B B Hamel Best Friend With Benefits A Se (ang )

BEST FRIEND WITH BENEFITS B.B. HAMEL Copyright © 2017 by B. B. Hamel All rights reserved. No part - pdf za darmo

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Copyright © 2017 by B. B. Hamel All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.


Mailing List Prologue: Vivian 1. Henry 2. Vivian 3. Henry 4. Vivian 5. Henry 6. Vivian 7. Henry 8. Vivian 9. Henry 10. Vivian 11. Henry 12. Vivian 13. Henry 14. Vivian 15. Henry 16. Vivian 17. Henry 18. Vivian 19. Henry 20. Vivian 21. Henry 22. Vivian

23. Henry 24. Henry 25. Vivian 26. Henry 27. Vivian Virgin’s Daddy: A Dark Romance Prologue: Sadie 1. Gavin 2. Sadie 3. Gavin 4. Sadie 5. Gavin 6. Sadie 7. Gavin 8. Sadie 9. Gavin 10. Sadie 11. Gavin 12. Sadie 13. Gavin 14. Sadie 15. Gavin 16. Sadie 17. Gavin 18. Sadie 19. Gavin 20. Sadie 21. Gavin 22. Gavin 23. Sadie 24. Sadie

Intense: A Dark Billionaire Romance Prologue: Aria 1. Ethan 2. Aria 3. Ethan 4. Aria 5. Ethan 6. Aria 7. Ethan 8. Aria 9. Ethan 10. Aria 11. Ethan 12. Aria 13. Ethan 14. Aria 15. Ethan 16. Aria 17. Ethan 18. Aria 19. Ethan 20. Aria 21. Ethan 22. Aria 23. Ethan 24. Aria 25. Ethan 26. Aria 27. Ethan 28. Aria Thank You

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his is pretty wrong, even for me.

We work together. That’s basically breaking every single rule I have for the workplace, which admittedly is pretty lax overall. But still, I have my one rule, and I stick to it. I don’t sleep with coworkers, especially not when I’m out on assignment. But on top of that, and more importantly, it’s freaking Henry. He’s the guy that broke my heart all those years ago, destroyed me out of nowhere, and made my senior year a living hell. He’s all grown up now though. That handsome, boyish kid grew up into an incredibly attractive, muscular, rugged looking man. I can still get glimpses of that teenager I dated a long time ago,

but he’s all man now and it’s hard to see him any other way. So I’m pretty stupid for getting myself in this position, right? I should probably walk away. But my heart beats fast as soon as Henry comes up behind me, pins me up against the wall, and whispers in my ear. “Have you been dreaming about my cock all these years?” I gasp and shake my head but he pulls me hair and I can feel his smirk against my neck. “Come off it, Viv. You pretend to be so prim and good, but I know that’s just for the cameras.” He grabs my hair and pills it back, hard, making me gasp. “I know what you’re really like. I know you, Viv.” “Not anymore,” I whisper, but my heart is hammering as he roughly presses his hand down the front of my jeans, finding my dripping pussy. “Just like I remember. You’re still a teenage girl down here, you tight little slut.” He presses his fingers deep inside of me and I gasp. “Don’t be an asshole,” I moan as he fucks me slowly with his thick, strong hands. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been dreaming of

me fucking you for years, and maybe I’ll be nice.” “Fine,” I say, pushing back from the wall. His hand slides out from my jeans as I whirl on him. “You want the truth?” He grins and pushes me back against the wall, pinning me there with his hips as he grabs my hair and tips my head back. “Go ahead, give it to me. What’s the truth?” I stare back at him defiantly. “I haven’t wasted a single second on you since the day I left town.” He grins and he knows I’m lying. I know he can see right through me, he always could, but I can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing the truth. I can’t let him know that I haven’t forgotten him, not even for a second. I’ve had my own life since high school, of course, but I never really let him go, not completely. And now that he’s back, all of those feelings are back, too. But he’s such a cocky asshole, he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re fucking sexy when you lie, girl,” he says. And before I can answer, he crushes my mouth with a kiss, stifling any resistance I have left. That bastard. He broke my heart back then and

now I’m stuck with him, working in close quarters together. I didn’t want this, not even a little bit, but I have no other choice. It’s a good story, and I’m not going to be the one who backs down. So when he cups my breasts and tell me how badly he wants to watch me swallow his come, I know I’m screwed, because I want to taste it just as bad.




ou see the new girl yet?”

I lean back in my chair and eye Greg as he gives me a big, stupid grin. “Not yet,” I say. “Some of us have to work, you know.” “Oh, come off it. You field producers always act like you’re better than the rest of us.” Greg is older, in his mid-fifties, and he’s been doing this reporting thing since before I was born. Still, we’ve been working together now for five years, and he trusts me. He’s balding, getting a little heavier, but he still knows what he’s doing. The old beat reporter is still buried in there, behind the lazy desk jockey he’s become. He’s my mentor, in a lot of ways, but I’d never fucking tell him that.

I grin right back. “That’s because we are.” He sighs, shaking his head. “You know, Henry, if you weren’t so damn good at what you do, I would have fired your ass a while ago.” “I know,” I say and laugh. “But who else are you going to get to travel all to all the shit parts of the world?” “Nobody,” he admits. “See, we’re beautiful together. You sit on your lazy ass and edit my stories while I go out and risk my damn life to find them.” He groans and rolls his eyes. “Were you ever in danger in Indonesia?” “No,” I admit. “Nice place, actually.” “And what about Berlin, before that?” “No,” I admit again. “Although those Neo-Nazis were pretty rough guys.” “Quit pretending like your life is always in danger.” I shrug and lean back in my chair. “Maybe not those last two assignments, but you remember Afghanistan. You remember the Ukraine, Colombian terrorists, Spanish separatists, gang violence in Detroit.”

“Had to pay you overtime for Detroit,” he grumbles. “Fine, okay, I get your point. Still don’t know why you can’t let me talk about the new reporter girl without giving me shit.” “Fine, okay,” I say, laughing. I feel a little bad for being a dick. “Go ahead. What about her?” He looks at me for a second. “She’s smoking hot.” I groan and laugh again. “That’s why I give you shit.” He grins and shrugs a little, looking sheepish, but I know he can’t help himself. Greg is the Editor-in-Chief at World Beats News. We’re a gritty little online outfit specializing in short-film style news reporting all over the world. I’m a field producer, which means I go out with teams to produce and report on whatever story gets assigned to me. More often than not, they’re pretty fucking dangerous, since Greg knows I can handle my shit. But lately, I’ve been restless. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve spent the majority of my twenties traveling all over the world. My apartment is practically empty, since I live out of hotels, and my love life is just as empty. I sleep with plenty of beautiful and exotic women, but that only keeps

you satisfied for so long. I see the old, grizzled producers, still traveling the world after all these years, and I wonder. What would my life be like if I didn’t be come like them? They’re all heavy smokers, unhealthy as fuck, addicted to the thrill, and completely alone in this world. I have ambitions, dreams, goals, but I also want something more than endless hotel rooms and nearmisses. “What’s her name, anyway?” I ask him. “Vivian. She’s a Harvard girl, been around the block a bit. Wrote for the Times, did a couple years at Vice, and now she’s here.” I frown at him. That name sounds familiar, but there are a million girls named Vivian in the world, though probably not that many that also went to Harvard. “What do you have her doing?” I ask him. He frowns and opens a folder. “Let’s see. Nothing you’d be interested in.” He leafs through it and pulls out a sheet. “Here we go. Opioid epidemic. We’re sending her to a town in Alabama that was practically destroyed by it.”

“Sounds fun,” I say. He raises an eyebrow. “The chances of her getting shot are pretty slim. So I doubt you’d be interested.” I shake my head. “Don’t assume. Who’s producing for her?” “Nobody right now.” I glance down at the floor, my mind racing. I can’t imagine it’s actually her, actually Vivian from my past, but what if? I know she wanted to be a journalist, and she definitely went to Harvard, but I haven’t been following her all these years. I haven’t wanted to follow her. I haven’t let myself. Because I know that if I let myself look her up and find out what kind of happy, amazing life she’s living, I know I’ll only be fucking hurting myself. So I’ve ignored her, pretended like she wasn’t out there somewhere, although I’ve had her in the back of my mind, even after all this time. The one that got away. The girl who’s heart I broke and trampled over. The one thing I partially regret, although I did it for the right reasons. At least I think so. “What’s her full name?” I ask him.

He grins at me. “Got a crush on her, Hank?” “Don’t call me that,” I grunt at him. “Whatever. Her full name’s Vivian Cross, from Michigan originally, it seems. At least according to her bio.” He hesitates a second. “Say, aren’t you from Michigan too?” “Yeah,” I say as I’m suddenly transported back in time. I can see her all over again, that perfect smile, those full lips, that thick blonde hair, that perfect body, the way I felt around her, driving in my piece of shit truck, and now she’s back. It’s her, it has to be her. Vivian Cross, the one that got away. “I’m going to produce for her,” I say, standing. “Wait, hold on. I was going to assign her Jeff.”...

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