Post Malone Interview

He presses deeper into me, I meet his thrust this time, desperate for him to be closer. "Does this feel dead to you? Hmm?" he whispers, the tenor of his voice dark and sinful. A snarl forming on his face. He looks vicious and enticing at the same time. His fingers pinch my nipple through the flimsy fabric of my bra, tugging hard and wringing a pained cry from my throat. Yet, my pussy reacts differently without my permission. His touch alone is making me feel crazed. Nothing has ever felt so fucking good. "Answer me" he whispers into my ear, sending violent tremors throughout my body. The ever-present fear steadily pumping into my bloodstream, nearly drugging me with its potency and making me delirious. "No" I say in barely a whisper, answering his question. "That's right. You know, your brain is far too small for you to have such a big mouth. One more insolent word from you, I won't hesitate to throw your stupid ass in jail" he threatened. ................. Aria Jones, a beautiful sex-crazed temptress goes for an important job interview in which she gets humiliated and rejected by an arrogant boss after she strips in his office and tries to seduce him into giving her the job. No man has ever said no to the beautiful nymphomaniac before. She couldn't accept the fact that he did not only insult and embarrass her but rejected her as well. She vows to lure him to her bed by all means. Seeing as he is madly in love with his wife and he hates her guts, seducing the arrogant billionaire seems impossible. She struggles to accomplish her desire which has slowly turned into a deadly obsession. Find out what happens after Aria Jones sets her eyes on a forbidden man...

« Mme Sterling, êtes-vous certaine de vouloir mettre fin à vingt ans de mariage... et renoncer à la garde de vos enfants ? » « Oui. Déposez les documents. J'en ai assez. » Ma voix était calme, sans tremblement, tandis que je frottais avec énergie une tache de graisse tenace sur le plan de travail en marbre. Vingt ans. Vingt ans à m'oublier, à me fondre dans les murs de cette maison. À gérer chaque détail domestique, à m'inquiéter pour chaque bulletin scolaire, à me tenir dans l'ombre d'Alexander, soutien silencieux et sans récrimination de son ascension inexorable au sein du consortium. Et lui ? Le voilà qui avait donné une interview, flanqué de sa jeune sœur adoptive, Chloe. Il avait osé déclarer sans même un battement de cil : « Tout ce que j'ai accompli, je le dois à elle. À ma chère petite sœur. » Même mes enfants me regardaient avec ce mépris froid, traitant de « banale » et de « vulgaire » la femme qui les avait mis au monde. Ils formaient un front uni, tous quatre, avec cette sœur adoptive omniprésente, cette tata Chloe, qui se comportait en maîtresse des lieux. J'ai signé les papiers du divorce. Je suis partie. Qu'ils forment, eux, leur famille parfaite. Mais par la suite… c'était leur tour de regretter…

Her father put him in prison, and she let him out. Italy’s most notorious criminal, Emilio Vitale, has criminal charges that are enough to put him in prison for life. That all changes when Chiara is given an assignment to interview him three years after her father puts him in jail. Things go south, and Emilio escapes from custody. Chiara thinks she will never see him again, but she can’t be more wrong. Emilio has other plans, and he is far from done with rocking Chiara’s boat and punishing her father by using her as a pawn. Somewhere along the way, they forget they are supposed to hate one another, and they break the laws of attraction. Their attraction is magnetic and impossible to ignore. Can these two weather storms find happiness where there isn’t any? In a world where it’s impossible for them to find love, they find each other. *** He backed me into a wall, putting his hand above my head to cage me in. “This isn’t original, Vitale. Stay away from me, or I will call the cops on you.” I threatened, ignoring how wildly my heart was beating against my chest. His scent was intoxicating and I hated how my body reacted to him. He used his free hand to brush a strand of my hair out of my face and leaned in like he was about to kiss me. Embarrassingly enough, I closed my eyes in anticipation. “Does that little boyfriend of yours get your body in a frenzy like I do? I bet he doesn’t let you cum.” He asked as he traced his fingers down my waist to my hips. “I bet I would have you screaming my name in seconds. Will you let me?”

The hospital's latest intern, Lindsey Clark, is very pretty, but she's a total idiot as well. When my mom came to the hospital for a prescription, she swapped the vitamin C for potassium supplements, which were known to be very poisonous if misused. Mom, who was fresh out of surgery, suffered from heavy bleeding right after taking the medication. She died on the same night. Before I could hold Lindsey responsible for Mom's death, the latter quickly piped up with teary eyes, "I'm so sorry, Dr. Monroe! I just thought that potassium supplements can help your mother heal faster…" Even Michael Jones, my husband, who was the hospital director, took her side. "Your mom only had her idiocy to blame! She died because she took the wrong medication! How dare you drag Lindsey into this!" I was so furious that my cardiac arrest was triggered on the spot. Soon, I was sent into the operating room. Lindsey said she wanted to redeem herself by taking on the post as Michael's assistant in the surgery. But her hands kept trembling even when she tried to thread the suture needle. In the end, she took off her mask and picked up the suture with her teeth. Just like that, she used her saliva to wet the suture end. One day later, I died in the ICU due to a case of severe infection. When my spirit was about to fade away, I heard Lindsey crying sadly. "If it wasn't for my idiocy, Dr. Monroe wouldn't have died!" Michael just patted her dotingly on the head in return. "Having medical risks in a surgical operation is completely normal. You're still young, so stop blaming yourself already." Mom and I were cremated instantly, seeing as Michael intended to cover up our deaths. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Lindsey has just gotten recruited by the hospital.

Richard Montague, a rich heir in Durmask, has just posted a new tweet on Twitter. The accompanying photo features a luxurious winery. The caption reads, "My wife loves this place a lot, so I bought it immediately." I tap on the photo, soon realizing that this is Amie Winery, the same place that I had briefly mentioned to Richard last week. Then, I recall the fact that he has told me that he's prepared a surprise anniversary gift for me in a mysterious tone. So, this winery must be the gift! With a wide smile on my face, I respond to his tweet in the comment section. But three minutes later, Kiara York, a popular celebrity from the same company that I'm in, quickly proclaims her love for Richard on the Internet. "Wow, my husband is so generous! I'm very satisfied with this gift!" All the onlookers and fans begin shipping Kiara and Richard like mad overnight. "What a sweet relationship! As expected of the rich heir in Durmask! Even the way he announces his relationship is very domineering!" The whole turn of events leaves me feeling stunned. Once I realize that Kiara is just trying to ride on the coattails of Richard's popularity, I quickly post a picture of my marriage certificate online. It comes with a caption. "If she's the legitimate wife, then who am I?" But Kiara soon posts a marriage certificate of her own. To my surprise, there's a photo attached to the certificate. Richard's face is shown in the photo. Kiara mocks me, "There's a limit to being a lunatic fangirl, you know! Rick and I are husband and wife by law! You can't just slap a Photoshopped picture here and pretend that he's your husband!" As I stare at both copies of the marriage certificates, which show the courthouse's stamp, I fall in deep contemplation. Then, I look at the place Kiara tagged on her Twitter comment. Finally, I can't resist calling Richard, who's currently overseas. "How dare you engage in bigamy behind my back!"

Michele Giuliani successfully takes the throne as the leader of the mafia forces in Costa Morala. During an interview, a reporter asks, "According to our observations, you've never concealed or removed the old alphabetic tattoo below your collarbone. Does that mean it has a special meaning to you?" Michele shakes his head with a sneer. "Five years ago, my fiancee, Alma Rossito, looked down on me because the Giulianis had lost their power and authority among the families. So, she ran off to be with another rich man. "Whenever I wanted to give up, I'd be reminded of her betrayal as soon as I laid my eyes on this tattoo. "Now that I've lasted this long, I just want to personally ask her a question." Michele digs out his phone and dials the number he has pinned at the top of his contact list without hesitation. "Alma, do you regret dumping my ass the moment I was kicked out of my family?" I turn the camera toward the chaotic underground casino and reply lazily, "Yeah, I regret doing that to you, Don Giuliani. But I've lost every cent under my name on horse-betting. Can you transfer 50 thousand dollars to me first so that I can earn my money back?" Michele ends the call instantly before punching the mirror next to him. The cracks in the mirror happen to reflect the dark tattoo beneath his collar. What Michele doesn't know is that I'm being held in the casino by loan sharks. Five years ago, I had taken out a huge loan from them and bribed the necessary connections as an anonymous party. That was how Michele got the opportunity to turn the tides in his favor and become the mafia king.

Di usia yang hampir 40 tahun, pengusaha sukses dan tampan cukup banyak wanita yang wara wiri dalam kehidupa seorang Samudra Abimanyu. Tapi selama ini belum ada yang benar-benar mampu membuatnya terpikat. Rata-rata mereka hanya “mampir” sebentar sebelum digantikan oleh wanita-wanita lain. Tidak hanya para temannya yang menjulukinya playboy bahkan beberapa majalah dengan terang-terangan menyebutkan bahwa dia adalah casanova, mungkin ada benarnya saking seringnya dia gonta-ganti perempuan. Satu pantangan Samudra adalah tidak akan mengencani pegawainya, dia tidak ingin merusak citra dan profesionalitas kerja dengan love affair di kantor. Dan sampai saat ini dia tidak pernah melanggarnya, biarpun tidak sedikit staff wanita yang kepincut dengannya. Bos muda, kaya dan ganteng. Sabrina. Why on earth sosok wanita ini tiba-tiba sibuk mondar-mandir di pikirannya? Semenjak kali pertama interview, sosoknya rajin nongol tanpa diundang ke kepalanya. Seperti tidak ada wanita lain saja, pikirnya sinis ke diri sendiri. Walaupun banyak bergonta – ganti pacar, dia memang tidak terlalu sibuk untuk memikirkan perempuan. Buat dia pacar adalah selingan diantara kesibukan pekerjaan, selingan untuk mencerahkan hari, pelengkap untuk dibawa ke resepsi bukan untuk memenuhi pemikiran. Mendapatkan pacar baru buat dia sama mudahnya seperti membeli jas baru, sekali lirik bisa dipastikan perempuan akan tersipu – sipu kepincut. Tetapi Sabrina lain. Ada sesuatu tentangnya yang menyedot perhatian Samudra. Cantik, yes…tapi lebih dari itu. Gayanya yang anggun tapi terkesan berjarak, ada sesuatu darinya yang menyedot perhatian Samudra. Seperti black hole yang menyedot semua energi dan masa di sekitarnya, Sabrina juga menyedot semua fokus dan perhatian Samudra.

Le jour de notre anniversaire de mariage, la « muse » de mon mari a posté une échographie d’un fœtus sur Facebook, accompagnée d’un texte : « Merci à cet homme extraordinaire qui m’a soutenue pendant dix ans et m’a offert un fils. » J’ai failli m’évanouir en voyant ça, mais j’ai quand même laissé un commentaire : « Tu as eu un fils avec lui tandis que tu sais qu’il est marié ? » Quelques minutes plus tard, mon mari m’a appelée, furieux : « Tu vois le mal partout ! Je ne fais que lui prêter mon sperme pour une FIV. Elle voulait juste être maman célibataire. » Puis il a ajouté : « En plus, Réa est tombée enceinte du premier coup. Toi, tu as essayé trois fois et toujours rien. Ton ventre ne sert à rien ! » Trois jours avant, il m’avait dit qu’il partait à l’étranger pour affaires. Il ne répondait ni à mes appels ni à mes messages. Je pensais qu’il était occupé. Mais non. Il était avec elle pour son rendez-vous de suivi de grossesse. Une demi-heure plus tard, Réa a partagé une photo d’un festin. « Marre de la cuisine au Pays M. Et Luc a cuisiné pour moi, tout ce que j’aime ! » Je regardais les résultats de ma prise de sang confirmant ma grossesse, mes mains tremblantes, alors que ma joie se transformait en désespoir glacé. Huit ans d’amour fou. Six ans de compromis douloureux après le mariage. Cette fois, c’est fini. Je lâche tout.

While I'm waiting for my wife, Anna Fulton, I happen to come across a popular post on social media that's posted by someone who lives in the same city as I do. "What should I do if my husband clings to me too much?" Among the comments that make fun of the original poster for flaunting her happy marriage on the Internet, the lengthy comment left by a masculine ID attracts my attention. "You gotta pretend to be ditzy and dumb. My childhood friend was forced to marry the man she doesn't love, so I suggested to her that she should pretend to be a directionally-challenged idiot. She kept up that facade for five years so far. "After that, her mother-in-law kept urging her to give birth to a baby. So, she secretly coated the stairs with grease, leading to her husband falling down the stairs. When she drove him to the hospital, she pretended to lose her way and drove a few laps around the suburban area. In the end, her husband could never get his manhood up ever again because the treatment got delayed. "Her mother-in-law thought it was an accident. She was afraid that my childhood friend might abandon her husband, so she bought her a house and a car. You have no idea how much that mother-in-law sucked up to her! "Today is her husband's professor selection day. She even suggested to him that she'd drive him to the campus. But the truth is, she plans on pretending to lose her way in the traffic just to drag the time out so that I can replace him in the selection. "Once her husband fails the selection, she'll use the opportunity to convince him to resign from his job. He's already a loser, to begin with. Once he loses his job, she'll have a valid reason to divorce him once and for all." The familiar experience makes my heart skip a beat. Before I can ruminate about the details, I hear Anna's guilt-ridden voice drifting into my ear. "I think I'm lost, Claude. Surely you can make it to the selection on time, right?"

On Christmas Eve, my father got the man I had secretly loved for ten years drunk and sent him to my bed. When I woke up the next morning, Roy pulled away from my attempt at a good-morning kiss. His voice was cold and distant as he agreed to marry me. After the wedding, Roy wasted no time submitting a transfer request. He took an overseas post and left. He did not return for five years. I gave birth to our daughter, Eve, alone and waited for him to come back home. When I heard that Roy had finally applied to return to a domestic position, I was overjoyed. I spent days preparing, imagining our first reunion as husband and wife. But even when the clock struck midnight, he still hadn't come home. Our daughter, ever so thoughtful, placed her most treasured possession—a photograph of Roy—into my hands. "Don't cry, Mommy," she said softly. "Look, Daddy's right here." I tried to convince myself that his absence was due to a delayed flight. But later that night, while watching the news, I saw him. He was on a crowded city street, holding a young girl in his arms. Beside him stood a woman, her smile soft and warm. Facing the camera, Roy said, "Being with them is my greatest wish." At that moment, something inside me broke. I wrote up the divorce papers, packed our things, and planned to take Eve to change her identity. I didn't want him anymore. The day before we left, a man I had never met came to see me. He was Roy's father. "You could call me Dad," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I'd rather you call me Ryan." I told him everything about the past five years—how I had waited, how I had hoped. When I finished, he laughed softly, an unusual warmth in his voice. "If it was just business," he said, "perhaps your father should have tied a bow around me and sent me to your bed instead. But I hold my liquor well—if I ever end up wrapped in a bow, you can be sure it's by choice."