Why should I have to pay for strippers, lap dances, or anything else they might offer me? I can get all that shit for free just because of who I am.
Chase shakes his head. “No worries, man. I’ve got you covered. I’ll spend it for you. Anything you want, it’s yours.”
I arch an eyebrow at him skeptically. “You’re paying?”
He grins sheepishly. “Well, I’ll spend it for you, but it’s courtesy of ABN.”
Of course it is. I shake my head again, amused that they think this will be what makes me crack. Lola is something else. Apparently she’s willing to pull out all the stops to keep from paying out that two billion.
“Whatever, dude,” I say to Chase as we enter the strip club that we just walked up to. It’s pretty posh. Not some sleazy strip club. But I wouldn’t expect anything less than the best. The viewers eat up my billionaire playboy lifestyle. I have to hand it to the marketing team—and Lola—this'll be good for the show.
We stand just inside the entrance, and Chase is going on about some bullshit the network probably told him to say about what we should do now that we’re here, but I’m not listening at all because despite my skepticism about this whole thing, I suddenly can’t drag my eyes away from a girl who's headed my way. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And that’s saying something because the network doesn’t let just anybody on the show to tempt me. But this girl. She tops them all. And she’s walking straight toward me.
“Dude,” I say to Chase, elbowing him in the ribs. “Check this one out.”
I hear his low chuckle and know he has to have that devious grin on that he usually gets when I find a girl that I want. But I don’t bother looking at him. My eyes are locked on her like she’s got some kind of gravitational pull on me. I can't look away, even if I wanted to.
Then she’s there in front of me, her blonde hair falling in sexy waves around her shoulders and cascading down over her tits, which are fucking perfect. Gorgeous and huge and round, I can see her nipples pointing my way through her outfit, and I can’t wait to get my hands on them. Her bright blue eyes are gleaming, watching me closely, filled with the same lust that’s taking over my body right this minute. My dick is instantly hard when she licks her full lips. Fuck, I want those lips wrapped around my cock. Right the fuck now.
“Carter.” Chase’s voice filters in through my hazy brain, forcing me to snap myself out of the momentary stupor. What the hell? I always have the upper hand with women. They don’t send me into a lust-filled haze where I can’t even think straight. I’m the one who does that to them.
Keep it together, Blaine.
I tune back in to what Chase is saying.
“Carter,” he repeats, “this is Destiny. Destiny, meet Carter Blaine.”
She smiles up at me. She obviously knows exactly who I am. But the way she’s looking at me isn’t quite the same as what I’m used to. Yeah, there’s a bit of a predatory gleam in her eye, but there’s something else. Something I didn’t expect. Something that looks a lot like genuine interest.
But I push that thought aside. I can’t be bothered with thinking about anything other than how it’s going to feel when I get this girl to give me head.
Chase shoves a fat stack of hundred-dollar bills in my hand, clapping me on the back as he tells Destiny, “Take my man here to the most luxurious private room you have and give him anything he asks for.”
Destiny gives me another smile, looking like she’s up for anything and everything.
Fuck yeah. Let’s do this.
Ashley
“Please follow me,” my voice cracks, my armor a bit faulty as I take in the man I’ve imagined way too many times, right before I cream all over myself. Hell, I’ve even imagined him while fucking other men at times.
But television and my daydreams don’t begin to do him justice. He’s hotter than I could've ever envisioned, especially since his nonchalant attitude can never be depicted on the show. He’s following me, but his eyes are scoping the club, but not like most men do. You see, most men see women and lose themselves as well as any intuition they may embody. I’ve seen men shrink to boys right before my eyes, their cocks making them my slave just from a soft bite to my bottom lip.
Carter isn’t like that, and I know I need a different approach, because although I’ve caught him looking down at my ass, I know he isn’t going to be an easy target. He’s one of those types who knows he’s sexy, so his effect on me isn’t lost. He’s probably picking up on my erratic breathing, the clenching of my ass cheeks as I walk, and he may have already noticed my razor-sharp nipples.
Making my way through the large club, I notice all the women staring at us as I lead Carter to the VIP rooms in the back of the club. I have to focus to remember the layout I’ve recently learned, everything is so different in the dim lights, with red accents everywhere, making the place seem like an erotic dream. The sofas are Victorian style, with gold accents and plush red velvet upholstery. Men lean back in their tailored suits, ties loosened, and crotches bulging, as women stand before them twisting and turning half naked.
These ar
e the small time suckers, and amateur girls. Any man worth his weight in millions wouldn’t dare be caught out in the open area of a club with a tight grip on his cock. And any girl with experience wouldn’t want anything to do with a man like that.
No, the real money is made in the back rooms, and the real ballers hide behind the curtains protected by bulky bodyguards who make sure women like me can’t get pictures of these expensive targets once I’ve made them bend to my seduction.
“Destiny, you can come here,” the voice says to my right, and I process it, but completely forget that I am Destiny, so I continue walking, ignoring the order.
“Hey, over here,” the voice is dark and throaty, as his fingers grasp my hip, pulling me close to him as he casually whispers in my ear.
The music fades into oblivion as I take in his rosewood aroma; it’s heavy and thick, much like the bulge in his pants poking me from behind. I feel myself warm up, my pussy muscles clenching feverishly as his hand squeezes on my exposed skin, waiting for a response.