematics and only the best of you are allowed in this room. That's why the money stays here. It will be your inspiration to work harder and become better students."

  He grabs a chair and sits in front of us casually. Jenny's blushing while the three boys are sitting up painfully straight as they try to impress their idol.

  "Okay... So let's get started."

  Milton opens a folder up on his lap and taps a pen on his front teeth.

  "It's weird Gibson sent five of you," he says. "I told him I like to pair people up but now it looks as though there'll be an odd one out. Well, that's no big deal. Ok you two go together," he points at two boys and throws them a pack of cards before pointing at Jenny and the other guy. "And you two over there." He throws them a pack of cards and sends them over to a table. "To get you familiarized with what we're doing, I'm giving you each a worksheet and you're all to have a go. Just play around, throw the cards at each other if you must, this is about getting comfortable with the cards. I want you to feel as though they're part of your body. Stephanie, you're with me."

  As the others move over to their tables, the two of us remain beside the whiteboard.

  "You picked five on purpose so I'd be forced to pair up with you," I whisper angrily.

  "Guilty," he smiles and puts his hands up. "I've been dying to see you again."

  "Really," I cross my arms.

  "Yeah, really. I feel like a right, royal dick after the other night. I didn't sleep at all you know. I was trying to compliment you."

  "Hmmm."

  "I was! Fuck, Jesus, I can't believe I messed it up. I was super drunk and just said the stupidest thing."

  I'm not convinced and grab the last pack of cards off the table and begin shuffling them from hand to hand.

  "I didn't mean to say you were fat. I merely meant that you were beautiful. You know, like you're all curvy in the right places like some sort of vintage bombshell. How did you learn to shuffle so well by the way?"

  "You really think I look like a bombshell?"

  "You look like a modern day tattooed Ava Gardner. Holy shit, you're gorgeous. You're so beautiful I got all tongue tied the other day and fucked up. I was so nervous."

  "Bullshit," I say. "You meet women all the time. How could a man like you be nervous?"

  He looks a little offended and sits back in his seat, glancing around to make sure no one else has noticed.

  "I'm a billionaire, not a bloody alien. I have feelings you know. I'm a human and I make mistakes and yes, I get nervous in the presence of stunning girls who also happen to be math geniuses."

  I can't help but smile even though I don't want to.

  "Who taught you how to shuffle?" he asks changing the subject.

  "My dad," I reply.

  "Well he must be really proud of you," he says.

  "He's dead."

  If there wasn't an awkward silence between us already, there is now.

  "I'm sorry," he hangs his head as his face turns red. "I seem to be really good at saying the wrong thing to you."

  "Don't worry about it," I say. "I'm just here to win that twenty grand."

  He sits back up.

  "I saw your test paper. It's extraordinary. A hundred percent. I was sure you must have cheated but Gibson assured me that would have been impossible."

  "So I'm a fat cheat now,?" I scowl and pretend to be offended, crossing both my arms and legs until I'm all tangled up like a pretzel.

  "No! Oh God, I'm such an idiot! It's just that..."

  "I'm joking," I laugh. "Gibson thought I'd cheated as well but I'll be honest that there's no way I could have. I'm too lazy for starters and I wouldn't even know how to."

  "You're very gifted," he says and looks away. "If anything I'm a little intimidated by you. Actually, that's a lie. I'm completely intimidated by you. If I was half the mathematician you were when I was your age..."

  "You'd be rich and famous already. Oh, wait, you are."

  We both share a laugh and I unpretzel myself. I find myself loosening up even though Alex would be horrified to know that I don't hate him anymore. He's the quintessential bumbling, English gent and it only makes him more gorgeous, more approachable, even though he's one of the world's most powerful men. He could buy and sell this whole country if he wanted to. He could do anything he ever wanted yet he's down here in this grungy basement teaching students for free.

  "Let's have a game then," I say as I begin dealing the cards out.

  He grabs a handful of chips and smiles.

  "If you win I'll... give you my car," he says.

  "What? You're not being serious?"

  "I'm being totally serious," he says. "It's out the back."

  "What is it?"

  "A Bentley Continental."

  "Shut up."

  "Seriously, beat me and it's yours."

  "You're making this up."

  "I have seven of them."

  He sits back and tilts up his chin cockily.

  "Seven! Why?"

  "I think they're pretty and I collect them."

  "Bet you do that with women too," I say as I look down at my cards and think I've got a total bum deal.

  "I wouldn't dream of it," he says. "Women aren't things to just own.”

  I sit back and stare at him skeptically.

  "All rich men think they can own women," I say.

  "It's a common misconception," he explains. "In the same way that poor people are often dehumanized, so are rich people. We're seen as money hungry pigs that don't have emotions. We're seen as warmongers who push buttons and make things happen without having to experience the consequences and God forbid we genuinely fall in love. Like everyone else we have mothers and sisters, wives and girlfriends. I adore women if you must know, and that's why I seldom go near them."

  "You're a strange man," I say as I look up from my cards. "I like it."

  Chapter Nine

  The keys are in my hand and I'm looking at the black Bentley in front of me wondering if I hit my head or something, and now I'm in a coma, dreaming that I just beat a billionaire at poker.

  "There's just...no way."

  "Hey, the deal was that if you beat me, you get my car."

  "It's just not possible."

  "Here, let me show you the inside."

  He opens the driver's seat and gestures for me to take a seat.

  "No!"

  "Get in!" he insists.

  Sitting in the driver's seat, the first thing that springs to mind is that I'm on the wrong side.

  "You want to take her for a ride?" he asks as he slides into the passenger side.

  "Erm... I've never driven on the left side before. I'm not even sure I know how to."

  "You'll be fine!" he says. "This thing is sturdy as hell and the roads are pretty empty this time of night anyway."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm positive. Come on. You said you hadn't seen much of London so let's go exploring."

  "This is madness," I say as I twist the key in the ignition.

  The engine barely makes a sound as it sparks into li
fe.

  "You ok?" he asks.

  "Not really. What if I crash this thing?"

  "Why would you do that?"

  "Because the last thing I drove was a pickup truck."

  "Ah... I think you'll do just fine.

  I look over at him one last time and think once again that I must be in a dream. Fuck, he's so hot, I think. And he just gave me a supercar. This can't be happening.

  I glide through campus and past Foxley Halls. I see a group of girls gathered on the steps and instantly recognize Alex's blue hair. I slow down as I pass just long enough for them to turn around and notice me. I see Morgana mouth the words ‘what the fuck’ and the cigarette drops out from between her lips. Alex looks as though she's about to throw up. Then I speed away, the tires screeching below us as I race off. I start laughing. Then I can't stop. I'm laughing so hard I have to brake once we reach the main entrance.

  "That was hilarious!" I scream. "

  "The look on their faces," he laughs. "That was priceless."

  "I can't believe it," I chuckle.

  I'm holding my sides from the pain of laughing so hard and for a moment I'm worried I'll puke. I grip hold of the steering wheel to steady myself and take a deep breath, my cheeks burning as I stifle a smile.

  “Let’s head into the city,” he says. “I told you I’d show you around.”

  Chapter Ten

  Crazy, absolutely fucking insane.

  I'm racing down the city streets with the windows down and the music blaring. Everyone stops and turns to see where the noise is coming from and become green eyed monsters at the sight of me grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

  "Woooh!"

  He's laughing at me while holding onto the roof with his arm out the window, his Rolex catching the pale moonlight as we swerve around the front of Buckingham Palace.

  "I've seen this place in movies," I say.

  "Too many tourists," he scrunches up his face. "Let's head down to the river."

  He's pointing into the darkness and telling me where to go but I'm too excited to pay attention and end up missing most of his directions. I find myself speeding down random streets as he laughs and grips his seat.

  "Slow down! Woah... Where did you learn how to drive? Le Mans?"

  But I'm having too much fun to slow down and I keep going until the fuel light comes on and gradually, I slow to a stop. In the distance, Big Ben looms over the horizon with the river drifting out toward the skyline. I look in the rearview mirror and see my hair's been blown around my head like a bird's nest. I pull it back into place and turn the radio down.

  "What a weird couple days," I say as I reflect on my new life across the Atlantic. "I met you, then I ace that test, find myself in an elite poker tournament and win a Bentley. Now we're here."

  "Now we're here," he smiles back. "You know, I don't mean to sound like a creep but I have to say it. I'm really pleased I met you. You're amazing."

  Embarrassed, I keep my eyes on the distant clock face and try to pretend I never heard him.

  "I mean it. There's something about you..."

  "Remind you of someone?" I ask.

  "No. You just remind of what fun used to feel like."

  "Don't tell me a man as rich as you doesn't have fun."

  He swallows and looks out the window. A group of teenagers is jostling each other as they walk down the street, drinking out of glass bottles as they yell at one another.

  "They look like they're having fun," he says.

  He leans back in his seat and his head falls near to my shoulder. I can smell his shampoo. I have the weirdest urge to scratch his scalp and run my fingers through his hair but I stop myself.

  "Those kids look like trouble," I correct him.

  "Trouble is fun," he says.

  A silence falls between us for a moment. For a long while, we sit listening to the radio as the breeze rustles through the trees beside us. A small rowing boat makes its way across the Thames and I wonder who could be out at this time of night.

  "Milton?" I say as I lean back in the seat, the leather creaking beneath me.

  We're both lying back with our heads touching while looking up at the stars.

  "Please," he says. "Call me Fredrick. Milton makes me sound like a weird, old teacher."

  "Okay sorry. Fredrick, I've been thinking. I don't want this car."

  He doesn't move.

  "I really don't. I feel weird for taking it off you. It's worth too much. It's too life changing in a way. I can't wrap my head around the idea of owning something so spectacular."

  "I insist you take it," he says. "It's worth more than twenty grand. I can promise you that and you earned it. Nobody’s beat me before."

  I lean in closer to him and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Instinctively, he raises an arm and wraps it around me.

  "Can we start again?" he asks. "I really bollocked things up the other night. Let me make it up to you."

  I don't hesitate or wait a single second. Reaching up, I kiss him hard and he responds by tangling his fingers in my hair and gripping my head tightly.

  He's moaning as I brush my tongue up against his, pulling me onto him and then easing the seat down so I'm lying on top of him.

  "Won't someone see us?" I gasp in between breaths.

  "I hope they do," he says and slides his hands up my top.

  He strokes me softly, his smooth fingertips touching over the bumps of my areola. A groan escapes his mouth as he moves down to kiss my neck and he tweaks my nipples hard. I let out a whimper and rip at his shirt. A button pops off as I pull it back to reveal his tight, muscular abs. Then I glide my fingers over his muscles, bending down to kiss his chest as he writhes beneath me.

  He's hard already, the shape of his erection protruding through the tightness of his pants. I run a hand between his legs then grip him firmly in my hand. He raises his hips and bites down on his lower lip as his hardness throbs between my fingers.

  I'm wet, soaking wet and I don't know if I'm drunk on excitement or just getting carried away with the newness of the situation but I want him in me. I want to fuck him furiously and feel him pull at my hair, pummel inside of me and wrap his fingers around my pale neck.

  I fumble to remove my jeans and pull my top up around my shoulders. He gasps as he sees my breasts and sits up to suck on them but I push him back down into the seat and pin him back by the shoulders.

  "Don't move," I whisper. "I want to fuck you."

  I lower myself down onto him, slowly at first, but I'm too wet and horny to take my time and force himself inside of me until he thrashes against my g-spot.

  "Fuck!" I scream as I ride him wildly, my hips rocking back and forth to a steady yet ferocious rhythm.

  He's biting down on his lip looking divine and grabbing me by the hips. He thrusts himself inside me faster and faster, groaning as his eyes roll back in his head and my wetness drips down between my thighs. I feel close to coming and know what I want him to do.

  "You like being dominant?" I breathe into his ear and he pulls me close to him so that our heartbeats are pulsing off one another.

  "You want me to be your master?" he whispers as he kisses a bead of sweat on my forehead. "Because you'd make the most beautiful slave."

  He looks into my eyes and I nod. In one swift movement, he pushes me off him and forces me into the back seat.

  "Put your head down!" he shouts. "Arse in the air!"

  He enters me rough from behind and it hurts for a second, but the pain only makes the pleasure stronger and I'm driving myself onto him more, trying to feel him further and further inside me until I feel as though I'm being impaled.

  "Harder! Harder!" I scream.

  And I reach around to search for his hands and pull them around to my front.

  "Choke me," I say desperately through gritted teeth.

  He doesn't waste any time doing what I ask and he grabs me hard around the throat, squeezing me so tight I instantly feel the breath leave my body as my blood rushe
s to my head. I can feel my pounding heartbeat in my ears speeding up. I'm on the brink of collapsing and struggle to inhale one more time but nothing can pass down my windpipe. My face is burning up and the sounds of the city have drifted away. All that exists are his hands around my neck and the throbbing of his cock inside me.

  "I'm coming," I try to stay but no sound comes out my mouth.

  Then I'm trembling and thrashing back and forth as my sight disappears and my pussy quivers onto him. He lets out a roar and pulls his hands off me and I gasp for air as he ejaculates into me.

  "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he moans as he falls back and away from me.

  I reach up a hand to my throat and feel the heat that's emanating from my skin. We're both breathing hard and struggling to regain our bearings and when I look over my shoulder, I see he's leaning back against the window with his hands clapped over his eyes. Eventually, he pulls his hands away and I see the exhausted though satisfied look on his face.

  "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks.

  "Not any more than I wanted," I say.

  We fall against each other and he hugs me tightly, kissing the top of my head.

  "You're a crazy girl," he says. "A crazy, crazy girl and a perfect slave."

  We kiss softly and lie down on top of the sweat-drenched leather seat. The air is cool and I shiver as I wriggle into a comfortable position.

  "You're getting goose bumps," he says as he pulls his jacket up over my naked body. "So, you like getting choked," he smiles. "I imagined you would be really kinky."

  "Oh did you?" I playfully punch him. "And how often did you imagine that?"

  He smirks cheekily and kisses me.

  "More times than I care to admit."

  We lie in each other's arms until the clouds move across the sky and obscure the moon. Outside, there's the sound of tourists talking and joking in Spanish, their voices fast approaching.

  "I hope they don't stop to admire the car," I say.

  We lie as still as we can for a minute until the shadows move over us and they walk away into the night.

  "I better get back to campus," I say. "I really do have a paper to work on."

  "Do you have to? Don't tell you're leaving me to go home alone."