Read Juice: Part Two (Juice #2) Online
Authors: Victoria Starke
Juice: Part Two (Juice #2)
Juice
An Alpha
Billionaire Romance
Part One
Copyright © Juice
2015
By Victoria Starke
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission
of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of
fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed
as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, or
organizations is entirely coincidental.
“… And I need all this by Friday,” he says while leaving a
hand on my shoulder a little too long. “Oh and I almost forgot. Make sure it’s
done right this time.”
Ugh. My
day is ruined.
I work as a
paralegal at Dunbar Williams and Williams LLP, a law firm in Manhattan, and
Barry, a lawyer with the firm and my boss, always makes sure I’m busy. Plus, a
little sexual harassment is thrown in as a bonus.
“Sure,
Barry, I’m on it,” I say calmly.
“You’re my
girl, keep it up,” he half-whispers in my ear. The scent of stale coffee on his
breath hits my nostrils like nerve gas and jolts me out of my mid-morning daze.
He offers one
last parting blow for me as he walks off, “I better see you at happy hour this
time. You keep standing us up!”
“I’ll try,
Barry!”
Finishing
college with a management and political science double major, I felt like I
could hit the ground running in New York City. Now the world was hitting back.
“Is Barry
back to his old tricks?” sympathized Denise, my office mate and only real
friend at the company.
“Yes, he
just added six more cases to research on top of the fifteen I’m already
working. He’s such a creep sometimes, too.”
“I know, he
really is… Don’t worry, Bronwyn, it’s probably because he just found out his
wife is cheating on him,” she confides with me quietly.
Denise
always knows the right things to say to me. She works as a clerk alongside me
and receives much of the same treatment. A never-ending set of changing
deadlines, lying clients, and misdirected anger from stressed-out lawyers is
our daily routine. Welcome to New York.
“At
least we have Thirsty Thursdays to look forward to. You’re coming right?”
Denise offers.
I could
use a few right now.
“Yeah, I’ll
be there” I say half-believing myself.
“I couldn’t
believe how hot the guys were at Marquee last week, you really missed out. We
met this group of
hilarious
British tourists on “holiday”. They made me
laugh so hard, I didn’t feel like such a slut when I sucked one off in the
bathroom.”
“Ha, you
are
a slut!”
“At least I
have fun! When was the last time you even had sex?”
“Ugh, let’s
not talk about it.”
Oh yeah, Denise
is not only my best friend at work, but also my wingman when we go out for a
drink or ten.
I get back
to my work for a moment, being careful to follow Barry’s directions despite his
rudeness earlier and overall creepiness.
My phones buzzes.
Email: [New Order] Two (2) Cases Energize – Delivery to
432 Park Ave. | 8pm
Shit. Why did we offer same day delivery?
In the spare time I have not being Barry’s personal slave, I
started an all-organic juice cleanse project with my roommate Piper. We call it
Namaste. She usually handles the grunt work while I do the web design,
branding, and marketing.
We’re starting small and delivering to addresses in
Manhattan. We’ve picked up over a hundred orders in our first three months and
having a lot of fun with it. Plus, at $9 a bottle, we’re pulling in almost a
thousand dollars a week from New York’s richest and finest.
My phone buzzes again, it’s Piper. “Hey, can you take care
of the new order? I’d take it, but I’m covering a double shift at O’Malley’s
right now!”
Making our Namaste juices is the fun part. The hard part is
everything else, and delivery is one of the toughest challenges. Today’s order
for two cases came just short of cut-off time, 4:59pm. How was I going to
finish my work, get the two cases of juice, and make the 8pm delivery time in
midtown Manhattan?
Piper and I usually have our friend Jorge help us with
deliveries. He’s a bike messenger and can navigate the sea of NYC taxi cabs,
trucks, and pedestrians better than anyone. But, he’s home in Los Angeles for
the next two weeks.
I message back Piper, “No problem, I’m on it!”
In the next hour and a half, I fire off several emails, make
a few phone call follow ups, and quickly pack up for the day. I’m heading for the
elevator when Barry stops me.
“Headed out already? You young gals have a lot going on.
Just make sure you get me everything by Friday, sweetie.”
Again with the sweetie. God I can’t stand him.
Now I’m half walking, half running down the sidewalk in my four-inch
work heels, work bag in hand, and gym bag over my shoulder. I should have just
enough time to pick up the two cases of product and get up to midtown by 8
o’clock.
Outside, the sky is dark and a feel a few rain drops as I
scamper down the blocks and across an intersection. Not what I need now.
How do I know that address… 432 Park Avenue? I can’t get it
out of my mind how familiar that building sounds.
I’m sweating now as I scramble up the three floors to our
tiny but cute apartment in the East Village. “Keep going, girl,” I tell myself,
“This is all part of the plan.” Two cases in hand, I’m flying back down the
three flights of stairs and out the front door.
“Always in a rush, Bronwyn!” my 80 year old landlady Doris
calls after me.
“I know, I know,” I smile back at her. She’s so sweet.
I’m back pounding the pavement again, half running and half
walking like a maniac in my pencil skirt and thirty pounds of our fresh juice
under my arms. I make it to the subway stairs, and get there just in time to catch
the 6-Train uptown.
Now in midtown east, I scamper the quieted sidewalks in
search of this address that strikes a chord, but I can’t for the life of me
remember why.I thought to myself as my arms start to shake under the weight of
the boxes.
Is it my ex’s old address? That place I had that never-again
one-night stand after one too many shots?” A few more steps and I’m there.
Success! Too bad I’m sweating, hair probably a mess, and a fresh pair Jimmy
Choo’s taking way more miles than anyone should be giving them.
Oh yes, now I remember! This is 432 Park Avenue, the
just-completed, mega skyscraper that has the city’s real estate news abuzz.
Swanky.
A doorman in a fitted uniform helps me with the entrance,
“Evening madam”.
“Hi, I have a delivery for a Mr. Chase,” I say with a smile,
as I trip over the threshold and spill the contents of both boxes on the floor.
One bottle breaks, sending all my hand-squeezed lemon, ginger, and aloe
goodness spilling across the marble lobby floor. “Oh, no!” I cry out, helpless
only to watch the hard work go to waste. I’m now on the floor, frantically
trying to grab all the spilled contents and assess the damage.
A deep voice appears from behind me, “Thanks, that’s for
me.” I spin around mortified to find Mr. Chase who appears to be about 30 years
old, tall, broad, and lean, and unbelievably handsome.
He’s sweat-covered
apparently from a city run and wearing a cocky grin as he walks directly to my
aid, with bottles rolling every direction. I’ve always had a thing for guys
exercising – I don’t know if it’s pheromones or something chemical, but a
well-cut man after a workout always turned me on.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I stammer, “I don’t know what happened –
I just dropped it – oh my God I’m so sorry, I can-”
“It’s quite alright,” he says, cutting me off. “Here
let me help you,” he says as he quickly rushes over to my aid. He brushes
against my shoulder as he leans down, sending a warm and pleasant shiver down
my side.
“If these juices are half as good as my assistant says, you
have nothing to worry about.”
We’re face to face now. Damn. Even drenched in sweat, this
man smells delicious.
“Why, thank you!” I squeak.
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Bronwyn Cole”
“I’m Everett Chase. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he
says.
The pleasure is all mine, Everett.
“Will you help me run these up to my place?”
I think to myself, who is this young man with an assistant,
a running habit, and the audacity to invite a total stranger up to his place?
Then again, I hear this building has the best views of the entire city, so at
least if he kills me, it will be a beautiful place to die.
“Sure, I hear the views are sexy,” I say, trying to use my
sultriest voice, and recover from my earlier stumble.
“The sexiest”, he says holding my gaze and making my skin
flush.
A short high-speed elevator trip later, I enter the 96th
floor apartment after him to a brilliant bright space, seemingly made entirely
of floor to ceiling glass, Italian marble, and plush leather seating. I walk up
to a wall of windows and can see the entirety of Central Park. The summer sun
is now setting and drawing long shadows across the cityscape.
“Wow… we’re so high up. It’s making me dizzy.”
“You get used it,” he says. “Here, sit for a moment.”
I sit on a soft white leather chaise, but my eyes follow Mr.
Chase walking into his bedroom now, who’s pulling off his sweat-wicking running
shirt to reveal a muscular and tattooed back. Maybe there’s some bad boy in
this rich kid.
“I was lying earlier,” he calls from the other room,
“It’s not my assistant that ordered your juices. I actually love these things,”
he confesses while cracking a bottle open.
“Ha, I knew it!” I reply.
“You know, the health and nutrition market is
something I’d like to get into,” he says while walking back over to me
shirtless. “Are you interested in investment or do you like to do it solo?” If
his back was impressive, his chest and torso are even more so. He has a huge
double-eagle tattoo framing his heaving pectoral muscles. I can’t hide my
admiration for his physique, looking up and down his frame.
Everett is now standing just a few feet away from me while
I’m still seated. I’m again caught off guard by his candor and direct nature.
But I’m also unable not to notice the impressive bulge in his running pants,
which is starting to grow.
I feel a warmness in my inner thighs, which I quickly
misdirect by asking, “What kind of investment can you offer? We’re one of the
fastest growing juice cleanses on the market,” I lie.
I’m now questioning everything going on. Could he just using
his status and looks to use me for sex before tossing me out to the New York
streets? Shouldn’t I check with my business partner Piper first? Do I really
even care?
“I created, built, and sold one of the most popular
blogging platforms in internet history, and I’m now fortunate to be in a very
strong cash position,” Everett says while pacing back and forth. “Frankly I’m
bored with this money sitting in the bank and want to make new connections with
promising upstart talents like yourself. I see a lot of potential in this
space,” he says while looking up and down my shape.
“Are you willing to work together?”, he says with his
thick cock straining against the fabric just inches from my face.
My clit is tingling and I’m unable to ignore my needs
anymore. “Yes, Everett, I would love to work with you,” I say as I settle into
the chaise further, and pulling him on top of me.
We lock lips in a passionate kiss, while he pushes me into
the soft and velvety leather. His strong tongue enters my mouth with insistence
while I feel his weight over me. I shudder and feel an electricity shoot
through me as he sucks and tongues beneath my ear.
I look up at the tall ceilings while he makes his way down
my belly to my pussy which is now drenching through my panties. I help lift up
my skirt to expose myself and give him a better view. “I forgot to wear panties
today, I hope you don’t think I’m a whore,” I say.
Everett didn’t even respond, rather his chiseled jaw
immediately dropped to my smooth and freshly lasered pussy lips. His stiff
tongue darted around and around my clit until while I pulled his head into my
center. I always orgasm easily and all this build-up had me close to the brink.
“Yes, make me come you little millionaire bad boy!” He
stops short for a moment to say, “That’s billionaire, babe,” he corrected,
before dropping his eager mouth onto me again. “I’m so sorry, haha!” I squeal
as my first orgasm crashes over me.
“Your tongue is so fucking good. How is your cock?”
He stands again in front of me. “What do you think, Bron?”
he asks he lower his pants to reveal a rock hard member at least nine inches
long and as thick as my wrist.
“I think I want to suck it,” I say while popping just
the head into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the tip. I can barely get
much more in my small mouth but use a hand to jerk off his shaft. My clit is
still aching for attention and I begin rubbing my wetness while sucking off
this young stud’s cock.
“Suck it hard, Bronny. Give me what I want,” he
commands. I do as instructed, sucking hard and deeper, while continuing to
finger my slick clit. I’m so filled with desire I feel my belly quivering and
nearing another orgasm. He firmly grabs my hair and pushes his hard cock more deeply
into my mouth, which puts me over the edge and into my second orgasm. I come so
hard my vision gets narrow for a moment. I scrape him with my teeth, causing
him to pull away.
“Don’t bite it!” Bossy, bossy. “Ok, so what else are
you going to show me tonight?”, I challenge.
“Stay right there with your legs spread.” He leaves
quickly and returns with a gold wrapped condom which he is pulling down and
down over his shaft.
Even after two orgasms I am so unbelievably ready for more.
I couldn’t wait to get his throbbing cock inside me. I was only worried about
how we would get it to fit.
“Go slow, I’m very small.”
Everett rested his heavy member above my entrance and pushed
his weight down over me while passionately tongue kissing me again. His hard shaft
pressing into my lower stomach felt divine. He began rubbing his cock up and
down my wet outer lips. My pussy could hardly stand the tease, trying to get
his meat inside me.
“You want this cock don’t you? You want my billion
dollar cock inside you?” He was right, I did.
“Put it inside me, please.”
Everett slowly guides his cock directly and firmly up inside
me, all the way until he’s reached my cervix. “Oh, too far,” I gasp.
“No it’s just right,” he snorts.
All of my exes had small or average penises and didn’t
prepare me for a horse-hung man like this. Short jabs of pain mix with intense
pleasure as Everett began pumping his cock in and out of me. I reach around to
his balls and feel my wetness has completely covered them and the leather I’m
lying on.
“Turn around.” He orders.
I jump up and bend over as instructed, arching my butt up in
the air. “Do you like what you see?”
“I do,” he responds.
I’m normally a shy and self-conscious sort, but something
about the fantasy and surreal nature of being a thousand feet in the air in a
multi-million dollar condo turned me into something of an insatiable sexual
animal. “Come on, Mr. Chase, fuck me hard from behind.”
He positions himself closely behind me, and SLAP. A firm
smack across my ass echoes in the cavernous living room. He slides his cock
back in and starts rhythmically pounding me. He’s fucking me hard now and very
deep. His balls slap my clit with every repetition, and my vision begins to
close in again. My legs begin to tremor and I feel my insides turning inside
out. I can’t hold back any longer. I shout out, “FUCK, I’m coming again… fuck
me fuck me fuck me…”
“Me too, Bron, I’m shooting inside you!”
We climax together in a seemingly never-ending series of
pulsations. We collapse together on the couch, and lay for a moment, before
falling into a deep and satisfying sleep.
