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Read Online Books/Novels:

100 Days: A Billionaire Romance

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Alexis Angel

Book Information:

Think you’re a true player? Take the challenge and try not to fall in love for 100 Days…

100 Days – a matchmaking game for the wealthiest circle of New York City’s elite. Pay $100 million and enter yourself to find a soulmate. If you don’t fall in love with someone they send in 100 days, then you win the combined entry fee of everyone that’s come before you.

No one has won. Love has conquered them all. The pot has grown to $4 billion.

But all that’s about to change. Because the game has a new player. Me.

As the wealthiest hedge fund manager on Wall Street, I got the cash. As a former SEAL, I’ve got the body. And with 12 inches of lust muscle between my legs, no one goes home unhappy.

I don’t plan on losing. Until they send the creator of the game herself – Athena Hawke.

This curvy blonde is sent to bring me down and make me lose. She opens up a side of me that I never even knew existed.

Now I’m dealing with a lust and passion that could bring me and my business crashing down.

I’ve never lost at anything.

But will I still want to win this game of love against Athena in 100 days?

Come play the game of love with Alexis Angel in this full length standalone romance! No cliffys or cheating, but filled with super duper scorching scenes. HEA? You know it, babe ;)

Books by Author:

Alexis Angel Books



Her face is pressed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office and her breath is making fogged, heart-shaped patterns on the glass.

“Fuck me harder,” she purrs.

I smile, grabbing both of her hips in my hands.

“You don’t have to ask me twice doll,” I growl, slamming my cock balls-deep into her pussy. This is one hell of an intern—whatever her name is. Lacey? Or is it Lisa, or maybe Lana—I can’t remember, and to be honest, I don’t give a fuck.

All I know is that she’s hot—smoking hot—and willing, so here I am, bending her over the entirety of Manhattan.

We’re putting on quite a show.

I wonder if anyone’s catching a good look at her tits and face smashed against the window. Probably not, because we’re 50 stories up, but the idea of it makes me even fucking harder.

“You like that?” I ask her with a smile.

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course she fucking likes this. Who wouldn’t? And by the way she’s moaning and biting her lower lip, I know she agrees.

Don’t roll your eyes at me gorgeous. I’m rich—I could bounce hundred dollars bills off this woman’s ass all night long, and I have a perfectly chiseled body, the kind you’d love to use your tongue to trace every ridge with. And with the snap of my fingers, I’m up to my fucking eyeballs in women.

At any given moment.

At any given day.

They’re pawing at me, and begging me with their eyes. Go ahead, I dare you to gaze into my breezy blue eyes that are the color of the Bahamas. I’m sure you’ll fall just as hard and fast for me.

Oh, you don’t know who I am? Sorry, where are my fucking manners? Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Malcolm Bane, and I’m one of the richest men on Wall Street. You’ve probably seen me listed in Forbes’ list of top 30 under 30. I’ve made more money on Wall Street than most men make in their entire lives.

And that’s how I like it.

Capitalism makes my cock hard … and so does this intern.

Instead of responding, this woman suddenly reaches back, grabs my silk tie in her small, manicured hand, and pulls me close to her mouth until my ear brushes against her crimson lips.

“You have no idea,” she whispers, “how much I like this.”

There. See? I fucking told you.

The way her warm breath runs across my ear and down my neck makes my pulse kick in my chest.

I bring my hand down on her ass, giving it a quick slap, and piston my cock in and out of her pussy at a faster pace.

Then I decide to change things up. I lift her into my arms and walk her over to my desk, pushing aside paperwork, along with my desk phone with one quick push of my forearm. It all tumbles to the floor.

I lie her down on the dark mahogany, grabbing her legs and draping them over my shoulders. I grab her thighs and pull her ass to the edge of the desk. Angling my cock back inside of her pussy, I give her a deep thrust. I watch as she grabs the edge of the desk with both hands and let’s out a stifled scream. Her toes curl with the force of an oncoming orgasm.

Her hands are grasping at anything to hold on to as I begin fucking piledriving into her. I’ve lost all fucking reason – all rational thought. I just need to fucking cum at this point.

As I fuck her, I watch her tits bounce in rhythm with my thrusting, and I reach down, grabbing one in each fist.

As hot as this intern is—as good as this fuck session is—it never seems enough.

She’s trying to hold on. Her hands are all over the place. They’re grasping onto my keyboard, her cum-sticky fingers punching keys on my terminal and the 10 screens I have registering buy and sell orders based on her body jerks. But I don’t fucking care. I’m too in the moment of this fuck. My cock is starting to tingle. The underside of it is starting to crackle with electricity.

If I’m honest, I can fuck hundreds of hot women, but at the end of the day, sex isn’t capable of fulfilling anything more than a physical need. There’s nothing emotional about it—and that’s fine by me. I’m all about the physical.

And the more that I think about it, I realize I’m a slave to my cock. I guess it’s true what they say—that men can only think with one head at a time, and right now, that head is flushed a deep purple, and leaking precum.

“Fucking Christ,” I say, throwing my shoulders back. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Cum for me, Malcolm,” she purrs, reaching down and caressing my balls with her fingers. “I want you to cum inside of me … yes, oh fuck, yes.”

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