Beast
by
Cassie-Ann L. Miller
Beast
Copyright © 2016 Cassie-Ann L. Miller
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents appearing therein are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status of the various products referenced in this work
Stories by Cassie-Ann L. Miller
Esquire Girls Series
Amber’s Story
Up All Night (Amber – Book 1)
In your Arms Tonight (Amber Book 2)
Live for the Night (Amber Book 3)
When the Night is Over (Amber Book 4) - (The conclusion to Amber’s story)
Or get Amber’s full story, all in one boxed set: Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Madison’s Story
Waiting, Always (Madison – Book 1)
Yours Always (Madison – Book 2)
Loving You Always (Madison – Book 3)
Always & Forever (Madison – Book 4) – (The conclusion to Madison’s story)
Or get Madison’s full story, all in one boxed set: For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Ruthie’s Story
Desire, Untamed (Ruthie – Book 1)
Blinded by Desire (Ruthie – Book 2)
Desire Ablaze (Ruthie – Book 3)
Beyond Desire (Ruthie – Book 4) – (The conclusion to Ruthie’s story)
Or get Ruthie’s full story, all in one boxed set: Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)
Hailey’s story
Moment of Weakness (Hailey – Book 1)
A Moment in Time (Hailey – Book 2)
Beyond this Moment (Hailey – Book 3) – (The conclusion to Hailey’s story)
Or get Hailey’s full story, all in one boxed set: Moments with Hailey (Hailey – Books 1, 2, 3 &4)
Esquire HEAT Series
A Very Eager Intern
A Very Frustrated Attorney
Standalone novels
Matteo
Beast
The Dirty Suburbs Series - Coming soon…
Keeland Masters...Growing up, he was the boy next door, my brother’s best friend, the guy who asked me to the prom...and then stood me up. He just vanished into thin air.
Now that he’s back in town, he wants to come over to play. And I’m not talking hopscotch. But he’s hurt me once, so I’m sticking to my side of the fence no matter how good he looks pushing that lawnmower in all his tanned, toned shirtless glory.
Click here to pre-order
Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
A Very Eager Intern
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
"Beast" is a full-length novel that continues the story of Jasmine Santiago and Liam Cartwright as told in "A Very Eager Intern" by Cassie-Ann L. Miller.
Click here to read “A Very Eager Intern” for free.
Chapter 1
“I’m so sick of hearing you complain about how ‘single’ you are,” Ruthie groans as she rolls her eyes and snatches her wine goblet off of the dark granite counter.
I laugh humorlessly as I reach for a handful of buttery popcorn. “Well, it’s true,” I insist. “All of my friends are either married, engaged or having babies, and me? I’m just…waiting.” I ogle the gleaming princess-cut diamond sitting on her ring finger and the tiniest pang of jealousy cramps my stomach.
Ruthie and Michael are perfect for each other; madly in love, insanely gorgeous and wildly successful. If I could find a man to give me a fraction of the love that Michael gives Ruthie, I’d be satisfied.
I don’t ask for much.
My life is good – good job, good friends, good apartment. I just need someone to share it all with. Someone strong, committed, reliable. Someone who respects me and supports my goals…Someone who calls when he says he’s gonna freakin’ call. Why is that so hard to find?
Ruthie swivels around on her stool in perfect time with the annoying pop song pulsing through the kitchen of the Gramercy loft apartment that Ruthie and Michael call home. “Waiting for what?”
I contemplate my answer as she pulls her long, golden hair into a messy topknot. She’s wearing a worn-out Columbia University hoodie over her copper lamé mini-dress and she somehow manages to make it look effortlessly fashionable.
“I’m waiting for…for my man.” My voice comes out much dreamier than I’d intended and I catch myself twirling a lock of hair around my finger.
Cringe.
I’m generally a logical, rational person. I am a lawyer after all. But when it comes to love, I’m the eternal optimist, the hopeless romantic. I can’t help but believe that my very own happily-ever-after is out there somewhere.
“I hope you’re not still stuck on Mr. One-Night-Stand,” Ruthie says skeptically as she reaches for the half-empty wine bottle and refills both of our glasses.
Mr. One-Night-Stand…
I’ve talked to my friends about him in detail over the past two years. About his virile, towering body. About his rough, sexy beard. About the way he’d owned my pleasure and given me orgasms I still haven’t recovered from. My friends know everything about me and Mr. One-Night-Stand and our unforgettable night together….everything except his name.
“I’m definitely not stuck on Mr. One-Night-Stand,” I say resolutely although deep down, I know that’s a lie.
That man has been a permanent resident in my mind ever since that sinful night two years ago. I’d discovered things – sexually – that night, things I haven’t experienced since. He was passionate. Intense. Generous with his hands and mouth and cock. For that one night, he made me the center of his universe and his only mission was to gift me with orgasm after toe-curling orgasm.
I thought that it had been good for him too. But he never called like he’d said he would and I’ve been reeling ever since.
There’s been a void inside of me for a long time. Still, over the years, I’d found glimpses of happiness despite it. But it resurged with a vengeance after my night with that unforgettable stranger. I shared an intense connection with
that man and losing it as abruptly as I’d found it destabilized me, to say the least.
“I’m just saying that I get a bit lonely.” I take a hearty gulp of my white wine to swallow down the embarrassment that rises as I make this confession. You’d think that after everything I’ve been through in this lifetime, I’d be used to being alone. I’m not. I still crave connection. I crave something deep and life-altering.
“Lonely?” Ruthie’s eyebrows jerk up as if what I just said is utterly ridiculous. “You sound like a 40-something divorcee who lost custody to your ex.”
I frown at her joke. She doesn’t get it. “Yes – I get lonely. Example – we planned tonight’s girls’ night out weeks ago and look how it all fell apart at the last minute.” Amber’s husband is out of town and she couldn’t find a babysitter. Hailey’s in-laws are here from Texas so she and her husband are taking them to dinner. Madison went out to the Hamptons for the weekend with her husband. And Nadia’s off on another blind date. “You girls are all busy living your own lives and I’m just…waiting…”
Ruthie sighs. “Okay, Jasmine, you say you want a man? Then, you need to be proactive. Put yourself out there instead of just sitting around lamenting.”
My shoulders drop in defeat. “How do you suggest that I do that?”
“You need to come to Scarsdale with me and Michael next weekend.” She pulls the bowl of popcorn towards her and scoops up a handful of salty kernels.
“What’s in Scarsdale?” My forehead crinkles warily but she has my interest.
“Some political fundraiser for a guy in Michael’s party.” Ruthie’s husband just left his role as managing partner at the law firm his father founded and tossed his hat into the race for New York state senate. Now, Ruthie’s social life is all about galas and charity functions and networking events.
Gag.
“And why exactly should I attend a political fundraiser?” I scrunch up my nose at her as I reach for more popcorn. I don’t even follow politics. I’ve never voted. Ever. And my eyes glaze over every time the upcoming presidential election is mentioned on the news.
Ruthie gives me an incredulous look. “Because there’s always tons of hot guys at these things.”
“Tons?”
“Tons.” Her lip twitches slightly.
I get the feeling that she’s exaggerating and that her invitation is more about having me tag along so that she won’t have to hang out alone at a table full of stiff political wives while Michael spends his time networking during the party. She doesn’t genuinely believe that I’ll meet my future husband at this thing.
“Nah – I’ll pass,” I say conclusively. “Not interested in rubbing elbows with a roomful of pretentious power-mongers eating miniature hors d’oeuvres and sipping champagne with their pinkie fingers up in the air.”
Ruthie laughs. “Come on – you just finished complaining about how lonely and single you are. You know you have nothing better to do next weekend.”
I glare at her. She is right – I have no plans for next weekend but that doesn’t mean I’m desperate enough to go to a political event in Scarsdale for crying out loud.
She gives me a defeated shrug. “Your loss. Mr. Perfect isn’t gonna sidle up to your window and beckon you to toss down your hair, y’know. Life isn’t a fairytale. You’ve gotta go out there and look for him. Or at least be out in the open where he can see you.”
She slides off of her stool and pads over to the wall-mounted oven. She yanks the door open and peels the aluminum foil off of the casserole dish sitting on the rack.
The aroma of tomato sauce and herbs fills the kitchen. “Mmm…so good,” she groans as she grabs a fork from the drawer and emerges with a hearty scoop of lasagna. “Want some?” she asks stuffing her mouth before going back for seconds.
Oh, did I mention that Michael cooks, too? Yes…he’s freakin’ perfect. Maybe I should be taking dating advice from Ruthie. After all, her guy is a catch.
I shake my head, ‘no’, as I swivel around on my stool. The last thing my curvaceous body needs tonight is cheese and pasta.
Just then, we hear keys jingling by the door. Ruthie startles like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She drops her fork into the sink. “Michael’s home,” she says as she rushes, barefoot, to open the front door. I hear the click of the locks then the groan of the hinges as the door swings open. “Hey babe,” she greets him.
“Ruth – what are you still doing here, honey? Thought it was girl’s night out.” The sound of their kisses echoes through the apartment.
“It’s just me and Jazz hanging out. Everyone else cancelled on us so we decided to stay in and watch a movie,” she explains.
“Oh – okay.” I can hear the smile in his voice. But the next words out of his mouth hit me like a speeding train. “Honey, this is Liam. Liam Cartwright.”
My chest tightens and the contents of my stomach churn riotously. I grip the edge of the counter to keep from falling off of my stool when I hear his gritty baritone. “Pleasure to meet you, Ruth.” His tone is curt and abrupt.
“Likewise,” she chirps happily, seemingly oblivious to his standoffishness.
Footsteps approach the kitchen and my pulse accelerates. “You didn’t eat all the food in the oven, did you?” I hear Michael ask Ruthie.
She giggles guiltily as she steps through the doorway. “I just took a bite…or two.”
He chuckles. “I knew you would,” he says as he trails his wife, smacking her playfully on the butt. “Hi Jasmine.” He offers me that dazzling smile that comes so naturally to him.
“Hi,” I squeak out before sucking half of the air out of the room.
My eyes are riveted to the man just past Michael’s shoulder. My heart leaps into my throat as Mr. One-Night-Stand follows Michael through the kitchen door.
Chapter 2
I knew that I’d see her eventually.
I just didn’t know it would be tonight.
“Liam, this is Jasmine Santiago,” Michael says to me. “She’s a first-year associate in the law firm’s Renewable Energy practice group.”
Oh – I know who she is.
Eyes the color of chocolate, skin like caramel, hair dark like coffee. Every part of her looks edible. She’s the woman who’s haunted my mind since that night two years ago. She’s the woman who, with just one touch, caused my heart to roar to life after being dead for years. She’s even more gorgeous now than she was then.
Her hair is down in waves around her face and her lips are painted wild berry red, accenting her Latin American features. She’s wearing a short strapless dress that is so fucking tight that it borders on obscene. Her thick, shapely legs are bare and her toenails are glossy claret.
I step forward and extend my hand to her. “Hello Jasmine. Good to see you again.” My tone is cool but I already feel my blood heating up.
Her eyes narrow, but she accepts my hand and shakes it briefly. “Hello.” I wonder if she felt the electricity that I did where our fingers touched.
“You two know each other?” Ruth interjects, curiosity knitted into her brow as she props her hip against the counter and studies us closely.
Jasmine clears her throat and answers quickly. “I met Liam – Mr. Cartwright when he was working on the X.U.S. Industries file during my internship two years ago.”
‘Met’ is a rather vague descriptor for what happened the night Jasmine Santiago strutted her way into my life. We’d fucked on nearly every flat surface in my office. And what I’d felt went far beyond sexual gratification; she’d reignited a part of me that I was sure had died out in the cruel, broken deserts of Afghanistan.
I’d been so selfish the night she came to me. She was just an intern, so beautiful and eager and vulnerable. I knew I shouldn’t have put my filthy hands on her – I’m a vile creature, my face scarred and mutilated by war, my hands stained with blood. But the way she looked at me – the way she said my name – made me feel like a man again. So I fucked her on my desk, then I
ate her pussy in the raggedy, old bed in my office. I took everything she offered me with no regard for the million ways I might hurt her.
I’ve thought about Jasmine every day since. But I can’t allow myself to have her again.
Her brown eyes drop to the floor as she tucks a strand of hair over her shoulder. “I should get going,” she says as she picks up her purse and her smartphone from the counter in front of her.
Michael puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “No – Jazz. Stay. Have dinner with us,” he says. “I’ve got a delicious, homemade lasagna in the oven.” He yanks the oven door open and glances inside. “Well, what’s left of it, anyway.” He smirks at his wife who grins bashfully.
Beast Page 1