No Romeo (My Kind of Hero #1) Read Online Donna Alam

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors: Series: My Kind of Hero Series by Donna Alam
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Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
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Pleasure begins to spiral, the air around me somehow complaisant to it. I’ve never felt this kind of intensity, never needed to come so hard, as Oliver makes good on his earlier promise, burying his head to make a meal out of me.

“Oh, God.” There. “Yes!” I cry out.

“Don’t come.”

My answer is a tortured rasping laugh. Like that’s even possible. Until . . . “What? No!” I protest as his tongue begins to slow.

“Who does this night belong to, Eve?” His voice and his fingers are both rough and tender at the same time. “Whose mouth is going to make you come?”

I almost levitate, chasing the fleeting swipe of his tongue. “Stop, that’s—”

“Mmmm.”

My eyes roll to the back of my head at the vibration against my clit. I was going to say cruel, but . . .

“I could drown in you.”

“Don’t,” I whimper, pressing my hand to his dark head. Too late. He pulls away. His eyes crawl up my body, his mouth lewdly wet and his blue eyes burning.

“Do I have to use my tie?”

“No.” My voice is hoarse, and my body throbs as I withdraw my hand. “No. At least, not the first time . . .”

He smiles like the devil, his tongue lewdly licking into me. “Who, darling. Who is going to eat you out until you scream?”

“You. You’re going to make me come. Can I, please? Please and thank you.”

His laughter is possibly the dirtiest thing I’ve ever heard. Then he presses his mouth to me and begins to eat me like a starving man at a feast. I can’t process a thing as my orgasm begins to crawl through my insides, gathering and building until I’m fit to burst. And I do—I implode, explode, come so hard I definitely lose brain cells. When I come back to myself, I’m sure the only thing keeping me upright is Oliver’s fingers and slow, lapping tongue.

“No. No more!” I twist, every swipe feeling electric.

He stands, wiping my pleasure from his chin with the back of his hand. “I do so appreciate good manners.” His gaze sweeps over me, bold and possessive. I blink, not quite following. Then his arms come around my waist, and he lifts me up, then lays me across the bed as he whispers “Please, please, please” in my ear.

“I did not . . .” My words trail away as he begins to strip off the remains of his shirt, his cuff links making a dull sound as they hit the floor. His skin looks like he’s been dipped in honey, his nipples copper colored and almost flat. My eyes slip down the ladder of his abdominals as his pants come off next.

Thick thighs dusted with dark hair, black boxer briefs and—

His knee hits the mattress between my legs, his cock jutting between us, long, thick, and ruddy. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy smokes I’ll be lucky if I ever walk again.

My gaze slides upward to find his eyes glittering in the lowering light. He looks otherworldly, like some dark beautiful creature making plans to feed on me.

Oh, wait. He already did that.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I’m not smiling,” I whisper . . . smiling. “I don’t have the energy.”

“You’ll rouse.” He drops onto his palms, his lips a hot trail up my throat, the length and heft of him apparent against my skin.

“Condom?” whispers the sensible side of me.

He hums, and something sharp drags against my shoulder. But his mouth is on mine, and I’m tasting myself from his tongue, and we’re licking the salt from each other’s skin, touching and squeezing and—so good.

“Please, I want—”

He pushes onto his knees. A tiny tear. A grunt. My breathy “Yes” as I stare.

“Darling, the way you watch. Like you’re desperate to suck me off.”

Everything inside me twists, the images he paints blooming inside me like heat. But as the solid masculine weight of him follows, my thoughts dissolve.

“Oh . . .” I shiver at the brush of his sheathed cock as, with a broken groan, he moves lower.

“Fuck, yes.” His silky crown nudges against me, his heated words brush past my ear. It sounds like he’s just hanging onto his sanity.

“Please!” I pant, knowing I am.

I hold my breath as he pushes inside me, his soft grunt exhaled against the skin of my neck. “Eve, this is . . .”

I nod—my God, I know. The sensations. The feels.

His hand grips my hip as he surges into my body as though it belongs to him. The stretch is exquisite, his tortured groan everything. He moves over me, once, twice, pinning me to the bed as my moans layer over his, my whimpers over his whispered compliments.

He rises over me, hooking his hand under my knee. The slick sight of his cock as it works me makes me unspool. My hands, grasping and greedy, drag him down, and I press my teeth to the skin of his neck as it hits.



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