Virgin Encounter (Magic Juice 1)

Magic Juice

by Jessie Jasen

This book is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places,
events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Jessie Jasen

Published at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without prior permission of the author.

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Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest.

Chapter 1

The glass Concordia Shagger hurled missed
Perry’s head by only an inch, hitting the wall next to the portrait
of William Shagger I, Concordia’s great grandfather and the founder
of the Shagger Inc. empire. The glass shattered to thousand pieces,
scattering around the room and damaging the frame of Concordia’s
great grandfather’s portrait, but omitting to damage its intended
target—Perry.

"You bastard!" Concordia screamed, tears
strolling down her cheeks. "How could you? How could you do this to
me? I was saving myself for you! All this time! I was saving myself
for you!"

"Concordia, darling, you know I love you,"
Perry said sympathetically, his straw blond forelock covering a
pea-sized mole above his left eyebrow.

"I’d do anything for you, I swear. It was a
mistake! A mistake, Concordia! Nothing more! I don’t feel anything
for her. You’re the one I love."

"Perry, you’re such a liar!" Concordia shot
back, spit of anger drizzling from her lips. "Ever since I got
engaged to you my life has been hell. You’ve been telling me one
lie after another. First you tell me you’ve quit drinking, and then
I find out you’ve been sleeping with my best friend. My best
fucking friend, Perry! If you were determined to cheat on me,
couldn’t you have chosen someone who’s not my friend?"

Perry wanted to say something, but his
insecurities rendered him speechless. Any comment he could think of
was potentially damaging. He looked at Concordia despairingly. He
was angry at himself for having bragged about sleeping with his
fiancée’s best friend in front of his pals at his bachelor party.
It was their mouthiness that turned his secret about his one-night
stand into public knowledge. But what would be the fun in breaking
a taboo if you had no one to share it with? The sex with
Concordia’s best friend didn’t really bother Perry. He saw no harm
in dunking his cookie into another woman’s cup of tea before their
wedding. But he was worried about his future with Concordia. And
yet, in spite of his worries, he was relieved that the glass
Concordia hurdled at him had damaged her great grandfather’s
portrait, and not his head.

Perry was aware that having cheated on
Concordia was a mistake that could cost him a lot—his future as a
spouse of an heiress to a business empire, and his reputation. Seen
from that aspect, it was crazy that he cheated, but he didn’t think
about the consequences when he was cheating. He was simply enjoying
the adventure.

It was even crazier that he bragged about
having cheated to his mouthy friends at his own bachelor party. His
friends did a nasty thing—they told their friends, and these
friends told their friends until the gossip made several circles,
making the final stop at Concordia’s ears.

Crazy too was that Marianne wanted to sleep
with her best friend’s fiancé at the wedding party of a mutual
friend of hers and Concordia’s—wedding at which she and Concordia
were maids of honor.

Perry saw the events of that ominous evening
flash like a movie before his eyes.

It was a hot and a steamy night. Summer.
About fifty guests were cramped on a relatively small dance floor,
shaking their booties to top ten dance hits and evergreen romantic
music. The atmosphere was heated and sexual. People sweated. Some
were in bad need of deodorant wipes, but for the most part, the
body odors were bearable. Others perspired so much, their clothes
glued to their bodies revealing skin and voluptuous curves.

Like Marianne. Her dress was so tight, you
could almost see through it. She didn’t wear a bra, which was very
dirty, since her nipples stood erect on her succulent breasts like
twin Eiffel towers on Mouth Everest, bouncing to the music above
curvaceous hips. Perry thought that her curves broke all the
records of architectural proportions for football stadiums.

Marianne asked Perry to dance an honorary
dance with her to a romantic song. He agreed. As they danced
together, her boobs pressing against his, she whispered in his ear
how disappointed she was that Concordia, her best friend, didn’t
catch the bouquet. She said that it meant Concordia wasn’t going to
marry just yet.

Perry smiled and reminded her that their
wedding was in two months. Marianne smiled back. Her eyes had a
lusty sheen. Her sweat, the look in her eyes, but especially her
deep cleavage exposing most of her breasts, shot an arrow of desire
through him. Marianne’s sweat dripped down from the back of her
head to her chest, meandering like a river as it entered the deep
slit in her cleavage. He loved to watch women sweat. She must have
noticed his gaze, because she laughed and told him she had
something she wanted him to see.

The next thing Perry remembered was Marianne
being alone in a dark room with him, her tongue deep in his mouth
and he sucking on it passionately, while her hand wandered around
his waist and down his pants. She stroked him intensively before
she released herself from his embrace, walked over to the window
pane, sat herself on it, lifted her dress, told him to come over,
grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs. She wasn’t wearing
any underwear. Perry’s fingers stroke the slippery slope, gliding
inside her naturally and penetrating her with very arousing
thrusts.

He unzipped his pants and took her right
there on the window pane, unable to control his desire. He stuffed
her deep with his slender cock, howling like a wolf at a full moon.
He thrusted and thrusted, completely oblivious of the surroundings
or the fact that he was engaged and about to get married.

His senses only returned when he came,
spilling his seed inside her like toxic waste.

The sex was short but very exciting, as
forbidden sex usually is. The following day, after his head had
sobered up, Perry found himself looking for excuses, excuses on
every account to why he ended up sleeping with his fiancée’s best
friend.

It was the heat that evening, he told
himself, the heat and the music, the informal atmosphere,
Marianne’s sexy looks, her inviting cleavage, her long legs. It was
the alcohol. Yes, the alcohol was to blame the most. When Perry had
a few drinks, his sense of judgement, his sense of what was right
and what was wrong was lost. With his moral pushed to the side, he
turned into a stereotypical male whose basic instincts ruled his
conduct, not his mind and certainly not his heart. How could have
he controlled himself with a gorgeous woman leading him on?

No man would have been able to withstand the
temptation, he told himself, the temptation of having an innocent
one-night stand with no strings attached.

But women didn’t think this way. A woman was
guided by her heart and her heart was the key to her fidelity.
Concordia’s reaction was in sync with the way Perry thought about
women. They were emotional and attached themselves physically to
the partner. A woman who loved her man didn’t stray. Unlike the man
who loved his woman. For the man, feelings were irrelevant when it
came to sex. He could have sex with many, but love only one.

Perry realized he was in dire straits. His
gullibility and weakness for women who exploit men sexually brought
him in serious jeopardy. In Perry’s eyes, it was Marianne who
exploited him by seducing him. He had no wrongdoing in what had
happened. He was drunk when the sex happened, and inebriation
absolved him of responsibility.

But not the guilt.

He was ready to repent, but the odds of
Concordia accepting his apology played against him. She was
hardheaded, stubborn and rebellious, the type of a woman who would
never let a man tell her what to do.

The worst of all was the realization that
Concordia might break off the engagement. She was still a virgin.
She had been saving herself for him, and now Perry, who was to take
her virginity in the most romantic way, had betrayed her trust.
Concordia had played out the scenario of them making love for the
first time in her head millions of times since she was a teenager.
She had told him about her secret fantasies. Now it was obvious
that her fantasies would never come true, and she was deeply hurt.
There was a realistic chance she would break off their
engagement.

His engagement to Concordia was Perry’s
ticket for the ride into her family’s highly profitable business.
After their engagement had been announced, Concordia’s father,
William Shagger III, offered Perry to take over the position of the
manager in his multimillion dollar enterprise—after the marriage
with Concordia had been sealed, of course. The thought of having
his ticket annulled, of not having the chance to climb the social
ladder and step up from the bottom rung straight into wealth was
harrowing. All the years he had been working on seducing Concordia
and preparing her to become his would be gone in a blink of an
eye.

Concordia stared at her fiancé with outmost
wrath. This was it for her. This was the final straw. If Perry
intended to hurt her with his carelessness, he definitely shot an
arrow in her Achilles heal. Perry, her fiancé, the man she loved so
much, trusted and believed in, slept with her best friend Marianne
at their friend’s wedding party. Argh! Concordia wanted to run away
somewhere far, into the woods or to the top of the mountain, and
scream her anger to the world. And Marianne? Well, she had nothing
more to say to that bitch. Concordia wished that Marianne was dead,
or better—divorced after being married for three months and left
broke by her ex-husband. No spousal support! In Concordia’s eyes, a
short-lived marriage was the worse thing that could happen to a
woman. Worse than dying. Divorce was a public admittance of
failure. Death was just a fact of life.

She wished that the glass she threw at Perry
had landed on his head. It would have been just to see him bleed.
Bleed, like her heart was bleeding.

"You don’t have anything to say to me
anymore, Perry?" Concordia asked, her voice clearly burdened by
hurt and pain.

"I’m so sorry, Concordia," Perry said, doing
his best to let his vocal cords echo the remorsefulness and the
guilt he thought he felt.

"I’m so so truly sorry. I beg of you,
Concordia—forgive me."

Concordia wiped away the last tear that fell
from her cheeks, the last tear she would shed for this man. She was
going to cry no more. She was going to be strong and brave. Fuck
romance. She was going to survive, and have the time of her life on
the way.

She walked over to Perry and looked him deep
in the eyes, those wonderful blue eyes that were like two magical
waterfalls, innocently blinking underneath his sun-burnt straw
blonde hair. There would be no romantic first time with Perry, no
realization of her teenage fantasies in which she straddled him and
sat on his face, fantasies in which he rode her from behind and let
her suck on his gorgeous cock.

Concordia raised her right arm and slapped
Perry across the face with full force, catching his nose.

Perry’s upper body tilted to the side, so
strong was the blow. A few drops of blood fell to the floor,
staining the points of his shoes. He cupped the tip of his nose as
if to verify that it was really happening, that his nose was really
bleeding. Shocked and incredulous to see it was true, he gave
Concordia a frightened look.

"What the fuck?!"

Concordia smiled crookedly. "Serves you
right. Pity the glass didn’t hit your head."