My Not-So-One-Night Stand With a Billionaire

Makenna.

"Nope. No. My God, what is this?" my editor, Seraphine Jones, sighed as she flipped another page. "Mmm hmm. No freaking way." She flipped another page. "Just no." Letting out another deep sigh that echoed throughout her small office, she lifted her gaze to me, throwing the manuscript I just gave her on her piled-up desk. "What's going on, Makenna? Talk to me."

"What do you mean, dear Sera?" I shot her an innocent look.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Cut the crap. I thought we talked about this. Your boring style of writing might have worked out for you just fine these past three years but you've come to the end of the line. No one wants to read this shit anymore."

I resisted the urge to wince at the blunt force of her words. She was right; we had had this conversation before. Many times, in fact. All of which always left me feeling less confident in myself than I usually did, which in truth wasn't a lot.

"I know but I'm trying. Just give it a chance, please. You haven't even read the whole thing."

Sera shook her head. "I don't need to, Makenna. The first two pages almost bored me to death. Makenna, you have to spice things up or you'll lose your readers which means I'll lose money, which in turn means you're going to be out of a job."

For the first time since Sera and I have been going back and forth regarding my writing style, fear gripped me. She'd never said it out loud until today that I could become jobless. The writing industry was as flexible as a rubber and I'd seen how desperately writers had to adapt to their readers' tastes or lose their hold in the market.

Was that really going to happen to me? My career was barely three years old. I would become a laughingstock.

"I've done everything. Explored new tropes, adopted a different writing style. What else can I do?"

"Heat," Sera deadpanned. "Give me something spicy."

"Spicy?" I echoed.

My editor slapped her hand to her forehead. "Sex, Makenna. People want to read smut. Does that make sense to you?"

I blinked, staring at her. As a contemporary romance writer, my books were strictly on the PG-13 side. I never ventured further than that, and I didn't even want to. After releasing my second book last year, I'd gone online to read the reviews. While some critics had applauded my unique writing style, most of my readers had commented about the lack of spice.

It was the first time it occurred to me that maybe it was a problem and now that Sera had voiced it aloud, my suspicions were confirmed.

My readers wanted me to write about sex. The one thing I couldn't do.

"Makenna?"

My gaze snapped to Sera and I swallowed. "Yes. I'm here."

"So? Are you going to give the people what they want?"

I would be happy to, but it would be quite difficult given that I'd never had sex before.

"Uh." I trailed out. "Sera, about that."

"It's very simple, actually," Sera continued, oblivious to my plight. "All you have to do is write out some of your experiences. It's okay if you don't want to be too explicit but there should be some extremely detailed descriptions. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

My cheeks heated. While some might call me a prude, I liked to think I was just an innocent. Unlike most people, I didn't think sex was something I needed to engage in to feel normal. Besides, normal was overrated. But I was a twenty-five-year-old virgin and in today's world, that was practically unheard of. I couldn't even believe I was ashamed to admit it out loud.

"Uh.. yeah," I muttered, my face burning. "I think so. Sex," I chuckled with uncertainty. "I've had a look at that. Too many to count."

My editor seemed pleased. "Good. Good. That's exactly what you need to write about. Pick the craziest experience you've had and put it into words. Make sure there's spanking and screaming. Readers love that kind of weird stuff."

I winced. Spanking during sex? Why did it sound so painful? My best friend always described it to be an earth-shattering experience. And what did Sera mean by screaming? Fear gripped me. Anything that required you to scream during it did not sound like something I wanted to participate in.

Regardless, I cleared my throat and nodded firmly. "Sure. I mean, I've been spanked before. Plenty of times."

At that, Sera gave me an odd look. "Save it for your readers, Makenna."

'Right. I'll go and uh.add in some.uh.smut."

Sera nodded. "You do that. Alright, I'll see you later. I have some work to do."

"Right." I nodded again, feeling very scared for my future. But if I were to give up writing, I'd replace it with living a life of crime so no, thanks. I'm good.

I walked out of her office, sighing audibly. How was I supposed to write a sex scene when I hadn't ever experienced one? In all my twenty-five years, the only thing I've wanted to do was tell stories. I grew up reading novels, falling in love with words and making them a part of me. Nothing else had mattered. Especially not boys.

Most of my stories were indirectly based on the people around me and the whole world at large. I heard a story or saw something worth dissecting and I poured all of that inspiration into words. In truth, I didn't like a lot of people. They tended to have this annoying ability of either breathing too loudly or saying the wrong thing. Simply put, I wasn't anti-people; I was anti-stupid.

As it was, I couldn't even watch two people kissing without blushing like a tomato. I was incredibly shy and had only liked one person in my entire life. That had been a complete failure, given that he preferred my sister.

Besides, growing up, my twin sister, Mackenzie, had been the one whom all the boys liked. Definitely more stylish and refined than me, even though we literally had the same face, there had always been something about her that made all the boys ache with need.

Maybe it was because she was a social butterfly and I was the exact opposite of that. Either way, it had never bothered me that Mackenzie took all the spotlight. I'd been happy to stand in the background with my head buried between the pages of a book, while she gleefully went through boyfriends like she was changing underwear.

My parents' blatant favoritism of Mackenzie certainly hadn't helped. They'd painted me as the black sheep of the family, never mind that I was the quiet one. Not only did they disapprove of my chosen career path, they urged me to be more like my sister because she was the epitome of everything they wanted in a child.

It had stung at first, but as time went on I'd learned to live with it. There was nothing I could do to change their minds towards me and that was okay. They were still my parents and I loved them regardless.

Now at the garage, I got into my Kia Forte and turned on the engine. Regarding my rejected manuscript, I was at an impasse. Usually, I always conduct research before starting a new book. Now, however, that research was complicated since it entailed my involvement in the actual act. It begged the question: did I really want to lose my virginity for the sake of my readers? Was I ready to make such a drastic decision just because some people expected me to?

As the engine roared to life, it took me approximately five seconds to make a decision.

I needed to have sex; it was time to be spanked.