by Harper Sloan
BEAST.
I couldn’t think of a better way to brand myself with my man than that. And I have a feeling that, when his shock wears off, I’m going to enjoy when he lets his beast come out to play.
His hand comes up, lifting the heavy globe, while his other hand lightly caresses the skin around the letters and a low animalistic rumble comes from his chest. His eyes flash up to mine, and in just one look, I get it all—his appreciation, desire, and love.
“Beauty,” he says harshly, and before I can even open my mouth, he dips low, his shoulder going into my stomach, and I’m lifted clear off the floor. “You put me on your skin? My name is on this body. Mine, Melissa. Mine. Goddamn, Beauty, you have no idea what that does to me.”
“Yes. Yours.”
“You let someone else touch those beautiful tits, baby, and as much as I fucking love that my name is on your body forever, I can’t stand that someone else touched what. Is. MINE.”
I am caught off guard when he stops next to the bed, bending slightly before tossing me over his shoulder and onto the mattress. He stands there, his eyes on fire. I lift myself up to rest my weight on my shoulders, watching as his hands flex and his chest continues to rise rapidly.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, Beauty. Take that tight pussy and remind you why you love your beast. Why you are mine. And then, I’m going to come deep inside you before I take you again . . . and again. Don’t get me wrong. I love seeing my name on your body, but the next time you’re itching to have someone tattoo this skin, I’m going to be there for every goddamn second.”
And that’s all the warning I have before he’s on me. My jeans are roughly pulled from my legs, my panties ripped from my skin, and his fingers deep inside me. I’m so worked up from his reaction from seeing his name on my skin that it takes me seconds to scream in pleasure, wetness coating his fingers.
“You want my dick, Beauty? Do you want me to fuck you raw, so hard that you will feel me for days?”
“God, yes!” I scream.
His fingers continue to push deep, hooking at just the right spot to have a rush of my arousal flood out of my body . . . drenching his hand.
“Fuck me,” he whispers harshly. “You just came so hard, Beauty.” He pulls his fingers from my body, dragging his knuckles up my lips and around my clit before pushing them into his mouth, licking my wetness from his fingers.
“I love how you taste against my tongue,” he moans.
“Please fuck me, Greg. Please . . .”
His eyes, those stunning baby blues that I love so much, darken even further until they are almost so dark they appear navy.
“Oh yeah, my Beauty. I’m going to fuck you.”
His jeans come off quickly. His elbows hook me behind the knees before pulling me roughly towards his hips. I feel the tip of his dick and the coolness of his piercings before he’s pushing to the hilt and taking my body in a pace that is almost savage.
And just like he promised, I’m screaming his name over and over.
It is a few days later, as I am folding laundry and watching Cohen run around the backyard, that Greg surprises me with a present of his own. He walks in the garage door with a big smile on his face, comes right over to me, and pulls his shirt over his head. Right over his heart are six letters that have me smiling huge.
BEAUTY.
And that night, I show him just how much I appreciate being his.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Crystal Spears, my soul sister! Meant to be baby! Thank you for everything you have done, everything you will do, and for being you. I consider myself one lucky bitch to have you in my life!
Katie Mac, I can’t thank you enough . . . well, I can. You are the best and I am one blessed chick to be a part of your kickass ‘family’!
My badass betas! Danielle, Debi, Amber, Elle, Angela, and Becky. I am convinced I have the best betas In. The. World. You girls, you know exactly what I need to hear and when it needs to be said. You know how to tell me with love that the direction I went wasn’t so good. And you love my men fiercely. I LOVE YOU ALL!
Danielle Calcote . . . this is my promise in writing. The beast is yours. Enjoy him!
Debi Barnes . . . Shauna misses Gina. I love you my minion lover!
Amber Vaughn . . . I love you. Seriously. Lady boner in full salute to your awesomeness.
Elle Wilson . . . girl, you know exactly what I need to say and how to say it. From now on if I doubt myself I know who to call!
Angela Lane . . . best brainstorming partner ever! You find the holes and help me fix them! <3
Becky Schmidt . . . I love you, your megaphone and your love for me. LOL! Cheers to having me rolling in laughter with all the comments we had rocking!
Katie, Kelly, and Angela. The girls that keep me going, keep me entertained, and make sure I haven’t locked myself in a dark room. You girls have been by my side since Corps Security was just a thought. I would, without a doubt, be lost without y’all!
Brenda, I have been so lucky to have you in my life during this journey. Your messages and texts never fail to bring a smile to my face. For taking the formatting nightmare off my hands, and being the best damn pimp I ever did meet!
Chelcie! I love you. You know this, but just in case you forgot . . . you are one sexy bitch!
JB, thank you for making two of the most beautiful covers, and for putting up with my crazy!
Melissa Gill-I love you! Like really. My Swag Slinger. My graphic queen. I am so glad that we have become great friends!
To my street team AND my babes! Believing in me, my boys and pimping me hard! BEST LADIES EVER!
Each and every reader, reviewer, blogger, fan. This wouldn’t be anything without you. I wouldn’t be living my dreams without the support that you have given me. Your messages, comments and reviews make this worth it. I love you all.
To the dentist and hygienist and ladies over at Vassey Dental. (A big shout out to Dr. Harrah and Dr. Naik. Michele and Phyllis.) Without your torture **kidding** I doubt I would have these books done right now. No one likes going to the dentist, but I love going to mine!
BECK PLAYLIST
Sam Grow- Shot of Crown
Sam Grow- Fall to Me
Miguel- Adorn
Creed- With Arms Wide Open
The Lumineers- Stubborn Love
Bonnie Raitt- I Can’t Make You Love Me
Justin Timberlake- Drink You Away
The CO- Keep it Together
John Newman- Love Me Again
Avicii- Addicted to You
Halestorm- Beautiful With You
Jason Mraz- I Won’t Give Up
Papa Roach- Last Resort
Johnny Cash- Hurt
Seether- Broken
A Great Big World- Say Something
Ciara- Love Sex Magic
System of a Down- Toxicity
Saving Abel- Addicted
Little Mix- Cannonball
Bruno Mars- Gorilla
To Danielle Calcote.
For keeping me sane and laughing at my insane! Even if your taste in sweaters is questionable . . . I still consider myself blessed to have you as a friend, beta, and right-hand!
PROLOGUE
“Denise, you need to stop this nonsense. A girl your age needs to show some maturity and stop being so needy. You are perfectly capable of keeping yourself occupied. This is a big night for your father; you could try and be a little supportive.” She turns her perfectly painted face back to the mirror, applying more of her make-up. I have always wondered how she is able to get all that make-up on when her face never really moves. Her weekly appointments at the spa take care of the wrinkles that I’ve never been able to find.
“But Mother, tonight’s my chorus recital at school,” I whisper meekly. Even at thirteen, I know I should stand up for myself, but I just can’t seem to do that with my mother, the ice queen. “How am I supposed to get there?”
Before I can react, her hand cracks against my cheek. “Don’t
be such an ungrateful brat, Denise. Some children can only dream of living the life we have given you. I don’t want to hear another word from you tonight. Go on up to your room.”
Blinking back the wetness that rushes to my eyes, I back up slowly, keeping my eyes trained on my mother. I don’t realize I have been holding my breath until I bump into the hard, unforgiving body standing behind me.
“What have you done now, Denise?” My father’s deep baritone rumbles through the room. A cold ribbon of fear snakes down my back. I brace myself for his anger as I turn to face him.
“I’m sorry, Father. I just wanted to ask Mother about my chorus recital. I’m supposed to be at the school in an hour.” I don’t dare break eye contact with my father. No one would dare. He demands your full attention and respect. I will give him my attention, but before I started middle school, I learned he didn’t deserve my respect.
“You stupid little girl. I’ve told you, extracurricular activities should be things that can further your career. Things like chorus aren’t going to take you on the path to greatness. First thing Monday, I want you to speak with your teachers about dropping that.”
My insides seize, because I knew better than to even mention the recital, and I still did it. I should just fake a sickness Monday at school. For the last year, I’ve been successful in keeping my ‘fun time’ hidden from my parents. They don’t care what I am doing. They don’t want me, so they’ve never even noticed.
“Am I understood, Denise?” His tone has a sharper edge to it, and I know this is not a point to drag my feet on.
“Yes, Sir,” I reply. “May I be excused?” I just want to get away. Away from their room, them, and this life that they say I should be grateful to have. Who would be grateful for this? Two parents that don’t want you. All the money in the world, but no happiness? I would rather be living in the slums.
Walking as quickly as possible, I make fast work of the maze of hallways and enter my room. Only when the door closes do I let out my breath and allow my body to relax. Ever since I’ve been old enough to know the difference, I’ve known that my parents don’t like me. No, they don’t just ‘not like’ me . . . They hate me. I am the accident that should have been terminated, or so they remind me often enough. I don’t even think my mother cares either way. She just wants the life my father has given her, regardless of the fact that even her own daughter knows he is sleeping with the hired help.
And my father? My father is the reason that I know you can never trust a boy. Never allow one into your heart. They only care about one thing and one thing only. Themselves. Every man in my life has let me down. My grandfather died before he was successful in taking me away from my parents. My father is as evil as they come. And just today, my boyfriend, Toby, said he wanted to go out with Malinda ‘I have bigger boobs than my eighteen-year-old sister’ Monroe.
There will never be a boy in the world that can make me forget that the only person I can count on is me. I can’t wait to get away from this place. The day I turn eighteen, I am running as fast as I can. I’ve made sure that I get good grades, and will have my pick of schools to choose from. Because the first day I leave this hell, I am going to be a new person. I am going to be happy. I am going to be loved. And, I am going to find people to share my life with that want to be around me.
But I will never, ever, trust a boy.
PART ONE
Meetings
&
Beginnings
CHAPTER 1
Dee
There has never been a moment in my life when I’ve felt well and truly loved. Accepted and wanted. My parents hadn’t wanted me. I’m the accident that should have been ‘taken care of,’ the disgraceful child whose silence they bought. After all, when you have as much money as my father, why should you actually show emotion or feelings?
My father, Davison Bennett Roberts, III, is a third generation banker. His father’s father opened up the local branch, and the rest was, as they say, history. I don’t remember my father ever really ‘liking’ me. Hell, I don’t even really remember him liking my mother, either. He worked and worked, and when he finished he worked some more. When he wasn’t at the bank, he was in his office at home. And when he wasn’t consumed with whatever it was that he did, he was off screwing the hot little secretary, or teller, or college co-ed slut.
Always absent from my life.
Always reminding me, sometimes without his words, how un-important I was.
He was the first strike against mankind, in my eyes.
All the resentment that I held towards men, and my reluctance to start a relationship now, could all be traced back to the man who called himself my father.
The worst part, though . . . with all his busyness, and lack of care, he still made time to bring the wrath of Davison Roberts, III down on me at every opportunity. My 4.0 grade point average was never going to be good enough to please him. The extracurricular educational clubs that I was allowed to join were never going to help me amount to anything. Plain and simple, I was just never going to be enough.
He didn’t want me, but he still wanted to sling his holier than thou attitude and self-righteousness my way. I’m not sure, even to this day, what he was attempting to teach me. He made it clear from early on that he would never allow a woman to run his company, so I was convinced he just liked to beat me down.
Literally.
He didn’t take his hands to me often, but when he did, it wasn’t pretty. And that was strike two against mankind.
Growing up, I didn’t have many people that I would consider real friends. I had plenty of playmates who were the children of my father’s associates. Those were the sort of children that my parents had allowed me to befriend. Those friends didn’t want me because of me, but because of who my father was and how much money he had. You know, the kind of kids that walked around in their designer clothing, their backs so straight you knew that they had to have a rod shoved so far up their assholes that there was no way that they would be anything but fake.
As I got older, I was once again reminded that people only saw what they could gain by being around me to get closer to my father. Boys never wanted to date ‘me’; they wanted to date my family’s money and connections. The closer I got to graduating high school, the more painfully obvious it became that the boys I dated would never really like me. They were only there to hopefully gain something towards their future careers by being with me.
The only people that mattered to them were . . . themselves.
And there you have strike three.
I could only trust myself. I made a promise to myself that when I was old enough, I was going to get out of here and finally, be me. No one was going to tell me whom I could have as friends. Men wouldn’t know who my father was so they would love me as me, and not as the daughter of Davison Bennett Roberts III. I would find people who loved me . . . for me.
And I was never going to need a man.
I am Denise Ann Roberts. Strong, proud, and independent. A loyal friend, godmother, and I radiate fucking happiness so that people will never see how lonely I really am.
Funny thing about these masks that people put on. I look like the happiest woman in the world. I look like I have everything that I want out of life. That everything is perfect. And that is exactly what I want people to see. But, inside? Inside, I’m dying. I’m not happy. I have amazing friends, and I know that they love me, but I am completely alone. Just like I have been my whole life, and the best part, the big kicker in my ass . . . I only have myself to blame.
Why? Because I have pushed the one man that I love away from me, and I keep pushing, even when he keeps coming back for more. I’ve found the one man out of millions that might be able to prove me wrong. That might be able to love me back unconditionally and never change.
And every single day that I have to pretend to be okay, to be happy, it’s slowly killing me.
Three Years Earlier
Two long years and finally, finally
, Izzy is living. Her beautiful smile is plastered all over her face, and that twinkle is back in her eyes. Nothing but worry has consumed me since that day she called me to come get her from Brandon. To come save her.
I had slowly watched her leave me. No, not in the sense that she wasn’t my friend, but she was stolen from me. I watched her become the me that I used to be. A shell of my former self, afraid to move because of the people that tugged the strings to my life.
The last couple of days haven’t been pretty. Between that bastard ex-husband sending Izzy a twisted package, and her almost shutting down, I’ve been so worried that she would revert back into the depression that she has been slowly waking up from.
When she opened that package and I saw the panic and fear take over, I didn’t know what to do or how to help. The first thing I did was call Greg, the best ‘big brother’ that a girl could ever dream for. He’s been right there with me, every step of the way, making sure that Izzy’s okay and that we’re both safe. Whatever Greg did earlier seems to be the wakeup call that she needed. Or maybe it’s just the reminder he gave her that she wasn’t allowed to check out.
Whatever the reason, here we are at Club Carnal, celebrating my best friend’s thirtieth birthday and the anniversary of what is arguably the worst date in her life.
Even with all the unknown and lingering fear in her life, my girl is happy, and we are living life tonight. And, enjoying every damn second as if it is our last.
* * *
Damn I’m horny.
I’ve been eyeing the hot bartender for the last fifteen minutes. I had decided earlier on today that I would finally end this damn dry spell tonight, and he seems like a decent choice for a quick, one-night stand. Lord knows, I need a little action tonight or my vagina might just run off and join the circus. I snort at the thought and gear up to hopefully secure my orgasm for the night, one that doesn’t require batteries.