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    Cursed Inheritance
    Cursed Inheritance
    Cursed Inheritance
    Ebook130 pages1 hour

    Cursed Inheritance

    By KAROL MOORE

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    About this ebook

    Charlotte Evans is doing badly in life and in love. But when she meets Joseph Hawkworth, the man of her life, she just lets him go.

     

    Suddenly she receives unexpected news that could change his life, only if she can get past the deal with the insufferable Charles Marx, a tycoon who only seems to care about money and power.

     

    Suspense, passion, sex, intrigue, revenge and betrayal: a steamy dark romance novel to read in one sitting.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTHE SENSUAL PARADISE
    Release dateDec 22, 2023
    ISBN9798223024262
    Cursed Inheritance
    Author

    KAROL MOORE

    I am just a middle-aged woman who wants to share my sexual fantasies. I grew up in North Carolina and currently live in Pasadena, California. Many of my sexual experiences are secrets, I never stop living them or seeking new ones. Nothing in these books has affected my marriage or family life.

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      Book preview

      Cursed Inheritance - KAROL MOORE

      Chapter I

      ––––––––

      Rays of light from a yellow sun streamed through the window, I felt hammer blows as if a group of masons were building a huge cathedral inside my head.

      I hadn't gone out for drinks in almost a year, let alone on a Wednesday, right in the middle of the work week.

      It was my best friend Camila's birthday and I couldn't miss it, the last time she had invited me I had stood her up because I didn't feel like going out.

      This time don't let me down Charlotte. Only you and I will go, Camila wrote me the day before.

      I could not fail her. Outside of my work environment Camila was the only person I had any interaction with.

      So I said to myself, just one margarita and that's it. And indeed it was just one margarita, but followed by two mojitos, a whiskey and I don't know how many shots of tequila. Then I lost count.

      I opened my eyes, I was thirsty. My eyelids were heavy as if they were made of lead. With half-open eyes I could see the mess in my room: pants and a man's shirt, my skirt, top and underwear scattered everywhere, a couple of half-drunk bottles of alcohol on the shelves. The TV screen was on with no volume on an erotic movie channel. Vestiges of a night that promised to be quiet and ended up being a roller coaster of sorts, though I couldn't remember what had happened.

      Blindly, my hand fumbled frantically on the nightstand to grab my phone to check the time. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning. The string of alarms I set to wake me up had been deactivated, but I didn't remember setting it. I felt disconcerted. At least I was in my bed, in my home.

      I checked the messages and I had one from Camila where she told me she had arrived home and asked me if I was home too. It had been sent at 2 a.m., but I hadn't read it. She had no additional messages, so I assumed she fell asleep, she was probably as drunk as I was.

      I made an effort to get up and walked almost at a crawl: I remembered that I had arrived home in a cab and that someone had carried me up the stairs. I don't think it was the cab driver, was it?

      At that moment I realized that I had slept naked and was wearing nothing from the waist down. Everything was a blur: the pieces of the puzzle from the night before still refused to fit together.

      I stopped in front of the mirror and looked at myself with a puzzled expression. My hair was disheveled, my makeup was smeared and I had the shadow of a bite on my neck. I looked terrible, but at the same time I felt very sensual, even though I hadn't shaved my crotch. That dark brown triangle was my only clothing. I felt as if I had had some kind of very long wet dream that left me full and happy.

      I was running late for work, but that feeling of enjoyment was stronger than the worry... I didn't want it to fade away.

      I drank water from the sink as if it were a newly discovered oasis in the middle of the desert. I was very thirsty and my dizziness was due to dehydration from so much alcohol consumed. My hair smelled terribly of cigarettes, even though I didn't smoke, but it was normal for such smells to be contagious in a bar. I might have made out with someone on the smoking terrace of the place, but whose pants were they? My ex's? At what point did I take them out of the closet?

      There were many questions; although the most important one would be: why was I keeping my ex's pants after more than a year of breaking up?

      Today I will throw them out, I said to myself with resolution.

      Steam began to fill the bathroom as I turned on the hot shower. The mirror began to fog up and my face blurred from the glass, hidden behind the layer of steam.

      Under the hot water, I regained some of my composure. Along with the lather of shampoo and soap, I let my worries slide down the drain. It didn't matter if I was an hour late, it would be worse if I arrived unpresentable. Engineer Raul was very particular about the appearance and freshness of his staff. I stuck to the rules and pretended it didn't matter if I was just a pretty face and body.

      As I lathered up, I made an effort to piece together the meager fragments of the night before. I had gone out with Camila to the Volga, a bar in downtown Baltimore, that much was clear. We had drunk a little, and then a lot, that much was also clear. We laughed, she told me about the definitive end of her relationship with Emilio. We had another drink. We were at the bar and one of the very handsome and friendly bartender told us to go to the VIP area and he would bring us whatever we ordered. I assumed that Camila was the one who deserved this flirtation, she was the birthday girl and needed to relieve her spite.

      From then on, my memories became blurred. How had I arrived home? Who carried me in their arms? Had I come alone or accompanied?

      A vague flash of memory suggested that someone had helped me get home in a cab. A stranger? A friend of Camila's? Another ex of mine who had shown up at the bar? I didn't know. My mind seemed to have decided to pause recording that part of the movie and I guess later, after I'd had a bite to eat and several coffees, I'd remember what was important.

      Yes, a hot, strong, steaming coffee... The aroma of a freshly brewed coffee invaded me. That's how strongly I wanted to drink one. It made me happy that familiar aroma that felt so real that indeed... it was real.

      The smell was coming from my kitchen and I could even hear the coffee maker squeaking. No, I was not alone. There was an intruder... and he (or she?) was making coffee.

      I finished the sweet shower with a bittersweet feeling, as I was really enjoying the warm water on my skin. I cleaned my head as much as my body, but the confusion persisted. I pulled my hair up in a bun, wrapped a towel around me and stepped out.

      When I opened the door, the cloud of steam building up in the bathroom escaped and dispersed inside my apartment. Before I reached the hallway leading to the kitchen, a tall, stocky man with a trimmed beard, sharp green eyes and completely naked cut me off.

      I froze, I couldn't even scream, my first instinct was to put my hands to my mouth. At that moment my towel fell off and my round naked breasts were almost touching his chest. The stranger lowered his gaze and so did I, so I saw not only the towel on the floor but also his private parts. My gaze lingered there for a few seconds longer than it should have.

      She bent down, picked up the towel and draped it over my shoulders until it covered my breasts. He did it very gently, but that gesture was not enough to get over my fear, as my mind still could not process why he was there.

      The towel only covered my shoulders and breasts, but since at least I had more clothes on than he did I felt a little less vulnerable.

      I took two steps back, just enough distance to examine him. He was thin, but with all his muscles marked. His multiple tattoos on his forearms and thighs slowly reminded me of last night in my bed. Those tattoos were going on in my head like the carousel of a movie.

      As I was not yet clear about everything I still shouted at him in the firmest voice I could:

      Who are you and what are you doing in my house and.... naked?, I asked, not knowing if I should feel threatened or just a confused bad hostess.

      His only response was a soft smile and few words:

      I made coffee, she answered me in a powerful but sweet voice.

      I did not expect such a confusing answer, but at the same time I found it so comforting. Her words conveyed an enormous warmth and one might even say a sense of security: I made coffee, sounded as delicious as the aroma of the steaming beverage.

      I looked down again. I couldn't help but examine her sculpted body while biting my lower lips, as if there I might find some clue to her identity or intentions. One thing I was sure of: thieves didn't usually break in like this, neither naked nor making coffee.

      Don't you remember what happened last night? I remember with intensity every second as if I were living it right now, she said giving me a deep look of desire.

      Last night, last night, I muttered to myself, as I tried to rewind my memory.

      Confusion settled on my face as I struggled to understand the situation. Where had I met this man?

      Last night?, I now exclaimed aloud, as I tried

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