Beast

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

“Michael’s old office? It’s huge!” Since Michael was the firm’s managing partner, he had one of the biggest offices in the suite. Why would Luke get the managing partner’s office?

  Unless…

  “Luke – who’s moving into your old office?”

  “Liam Cartwright,” he says with a shrug. “Don’t know why the new boss would choose an office the size of a shoe box in the darkest corner of the suite. If I was the managing partner, I’d knock down a few walls and make my office even fucking bigger, but to each his own, I guess.” With that, Luke saunters away leaving me standing in the hallway, my mouth agape.

  Liam’s office is right across from mine? Liam’s office is right across from mine! Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!

  And speak of the devil.

  Just then, Liam rounds the corner, a huge box tucked under each arm. “Good morning, Jasmine.”

  I feel a flutter between my thighs. How pathetic. Just the mere sound of his voice did that to me. Or maybe it was the way his shoulders spread wide and his biceps bulge against the dark fabric of his suit jacket. Or maybe it was the stormy gray of his intense, piercing eyes.

  But I won’t let him see how his presence affects my body.

  “Good morning,” I say curtly as I brush past him.

  He opens his mouth to say more. But I can’t. I just can’t.

  The emotions inside of me are way too confusing. I’m angry at him for letting two years go by without ever trying to reach out to me. But my body is still hungry for him. It’s lashing out against me.

  I don’t look back. I just keep moving as confidently as I can.

  What I’d give to get my hands on something stronger than coffee this morning.

  Chapter 6

  One quick glance over at the clock sitting on the edge of my desk tells me that it’s already 12:44 in the morning.

  Are you serious? Where did the day go?

  I spent most of my time reviewing one of our clients’ proposal for a public-private partnership, and once I was done with that my brain was too tired to tackle anything new. So, I stuck around the office replying to emails and arranging some of my disorganized files.

  In all honesty, it was all just busy-work to avoid having to face my empty apartment.

  I yawn quietly as I slide off of my chair, taking my purse along with me. I grab my jacket off of the hook on the back of my door and slip it around my weary body as I fight off another yawn.

  Once I step into the hallway, I know that all of the staff have gone home for the night. Most of the lights are off and the only sound in the place is the ringing of a telephone at the far end of the hall.

  I glance at Liam’s door. It’s closed and his office is dark. I go up close and linger there for a while, my fingers tracing along the grooves of his name plaque: Liam Cartwright, Managing Partner.

  I try to ignore the burning in my chest, the tingling at the back of my eyes. I’m really fucked up over this guy, huh? The night we spent together, I wanted it to mean something. But it obviously meant nothing to him. And now that he’s back in town, he’s acting like it never happened. That causes my insides to ache.

  I wish it didn’t hurt so bad. I wish I were one of those girls who could casually give their body to a man for one night and then wake up the next morning and go back to business as usual. But that’s just not me. At least not when it comes to this man.

  The sound of the fire escape door slamming shut nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I reel around to find a tall, imposing figure stalking down the shadowy hallway towards me.

  My breath hitches in my throat as he approaches. I want to scream. I should scream.

  A slice of light from one of the floor-to-ceiling windows shines in and illuminates his face.

  “Jasmine…” Liam Cartwright growls my name.

  Chapter 7

  As I approach my office door, I see her standing there. Her purse is slung over her shoulder, the knot of her waistband cinching her jacket closed. She’s on her way home.

  “Jasmine…” I say her name and it’s as easy as breathing.

  She gasps and yanks her hand away from the name plaque on the door. “I – I was just –” Her eyes drop to the floor, her lower lip pouting slightly.

  My fingers itch to trace across that mouth. “It’s late.”

  “I was just leaving,” she announces, her eyes lifting to mine.

  The air between us is heavy with unspoken confessions. I want to take her by the hand right this minute and declare it all to her. Tell her that I’ve spent the past two years thinking about her. Tell her that I want to claim her and make her mine. But that’s more than I deserve.

  She turns slowly in the direction of the elevators. “Good night, Liam,” she says in a hushed voice.

  I’m a selfish bastard. Although I know I’m no good for her, I can’t just watch her leave. I’ve wanted her for so long.

  “Jasmine –” I pull in a breath to temper the intensity of all that I feel. “Wait.”

  Even in the dimly-lit hallway, I see the trepidation on her face when she looks at me.

  I twist the doorknob and my office door glides open. It’s a silent invitation. One that she takes despite her hesitation. She enters with slow, cautious steps.

  The desk and bookcase have been cleared of all the personal effects of the lawyer who occupied this office before me. My belongings sit in a few unopened boxes lining the wall.

  This office is only a fraction of the size of the one that was allotted to me when Michael Moretti transferred the role of managing partner to me but I couldn’t be in that office. It’s on the 7th floor where all of the other partners have their spacious offices. It’s pretentious as fuck over there. I much prefer this one. It’s quieter, further away from all the commotion that takes place at the firm during the day. I couldn’t be at the center of the bustle. That would only serve to further fray my nerves. I know that I’m the managing partner of the firm now, but still, I need my space. That’s one of the major reasons I chose this particular office.

  The other reason was her. Knowing that she’s right across the hall.

  She’s leaning against the window now, gazing out at the bright lights illuminating the Manhattan skyline. Her small hand touches the glass. She glances at me over her shoulder. “This is a pretty view,” she says softly.

  I stand at a distance studying her. Tell me about it. Long, dark hair cascading down her back, small waist spreading into generous hips, smooth legs. I want my hands on that body.

  I approach her as she’s standing there. I get close. Too close. I know I should hold back but I can’t help myself.

  Her soft, flowery citrus scent surrounds me as I bring my body within an inch of hers. God knows I just want every part of her touching every part of me.

  Her breathing rattles her chest as she turns around to face me. Her gorgeous eyes look up at me. I see the apprehension, but I also see the fire, the lust. She may not want me in the light of day but right here, tonight, she needs me. I can see it.

  My body moves by compulsion. I have no control over it. My palm cups her cheek and her eyes flutter. Her tongue darts across the seam of her lips. She’s nervous.

  My face lowers until it’s barely a beat away from hers. Sexual tension charges the air. Something flutters in the pit of my stomach when I feel her breath on my lips.

  My mouth tingles when I graze my lips tentatively against hers, and electricity arrows straight to my cock. I want to devour her but I can’t go forward with this if she doesn’t want it. But by god, I hope she wants it.

  “You never called…” she whispers, her breathing labored. “I waited for you to call…”

  I blink hard, the tension in my stomach coiling tighter. All this time I thought that she had chalked me up as a mistake and here she is telling me that she’d hoped that I would have reached out to her. I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say.

  So, I take her lips. I glide my hand up the back of her neck and my fingers ge
t lost in the thick silk of her hair. She groans softly when I tilt her head roughly, my tongue thrusting into her mouth.

  “Fuck – I missed this body,” I groan against her earlobe before my mouth skims her jaw, her neck, down to her collarbone.

  Her body arches into mine, begging for closeness. Her purse slides off of her shoulder, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. I reach for the sash of her jacket, pulling the knot loose. My greedy hands push the jacket from her body as she claws at my belt and the waistband of my pants. She’s making these lusty little sounds that are driving me wild. Her blouse, her skirt, her bra go flying as I stomp out of my pants and boxers.

  I scoop her up, throwing her over my shoulder dramatically as I carry her the small distance over to my desk. I set her down and she pulls me on top of her. Citrus and florals and the smell of sex infuse the air around us.

  “I want you, Liam,” she whispers as her lips reach for mine. She impatiently unbuttons my shirt and slides it off my body.

  God – I want you too, Jasmine. I haven’t wanted another want since the day I met you.

  I kiss her hard and her soft breasts press against my bare chest. She twines her fingers around mine, guiding my hand down her ribs and into the hot, wet space between her legs. I growl when my fingers flit across the damp swatch of fabric. I yank at the lace and her panties tear away from her body.

  My fingers move feverishly over her swollen clit before sliding inside of her, spreading her open. The sound of my fingers sloshing about in her pussy goes straight to my cock and I’m getting harder by the second. Her eyes are closed as she thrusts against my fingers, pulling at her hair and moaning.

  I need to be inside of her. Now.

  I pull her body to the edge of the desk and angle her pussy up towards me. I grip my erection in my hand, pumping the shaft and stroking the tip against her opening. “I don’t have a condom,” I mutter.

  She rises up on her elbows, her lips parted and her eyes fixed on the movements of my cock. “Check the desk,” she says in a husky voice. “Luke always has condoms.”

  I release her body and move around the desk. It takes a second of rummaging through the paper clips and rubber bands and pen caps in the desk before I find a shiny gold foil package. She gasps, relieved, and watches me sheath myself. Her legs spread wide and I push my cock inside of her. She’s taut and warm and so fucking slick. She’s better than I remembered.

  I roll my hips in and out of her, upping the tempo to drown out the voice in my head, the one that’s whispering, “You promised you wouldn’t touch her, you ugly monster. She’s too good for you.” There’s no amount of guilt or moral decency in this world that would make me stop right now. She feels too good. She’s too beautiful to let go of. I need her too much.

  She throws her arms around my neck, her eyes closed as she rides the surge of pleasure. She curves her body to meet my thrusts and she whispers against my beard, “I’ve thought about you so much.”

  I lose all fucking control. I grab her by the hips and pound into her. I lean forward and pull her to me. When I stand, we’re chest to chest, her legs are wrapped around my waist and her arms circle my neck. My tongue thrusts into her mouth as my cock thrusts into her body.

  She tightens around me, her warm, sticky body molding to mine. Her orgasm is building inside of her. I can feel it, she doesn’t have to say it. She throws her head back and howls her release and I come too, a million stars twinkling before my eyes.

  I sag against the wall behind me, Jasmine still clinging to my body as she descends from her high. I feel satisfied, so content, but a darkness lingers just beyond that; I feel guilty for taking advantage of her again.

  She’s still breathless when I set her down on my desk and tip her face towards me. I kiss her with all I’ve got because I know that it’s the last time.

  Chapter 8

  I lie naked across his desk.

  I’m panting, my body pleasurably sore. Liam comes to me, his burly frame hovering over me. He’s back in his pants but his chest is still bare and glistening with sweat.

  “You okay?” he asks in a gravely voice.

  I nod coyly, a shy smile twisting my lips.

  He reaches into the breast pocket of the suit jacket strewn across the back of his executive chair and pulls out a handkerchief. His tenderness surprises me as he dots away the beads of sweat slickening my forehead and upper lip. He slowly drags the cloth across my jaw, down my neck, between the globes of my breasts mopping up the moisture that has settled on my skin.

  My breath hitches as the rag travels down my stomach. His smoldering gray eyes fix on mine when he tenderly glides the kerchief through the wet, sensitive lips of my pussy. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. I feel vulnerable but safe. The tender expression on his face tells me it’s okay to show him all my cards.

  Uninhibited intimacy hangs in the air and I don’t want this moment to end. The bliss that I feel is too much. It’s indescribable. This is the outcome that I’ve dreamed of for the past two years. It feels like fate has suddenly intervened and I’ll get my happy ending after all.

  “I always knew we were meant to be more than a one-night stand,” I whisper quietly as I relish the softness in his eyes. I reach out, my fingers aching to skirt across the scars on his cheek.

  But he recoils abruptly. He grabs my wrist, averting my touch.

  Something flashes across his face right before a dark cloud rolls in, obscuring the affection that, just moments ago, was twinkling clear as day in his eyes.

  He swallows hard. “We should just be friends.” His tone is brusque and insensitive. I feel the impact low in my gut like a sucker punch. I start to cry. He blinks away the softness that momentarily flickers in his eyes. His expression is unreadable again.

  I struggle to sit up. Suddenly, I’m so very aware of how naked and cold I am. Liam crouches down and scoops up my ruined panties from the floor. He stretches them out to me.

  I sit there on the edge of the desk and level him with a hateful glare. “Here,” he says impatiently, shaking the soiled lace in front of me.

  All I see is red. My open palm sails through the air before connecting loudly with his cheek. His eyes go wide and his jaw hangs loose as his hand lifts to his face.

  “You asshole!” I shriek.

  I should probably just smother my emotions and walk away with my head held high. For the sake of my dignity. But I can’t. I’ve spent two years wondering. I want closure. I need it. Did I really spend all this time obsessing over someone who has no regard for me at all?

  I slide off of the desk and get right into his personal space, aiming my finger at his face. “Is this some sick, cruel game to you? Toying with my body and my emotions and then throwing me away?”

  He just watches me, not saying a word.

  Tears fall freely down my face. “I felt so much the night that we met. I felt a connection. More than just great sex. It was deeper than that. Tell me, was that all in my head? Did I imagine it? Did you not feel it too? Is that why you didn’t call?”

  Liam’s eyes give nothing away. They’re cold, hard, expressionless.

  I wait for a beat, hoping that he’d at least have the decency to explain. But he’s silent as he pins me with his stormy glare. My mind is racing. My heart is pounding. I feel humiliated.

  I cross an arm over my breasts and bend as discreetly as I can to retrieve my clothing from the floor. I hate myself right now. Not only did I just hand myself over to someone who’s hurt me before, but then I laid my heart bare, confessed exactly what I was feeling only to have him stare blankly at me like I’m from another planet.

  I suck in a lungful of air and turn towards him, my head hung low. “Can I have some privacy please? I’d like to get dressed.”

  He’s still for a moment and then he shuffles to the door. Just before he ducks into the hallway, he speaks in a low, flat tone. “I’m sorry, Jasmine.”

  Chapter 9

  “So, you let her wa
lk away thinking that you don’t care about her. And how does that make you feel?”

  Apparently, this is the type of question you’re required to answer when you have the best shrink in Manhattan on standby.

  How does that make me feel? I feel like a bag of shit. How about that, doctor?

  Tonight is not an insomnia night. It’s a head-trip night. Tonight, my demons seem doped up on methamphetamines and fueled by my guilty conscience. They came out swinging, ready to torture the fuck out of me. I slept for a few minutes before bolting upright in bed, drenched in sweat, teeth clattering in terror.