Ashley
As I sit in the limo cruising through Times Square, I barely notice anything going on around me. I’m too busy trying to figure out where the driver is taking me and whom I’m going to see. My assistant didn’t tell me anything more than that I was supposed to get into the limo.
I have no clue whom I’m about to meet. All I know is that if it weren’t lucrative, I wouldn’t be on my way to this mystery meeting.
When the limo stops in front of the ABN—the American Broadcasting Network—I pause. A TV network? This is new. I normally get hired to seduce businessmen and politicians. Do they want me to do a job for one of their celebrities? I’m not opposed to it. It’s just not something I’ve done before.
Someone pulls the limo door open and extends a hand to me, and I take it and climb out. A security guard dressed in a black suit, complete with dark glasses and an earpiece is standing there ready to escort me. What is this, the fucking Matrix?
I laugh a little to myself, but follow the burly guy inside. Once we’re in the elevator, I watch in silence as he pushes the button for the top floor. I want to ask him where we’re going and whom I’m meeting, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t say anything in response. That’s how it works with these hired goons, right?
When the elevator doors whoosh open, Security Steve leads me down the hall to two huge double doors at the end of the hall. The nameplate on the wooden doors reads Lola Anders.
Shit. I know who she is. She’s in charge of the whole ABN network. This must be a big deal. And apparently super secret for us to be meeting so late at night like this. It’s not uncommon for me to have these clandestine meetings considering the sensitive nature of my work and the clients I take on, but this feels different. Huge.
The security goon speaks into his earpiece, and then the door clicks and he pushes it open, holding it for me to enter. I go in and he shuts it silently behind me. Okay then.
I glance around, taking in the ornate office, my eye coming to rest on a woman sitting at a huge desk with a smile on her face. A smile that feels as fake as the blonde hair framing her face.
“Ms. Taylor,” she begins.
“Call me Ashley,” I interrupt.
She nods curtly. “Ashley. Please, come forward.”
I arch a brow. She’s acting like she’s the fucking queen or something. Like, does she want me to curtsy or some shit?
Smiling at my train of thought, I take a few steps forward.
Lola dives right in.
“Ashley, I just got off the phone with Carter Blaine. Do you know who he is?”
A shiver races down my spine, settling in between my legs with a little tingle. I feel my pussy clench just at the mention of his name, and as I picture his gorgeous body, I know I’m getting wet.
Because what woman doesn’t know Carter Blaine? He’s only been the object of my late night fantasies for I don’t even know how long. I swallow against the desire that’s coursing through my body just at the memory of me touching myself at my job earlier. A mental image of Carter Blaine was what got me through that god-awful encounter with the senator.
I clear my throat when I realize Lola is watching me carefully. Shit, can she tell how turned on I am right now? My voice comes out surprisingly cool and collected when I say, “Yes, I know who he is.”
Lola steeples her fingers and continues to scrutinize me. “Good. I have a job offer for you.”
Holy fucking hell. Is her target Carter? Please God let it be Carter. Because who doesn’t want a shot at Carter Blaine? He’s the most handsome man in America—probably the world. Women go after him week after week, wanting to be the one to break him. Or, more accurately, wanting to be his true love. Because his pure strength of will in keeping his virginity has led many to believe that he’s holding out for The One.
I don’t know about that. But I do know that if Lola Anders wants me to do a job and it involves Carter, I’m all over that shit like white on rice.
I keep my face blank as I say, “What does this job entail?”
“Please, have a seat, Ashley,” Lola says, gesturing at a chair in front of her desk. I’m sure it’s a power move. She doesn’t want anyone standing above her, looking down on her. What the fuck ever. I sit, ready to hear what she has to say.
“I need to hire you,” Lola says, and I don’t miss the use of her word need. That’s right. I’m the best in the business, and she knows it. “I need you to seduce him. I need you to be the one to take down the indomitable Carter Blaine.”
My heart rate kicks up. Holy shit, he is her target. I want to ask why, but I don’t always get the detail for my jobs. In this case, I think I might be content to just have the chance to fuck him.
“When I say seduce,” Lola continues. “I mean a full-on attack. I need you to get him to stick his dick inside your pussy. None of this oral and anal nonsense that he manages to get away with week after week. I want him to fuck you. There can be no margin for error. When you’re done with him, there can be no doubt that he’s no longer a virgin.”
My breath hitches. Her words are putting all kinds of images in my mind that make me so fucking hot I don’t know if even my best vibrator will do the trick tonight. I want everything she’s saying. How is this even real? It’s like the best job offer ever.
I still haven’t said anything, so she must take my silence as indecision—though how she can overlook how turned on I am is a mystery because she jumps in again with, “I’ll pay you a bonus of two hundred million dollars if you can do this. You have ten episodes. Ten weeks. I don’t care if it’s you or one of your girls as long as you get the job done before the end of the season. Do you accept?”
Holy motherfucking shit. Two hundred million and Carter’s gloriously giant cock inside of me. Fuck yes, I accept!
While inside I’m going crazy, on the outside I give Lola a calm smile.
“Yes. I accept your challenge.”