Breaking the Beast by Nicole Casey
Isabel
Dinner that nightwas predictably incredible. The slow-cooked beef in the stew practically melted against my tongue, and the men chatted amiably around me. If they noticed that I was too tongue-tied to participate in the conversation, none of them mentioned it.
The only men present were the four I’d already met. Étienne and Bernard, they’d told me, were off running a brief errand. There was no mention of Jacques, nor of when I would actually get to meet the man I’d come to write an article on.
After dinner, I returned to my room, mentally scolding myself for my unprofessional behavior throughout the day. What had I been thinking, allowing Isiah to kiss me like that? And if I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that I had been flirting with every man I’d met that day. This was unlike me, and I vowed that I wouldn’t let it happen again. I was a professional, and I was here to work, not to flirt, no matter how attractive the men I met were.
I called Bonita to check in, and she picked up on the first ring. “How is my star journalist? Are you settling in okay? Is it really a castle? Is The Beast as scary as he looks in pictures?”
I laughed at Bonita’s rapid-fire questions. “I’m settling in fine; yes, it’s really a castle.”
“And The Beast?” Bonita prompted.
“I haven’t met him yet,” I admitted. “Everyone keeps saying he needs a little more time.”
“Everyone?” Bonita asked.
“His staff. There are six of them; I’ve met four already. They’re all very nice.”
Bonita whistled. “Six men! What are they like? Maybe I should have taken this assignment.” She laughed. “Oh well, you’ll have to have fun for the both of us.”
I laughed at her teasing. “It’s not going to happen.” I didn’t tell her that, technically, something had already happened. As far as I was concerned, my kiss with Isiah was a one-time mistake, not to be repeated.
“You never know,” Bonita said. “All I’m saying is, don’t lock yourself off from the opportunity.”
“There is no opportunity,” I insisted. “The Beast won’t even meet with me. I don’t know how I’m going to write this article if I can’t even interview my subject.”
“Keep trying,” Bonita said. “Give it a little more time. If he really won’t meet with you, you can come home, and I’ll come up with a new assignment for you. But don’t give up too easily; I have a very good feeling about this.”
“Thanks, Bonita,” I said.
“Just remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” We both laughed; there was very little Bonita wouldn’t try.
We said our goodbyes and I hung up, feeling a little better after speaking with my boss. I changed into pajamas and crawled into bed to read for a few hours before bed, but found myself unable to concentrate. Bonita’s teasing echoed in my head. I knew Bonita and Ruby Parker had both had experiences with multiple men at once, but I’d never tried it, though the idea did hold a kind of thrill. I wondered how such a relationship would work; wouldn’t jealousy get in the way?
I thought of all the men I’d met that day: Raphael, with his boyish good looks and charm, solemn Vincent, quiet and slow to smile, rakish Alexandre, and gentle Isiah. They were all so attractive in their own way, it was impossible to choose between them. I wondered what it might be like to have them all at once, to feel Vincent’s long, slender fingers against me as I rode one of the others, Alexandre maybe. The image of his heavily muscled torso was still etched into my memory, as well as the firm yet tender pressure of Isiah’s kiss. I imagined him and Raphael covering my bare body with kisses as Alexandre and Vincent took their time with me.
If the men I’d yet to meet were anything like the four I’d met already, there was no doubt that I was in trouble. Not to mention The Beast. I wondered if he was still as powerful and fit as he’d been in his promotional images. I groaned quietly as I imagined his hard, tattooed body rising over mine, holding me in place as six pairs of hands roved my body. One hand slipped beneath the covers, and I found that I was already wet and ready. It didn’t take long at all to get me to the edge. The memory of Isiah’s hard cock pressed against my body sent me over, and I came hard, muffling my cry with a pillow.
