Juice: An Alpha Male Billionaire Romance - Part 5 (Juice: The Series)

by Starke, Victoria

  Juice

  An Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Part Five

  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.

  This book contains sexual situations and explicit language and is not suitable for readers under 18.

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  Bronwyn

  “Everett,” I murmur, pulling me out of a light dreaming sleep. Early morning sun fills the bedroom with a soft, yellow light, and I grab for a spare pillow to hide my face. It’s too early. I feel hot and kick a leg out over the covers. Searching my arm around, I pat the bed, feeling for him to my left, but I find nothing. I feel alone.

  “Everett?” I call again, this time intentionally, and hope he’s somewhere close. I only hear an echo. No answer. This apartment suddenly feels less like home when he’s not here.

  I realize I’ve passed out naked from last night and enjoy the vivid memory of him inside me, looking into the master bathroom’s shower.

  Well, if he’s not here, I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow a shirt and boxers?

  I tip toe into the enormous walk-in closet. It’s clearly a custom-built accessory with under-lit shelves to the ceiling, a center island chest of drawers, and a plush bench seat. I could live here. With my clothes, of course.

  My eyes creep around the space. I wonder if he has a camera built-in? I won’t be long. The real prize is the discarded t-shirt. I grab it and pull it to my face, inhaling a mixture of Everett’s of masculine deodorant and pheromones. I pull the shirt over me and add a fresh pair of boxer shorts with a funny print. I think I’ll wear this today. Walking out I catch myself in the full length mirror, makeup smeared but smiling like a fool.

  I peer out of the bedroom, again timidly. “Everett?” I call. “Anyone here?” I’m talking to myself. But there’s a note on the countertop.

  Out for a long run. Eat something. Back soon. -E

  His hand writing is rushed and scribbled on a torn piece of graph paper. But it’s first thing he’s handwritten for me. I feel like a teenager, heart brimming while holding this scrap in my hands. I’m falling hard.

  Berries and other fruits sit in a bowl on the countertop. I really just need a strong cup of coffee, and happily I spot a Nespresso machine with a stack of colorful pods sitting alongside. I make a double.

  The caffeine is beginning to kick in as I squint out at the city’s park and buildings from Everett’s high rise view. Nope, this view still isn’t getting old. I think I’m even getting my legs under me, even at this height. Though the vantage is decoration enough, I turn around in a full circle, looking over the medium gray interior of the place, and remark to myself on the minimalist-chic style. That, or he’s just moved in. Either way, I need another turn at that amazing shower.

  I scamper into the master bath, close the door, and turn the water to near searing hot. I know magazines tell you it’s not good for your skin, but hot water just feels so damn good. I soak and lean my hair into the waterfall. It seems with the two of us in here last night, I must not have had the chance to properly wash my hair. Last night’s adventure keeping replaying in my mind as I lather the lemon and sage scented shampoo into my hair. I fall into a light hypnosis, standing and running the water over my head, cascading in sheets over my face.

  Everett

  It’s quiet today. Everyone must be out of town. The Hamptons, the Shore, Miami.

  But I’m right where I want to be, pounding the park pavement.

  MOMA is in the rearview, I’m now cruising past the zoo, and closing on the five mile mark. Pace is steady at a six minutes.

  This is the best shape I’ve been since high school. For a moment I hold a deep breath of cool morning air in my lungs.

  I quicken my pace into a full sprint, ripping through the gentle asphalt curves, as the Plaza begins to peak out under the tree cover. I slow to a jog and take a few deep gulps of air.

  I love this city.

  I love the girl waiting for me.

  I’m coming home for you.

  Bronwyn

  “Hello” a voice calls from inside the room, causing my heart skips a beat.

  “Um, who is it?” I call back meekly.

  “It’s me, silly,” he says, peeking into the bathroom. “Mind if I join?”

  I laugh.

  “I don’t mind at all,” I smile as he approaches the glass shower in which I’m encased. He kicks off his running pants, and I notice he’s already shirtless.

  “No shirt today?” I ask.

  “No, too hot,” he says, and I feel a twinge of jealousy thinking of other people seeing him run half naked.

  “I want you all to myself,” I say, and immediately wish I didn’t say it aloud.

  “You have me. All of me,” he says, now embracing with me in the shower, naked.

  He kisses me and instantly quiets my mind of any thoughts other than the moment we’re having together. His body is warm and alive from the exercise and his muscles look even more full than usual.

  “God, you look amazing in here,” he says, his admiring eyes looking me up and down. “I have to have you-” he says and I feel those large hands again tighten around my arms. My eyes widen into his, seeing a fire lit within them. His member is hard and pushing against my belly. He pulls my hand onto it, and kisses around my ear sending shivers up and down my body.

  “I need you again, I need to feel you come again,” he whispers into my ear. I instinctively turn around and guide his manhood between my legs. His massive size presses against me and his hands are now at my hips, pulling me closer as I lean forward. His erection slides back and forth at my opening, teasing my clit.

  “Yes,” he moans and wraps his powerful arms around my body, firmly grabbing my breasts and rolling my erect nipples. He continues to slide at my entrance until it shifts and slides inside in one motion. He fills me and I sharply inhale a breath. Though my body craves him, his size catches me by surprise every time. His fingers dig into my hips. He pumps in and out of me in smooth, long strokes. Our bodies pulse in a rhythm.

  “I was thinking about fucking you my entire run,” he says loudly. The thought excites me. Am I really on his mind as much as he’s on mine?

  “Yes, Everett…you can fuck me any time,” I pant and brace myself against the shower wall. Even moments after we had sex last, I’m always ready for more. I always want to be around him, him inside me.

  “Come for me, Bronwyn, come now,” he commands, and I let go. My orgasm flushes through my body in wave after wave of pleasure. I tense around him and feel him get even harder inside me. His cock is hitting me hard and some pain mixes with the climax. My legs tremble and I feel him begin to shoot inside me.

  “Yes,” he exclaims and holds me tight as he joins me in climax. My eyes are shut tight a moment. I wish I could be here in this moment forever.

  I feel him relax and pull me towards him again. I stand and turn around to face him. Looking up to him I see his eyes even more intense, staring at me deep and m
ore focused than ever.

  “Bronwyn,” he says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.” My skin tingles at the word. Love. Did he really just say that? I just stare. He’s left me speechless again, like the first night we met. Did I hear him right?

  “I think I love you too,” I say, burying my face into his muscled chest. I hold him tight, not wanting to let him go. I feel my emotions rising in my core, my throat. I can’t hold back.

  “I’m sorry,” I say looking down now, and starting to cry. I can’t tell if it’s tears or water from the shower. He gently cups my chin and pulls my face to look into his again.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “It’s just-” I begin with thoughts of self-doubt flashing in and out of my mind so fast I begin to get dizzy.

  “No one has ever said that to me”

  “I’ve never said it,” he says with his eyes full of emotion. We kiss again, under the warm and comforting water.

  This bathroom is outfitted like a four star hotel. Stacks of fresh, clean towels fill the shelves. I grab two big ones, one to wrap myself, one for my hair.

  “Do you do the laundry?” I ask Everett, joking.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he calls back, exiting the bathroom naked, and treating me to a view of his cute butt walking away.

  “How do you keep up with this place?”

  “I have a staff. Actually, her name is Theresa. She’s the best. You’ll meet her if you dawdle here long enough,” he says eyeing me as I sit on the bed.

  “Anyway,” he says, “I want to discuss the business.”

  My heart jumps. His investment in my business, our business, what does this all mean?

  “I know I’ve been at times a distraction, and I want you to get back to what you do best,” he says, taking my hand. “Promoting Namaste.”

  A smile spreads on his face, and I mirror him. I can’t believe he’s talking to me this way, and giving me encouragement.

  “I want you writing again. Every day. The company blog is the best promotional tool we have at our disposal, and I want you leveraging that to its full potential. Can you commit to that?”

  “Yes sir!” I beam.

  “Bron, we’re partners in this, call me Everett. Only sir, when I’m fucking you,” he says and pushes me onto the bed. His physical power is so overwhelming. His voice is at once joking and serious.

  “Ha!” I giggle and though he just had me, I feel an urge to have him again. I could spend every moment with him and never tire.

  “So, not to break the mood,” he says, “but I want you to do something. Something big.” I look into his eyes eagerly.

  “Quit your job at Dunbar, and commit to this full time,” he says, eyes unblinking.

  “God,” I say, looking to the side, “I would love to.”

  “What are you worried about?” he asks.

  His question sends me back to that terrible day I was pulled out early from school, the day my father died. Thoughts swirl and rest on the uncertainties I’ve carried with me since. I knew ultimately I was responsible for myself and others could leave at any moment. The last conversation with my mother flips into my consciousness. It was at least six months ago, when I told her I was moving to New York. On the surface she was encouraging, but every question was followed up with a contingency of ‘when you move back home…’ But every day here, this feels more like home. Every day with Everett, feels more like I’m in the right place. Quitting my job, my last shred of security and independence would put me at his mercy.

  “I want to,” I start, “but what does that mean for me? I- I don’t know how to run a company,” I stammer, looking away.

  “Yes. Yes you do,” he says in a gruff tone, then stands and walks off. I immediately regret revealing my self-doubt. Deep down, I feel this is everything I wanted, but my mind still feels terrified, and I’m worried I’m already failing.

  How can I run a company with Everett, really? He’s a billionaire. A billion. Would he even listen to my opinions on the business?

  “So, again, what’s holding you back?” he asks, now from the kitchen.

  “Nothing,” I lie and scratch at my legs. He appears again at the doorway, with a bottle in hand. Its dark green contents reveal it’s Awake, our morning tonic. The bottle looks tiny in his hand. He cracks the top and takes a huge gulp. He looks like a paid spokesman, not the main investor.

  He watches me intently. “Do you feel uncomfortable?” he asks, noticing my nervous tics.

  “A bit. I mean, yes, I am,” I struggle finding the words to express to him the torrent of thoughts swirling in my brain. Leaving my job, falling in love with a dominating man, and feeling I may be losing my own identity have me on the edge of a meltdown.

  “Listen,” he says and places his large and strong right hand under my chin and thumbs my lower lip while leaning in toward my face. “As I was building my company, Pulsr, deep down I knew I had no idea what I was doing.” I look up and his eyes unfocus and gaze off into that memory.

  “But,” he says, again training his eyes on mine, “I have enough regret to fill a lifetime. My rule now is to never leave anything on the table, to try everything and fail hard if need be. I want you to take the same approach. If you fail, we fail. It’s okay. But, together we’re going to make this real.”

  That spinning feeling I get watching Everett speak starts to happen again, but this time my heartrate is accelerating, and I feel better. He’s right. I’ve been my own worst enemy. I talk myself out of doing exciting and dangerous things. Now is the time to change that.

  “Yes, ok. I want to do it. Whatever you say!” I say smiling into his eyes. I surprise myself with the even and confident tone in my voice. He matches me and grabs me suddenly. I shriek as he lifts me off the floor. My head leans back and I look up to the ceiling. I fall back to him and hold onto his muscled body. I feel so safe here.

  “Good,” he says, putting me back on the bed. “I also have a plan for national distribution, boutique gym partnerships, and promotional events here in New York. First, though, you’re writing every day.”

  “Yes, I’m onboard,” I staring into his eyes. Everything he just said sounds scary and much bigger than myself, but his face says he will be guiding it every step of the way.

  * * *

  “Figures,” Barry says, not looking up from his laptop.

  I’ve just dropped the news I’m officially putting in my two weeks’ notice and my heart is pounding through my blouse.

  “Where are you going anyway? Don’t tell me Whittaker snatched you up. He’s always looking for hot piece of ass paralegals.”

  Ugh.

  “No,” I shoot back, staring daggers, “I’m starting my own business.” As soon as I say the words, I wish I had it back. Barry doesn’t deserve to know anything about me now or the future.

  “Ha! You think you could run a business? With what money, what experience?”

  “I have a partner,” I say, and turn my back to this scum I still have to call ‘boss’.

  “Oh really? Probably some rich guy that just wants to fuck ya.” I cringe and ball my fists, bolting out of Barry’s office. Every snide comment from that shrill voice is like nails on the chalkboard. I have to leave or I’ll throw his beloved coffee in his face.

  I sit at my desk fuming. Two weeks. Just ten more workdays here. I can do anything for two weeks.

  Barry is close behind, following along to my desk, and walks behind me to put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, no hard feelings. We’ll do a going away happy hour,” he says and walks out.

  I’m flabbergasted by his nerve. Insulting me twice, then offering a consolation prize of buying me drinks. Does this asshole even remember what happened last time we did something outside the office?

  Denise spins in her chair. “You’re quitting? Where are you going?” she prods.

  I can’t lie. Now that I’ve spilled the beans to Barry, I’m sure he’ll tell the entire office. Best to get ahead of his gossip
and think about something else.

  “I’m doing the juice company. Full time. Namaste or bust!” I say and allow a quick smile to burst.

  “Oh, that’s great,” she says smiling. Watching her face I can sense some reservation in her voice.

  “Yeah, it’s scary, though,” I continue. “Right now it’s just Everett and me running it,”

  “Yeah, I can’t imagine working alongside your… uh, lover?” she says and asks at the same time. My face is burning red, though I’m already flush with anger.

  “It’s not like that. We’re going to make it work,” I say and spin around in my chair again.

  At least I tell myself that. To this point in my life I’ve actively kept work and romance separate, but now I’m leaving a steady job to mix the two together.

  * * *

  This is the last time I will set foot in this place.

  The scent of stale beer, greasy chalupas, and faux-alpha dudes pounding tequila shots at the bar wrinkle my nose.

  Yes, we’re at Sombreros again, but with the entire Dunbar team, seeing me off with a perfunctory going away happy hour. Barry is acting over-top, even for himself. I tell myself I will do my very best to have a good time.

  A waitress appears at our table with an apologetic look on her face and a tray completely filled with tequila shots.

  “No, please,” I protest, but I know it’s of little use.

  “Come on, Bronwyn,” Barry says patting me on the back, “This is the last chance we have to give you hard a time.”

  My spine instantly freezes from his touch.

  “Hey, don’t worry. I got Patron this time. I know you only drink the good stuff,” he says grabbing two glasses and places them in front of me.

  I look up and around the table and only see shrugs and half smiles all around. Even Cindy in HR isn’t putting up any protest, rather grabbing one for herself to pair with her beer. Who says lawyers are boozers?

  “Fine,” I say, still not looking at the beast that calls itself Barry, “I’ll take one.” A small cheer and clap goes up around the table.