Could a Reality Show Really set her up with her Ideal Man?

Being on a reality tv show was the last place Selena saw herself, ever.

Being on a dating show where she was paired with the most arrogant jerk she’d ever met in her entire life was like all of her worst nightmares rolled into one.

Millar Stephens was every cocky high school jock rolled into one.

Selena knew, because he was always on the news, always being interviewed about his sporting prowess, always boasting of his abilities.

Now, he might’ve been right about his abilities—Selena didn’t actually watch the sport, or even understand it, for that matter—but as far as she was concerned that made no difference what-so-ever.

Now she was standing opposite him, as his gaze roved over her body and he shot her that winning grin that undoubtedly made every other woman swoon, but that made her feel ill.

Three months.

That was how long she was going to have to deal with him for. Day-in, day-out, as they set up a life together, and pretended to be infatuated with each other for the world to see.

Selena grimaced.

Would it be worth it?

For a chance at winning three million dollars, so she could save a historical residence and it’s entire collection of antique books?

Yep. It would be worth it.

She just had to fake a smile, and flutter her eyelashes a few times, and everything would be fine.

Three months. It’d fly by.

*

“This is perfect.” The director grinned, as Selena rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room.

It wasn’t perfect. It was far from perfect. Millar was a far better actor than she’d anticipated because he was the perfect date in every sense of the word, listening to her talk about her dreams, cooking a meal for her, setting up a perfectly romantic candlelit dinner, complete with her favourite food.

It was awful because he was actually damned attractive up-close, and even more so with this act he was putting on, being humble and kind and generous and all the things she actually really wanted in a life-partner, except for the fact he played sport, which she hated with every inch of her being.

She’d tried to play nice and pretend affection, but instead all her frustrations had bubbled to the surface, and she’d just ranted at him about how unfair it was that sports was given such a huge sum of money for funding, while the arts wasn’t given anywhere near as much, and yet was far more important than a bunch of pumped up dicks running around in a field kicking a ball.

She slammed the door to her room, sliding down it to bury her burning cheeks in her arms.

Soon the entire nation would see her, looking like a damned fool.

Was that worth the three million? She thought again of the historical residence. Not just any historical residence, but her great great grandparents home, filled with mostly their things, which had been passed down through another family line. It was going to be bulldozed, if Selena didn’t get the money soon. Nobody wanted antiques anymore, there was no value in it, and her distant cousins were going to sell it to some developer who wanted to build a block of flats.

There was a knock on her door.

“Not now!” she snapped.

A piece of folded paper slid under the door.

She raised an eyebrow, and opened it.

It was a printout of a receipt acknowledging his donation. She couldn’t help but note he’d given his name as ‘Anonymous’.

She opened the door to find him standing there.

“Can I come in?” He looked quite sheepish, his head slightly lowered, his eyes pleading.

“Fine.” She stepped back, closing the door behind him as the cameraman wandered up the hallway.

“I’m sorry I’m not exactly what you were expecting from this experiment, but you are a beautiful woman, and I am actually attracted to you, and we still have 10 weeks of this process to go, so I was hoping we could call some sort of a truce.”

Selena frowned. “A truce? It’s not like we’ve had an ongoing battle, this is our first fight.”

“Well, yes,” he said. “But I can tell when someone fakes fluttering eyelashes and forces a smile.” He held her gaze. “It’s kind of obvious you don’t like me.”

“Oh.” Selena looked down at her feet. “Sorry about that.”

He shrugged. “Can’t really expect to find true love on a tv show, can you?”

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting to find true love?”

He gave a wry grin. “I helped fund the show, on the proviso I got a say in who I was paired up with.”

“What?” Selena’s mouth dropped open. She frowned. “Why me?”

Millar shrugged. “Well, like I said, you’re beautiful, and you seem to like the same things I do, and—”

“Did you get my application mixed up with someone else’s? I hate football.”

“Technically, I play hockey.” He shrugged again. “But no. I’m talking about stories. One story, in fact. Ursula le Guin’s, ‘The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas’.”

“You’ve read that?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.

He nodded. “It opened my eyes to the plight of so many people, so much worse off than I was, whose very existence ensures we live in such an affluent society. It’s why I play hockey, actually.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because hockey helps the world’s poor.”

“I earn millions in a single season. Playing hockey by itself does nothing but provide me and a anyone watching with entertainment. But the money I earn, invested wisely, funds all sorts of programs for kids in less privileged areas, giving them opportunities they might not have otherwise had.”

She searches his face for signs he’s pulling her leg, but if he is, she can’t tell.

“For real?”

“I can show you, if you want.”

“Go on then.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and in minutes she’s seen all the money flowing into, and out of, his bank account.

“For real.” Her words are breathy. She can hardly believe it.

She turns around to kiss him.

She doesn’t know why, her brain isn’t her own, but suddenly her arms are around his neck and his are around her waist and they’ve moved onto tonguing, and then before either of them know it their clothes are gone and he’s checking that she’s sure before tearing open a condom and rolling it down over his erection.

Fuck.

“Are you absolutely certain you want this?”

His gaze searches hers.

She is. He’s hot. He’s treated her exactly the way she’s dreamed of being treated by a partner, and now she’s learnt he’s using his wealth for good, and not just hoarding it because he can she’s suddenly hot and horny for him.

She nods. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

The weight of his body on hers is delicious. There’s no other word for it. And the way he slips a hand between them to play with her pussy as he sucks a nipple, making sure she’s wet and ready before his cock even gets anywhere near her cleft is even more of a turn on.

She’s moaning before he enters her, begging for him to fill her, to stretch her, to fuck her.

And when he finally does she’s not disappointed.

He’s the best lover Selena has ever experienced, somehow angling his cock so it thrusts against her g-spot, his thumb stroking her clit as he gazes into her eyes, looking at her like she’s the only woman in the world.

It doesn’t take long for an orgasm to rip through her body, and then another, and another, as he nuzzles into her neck and sucks on her nipples and makes sure she has been very satisfactorily fucked before clinging to her as his thrusts increase, his mouth making an ‘O’ as he comes, gasping for air.

*

Selena doesn’t win the three million dollars.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. She has a fiance who brought her ancestors home and all its contents for her. They use one wing of the sprawling building for disadvantaged children, giving their parents some respite if they need it, or extra tutoring, or simply a place to go to experience all the things rich kids have access to on a daily basis.

And for Selena the best thing about it all is Millar and the way he loves her, and makes love to her.

Going on a reality tv show is the last thing Selena ever saw herself doing, but now she has, she wouldn’t take it back for anything.

---

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