“Like I deserve to be here?” The question escapes before I have a chance to rein it in. He doesn’t need to know how this whole arrangement has fed into my insecurities.
“You’ve always deserved to be there.”
I hear a but coming. “But I haven’t earned it,” I say, guessing.
His smile is slow to appear. Slow and sharp like he’s the big bad wolf. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
Heat rushes through me as I recognize the lust in his tone. Lust that matches the darkening of his eyes. “I think this counts as some pretty compelling evidence.”
So that’s why he’s been MIA. “You were waiting for the studio to be constructed.”
Fuck me, why did I say that out loud?
“Before I reached out again?” He nods. “Felt…necessary.”
“Necessary?”
“I wasn’t sure I could spend another minute with you without tearing all your clothes off.”
The butterflies have migrated lower. I can feel their wings vibrating in unholy parts of my body.
“Also why I couldn’t accompany you home that day.” His eyes are already undressing me.
I shiver, feeling completely bare. “I…uh.” I let out a breath. “Should we go somewhere?”
He shakes his head. “Why would we do that?”
“You know, so I can…earn this chair.”
“Seems appropriate that you earn it right where you are. Since this is where the magic will happen.” He unbuttons his jacket, getting comfortable. “No one’s coming in here.”
That only addresses one of my concerns. A dozen other protests sit on the edge of my tongue, though I can’t seem to voice them. Can’t seem to even articulate them in my mind.
And before he utters a single command, I already know that I’m going to obey.
“Take off your clothes,” Hadrian says. “All of them.”
Slowly, I stand up and start unbuttoning my blouse, my heart thudding in my chest. We might be alone in a secure room, but it’s big and empty and feels like a public space. Once my shirt is open, my nerves get the best of me.
“You’re sure no one can come in here?”
Hadrian looks annoyed with the question. “Do you trust me?”
That’s a loaded question because before today, I didn’t trust him at all. Even seeing the studio, I’m wary. The show hasn’t been announced. I haven’t signed any paperwork. He could still give this concept to another anchor.
But—and here’s what’s confusing—my distrust is sort of a turn-on. It makes it riskier. I could give him my body and gain nothing at all from it, and that gets my adrenaline pumping. It’s like putting that hundred-dollar bill down on the roulette table and feeling that thrill shiver down my spine as the wheel spins.
That thrill shivers down my spine now, and I give him the slightest smile. “No,” I say honestly. “I don’t.” Then I toss my blouse down on the desk and unhook my bra, letting my breasts spill out like I’m presenting a gift.
He returns my smile with one of his own. “Good girl.”
I’m not sure if he means that I’m good because I don’t trust him or because I kept undressing anyway, but like the other times he’s said it to me, it makes my cheeks heat and my chest lift.
“Keep going,” he says, and unlike the last time that he had me naked in front of him, this time he studies my body as well as my face. I feel when his eyes latch onto my breasts. His gaze feels like love bites along my skin, and my nipples stand up like they’re auditioning for a spot on the show.
My skirt is next. I unzip it and shimmy out of it, letting it fall to my feet. I’m about to kick off my Louboutins when he interrupts. “Keep the heels on.”
So I remove my panties awkwardly, pulling them over one shoe and then the other. Standing behind the high desk, he can’t see anything below my waist, and I start to walk around in front when he stops me again.
“Climb on and sit facing me. Legs spread. Heels on the desk.”
A rush of arousal coats my vaginal walls. His request is utterly lewd and demeans a space that represents the potential height of my career. It occurs to me that this might ruin all of it for me. That he might ruin all of it, which is probably a thought I should have had earlier in the game. Shiloh herself had suggested I might not like making it to the top if I didn’t do it the honest way.
But if we’re talking honesty, I honestly want to be naked for this man. I honestly want to be spread out in front of him. I honestly want his eyes on my pussy, want him to see the glisten on my lips, want him to know what he’s done to me.
And so I climb onto the chair and place a knee on the desk. My breasts swing as I crawl across the three feet of white laminate. I position myself somewhat near the edge, my legs spread, heels anchored at my sides so the famous red soles face him, my hands planted on either side of my ass for support. My face heats as I realize how exposed I am, but I try my best to keep my head high in the awkward position. Try to seem like I’m completely in control, like I’m a woman who has her own network television program. Like this moment is my victory, not my shame.
Hadrian nods as though he’s pleased. “Very nice.” It’s said so quietly, I’m not even sure he meant for me to hear it. He takes a couple of steps in my direction, which makes my breath stutter, but he stops when he’s still ten feet away. He rubs a hand over the thick bulge in his pants, and I know with all my heart that if this is another episode of him jacking off while I remain untouched–while he remains untouchable—that I will die. Absolutely die.
“Now what?” I prod, hoping it will incite him to move this further.
“Patience.” He pulls his cell out of his pocket. His attention lowers to the screen, and oh my God, I’ve never felt so demeaned. I’m sitting here with my cunt out, and he’s going to make a call?
But after he swipes and clicks, he points the phone at me, his eyes remaining on the screen. “Now play with yourself.”
I don’t move.
“Brystin?”
“I heard you. What are you doing?”
His eyes float back to mine. “Watching.”
“What are you doing with your phone?” It’s a stupid question because it’s an obvious answer.
“Obviously, I’d love to capture you like this with one of these studio cameras, but that’s a lot of work and the security on my phone is better. So we’ll have to settle for this. It will match my screen saver.” He winks. Actually winks.
My stomach clenches with dread, as another wave of lust rolls through my lower regions. This could end terribly. It was one thing to send him a faceless image of my pussy. This is me fully exposed, on top of my soon-to-be anchor desk, with my face very much attached. If this image got out, it could ruin my career forever.
Since I didn’t jump up and cover myself the second his phone came out, I’ve already potentially fucked myself over. I’ve already risked too much.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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