The Pretend Boyfriend 2 (Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male Erotic Romance) Read Online Free Page A

chocolate. He begins to move inside her – slow and with feeling. The iciness abates with his movements, and she’s a melted gooey mess down there again. Her vaginal walls expand and contract with a gushy, slithery sensation. She feels . . . oh so satisfied . . . so taken . . . so possessed . . . and years of female empowerment cannot erase this wanting to be claimed by a dominant alpha male who makes her feel feminine and desired and treasured.
    She closes her eyes to savor every thrust, every pummel of her cervical mouth by his cock. He angles his crown at her G-spot, the one he has discovered in their first sexual encounter together, and she can feel the nerve bundle there being stimulated . . . massaged to distraction. She clasps his back, already sweaty, and he bends his head down to cover her mouth with his lips.
    He kisses her as he fucks her – two juxtaposing sensations at either end of her body. His kisses are soft and warm and sweet. Literally sweet. He tastes of ice-cream – all the mixed flavors he has been swirling upon his tongue. Meanwhile, his pumping is raw and vigorous and frenzied, as if his hips possess a kinetic energy of their own.
    She doesn’t want to come before him this time because she already has had her pleasure. But try as she might, she cannot stop the crescendo of her own mounting climax. She might as well try to stop a battering ram. He has already spoilt her for other men, and she does not dare open her eyes because she knows what she will see. His melting chocolate orbs gazing into hers, full of promise and emotion and desire.
    She is afraid that if she looks too deeply into his eyes, she will fall over the cliff for him – madly, truly, and without abandon. And she cannot allow herself to love a man who will not love her back.
    But she can physically take whatever pleasure she can from him while he is still here.
    So she gives in to the mountain that sweeps her to its peaks. She enters that stratosphere of bliss and clouds and refined, shuddering eroticism that she has visited so frequently since she has known him. She screams his name to the ceiling of the parlor as her orgasm – her second of the day, a far more violent one than before – takes her and throws her against a wall of mindless pleasure.
    Oh Brian, Brian, Brian.
    As she comes to, she finds her mouth enveloped in his as he shudders and gasps out her name in his own climax. Are her ears ringing or does she imagine that she hears him whisper, I love you ?
    You can never count on a man to mean what he says during an orgasm.

5
     
    Sam sits at her desk in her narrow office, furiously researching Henry Moody. Piles of papers lie on her desk.
    Outside in the corridor, Kathy Angleston passes by in her mile high heels, wearing a smug expression on her over-rouged face. She glances at Sam, but does not poke her head in to make small talk. Honestly, that woman is covered under an inch of makeup. By all accounts, she has probably wormed her way into Henry Moody’s pants already.
    Sam grimaces. She picks up the phone and punches a few numbers. She holds while the phone on the other side rings.
    The connection clicks.
    “Henry Moody’s office,” says a voice.
    Sam puts on her brightest affectation. “Hello, Ms. Stetson. I am told that you are Mr. Moody’s personal assistant. May I please make an appointment with him?”
    “What is it about?”
    Sam launches into a well-rehearsed mini sales pitch. An elevator speech, to be exact.
    Ms. Stetson interrupts, “Excuse me, Ms. Fox, but Mr. Moody does not take unsolicited sales pitches. We already have a long-standing contract with McConnaughey Supplies. We will call you if we’re interested.”
    “I understand, but when Mr. Moody hears what I have to offer, which far surpasses anything McConnaughey Supplies can do, he will be saving hundreds of thousands of dollars – ”
    But there is already a click on the other line.
    Sam stares at the receiver.
    How the hell is she going to