The Interview (The Whittingtons, #1)

by Donna Alam

“I won’t flatter you like the spider,” he murmurs, “but I might let you come when I eat you later.”

Warmth floods between my legs, and I’m pretty sure I whimper. “Such a pretty sound.” I feel the loss of his heat immediately as he leans away again. “Hurry now. Show Daddy what he wants.”

“Oh, I’ve no intention of stopping,” he whispers. “Yes, that’s it. Such pretty fluttering.”

how perfectly she followed instructions and how beautiful she looked as she unraveled, gripping my arm and pulsing against my fingertips.

“I’m not going to shove her anywhere,” I mutter as I imagine her expression as I shove her on—full of?—something very hard and very specific.

Inappropriate was when I lifted my skirt because you told me to. Inappropriate was when you slid your hand between—”

Because every time you step into my office, I won’t see you professionally. I’ll be remembering how wet and warm you felt. How your body bent for me. And every time your mouth moves, I’ll hear the sounds falling from your lips and think of how exquisite you are when you come.”

“Darling, I’m going to need you to use your words.”

“People who get out of bed with a smile on their face are to be treated with suspicion.”

“I am not having a Julia Robert’s moment with you,” she says, trying to snatch back her hand. “Is that the one where she gets fucked on the piano?” “Whit!” she castigates in a shocked whisper. “I thought I was Daddy?” My own volume carries. “No—no it’s not. You are not my daddy—” “You say that now but…” She doesn’t bite though she adds, “And you are certainly not my sugar daddy!”

“But you know what no one ever told me?” “That you make the hottest sounds when I’m balls deep inside you?”

“What, you’ve never seen anyone read a newspaper before?” “I didn’t know you were interested in current affairs. French current affairs.” “What?” A sinking feeling seeps through me. “When did you learn to speak French?”

“I have your jacket, so your phone and wallet are intact.” She smiles brightly. “Also, Mimi just had a Mr. Darcy moment.”

I glance back at the wall. Je t’aime, I think to myself. “It’s just really lovely, isn’t it?”

“Amelia, whether in London, Paris, or whatever, I will always be your daddy!”

I want her with a strength that frightens me. I want to keep her, bind her to me. I want to make her happy. Be her mornings and her evenings. Her friend and her lover, her shield and her confidant. I love her so much I want to keep her forever.

“Give me this chance, darling. I will love you fiercely. Constantly. Inventively.” She laughs again, her walls gripping me like a glove. “I will give you more love than you’ll ever need. I will worship you eternally.”