Head Hunter: A Virgin Billionaire Reverse Romance Read online

  Come on, really? They come on a show where the whole idea is for me to convince them to blow me but they think they might be The One?

  I head out of the penthouse, rolling my eyes at the idea, then knock on the door across the hall where the control room is and walk in without waiting for an answer.

  “Hey, man,” Chase calls out. He’s the head of filming. “Nice job with the cum shot.”

  I should feel weird that all these cameras were on me while I was getting my dick sucked, but I’m used to it.

  Instead, I just smirk and jerk my head once. “I’m headed out but I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t have sex with her at any point tonight. Check the camera crew that followed me if you need to verify.” I turn, ready to leave, and then add, “I expect the next ten million in my account tomorrow morning.”

  “You know it, man,” Chase says, shaking his head in awe like he always does. “I don’t know how you do this week after week.”

  I laugh. “What, get head?”

  He nods. “That too, but I mean how you still convince them that’s what they want to do after all this time.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I wink. “It's what they want to do. What can I say?”

  “One of these days you’re going to find someone you want for more than just some head.”

  I look at him like he’s crazy. This shit is way too lucrative to even think about having sex with someone. I’m the fucking Head Hunter. “Yeah right, dude. I’ve got it made. What else could I possibly want?”

  Chase laughs, but he still looks skeptical. Whatever.

  Time to head out. “Let’s go, man. Time to hit up the Big Apple.”

  2

  Ashley

  “Oh, baby,” the guy groans, “you’re so fucking sexy.”

  I bend at the waist and make sure he has a perfect view of my ass in my black lace lingerie, rolling my eyes as I do so. This guy may think I’m hot, but he's so fucking not.

  He smacks my ass, making me jump, and I decide right then and there that there’s no way I’m sleeping with him. Not that I mind having my ass slapped. But this guy is so not doing it for me.

  I turn around and straddle him, schooling my expression into one of desperate lust as I rub my pussy against the cock tenting his over-priced designer suit pants.

  “I’m gonna fuck you so good. Better than you’ve ever been fucked before,” he says, panting as he swipes a hand across his sweaty brow.

  Um. No.

  It takes everything I have not to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I highly doubt he could even get me off, much less give me the best fuck of my life. I mean, the guy’s packing a decent size cock from what I can tell, but he’s sweating like a damn pig, his bald head shining in the light I have on above us in the hotel room.

  Instead, I bite my lip and lean in, shoving my tits in his face as I grip the sides of his head and force him to look up at me. “Tell me how,” I say in a low, breathy voice that makes his cock twitch.

  “How?” he asks, confused.

  Jesus Christ. “Yes,” I breathe. “Talk dirty to me.”

  Maybe I can get him so worked up that I can make him cum without having to actually do much. We don’t need much out of this one.

  I grip the little bit of hair at the back of his head and bring my mouth inches from his, steeling myself for what I have to do.

  It’s all part of the job, Ashley, I remind myself. The clients aren’t usually this repulsive, though.

  Grinding my hips on his cock, I lean in and bite his lip, tugging gently, angling my head to make sure everything we’re doing is visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass that lines the wall of the hotel room, looking out on Manhattan. If I’m going to get out of here without actually fucking the guy, I need to make sure to set up some good shots.

  “Touch me,” I whisper, hoping he can’t tell how totally not turned on I actually am.

  His meaty hands come up to cup my tits, squeezing clumsily, and I tilt my head back and let out a very fake but well-practiced moan.

  He pants even harder, his breath coming so fast that I start worrying he might go into cardiac arrest. A strangled grunt comes out of his mouth, and I know he’s close.

  God, it’s almost too easy.

  I’m pretty sure it won’t take much more. Reaching down, I slide my hand into my panties and start rubbing my clit, closing my eyes and imagining I’m here with someone else. I resort to my favorite fantasy. Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to get the job done. And I’m a professional. The best in the business, in fact.

  Which is why in spite of this completely unsexy man with his face in between my tits, I’m still able to get wet.

  Pulling my fingers out, coated with my juices, I lift them to his mouth and tease his lips. He opens up and I slide my finger inside, letting him taste me.

  “Fuck,” he groans. “You taste so damn good.”

  “I want your mouth on my pussy,” I purr. I so fucking don’t. But the senator who I’m currently seducing has no clue.

  With a growl, he yanks down my bra and clamps his mouth around my nipple. That’s my cue. I angle my body to make sure we’re nice and visible, then take his hand and make him cup my pussy, letting out a cry that sounds needy and desperate.

  Yeah, I desperately need to get this guy off so I can get out.

  And that’s all it takes. He convulses and cries out, and I smile in satisfaction. I just made this guy jizz in his pants. His hand on my pussy, his mouth on my tit—the perfect money shot.

  They don’t pay me the big bucks for nothing.

  I fake a little orgasm of my own so that he feels like he did his job. The last thing I want is for him to try to keep going and return the favor.

  Then I climb off his lap and give him a wink as I bite my lip. He barely even notices. I needn’t have worried about him wanting to make sure I’m taken care of. He got what he came for.

  But so did I.

  Grabbing my clothes, I make a quick trip to the bathroom and dress quickly, glad this job is done.

  Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I do this for. But then I remember the fat stacks of cash I rake in from the richest companies and executives in the world.

  No, I’m not a hooker. I’m not a stripper. I’m a professional seductress. I’m paid by some of the top dogs of the top industries to bend politicians and executives to my will. To make them do the dirty things that'll turn wife and country against them.

  All so they can be blackmailed.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some evil black-widow type man-hater. But there are some evil dudes in this world. Many of them in politics and business. They’ve got some rotten agendas. Basically I’m just doing my part to make the world a better place by taking out the douchebags of the world.

  Like this senator.

  The asshole was almost too easy to manipulate. I know we got some good pictures on this one. Good thing, too. Now the people who hired me can be sure to get their legislation passed. See, this southern senator is one of the key votes that could affect a new bill coming up. He wants to ban teddy bears made in China from being sold in America. The company that makes the bears hired me, and now they have the pictures they need to blackmail this guy into voting their way.

  What? You thought the American political system was on the up and up? Nope. These guys can be swayed to do what the big companies want them to do. And I use my body to make it happen.

  I only take jobs I believe in, though. It’s my way of helping out the country. You’re welcome.

  I’ve actually built it into a thriving business. It started out just me, but I now have a team of women working for me to bring down the assholes of the world.

  Fluffing my hair up, I give myself one last glance in the mirror and leave the hotel room without a second glance at the good senator.

  Just as I make my way onto the sidewalk outside the hotel, my phone rings. I stop and dig through my purse to find it, my eye on a limo that comes to a sto
p in front of me.

  My assistant’s face is smiling at me from the screen, and I swipe the glass to answer. Does she have another job lined up for me already? “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I have an important client that wants to talk to you.” Her normally chipper voice sounds a little subdued, like she’s in shock or something. Hmm, must be an interesting job.

  “Okay, when?”

  “I was just told to pass along a message. Get into the limo.”

  3

  Carter

  “Seriously, Carter. How long are you going to keep doing this?” the woman on the video call says, her eyes skeptical.

  I actually roll my eyes this time. “Come on, Lola. You’re joking, right? I’m making you so much money right now that we’d all be insane to end it.”

  What the fuck? First Chase, and now Lola—both telling me I can’t keep this up forever. I don’t get it. Head Hunter is the most watched show on any network and online. We’re all making bank.

  I look over at Chase, who’s sitting next to me on the private jet we’re taking to New York City, and give him a scrutinizing look, my eyes narrowed.

  Lola Anders is the network executive. She should absolutely be on board with keeping this up. Am I missing something? Glancing back at the screen on the wall in front of us, I give her a charming grin.

  “What’s the matter? Have you decided you’re tired of watching these other women crawl all over me and want a piece for yourself?”

  It’s Lola’s turn to roll her eyes. I can totally bullshit with her like this. I’m her money machine. I can say whatever the fuck I want. Plus, I’ve seen the way she looks at me. She does want me. I mean, hell, they all do. And she’s been watching me get my cock sucked for almost five years. I can’t say I blame her.

  “Look, Carter,” she says, trying to be all business. “You’re twenty-six now. It’s just not right for someone as hot as you to remain a virgin.”

  I laugh out loud. I knew it. She does want me.

  “Let me guess. You want to be the lucky lady to end it all?” I lean forward and wink, my voice dropping into a gravelly growl that I know makes all the women wet. “Lola, baby, if you want some of this, all you’ve got to do is ask.”

  Her eyes narrow, and I can tell I’m pushing her close to her limit, but I don’t fucking care. What's she going to do? Fire me. I don’t think so.

  My grin widens. “But I have to tell you, Lola. After all these years I’ve been waiting, you might not be able to handle me.”

  I glance over at Chase and see him hiding a smile. I’d give him a high five if it wouldn’t make me look like a total asshole in front of Lola. I mean, she does still sign the checks, even if I do get away with fucking with her more than I should.

  Lola clears her throat. “No, Carter. I don’t want to be the one to take your virginity.” She averts her eyes. Lies. “But I do think you should consider letting one of the women in the last part of the season do it. Like I said, you’ve waited way too long for this. You deserve it.”

  I let out a scoff, my eyes widening. “No fucking way, Lola.” This bitch has lost her mind. Playtime is over. I’m not in the mood to mess with her now. “Why would I do that?”

  She purses her lips. “I just think it would be good for ratings. We can make it the finale. The Head Hunter finally gives in. Can you just imagine the money that would bring in for us?”

  My lip curls up, and I look at Chase again. He’s not smiling anymore. “Hell no,” I practically snarl. “If I lose my virginity before the end of my contract, you know what that means.”

  I’m certain she does. But I never expected her to stoop so low as to try to convince me to do this.

  Part of my five-year contract stipulates that if I remain a virgin for the full five years then I get a two billion dollar bonus payout. I’d be an idiot not to do that. Especially when the end of that contract is right around the corner.

  “Ten episodes,” I tell Lola, my gaze pinned on her image on the screen. “Ten weeks. That's nothing compared to the five years I’ve been doing this. You expect me to give it up in the next ten weeks when I’ve waited this long? For some ratings? You know we’ll get the ratings regardless.”

  Lola grimaces, and then Chase leans forward, jumping in on this conversation. I’m sure he’ll have my back. He’s not just in charge of filming. He’s my network liaison, but he’s also my friend.

  “Lola, I know what you’re playing at here. This isn’t about ratings.”

  I look at Chase, wondering what he knows that I don’t.

  “Carter, you know when they put that incentive in your contract they didn’t actually think they’d have to pay it out, right?”

  My gaze flicks to Lola, who looks furious now, then back to Chase. Lola keeps talking.

  “They had no idea the show would be such a hit. That’s why it was a one-season deal with the option to renew, the five-year clause tacked on just as a guarantee. Nobody—I mean nobody—thought you would actually go five years and still be a virgin. Hell, they thought it would be done in one season. If you even made it that long. I mean, who goes a whole year with the hottest women in the world begging to fuck them and still remains a virgin?”

  Me. That’s fucking who.

  “Okay. But I did. For five years. Now it’s time to pay up.” I sneer at Lola. “There’s nothing that could make me walk away from two billion dollars with only ten weeks to go.”

  Chase grimaces. “That’s the problem. The network never had any idea this would happen. That it was even a possibility. That clause was just thrown in there to get you to sign. The truth is, they just don’t have that kind of money to pay up.”

  I smirk. Too fucking bad. I earned that money and I’ll fucking get it. I look at Chase for another second, and then I turn back to Lola.

  “Well, I guess I’m about to own myself a network then.”

  And I push the button to end the call.

  4

  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 o
n 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.