The Interview Read Online Donna Alam

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
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She nods.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“Yes. I’ll try to be good for you.”

“Next time, try that with a little sincerity.”

Her soft laughter turns to a whimper as I spread her open, sliding a long lick along one side of her pussy, barely grazing her clit. She lifts her hips, trying to control the contact, crying out in frustration as I move lower. I deliver a series of shallow circles and tiny licks, working my tongue higher… before starting again.

Her hands ball into fists, her body taut beneath me as my mouth pays homage to her pussy.

“I’m so hard for you.” A swipe of tongue. A long, velvety groan into the center of her. “You’re so fucking delicious.” A press of lips to the soft rise of her clit. “Like peaches and cream.” My God, the musky, womanly scent of her and the sense of her pale flesh under me drives me to the fucking brink as I slip my hands under her arse, lifting her to my mouth.

“Oh God!” she cries out as I finally inhale her swollen clit. “Oh, Whit!” Her hands reach for my head again before they drop back to the bed.

Leaning on my elbow, I make a rough-sounding tsk. “Oh dear. You know what that means. I’ll have to start again.”

She cries plaintively as I press my head between her legs and begin the sweet, terrible seduction all over again, kissing her everywhere except where she really wants me, where she needs me, my tongue drawing maddeningly close to her clit before sliding away again.

“Whit, please. I’ll be good, just please let me come.” There’s a hitch in her throat, her plea desperate.

“I don’t know that I’m finished.” My voice is a low rumble as I wrap my fingers around her ankle, lifting her foot to the bed. “Not when you pulse so prettily for me.”

“Please,” she begs as her thighs begin to shake. Her pussy contracting in a wave again.

“Maybe I’ll be kind and put you out of your misery.” My tone might be cool, but the knot in my belly tightens as I return my mouth to where she’s wet and hot. “If you tell me what you want. Tell me properly. Use all the filthy words.”

“Please, please, put your mouth on my clit. Suck on it—fuck me! I’ll come so hard for you, I promise. Just please let me!”

Less is more sometimes. And sometimes you just want to hear her beg you.

With a growl, I engulf her clit. I suck on it. Circle and flick. I make out with her pussy until her low moans bounce from the walls of the room and her inhibitions dissolve like sugar on my tongue. The way she rides my tongue, the sound of my name on her lips. It drives me fucking wild, my tongue coated in her heavenly slickness. I’m neither able to taste enough or touch enough—feel enough—as she thrashes, wrapping her legs around my head. A clunk sounds as something hits the floor. The glass water bottle, I’d guess, the thought barely registering as she presses her heels between my shoulder blades, making good on her promise. Pleasure coats her thighs as I lick her again and again until her mouth is full of filth, and her climax a thing of loud, unrestrained beauty.

“That’s it, darling. Ride my face. Come on my tongue.”

I give her no time to come down, no soft licks or delicate tongue as I scramble from the floor, putting my knee to the mattress. Her pussy is a slick slide against my stomach as I wrap my arms around her, lifting her against me.

“What are you…?”

“Just getting us a little more comfortable.” I press her down, and she whimpers at the drag of my cock when I reach across the bed to pull the nightstand drawer open. I move back, simultaneously ripping open a condom with my teeth.

“You’re staring, not that I’m complaining.”

“Of course you’re not.” Her mouth hitches in the corner.

“I wonder what it is you’re trying to imply.”

“Me? Nothing.” The bedding rustles as she gives her head a tiny shake. “You’re just being you, and why wouldn’t you be. But…” She worries her lip a little as though hesitant to go on.

“Tell me.” Her breath hitches, her eyes glued to where I take my cock in my hand.

“Do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?” she asks, her gaze lifting warily.

I give my cock a thorough tug, for her benefit mostly, my smile spilling as slow as honey. “Since you appeared and decided to torture me, my right hand and my cock have never been quite so intimately acquainted. Not since I was a teenager, at any rate.”

“Really?”

“Don’t look so pleased. That wasn’t a compliment.” It absolutely was. “It’s all on you. And it will be all on you if I don’t get this on.” I raise the open condom packet between my forefinger and middle finger.


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