Juice: Part One (Juice #1)

by Victoria Starke

  Juice

  A 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.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter One

  “… 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.

  “Atleast 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!”

  “Atleast 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.

  Chapter Two

  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.

  Chapter Three

  “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. 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.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, you girls want these leftover cupcakes from the meeting earlier? I think they’re red velvet.”

  “No, thanks, Barry”

  “I forgot you girls don’t eat before noon!” he laughs at his own joke.

  Gross.

  I’m snapped back to reality at my desk job, though my mind keeps wandering to my new billionaire customer. Was I just fooling myself that he really was interested in the company or was he just using me for sex?

  “Tell me again what happened,” Denise insists. “You got an order for your juice company, and a second later you two are having sex? And I thought I was the slut!”

  She’s right, I’m always quick to judge girls around me, but here I was last night, giving it away so easy. But it wasn’t so easy. It was a wild turn of events. It could have happened to anyone.

  “Denise, I dropped the order all over the lobby floor and was mortified,” I explain. “I thought for sure the customer was my typical, impatient and bossy type, ready to ask for a refund and kick my clumsy butt to the curb, but Everett even helped me clean up my mess.”

  “He sounds like a real catch. Do you think he has any other single, hot, billionaire friends?”

  “I will definitely ask next time I see him.”

  After last evening’s encounter, I’m working at a half-pace at DW and W. I’m typing, “Under these circumstances, the Court of Appeals holds that no contract was ever made between the parties with respect to an order that defendant submitted because the plaintiff fucked my brains out so good that –” Oh god, did I really just type that?