For Madison Always - The Esquire Girls: Madison's Story 1-4 Read online

  For Madison, Always

  (The Esquire Girls Series)

  Madison’s full story

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  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)

  For Madison, Always (The Esquire Girls Series) – Madison’s Full Story

  Copyright © 2015 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.

  Other stories in the

  Esquire Girls Series

  By Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  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)

  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)

  Or get Hailey’s full story, all in one boxed set: Moments with Hailey (Hailey – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4 – featuring the exclusive Valentine’s Day novelette, “Tender Moments”)

  Esquire HEAT Series

  A Very Eager Intern

  A Very Frustrated Attorney

  Standalone novels

  Matteo

  Beast

  New by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

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  Waiting, Always

  (The Esquire Girls Series)

  Madison (Book 1)

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  He wants me in his bed.

  He’s extended an open invitation but taking it will have consequences – I know this...

  Madison Moretti is a good girl.

  She's focused on finishing law school, earning a leadership role in her father's law firm and getting over the guy who keeps breaking her heart.

  She can list a dozen reasons why she should avoid becoming involved with sexy, tempting Domenic Gattusso. Aside from his troubled past, he’s her best friend’s brother and her ex-lover’s best friend. She’s always seen him as just a friend but all of a sudden, she’s discovering an alluring side of him that she never noticed before.

  Madison is used to playing by the rules but when Domenic offers her a tempting invitation to his bed, she’ll have to decide if he’s the titillating exception that she’s always been waiting for.

  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 1

  I swirl the red around in my long-stemmed wine glass, glaring at my buzzing cellphone on the mahogany coffee table. I sink back into the plush, beige cushions of the couch and with my free hand, pull the cream throw blanket tighter around my shoulders.

  The phone rings once more.

  Twice.

  Three times.

  My resolve breaks.

  I pounce on it and hit ‘Answer’ right before the call is filtered to my voicemail.

  When wrestling against my better judgment, my neediness wins out every time…at least when it comes to him.

  “Madison, I’m coming up.” His commanding voice rushes out of the earpiece before I even have the chance to say ‘hello’. “I’m entering the lobby,” he announces.

  “You’re here?”

  “I said I’m coming up, Madison.”

  “That’s a bad idea, Chase.”

  “Go unlock the door. I’m in the elevator.”

  “No, Chase.” I glance over at the tabloid laying on the coffee table. As many times as I’ve told myself that I am done with this bullshit, I always somehow end up underneath him, sweating and panting and screaming out his name. And he enjoys it. He gets high off of the power he has over me. “Not tonight,” I mutter under my breath tossing back the last of my red wine and setting the goblet down on the coffee table.

  The line goes dead as the elevator climbs to my 16th floor apartment.

  I rush over to the door and turn the locks shut.

  Within moments, his palm is banging against the door. “Madison – open up.” His tone is even but firm, betraying no emotion in particular.

  I press my back into the door but say nothing.

  “Madison – open the door. Stop playing around.”

  I’m not playing. I’m definitely not playing. I’m serious this time.

  I press my ear to the door and hear him grunt angrily. His voice drops. “Madison – I know you’re standing right there, leaning against the door. You like listening to me beg, don’t you?”

  “No – I don’t want you to beg, Chase. I want you to leave.”

  He pounds into the door again. “Open. This. Door. Madison.”

  “I’m sick of you embarrassing me, Chase.”

  “Maddie…” His voice is now soft and coaxing. “Come on, pretty girl. Let me in.”

  I turn around and glance into the peephole.

  He’s standing there, looking utterly gorgeous. As always. His jet-black hair brushed back off of his forehead, his chiseled face freshly-shaven, that moist bottom lip pouting slightly, those dark brown eyes veiled with mystery and intrigue. And he’s the only man I’ve ever met who can look so utterly debonair in a three-piece, custom-tailored periwinkle suit with a pale pink shirt and matching pocket square.

  What the hell!

  I throw the door open and head back towards the living room without even looking at him.

  I feel his arm circle my waist as he whips a bouquet of white lilies from behind his back.

  White lilies…my favorite.

  I spin around to look at him. I snatch the flowers out of his hand and set them down on the table, struggling to maintain my poker face.

  “You keep embarrassing me, Chase,” I say accusingly as I reach for the tabloid sitting on the table.

  He stops me, taking me gently by the wrist and bringing the back of my hand to his lips. “I’m here with you. I don’t care what that rag says,” Chase announces dismissively gesturing towards the magazine with his chin, “I’m here with you – not wi
th her.” He makes the statement as if it’s sufficient to excuse his behavior.

  His lips crash over mine in a passionate kiss that makes my stomach flutter. It takes every ounce of strength in my body to push him away.

  Tears spill down my face. “What you did – With her –Why her?”

  “Why are you letting that get to you, Madison? She’s nobody to me. And you…you’re just…everything.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in that way that makes my skin tingle, in that way that makes me imagine him biting down into my flesh.

  I look him directly in the face. “This is serious, Chase.”

  “I’m being serious, Maddie.” His eyes lower, peering at the bit of skin peeking out from beneath my plum-colored satin robe. He pulls on the sash and the robe tumbles from my body.

  I’m exposed.

  Wearing nothing but my flimsy, lace g-string in front of Chase DuBois, my ultimate weakness. He leans back against the wall and flicks his thumb across my pebbled nipple. I sigh with want.

  “Take those panties off,” he orders in a lusty rasp. Goosebumps spread across my skin as the implication of those words registers in my body.

  I lean forward and slide my underwear to the floor.

  He strips out of his pants and sits on my couch. He slips a condom over his stiff cock and spreads his legs wide. “Come here.” His voice is a low growl.

  I ease into his lap and tingles creep up my spine as his cock pierces through me. He grips my waist in place and surges through me with blunt, heavy thrusts. My breasts bounce each time he slams his pelvis into mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and thread my fingers through his hair. His warm hands trail slowly up and down my back. I moan his name and he answers with primal grunts. I love it when he takes me savagely. Just like this.

  I feel the orgasm building within me…I’m getting close…So close…Just a few more strokes…

  His body stiffens against mine. His face is red with strain. His short fingernails rip into my hips as he empties himself into my body.

  He didn’t wait for me…

  The bastard.

  He throws his head back against the couch and calms his breathing before tapping my butt softly. “Get off,” he says still breathless.

  I move and sit on the couch feeling half-done as he rolls the condom off and heads to the bathroom. I pull the robe around my shoulders and fasten the sash at my waist.

  Shit – I did it again, I think feeling utterly disappointed in myself.

  He reemerges a few minutes later and I hand him his pants and boxers. He tosses me a charming smile as he slips back into his clothing. “Fucking you feels so much better than fighting with you,” he muses as he playfully taps my nose with his finger.

  “Stop seeing her,” I demand. My arms are folded tightly across my chest.

  He sighs heavily and looks at me with irritation. “I’m not seeing anybody, Madison.” The inference in those words is that he’s single. He’s not committed to anyone or anything…not even me.

  That hurts.

  “You know what I mean,” I retort. I’m pouting and I have every right to. I’ve been gifting my body to only him since I was 19. Yet he runs around town slamming every ‘model’ or ‘socialite’ that comes his way.

  It’s not fair.

  I want more.

  He tucks his shirt into his pants and fastens his belt. “You’re a beautiful woman, Madison. But I need…variety.”

  The words sting deeply. So deeply. “Fine then. Go. Get your ‘variety’. But you can’t have that and have me. I refuse to be just another – another flavor.”

  He leans in close to me. “But you’re my favorite flavor,” he whines with a wicked grin before deftly running his tongue along the skin between my breasts.

  “Stop it!” I hiss weakly, gripping my throw blanket and pulling it to cover my chest. I can’t feel this exposed, this vulnerable while I’m trying to push him away. “I’m serious, Chase,” I growl, leering at him.

  He sighs heavily before glancing at his reflection in the decorative mirror adorning my living room wall. He swipes his finger across his tongue and then thumbs his eyebrows into place because god-forbid that Chase DuBois’ eyebrows be out of place.

  He glances over at me, bundled up on the couch in the fetal position. “You’ll be back,” he shoots casually, confidently, as he strolls out the door, dragging my heart under his shoe.

  Chapter 2

  I lie around in bed, tossing and turning and feeling like an idiot for letting Chase use my body yet again. I can’t go on like this. I can’t keep letting him do this to me…but I don’t know how to stop. I hate him but I feel desperate for him at the same time. The way he treats me kills me but each time, right before it turns sour, it makes me feel alive.

  Ugh! I need to get out of my head, out of this apartment!

  Although Frankie lives only six blocks away, I call my dad’s driver to drop me off. I look like shit right now. I feel like shit. And I’d die if anyone saw me like this, or worse, if my photo somehow ended up on another gossip blog tomorrow morning next to some bullshit article about Chase breaking my heart with one of his bimbos. And given that I live right across the street from a certain famous action movie star’s ex-wife and young daughter, the paparazzi have been known to wander aimlessly around the Chelsea apartment building that I call home.

  I hit the doorbell to Frankie’s apartment when I get to the lobby of his building and I’m buzzed in almost immediately. I take the elevator up to the 6th floor. Before I even have the chance to knock, the door swings open.

  Six feet three inches of lean, tanned, athletic, shirtless hunk greets me with a dazzling lopsided smile…unfortunately, it’s not the particular hunk that I’m looking for tonight.

  “Hey Dom,” I say as he moves out of the way to let me into the bachelor pad that he shares with Frankie. I run my hand over my hair to smooth back my now-messy bun then I brush the lint off of my faded black sweatshirt. Although Domenic is nothing but an old friend, I suddenly feel self-conscious about my haphazard appearance.

  “Maddie, what’s up? It’s almost midnight. What are you doing here?” Domenic asks following me into the living room as he adjusts the waistband of his grey gym shorts. Sports news is on the gigantic wall-mounted television set, replaying the highlights of tonight’s Knicks game.

  Frankie and Domenic’s apartment is a true bachelor pad – brown and red exposed brick walls, minimalistic furniture in dark shades and dim lighting pouring through modern light fixtures. Of course no bachelor pad is complete without a well-stocked bar, a pool table and a string of eager sexual partners streaming through like a ticker tape in Times Square.

  “Is Frankie here?” I ask, ignoring Domenic’s questions.

  His eyes dart down the hallway as he rubs a fluffy towel against his damp hair. “Frankie’s…um…busy…with a friend.” There’s a small grimace on his handsome face.

  It’s only then that I hear the faint but distinct sound of a headboard slapping into the wall again and again.

  I bring my fingers to my mouth to suppress a small laugh. “Is it that cute one with the lisp?” I ask referring to a guy that Frankie picked up a few weeks ago when we went bar-hopping in the East Village. The two of them had really seemed to hit it off.

  Domenic shrugs his shoulders as we sink into the couch. “I don’t know – they were already cooped up in there when I got home from my rugby game an hour ago.” He frowns as he runs his large hand across the small foreign-script tattoo inked into his left pectoral. Seek Truth it says in Mandarin. “Don’t get me wrong – I’ve had my fair share of randoms roll out of my bed since I moved back here three months ago; but my little brother…next to him, I’m a prude.” He drops the towel onto his knee and grabs the t-shirt that’s draped over the arm of the couch. The sleek contours of his bronzed torso ripple as he pulls the shirt over his head. I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes away from his strong chest.

  When did he turn into this delicious
sex-god incarnate?

  He’d moved to Boston two years ago, splitting his time between starting his law degree and playing semi-professional rugby. When he came back to New York earlier this spring to start his summer internship at Cartwright Moretti Stevenson, I barely recognized him. I mean – he looked the same, but…different. Don’t get me wrong – Domenic has always been attractive in that boy-next-door kind of way, but when he came back, he was…wow! His shoulders are now broad and solid, his bronzed arms are strong, his loose curls are golden against his tanned skin…and that smile of his…that wicked smile…it makes a girl tingle.