Six of us clink glasses, down to the table, back up and down the gullet.
“Lime, please!” I say and suck the citrus wedge to salve the burn.
“Hey, congrats,” Cindy offers afterward, with eyebrows raised. “I heard the news.”
“Thank you,” I reply, and watch her eyes look over to Barry.
“I heard there’s even an investor in the picture,” she says with a wink.
“Maybe,” I say with a shy smile. I scan the table and catch the eyes of everyone on me, Cindy, Denise, Barry, Sean, and a senior partner. “Nothing is official, yet,” I say and the group returns to their conversations.
“Nothing official?” Barry says, leaning toward me “Well, if you need a job again, let me know,” he says and pats my leg, again sending chills down my skin.
I stand, suddenly. I need a break before this night turns into another disaster, and run off to barricade myself in a stall.
I shoot a quick text ‘Hey’ to Everett, my unofficial business partner. Barry’s comment wouldn’t bother me so much, if it weren’t partly true. Piper, Everett, and I haven’t signed any documents, exchanged any funds. The dichotomy of this fantasy of a complicated but beautiful future with Everett split with the possibility of it all disappears puts my stomach in knots.
I stare unblinking at my phone while sitting on the toilet. I count the seconds, hoping I get a quick answer, some excuse to end this work social function early. Nothing appears, and I resign myself to giving at least an hour or two to these people. The paychecks did clear after all.
I send another quick text before joining them again.
Barry’s being weird again
My heart sinks to see only three people are left now. Barry looks up at me with a forehead full of sweat, “Hey, you were in the bathroom a while, so I ordered us some margs. I hope you like salt.”
“Whatever,” I say and grab the drink. “Let’s go outside, guys?” I suggest. I need some fresh air and some space. I look to the front door, vividly seeing the near brawl play back in my mind.
* * *
The back patio tonight features just a solo act, a tall, thin, and very cute guy with an acoustic guitar. A small group of girls in colorful dresses stand close to the stage, swaying along to the beat. He strums an original tune with a Jamaican vibe which instantly mellows my mood. I close my eyes and imagine briefly laying on a sandy beach with Everett instead of this city courtyard with my boss. A hand snakes around my waist, which I instinctively take in mine, but it’s cold and clammy.
Horrified, I realize it’s Barry, clearly drunk and sweating profusely, and putting on a full court press. I step forward and away, ignoring his attempt, and join the girls in front of the stage.
“C’mon, it’s our last night, Bron,” he slurs, “give me a chance.” He’s still technically my boss for another 48 hours, and I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. My mother’s advice ‘Don’t burn any bridges’ echoes in my head.
“No, Barry,” I say, turning to face him. “I’m just here to see the group one last time. You’ve got to back off.” His face sours at my words. Even with his money, I’m sure he gets rejected all the time. He should be used to this kind of shabby treatment.
“You just need to loosen up,” he says, walking away. “I’ll get us more drinks.”
Denise walks up just then and puts her arms around me. “I’m going to miss you!”
“You’ll see me again, don’t worry,” I say with a confident smile. She smiles back as well. Since mentally checking out of Dunbar, Denise has stepped up holding more meetings, being assigned more high profile cases, and generally being called out for her hard work. I admire her, but I’m happy with my decision.
Barry returns, shoving Denise and I two more shots of tequila. His comb over is now matted to his head, sweat stains leaching from his armpits, but still sporting shit-eating grin. God bless his confidence.
“To great sex!” he cheers the two of us, who shrink away from him, but take the shot anyway. Free drinks are free drinks. I discard my glass and join the crowd again in front of the stage, hoping Denise will help shield me from Barry’s advances, or at least distract him.
Just two songs later though, he’s right behind us, awkwardly gyrating to the rhythm and looking every bit the creepy lawyer that he is.
“Let’s dance bitches!” he screams so loud, even the singer on stage looks startled. He then jumps on stage and grab the mic singing drunkenly into the mic. The cute guy backs away, but keeps playing his guitar. “Yeahhhh, heyyyyy I love youuuu” Barry screams atonally directly into the mic, and points a finger to Denise and me. My face flushes pink with embarrassment. Ugh, now everyone here is looking at us. Barry jumps off the stage, satisfied with his impromptu karaoke and walks up to us beaming, as we stand in shock. I look to Denise, who looks to me with an open mouth stare.
Then, as if in slow motion, Barry grabs my head and kisses me with slobbering, wet lips. Disgusted, I recoil and shriek.
A blur of dark gray blows by me, and see Barry carried off in a flurry of kicking and struggling. “Hey, get off!” he protests. It’s Everett.
Still wiping off his slimy saliva, I watch Everett punch Barry cleanly in the chin twice, knocking him back and onto the floor in front of the stage.
“I said, stay away from her!” Everett yells, standing over him, scowling. Barry grunts and hardly musters a response from his position, prone on the floor. Everett’s balled fists twitch at his sides, ready to unleash a finishing blow, but he restrains himself.
“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my hand, and in an instant, we’re driving away in his Tesla.
“You saved me again,” I say, squeezing his leg and staring at him grip the steering wheel.
“I could fucking kill him,” he says, eyes forward. I can’t tell if he’s being literal or not, but the steering wheel looks like it may snap under the pressure.
“I don’t want you seeing him anymore,” Everett says in a flat tone.
“Never again,” I say. “I shouldn’t have gone tonight,” I say with regret.
“You need to have more respect for yourself,” he says slowly, “I need a full commitment from you to me.”
“I had to go,” I protest, “I don’t want to burn any bridges.” My words feel ridiculous, explaining to Everett a man who could build, burn, and rebuild any number of bridges.
“You have to be punished, so you’ll learn,” he says, with his voice now lower. A sly grin spreads across his face as he shoots me a sidelong glance. I’m still watching and staring at him, not watching the road, but knowing exactly where we’re going.
Everett
Her second message made me sick to my stomach. I was on a call with my partner in Singapore, walking them through some of the more convoluted parts of our code, when I read it.
I should have sent a stronger message the first time he laid his hands on her.
I usually can control my temper, my rage, but Bronwyn triggers an instinct in me. The idea of anyone but me touching her instantly quickens my pulse, and I find my hands forming fists.
Bronwyn has a rare mix of beauty and grace I’ve never seen before, and I will not let her go.
* * *
Bronwyn
I can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed, Everett’s apartment is so pitch black. He leads me silently and directly into the bedroom, and my eyes start to adjust to the dark. Through the window, a million little lights dot the island of Manhattan hundreds of feet below.
He pulls me back against his tough, broad frame, gripping and holding me against him. His essence fills my lungs again, that undefinably masculine mix of aftershave and pheromones that always surrounds him. In a quick moment, my shirt is pulled up over my head and business skirt unzipped, falling to the floor. I’m eager to be more naked and closer to him.
“Good,” he says, looking me over. “I see you’re wearing a better set of lingerie,” I squirm, ecstatic he noticed the little investment I made in a few sets from H
anky Panky last week.
“Kneel,” Everett’s voice rasps, still with a dash of anger. He lights a couple red candles on the nightstand and slowly unbuttons his white collared shirt. My hair falls in waves over my face as I kneel on all fours on the firm but luxurious bedspread. I turn my head back and watch him move across the bedroom.
“Eyes forward,” he commands curtly. I turn back but catch him holding a long piece of cloth. The piece is draped across my eyelids and cinches at the back of my head. You have to be punished. The words echo and stir my body as he tightens the blindfold. The smell of the burning candle wafts into the air the scent of cinnamon and leather. I shake a bit, thinking of the discipline in store.
“You’re going to have to do better,” he says, fingers running up and down my spine and sending warm and pleasant shivers through my skin. His large hand rest on my right buttock and squeezes. I arch my back and let a moan escape my lips.
“Oh!” I scream as his hand slaps my butt hard. I jolt forward, his slap carried so much weight to it. There’s no surprise my soon to be former boss was knocked out cold just moments earlier by him.
“Tell me you’ll never see that loser again,” he says again in my ear, causing goosebumps to run up and down my skin.
“No, never,” I answer.
“Who’s your master?”
“You are, Everett.”
“Good.”
His loosened belt buckle and dress pants clatter on the wood floor behind me. Both of his strong hands are at my hips again, pulling and kneading my flesh. I feel he’s completely disrobed now, and his cock rubs along my panties which are now soaked. I push back against his member and let out a hum of pleasure.
“No,” he says, backing away, “I said, you are going to be punished,” and smacks my butt again, this time the left side, and even harder than before. I yell out in surprise and bury my face into the soft bedspread. He slaps again in short quick bursts. My butt is now warm and tingling, sending small jabs of pain to mix with the anticipation and excitement.
“Do you like it?” he asks, raising his voice. I nod, and murmur a yes into the bed.
I love it.
I need it.
Again, two more short slaps on my already rosy butt cheeks. I’m squirming, wanting to touch myself, touch him, anything, but I know moving will displease him. I stay as motionless as possible and wait.
Finally, I feel his thumbs under my panties, which he yanks down my thighs and off. His hard and massive member is again at my entrance which I push against, hoping it finds its way inside. He balls my hair in his fist, angrily tightening and pulling my head up.
“Don’t. Move,” he commands again, making my aching pussy sick with desire. Using all of my strength, I stay still on my hands and knees as he drags his tool up and down my slit.
“Good,” he says, and slides inside my body, fully, deeply, filling me. I gasp at the sensation of his cock slipping into me. I scream again and claw at the bedding. He stays deep inside me, slamming over and over, faster and faster into my pussy.
Disoriented and less inhibited in my blindness I let my mind focus only on the feeling of Everett behind me and inside me. I match his rhythmic pounding inside me, and smile that he allows it.
“You want to come, don’t you?” he breathes into my ear.
“Yes,” I say.
“Beg,” he commands, fucking me harder and faster than before.
“Please let me come,” I shriek, feeling faint.
“Come, Bronwyn, come on my cock,” he yells, and I immediately orgasm with wave after wave of pleasure radiating from my core. Another two slaps on my butt peppers my climax with a stinging ecstasy.
After a pause, his voice commands me again, “Turn.” and I obediently flip to my back. With my ass burning and eyes still covered, I’m only left to guess what he’ll do to me next. An agonizing moment passes before I feel his hot breath between my thighs. His hands, those powerful tools, push my legs back and up to my chest, spreading me open. He audibly exhales, and I can feel the warm, moist air spread over my center.
I need more. My hand reaches for him, wanting to pull him into me again, but he throws my hand back sharply.
“No,” he says bluntly. “You’ll have to be better restrained.” I can only listen as his footsteps leave for a moment and then hear a drawer close.
“Hands together,” he orders, and pulls what feels like a long piece of silk fabric around my wrists. Up over my head and fastened to the headboard, I’m not only unable to see, but also helplessly tied down. I’m also wetter than ever and twitching to have him inside me again.
His face once again lowers down my body, kissing along my breasts, my belly and tickling me with his stubbled chin. At last, his pointed tongue encircles and flickers over my clit. Around and around he tongues me while pinning my legs back again.
“Yes, Everett!” I scream out. I can feel another orgasm building in my belly and push myself into his face. He backs away, teasing me.
“No. You’ll wait.” he says, and climbs between my legs. His stiff cock enters me again, and I writhe in pleasure in the restraints. Everett gives me long and deep strokes, filling my body and causing my hips to buck against him. I can’t see him, only feel him fucking me, taking everything of me. His hand rests at my throat and applies a gentle pressure.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes, please,” I moan, afraid I’ll finish too soon. His fingers tighten further as his pace quickens. His other hand has pinned my thigh back so I can feel every inch of his enormous size.
“Come for me, come again,” he says louder, and I release. He pumps even harder into me, my vision closing, and leaving me gasping for breath as I feel him twitch and release his warm seed. He holds still a moment, exhaling, then relaxing. He loosens the knots, and we collapse on the bed together naked.
I catch my breath over the next several moments, watching his tattooed chest rise and fall and tracing the raised skin with a fingertip. I nestle my head in the crook of his arm, holding him as I drift into a deep sleep.
* * *
A lucid dream grips me in the middle of the night. I’m at Everett’s building, but outside, hanging on to a ledge. A cool wind whips at my body, only covered in a thin cloth. My fingers tire and slip and I’m falling, falling to the ground. But I only smile, knowing I’m safe, because Everett will catch me.
* * *
I awake to a silent space, and a cool spot next to me on the bed, which is becoming our morning routine. He burns off six miles every morning while I sleep in. It’s a fair trade. And after last night’s melee, I decide I will not go in today for my last day. I nearly made it to a two weeks’ notice. We’ll round up.
The solid front door opens and closes with an authoritative clunk.
“Ev?” I call out.
“Bron-,” he answers. “Stay there.”
My heart jumps, thinking about what surprise he might have in store. I never can really tell exactly what he’s thinking or what he’ll do next. I just know that he’s thinking of me, and it’s a comfort I hope to always have.
He enters the bedroom with two champagne flutes, poured with our Energize juice.
“Aw, thank you,” I say, “What are we celebrating?” I ask and feel a smile spread over me, which happens nearly all the time with him. But his expression is more steady, looking at me square and sitting next to me.
“Bronwyn,” he starts, holding my hand, “When I said I was investing in you, not your company, I meant it. And when I said, that I love you, I meant it, too. I fell in love with your writing, your passion, and your smile.”
“I love you, too, Everett.” I say. I’ve never seen him like this. For once, he looks nervous, like he’s about to ask me something big.
“But I’ve been unfair to you, taking you on this wild journey, with no assurance of where we’re headed. I want to fix that, right now,” he says and slides to the floor, on his knee, pulling a small box from his pants pocket. My hea
rt is pounding, and I take a sharp breath to try to keep calm.
Opening it to reveal a ring with an enormous diamond inside, he looks up at me and asks, “Bronwyn, will you marry me?” END BOOK 5. Book six to be released soon!
Have you read all the Juice books?
See how Bronwyn and Everett first started their love affair:
Juice: Book 1
Juice: Book 2
Juice: Book 3
Juice: Book 4
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Love, Victoria.
Juice: An Alpha Male Billionaire Romance - Part 5 (Juice: The Series) Page 2
