Man Juice Page 4

My father sighs, rolls his eyes, and places his napkin in his lap while he waits for his servant to come and place the food in front of his spoiled, pretentious white ass.

  “I don’t ask you to come here and give me the company rundown, Molly. I’m up to speed every day, just like I tell you,” my father lectures.

  “Whatever.” I scoff and dramatically move to the left seat, making sure to pout, huff and make a scene while I’m at it.

  “Molly…” My father sighs again. “Don’t act like a sullen child.”

  “Then don’t treat me like one, Daddy,” I hiss back.

  My father and I have lunch together, sitting mainly in silence, but I drone on mechanically with my laptop, telling him of the most recent events that I think he might want to be abreast about with regards to the talent and new hires.

  After we eat, my father stands to leave the room. He plants a kiss on my forehead. “As always, it’s lovely to have lunch with you, darling,” he says and starts to walk away.

  “Daddy, wait,” I call back to him.

  “Yes?” He turns around.

  My father still has a thick head of dark hair that’s only now starting to grey in at the sides. He’s wearing a grey pinstriped suit, and I notice that he’s thinning from what used to be his heavyset body type.

  “Why are you making Harry the CEO? It’s not fair.” I hate to stoop to this level of blaming, but I honestly can’t understand my father’s choices.

  “Molly, you are too sheltered to understand why I’m going a different way with the company? Harry is just…” he shrugs, “you know, a better fit.” He grins sheepishly.

  “I have all the time in the world, Daddy,” I cross my arms defiantly. “Please enlighten me on why you won’t give me a chance.”

  “I’m really fucking great at my job, and I’m the better choice. You know it, Daddy, deep down you do,” I argue.

  “Harry knows the ins and outs of the company.” My father’s grasping at straws—at least that’s how it looks to me, whether he sees it or not. “He’s good with people, charming.”

  I scoff. “Dad, you can’t be fucking serious right now,” I shout. “Um, let’s recount Harry’s perfect life, shall we?”

  My father shifts his weight uncomfortably and rolls his eyes, but he’s silent. Apparently he’s going to let me grab the reins and roll off on this little tangent.

  “Don’t forget, Daddy: Harry sleeps around, fucking anything that moves. He never comes here to sit in on these business meetings…”

  Richmore Quinn interrupts me. “These are lunches, not business meetings.”

  “Stop!” I hold up a hand to hush him. “He sleeps on the job; he’s rarely spotted in his office…I mean, Daddy, the list goes on and on,” I state.

  My father and I stare at each other for a few seconds, neither one of us having the balls to cave. Then my father roars in anger, sending shivers up my spine, once again trying to put me in my place.

  “Molly, that’s enough,” he yells. “You have no right to speak to me this way or question my choices. I am your father,” he states firmly. “If you were better at decision-making and conflict-resolution, then I would have named you as the CEO, not Harry. It’s plain and simple Molly, black and white. There’s no grey line here.” He points a finger at me.

  “Daddy,” I whisper softly and look at the floor.

  “Another thing,” he belts out. “You never take risks. Harry lives for the adventure, and he’s always coming up with new ways to develop the company and knock it out of the ballpark. That’s Harry’s primary edge!” My father spouts.

  “You really think I’m that pathetic?” I look up at my father.

  My father scoffs. “Why would I ever want a boring person with a stick permanently up their ass to inherit my company? Molly, you would run it into the ground the second you got your hands on it. This is the entertainment business, and things have to be fast-paced all the time.”

  Wow. That fucking hurts.

  I push past my father, ready to run from the room and throw up the lunch currently forming a solid rock in my gut.

  “Where are you going?” my father calls behind me.

  “I’m asking to be excused, Daddy,” I say, hatred lacing my words, not looking back as I run out of the manor and into the blinding sunlight.

  8

  Molly

  I sit in the backseat of my town car, waiting for the driver to get back to the city. We’re almost there. Hardly any traffic congestion awaits us on the journey back, which is totally out of the norm.

  I look out the window, and it looks like it might be getting cloudy outside. Perhaps a summer rainstorm is on the way.

  I sigh and lean back in my seat, closing my eyes briefly. I take this time to contemplate my father’s words to me. No matter how harsh they are, I know deep down they’re true.

  That still doesn’t make me feel any better, and for the moment, I detest him―as horrible as that is to say about my own father. In the end, I know I’ll kill more flies with honey. I’ll grin and bear it when I have to do, but at least for a few moments, I let myself sulk.

  I know I play it safe, and I don’t have what you would exactly call a ‘wild side,’ but I like order and organization―it’s just who I am.

  It’s not like I can completely change my personality at the drop of a fucking hat.

  Or can I…?

  I lose myself in thought as I contemplate ways to be more carefree and less uptight.

  Then it hits me.

  Fuck yes! I know exactly where to begin.

  I have to prove to my father and his little fucking minions that I’m the type to take risks.

  I pull out Owen’s business card. I graze my thumb against its grooved surface.

  I smile to myself and read the print on top.

  Owen Wolfe, Owner and Founding CEO of Lone Wolfe Pictures.

  On the other side is the Post It I stuck on the card after he left.

  I take a deep breath and look out the window. We’re heading through the Holland Tunnel. This gives me the exact amount of bravery I require in order to punch in the numbers to his private line. I hit dial right in time for us to resurface on the other side, in Manhattan.

  Once we’re back under the exposure of direct sunlight again, I take an action that, before today, would require much contemplating, in-depth overthinking, and a million brain cells of analyzing before coming to a decision.

  Yes, I know I’m a dorky basket case, you don’t have to tell me.

  In fact, don’t fucking tell me if I’m making a huge mistake by dialing Owen. That’s not part of the deal. You’re just supposed to sit there and listen to my life unravel―and if it derails into a train wreck, then it’s all on me.

  There’s ringing in my ear on the other end of the line.

  Shit! I can still hang up…should I hang up?

  No, I’m not supposed to take advice from you, remember?

  Owen answers on the third ring.

  “Owen Wolfe,” he spurts out, sounding in a hurry.

  “Um…hey…its…Molly. You know, Molly Quinn? Um, you were in my office this morning.”

  I’m rambling like a fucking idiot. He’s going to think I’m a spastic loser, and I don’t fucking blame him one bit.

  “Oh, hi, Molly.” His voice changes instantly and becomes more approachable, smoother and sexier than fucking possible.

  I try to take even, measured breaths so that I won’t have a panic attack on the phone with him. I remind myself that I’m trying to turn over a new leaf and become more daring. Convincing myself will be half the battle.

  “Hi,” I say, and wonder if he can hear the grin in my face.

  In this moment, I commit to myself that this isn’t about trying to score a date or a free dinner from Owen, or any man for that matter.

  This is about me deciding at the last minute that I’m going to bite the bullet and call Owen. The risk is what I’m chasing, not me falling for those cheesy, bullshit classic atte
mpts guys use in order to scoop up women.

  I sigh with whimsical delight. “I’m just calling to take you up on your offer,” I say.

  “You are?” His voice is surprised, but he also sounds confident, there’s no fucking doubt about it.

  “Yes,” I say firmly.

  I’ve gotten through the hard part, the calling and actually speaking to him. Now it should be effortless and smooth sailing from here on out…I hope.

  “That’s great,” he chimes with sincere enthusiasm.

  “My schedule is free now. I almost can’t believe it,” I chuckle. “You’re lucky.”

  “I’ll say,” he responds. “You may as well be telling me I hit the lottery jackpot,” he croons.

  “Oh, please,” I snort. “No cheesy lines.”

  “Okay, I can agree to that.” He chuckles, low and rumbling.

  Fuck, even his damn laugh is sexy.

  “Um…so where are you at the moment?” I ask and bite my lip.

  “I’m at home,” he states.

  “Where is home, might I ask?” I use my best flirtatious voice.

  “Are you coming here?”

  We go back and forth like the game I know this is.

  “Sure.” I clear my throat, trying to even the tone a little.

  “I live at The Avalon. Do you know it?”

  “Wow,” I say. “Yes, I know exactly where that is.”

  He’s not bluffing, after all; he is really a rich bastard.

  “Okay, my apartment is on the forty-ninth floor,” he declares.

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I state, and feel the bubble of nervous yet excited energy rise in my belly as we hang up.

  “Can you go to The Avalon?” I request of my driver.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tips his hat.

  It seems like it takes ten milliseconds to get to his apartment building, which gives me literally no time to mentally or physically prepare myself―but I’m ready for the challenge. I mean, I have to, don’t I? It’s part of the whole ‘proving myself’ package.

  I walk inside The Avalon with purpose and breezy confidence. The doorman lets me right in like he’s expecting me. I hit the elevator button and ride the entire forty-nine floors solo.

  I notice the multitude of floors in this building and marvel at how tall this skyscraper really is. I know there’s a penthouse suite that takes up the entire top floor, but you need a key for access.

  On the way up, I wonder who lives there and whether Owen knows them. They probably hang out all the time and sip brandy and puff cigars or something…whatever the fuck men do together when they’re so rich they don’t even know how to spend all their money.

  I walk down the hall and ring the doorbell to Owen’s apartment. I take a deep breath and adjust my clothes, running my hands through my long blonde hair.

  A few seconds later, the door swings open and Owen stands before me, gorgeous and sexy as ever. I don’t even know this guy, but I know of him now, and that’s at least enough for me to keep from getting cold feet and running away.

  My mind is already made up, and there is no turning back now. Owen is inciting, hot and barely wearing any clothes. He’s got a pair of black sweatpants on, and he doesn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed to be seen in this condition.

  I instinctively glance down and notice his package bulging between his legs. Holy shit, it’s huge, I can tell. I want to get my hands on that hard cock of his, and I have no idea where this motivation is coming from, but I’m suddenly compelled with the chemistry that swirls around us, as if I have no control over any of it.

  His chiseled body enthralls me, and I’m becoming completely absorbed by how ripped and cut he is.

  I want nothing more than to touch him all over and have him put his hands on me, too.

  “Come on in.” Owen smiles at me and moves aside to let me through.

  We stand in his foyer for a few moments as I continue to soak him in. His chest is glistening. I find myself walking slowly towards him, drawn in like a magnet.

  He gives me a naughty, devilish grin.

  “So, why is your schedule suddenly clear?” His eyes flash with mischief.

  I don’t fucking know why I do it, but something takes over me, something uncontrollable. It’s like everything that I am snaps. I realize I’m unleashing my inner bad girl side. A side I normally keep firmly in check, ignoring its existence even to myself.

  But right now? I’m ready to let that side come out to play.

  I strip down to my black, lacy lingerie and stand before him, taunting him. I’m nearly naked, vulnerable and exposed. My body radiates the heat that I feel inside.

  “This is why,” I say, and eye him seductively, trying to calm my racing heart. What the fuck will happen now?

  9

  Owen

  I have to do a double take.

  Fuck. Is she really standing here in front of me with nothing on but a black lacy lingerie dress? This is totally fucking unexpected.

  Instinctively, I take a step forward, needing to drink in her intoxicatingly perfect body. Her arms are slender, and her tummy is flat from what I can already see through the lingerie.

  She’s playing a naughty game, and even though I know I’m the bait I don’t fucking care. I need to pounce on her.

  She’s biting her lip and staring at me. I know she’s teasing.

  I blink again, this is real…right?

  She’s not just a figment of my imagination.

  To prove this theory, I grab her arms…gently but with a slight tug of force.

  Her skin is so soft. Chemistry surges between us as my fingertips brush up against her neck.

  I don’t know which part of her to explore first. Fuck, I don’t want to miss something or leave a single area out.

  “You’re a naughty little girl.”

  I breathe into her neck as I watch chill bumps prickle on her skin. I know it’s from pleasure by the lusty, needy gaze she’s giving me.

  My own eyes cloud over with desire.

  Her perfume smells amazing. I have to explore her body, a fucking temple of erotica.

  I pin her against the wall.

  “Do you like this?”

  I give her a devilish grin.

  She bites her lip again and smiles.

  I squeeze her wrists tighter, firmly holding her against the wall, pressing my cock into her belly, even though I’m still wearing my sweatpants.

  “Come on, baby girl, talk to me.”

  “You’re so hot,” she finally breathes out.

  I know she wants to surrender to me.

  “Is this a wild fantasy of yours?”

  My question is more like a plea.

  I know which direction we’re going, I just want to hear the words from her. My desire is a wild beast that needs taming.

  “Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, a passion-filled moment between us.

  She doesn’t try to escape my grasp. She all but melts into my arms.

  “I want to kiss you,” I challenge.

  “Then why the fuck aren’t you?” She raises an eyebrow.

  Fuck, she’s sexy and she knows it. She’s playing me like a fucking violin, and it’s music to my ears.

  My cock twitches and tingles in my pants, begging to be free to rub against her inner thighs.

  The air is dense and sweaty between us. My heart pounds in my eardrums as my breath catches in my throat.

  I want this moment to linger in my mind forever. I take a mental picture before I lean in for our first kiss.

  I press my face in her neck, burrowing in to kiss her there first, to tease and tempt. I nibble on her earlobe, and she runs her hands through my hair.

  Fuck, it feels so good having her hands on me right now. It makes me want her to touch me for fucking ever.

  Fuck, how I wish that life had a pause and rewind button. This is one scene I’d put on repeat.

  I move my lips to her mouth, hungry with desire for her. W
ith an almost frantic need, our lips finally meet as I crush my mouth to hers.

  She tastes like sweet cherries. Her hair smells like coconut, and I’m in fucking heaven right now, intoxicated by her scent and taste.

  She parts her lips to allow my tongue inside for exploring. Her kisses send electrifying jolts of pleasure running up and down my spine.

  “I want to taste you.” My voice drips with sexual innuendo because at the same time, I’m talking about her sweet pussy. And she knows it.

  “Feel me,” she commands, and I obey.

  I take my skilled right hand and push it between her legs.

  “Fuck,” I bite out instinctively as soon as I feel the wet, sticky goodness.

  She smiles wickedly at me.

  “I told you.”

  “Did I do this to you, baby?”

  I already know the answer to my own question is hell fucking yes.

  She grins and giggles a little, squirming beside me.

  I let go of her wrists and leave her unpinned…at least for now. I’m so hot for her that I could fuck her right here, right up against the wall in the middle of my foyer.

  I want to take care and precision with this one, though, soaking up the moment to make it last forever. Slowly, I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice is thick with desire.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop touching you,” I reassure her as I bring her to my master bedroom.

  I turn on a soft lamp. I still want to be able to see every feature of her beautiful shape, her gorgeous face, but I want perfect lighting to fill the room. The ambiance is important, every guy knows that.

  “Come over to the bed,” I instruct, and she does as she’s told.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asks.

  Sure, I can narrate, but I’d rather show her in actions how I’m going to destroy that sweet pussy and bring her to the exploding finale of orgasm.

  She quivers as I lean her over on the bed and push her legs open.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet,” I groan, stating the obvious.

  “Touch me,” she begs. Her eyes dazzle with erotic longing.