Man Juice Page 10

  It’s been a while since I’ve felt so exhausted after fucking, but Molly really puts me through the rounds.

  After a few minutes, Molly exits. She has a towel wrapped around her head, but the rest of her perfect body is exposed.

  She sees my lying on the bed and asks, “Don’t tell me you want to go another time?”

  “I wouldn’t be opposed,” I respond.

  “You may be ready, but I think I need a little rest.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Molly lies on the bed next to me. Looking into my eyes, she asks with a teasing grin, “You wouldn’t mind if we just stayed in bed all day, would you? I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open if I have to find my way back home.”

  “Sure, of course.” It’s the total fucking truth. I don’t want her to go. I could get used to her in my bed every fucking day. It kind of scares the shit out of me, but not enough for me to make her go.

  “And you never know, maybe I’ll want to go for Round 3 in just a bit.”

  “It’s always on the table.” She makes herself comfortable. She takes the towel off her head, gets situated under the covers, and falls asleep almost instantly.

  I feel happy. And not in an “I just had sex” kind of happy. But a kind that I’ve never experienced before. Where there’s nothing I’d rather be doing than lying here next to her.

  The craziest part? I like it. A whole fucking lot. And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.

  19

  Owen

  My arm is asleep, but I can’t bring myself to pull Molly’s beautiful head off it.

  She’s sleeping soundly and contentedly. I move ever so slightly, and she sighs.

  I wait a few more seconds, before I finally can’t take it anymore; my arm is throbbing in pain. I carefully place her head down on the pillow next to me and gently roll away, as not to disturb her.

  It works, and she remains peacefully asleep.

  I leave the bed and walk to the living room, stretching and rubbing my sore arm. I have room service on speed dial because it’s convenient, and let’s face it―I’m not much of a cook.

  I know that Molly will probably be hungry when she wakes up. This is the second night in a row she’s spending the night with me, and I can’t help but feel growing attachment for her, even though I still have the club and getting back into it in the back of my mind.

  A cheery room service attendant answers the phone. It sounds like Mark, but I can’t be certain, so I don’t call him by name.

  Yes, I know most of their names by heart. I’m pathetic. I know it.

  “Good morning,” I yawn sleepily. “I need breakfast brought to the forty-ninth floor.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man says on the other end. “What can I bring you?”

  “Hmm,” I say and contemplate the choices. I pretty much have the menu memorized at this point.

  I know Molly will probably want some fresh fruit and oatmeal or something. Chicks always try to eat healthy, but even I can’t resist every now and then. I just make sure I get some good iron pumping sessions in if I eat hefty portions.

  I order the fruit and oatmeal for Molly, and I order bacon egg and cheese on a croissant for myself. I promise I’ll work out later, and sex with Molly is always a great way to break a sweat, too.

  I hang up with room service, and literally as soon as I set my phone down on the couch, my doorbell rings.

  I sit there for a second. There’s no fucking way room service is already here. I mean, sure they’re quick, but not that fucking quick.

  I walk to the door and open it. Surprise hits my face when I see that it’s Victor standing on the other side.

  “Hey, man,” Victor says breezily with a nod in greeting.

  He walks past me, right into the kitchen where he proceeds to pop open a beer bottle, helping himself to my fridge while he takes a swig.

  “Ah,” he says in a refreshing tone with a gulp. “That’s fucking amazing.”

  I have somewhat of an open-door policy when it comes to Victor. He has a key, but he won’t use it unless he asks me first.

  Unfortunately, that little setup can’t be reciprocated because he’s married with a bossy-ass wife and two annoying little brats.

  I’m only kidding; I love his girls, but kids aren’t really my thing…or at least, not yet.

  “So, how are things with you this morning? How was your night?” Victor takes another sip of the beer and sits down at a barstool at my kitchen island.

  “Pretty good.” I nod and cross my arms. “Starting early, aren’t we?” I add, nodding toward the beer.

  “That’s it?” Victor raises an eyebrow, ignoring my comment.

  “What?” I chuckle and scratch my head.

  “I don’t know, suddenly the famous Owen Wolfe becomes shy?” Victor gives me a knowing look.

  “I’m not shy,” I scoff. “Just a little tired is all.”

  “Why is that?” Victor smirks.

  “Come on, dude, quit busting my balls already.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms again, fidgeting defensively.

  “You know I like to fuck with you.” Victor chuckles before downing the rest of his beer.

  “Dude, you really fucking finished that in a hurry,” I note. “It’s seven o’clock in the damn morning.”

  “I was thirsty, okay?” Victor grins. “Besides, you should have one with me.”

  “I might when my room service order arrives,” I say.

  “I wish I arrived a few minutes earlier, and I would have ordered with you,” he says.

  “Here’s the phone.” I hand him my cell.

  “Nah, that’s okay. I can’t really stay too long.”

  “Gotta get back to the ole ball and chain, huh?” Now it’s my turn to tease him.

  “You know it.” Victor nods, too lazy and tired of me making fun of him for so long about his marriage.

  “Does that mean you aren’t going to work today?” I ask.

  “I have some telecommuting conferences later,” he mentions.

  “Cool.” I nod.

  “So back to things with you…” Victor drums his hands on the counter top. “How are things going with Molly? Do you have her wrapped around your finger yet?”

  I glance down the hallway where my master bedroom is. I chuckle nervously. “What do you mean?” I ask vaguely.

  “I mean how’s the plan working out so far?” Victor slaps my back.

  I want Victor to stop running his fucking mouth, but I can’t exactly act suspicious either and raise his curiosity even further.

  “So, are you at full seduction level with her yet? Is she just drooling over you and melting into your arms just like you want? Is she right where you want her?”

  Victor’s eyes are eager and dazzling like he wants to gossip like a fucking teenage girl.

  “Calm down, man,” I say, pitching my voice low.

  Jesus Christ. I bet you’re really freaking out right now, aren’t you? Yeah, me too, even though I’m trying to play it cool. But I don’t want Molly to overhear him any more than you do.

  “Well, have you at least brought up the membership thing to her yet?” Victor asks.

  You know just a few seconds ago when I mentioned that my worst fear is Molly overhearing Victor?

  You probably already know where this is heading, don’t you?

  Yep, you’re right. Spot on. Of fucking course, she walks in the room at the exact moment that Victor asks about the membership.

  I have the fleeting sensation that I’m floating, then my cheeks burn with humiliation, because I’m caught.

  Wait a second! Maybe she didn’t overhear the entire conversation.

  Fat fucking chance, and the next words out of her mouth make me cringe to my core.

  She looks at me with eyes like a wounded bunny, as if I just shot her in the forest for no apparent reason while she just so happened to be hopping by.

  I glance at Victor with a look that lets him know I’m going to kill him the
first chance I get. I don’t want to make eye contact with Molly, but I force myself to, because it’s what a real man does when he’s cornered. I don’t fucking flee.

  She asks the burning question that I already know is coming.

  “Owen,” she stammers in disbelief. “Is it true?” She looks between Victor and me.

  “What?” I ask. Maybe I can get away with playing dumb here?

  “Have you just been trying to seduce me this whole time?” Her voice cracks, but she doesn’t cry.

  “Yes.” I nod and hang my shoulders. “It’s true.” There’s no fucking point in denying any of it. She obviously heard it all.

  “Why?” Her voice is hurt, broken.

  I take a deep breath and look at Victor. He’s staring at the ground remorsefully. The dick.

  “I’m so sorry, Molly.” I try to take her hands, but she jerks away and takes a few steps back, away from me.

  “I got kicked out of one of your father’s clubs,” I admit. “I thought that if I could get you on my side, you could help me re-instate my membership.”

  I omit the part about being able to uphold my date with Crystal. I know that little tidbit will be too much for Molly to bear on top of fucking everything else.

  “You fucking asshole!” Molly slaps my chest.

  I stand there and take her abuse because I’m fucking pond scum and I deserve it.

  “How could you treat me like this? The lies?” She’s really shouting now. “I trusted you, you fucking dirt bag!”

  “Molly, I—”

  “Oh, save your fucking bullshit for somebody who cares.”

  Molly’s tear soaked expression cripples me. She runs out of apartment, slamming the door behind her. She’s still wearing my oversized t-shirt and a pair of girly shorts.

  “I’m so sorry, man,” Victor says, and I turn around, remembering that he’s still here.

  “Sorry? You’re fucking sorry? What the fuck did you just do?” I shout.

  “Any chance you had of reinstating your membership is now ruined, and it’s all my fault,” he says regretfully.

  “Yeah, no shit!” I seethe. “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up anyway,” I add. “I don’t even fucking care about the membership anymore. I need to find a way to fix this.”

  Victor lets himself out, and I pace my living room floor, wondering if I should run after Molly. I’m fucking clueless. I don’t know what to do. And the crazy thing is that what I said to Victor is totally true. I don’t fucking care about the membership now.

  All I care about is Molly. And now I’ve lost her, too.

  20

  Molly

  A slight drizzle begins to trickle outside of my car window as I sit sullenly in the back seat and watch the water droplets gently make their way down, just like the tears I’m holding inside.

  Yeah, I know I’m being fucking melancholy; you don’t have to point that shit out to me.

  I’m also fucking mad as a hornet.

  I’m directing most of this anger at myself more than at Owen. I should know better than to get involved with a guy like that. All guys are the same, but when they’re rich and successful? Magnify that cocky arrogance by like…a million.

  I should have known.

  We arrive at my office, and the driver puts the flashers on while he runs around the passenger side seat to let me out of the back seat. He opens the door for me and holds up an umbrella.

  “Here you go, miss, watch out for that puddle, and please try not to slip.” He gives me a smile and his eyes flash with genuine concern.

  If only I could get Owen to care about me like that. Real and genuine. Not some act because he has an ulterior motive. I’m regretful and pouty. Wallowing in self-pity. I should really fucking snap out of it right now.

  “Ma’am?” I hear my driver call back to me.

  I spin around. “Yeah?”

  “Do you want me to pick you up again after business hours?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I respond.

  I know I’m staring at him blankly, like I’m a fucking space cadet. It’s almost as if I can’t focus on one person or one thing in particular, and I’m just grasping at straws to even put one foot in front of the other.

  I shake out my umbrella and push it back down before heading inside the lobby. I hate wet days like this, but as I glance back outside the double doors leading to the street, I notice that the rain is starting to pick up.

  I watch as people try to dart around it and run from being completely pelted and soaked.

  At least I made it inside before the downpour hit.

  See, there’s a silver lining in everything. I can be optimistic when I want to be.

  I ride the elevator up to my floor, and when I step out, I force myself into the mindset that I’m going to go about my daily routine and everything will be business as usual.

  I’ll try to fucking forget about that prick Owen Wolfe. No wonder his corporation has the name ‘Lone Wolfe.’ No respectable female would dare settle down with the likes of him. I’m a fucking idiot.

  I plop down at my desk chair and turn on my computer while I sip the latte I picked up on the way in.

  I sigh and stare at the screen as if I’m looking for answers that it obviously can’t give me because it’s a damn computer.

  “Good morning!”

  I glance up to see Katrina’s bright and bubbly face staring at me as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

  Of course, to her everything is normal because I keep my romantic life private and she has no reason to suspect I’m sinking into a dark abyss of sadness.

  I know I’m being melodramatic right now, but I have the right to be fucking pissed, okay?

  “Hi, Katrina.” I give her a polite smile and prop my elbows up on top of the desk expectantly. “What do you have for me today?”

  “Well…” she begins but I interrupt her.

  “Let’s’ just start with this morning,” I joke. I can’t handle the rundown for an entire day until all the coffee in my cup is running through my veins.

  “Okay.” She nods enthusiastically and bounces on her heel. “You have a meeting with potential investors in thirty minutes,” she begins, looking at her iPod.

  Yes, that’s right―we’re high tech around here. Katrina has a smart device instead of a note pad and a pen.

  “I’ll get ready for that.” I nod and take a deep breath. Oh yeah, by the way, I’ll be nowhere fucking ready for that.

  “You have a lunch date with one of the clients who does interviews for the talent,” Katrina mentions.

  “Alright.” I rub my temples. “I think that’s enough for right now.” I look up at her and smile.

  Katrina types something into the iPad then moves her head up again. “Do you need anything else from me right now?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shrug and force a smile.

  Katrina lets herself out.

  “Oh, Katrina?” I call before she’s completely out of sight.

  “Yes?” She turns around.

  “Will you please close my office door behind you?”

  “Sure thing,” she says and then leaves me in privacy to wallow in my own despair.

  I take a glance around the room. I have a sad little fern plant in the corner by the window. It’s apparent that it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

  Its leaves are droopy and dry, much like my spirit.

  I’m back to my usual, boring self and her monotonous routine after all. So much for living on the edge. Look where it fucking got me.

  Meanwhile my father is probably sitting in his mansion-slash-palace. I picture him sitting in his study with a brandy in his hand and the morning paper.

  Yes, a brandy this early.

  My brother Harry is probably playing golf in some rich county club, not even thinking about work, while I sit here and do all the hard shit, keeping this company afloat.

  Nobody fucking cares, so why should I?

  I regret taking the risk with O
wen. It only backfired in my face. You know what they say, hindsight is twenty/twenty, right?

  I’m just going to have to learn the hard way and take what I know and apply it to my life from now on.

  I mean, am I really that stupid to fall for his manipulating qualities?

  Wait a second, don’t answer that.

  Then out of nowhere, an idea comes to me. I pick up my office phone and dial the Expose Club. A bored-sounding girl answers the phone.

  “Hi, I need to speak to the club manager,” I state assertively.

  “Hang on,” the girl drones, and I hear elevator music fill my eardrums as she transfers the call and places me on hold.

  A few seconds later, I hear his voice come on the line. “Jay Fletcher.” His voice sounds impatient, like he might be in the middle of something.

  “Hi, Jay, it’s Molly Quinn.”

  Jay clears his throat. “Oh, hey, Molly, what’s up?”

  I should probably mention here that Jay and I are on a first name basis with each other because we have to work hand in hand a great deal.

  “I’m calling about Owen Wolfe,” I say.

  “Oh, right.” Jay’s voice immediately cuts to an apologetic tone, which I ignore.

  I’m going to keep this short and fucking sweet.

  “It’s come to my attention that he is suspended from the club right now,” I begin.

  “You’re correct,” Jay coughs.

  I don’t elaborate on how I know this information, and Jay doesn’t press me.

  “I need you to go ahead and lift that suspension,” I say firmly, knowing that Jay will want to keep my father happy, and he’ll be willing to comply for that reason alone.

  “Okay, sure…” Jay says apprehensively. “Any particular reason why?”

  “Nope,” I chime in a high voice. “Thanks for your help, Jay. Please notify Owen at once that he’s reinstated,” I say abruptly, and hang up before he can ask me any further questions about it.

  I sigh and place my head in my hands. Well, at least one of us will be happy.