Broken Love Read online

  Such it is that I woke up from one of those vivid dreams with a raging hard-on and am now sweeping my tongue over her wet folds. Even in her sleep, her body cries out for me.

  Mine.

  Gripping her legs tighter, I drag her now swollen clit between my teeth and she keens above me, arching into my oral assault. Her hands find my hair and she pulls hard, warranting a groan from deep in my stomach. I love when she does things like that. It makes me feel like she wants me just as hungrily as I want her.

  Delilah props herself on her elbows and through the haze of sleep finally registers what’s going on.

  It’s not a dream, my sweet girl.

  “Fuck, Ben. What are you doing?” Delilah croaks, grinding her hips into my teeth for more friction. Such a greedy little thing.

  “I’m…waking…you…up,” I answer between licks and sucks.

  “Damn, baby. That feels so…” she trails off on a whimpering groan and falls back on the bed, arching her back and scissoring my neck with her thighs.

  I slip two fingers inside her simultaneously and begin to work my way in deep. She’s wet, warm and tight. I can just close my eyes and see myself being lost in her depths, bringing her over the brink of ecstasy as she brings me to mine. She’s enchanting, a beautiful creature when writhing in pleasure and flushed with ecstasy.

  Time for a little experiment.

  Slipping my fingers out, I trail her arousal down to her backside, rubbing the slickness over the once scarred area. She tenses above me. When I look up at her, frightened brown eyes are staring back at me. She almost looks timid, scared. I’ve never known my girl to be scared of a challenge. That shit-stain Rick really did a number on her, but no worries.

  Adonis is here to reclaim his Aphrodite.

  “Baby, I need this,” I stress the last word and press gently on the tight gossamer opening. “I need to take it back from him. I need–”

  “Yes,” she cuts me off before I can continue. “Take away every last one of his touches, Ben. Rid me of him,” she entreats in a throaty whisper.

  I groan at her submission, the action tipping my control over the edge.

  Spreading her wider so her tight pucker will be exposed to me, I encircle the opening with my tongue causing her to buck further upward, the sensitivity and intimacy of the act being a little more than she can bear.

  Gripping her thighs firmly with both hands to steady her to my deeply intimate ministrations, I lave my tongue across her opening causing a strained moan to burst from her lips. To make her relax into my touch, I release her left leg and use my thumb to massage her now swollen clit. She groans low and hoarse above me and her body deflates into me with ease.

  I smile. The knowledge that I know her body well pleases me beyond comprehension and that innate caveman feeling to stamp her as mine resounds loudly in my head.

  I will mark as her mine. Jesus, where did that come from? It’s just that…she makes me feel so animalistic, so feral, too intense, and I can’t help but wanting to claim her, all of her.

  She is my Aphrodite, meant to be mine. I am her Adonis, meant to be hers. Rick took her from me with the intention of breaking her, wrecking her for any man and bending her to his will and for his pleasure. But she was mine and nothing he did – no matter the drugs, the cruel beatings, the most brutal of intercourse – could have broken her body’s unconscious response to me. Delilah’s body belongs to me and soon, so will her heart.

  Sinking my index finger slowly and gently into her, I am surprised that she accepts the intrusion. Delilah undulates her hips, taking my long finger inch by inch. When I am inside her to the knuckle, she stiffens.

  “You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” I encourage her. “Just relax.”

  As I work my finger slowly inside her, I suck and lick at her neglected folds. Her pussy is fleshy, rosy, inviting, and when she’s turned on, it swells almost imperceptibly, with the sweetest of essences flowing from it like fruit being juiced. God, she is decadent! And her taste, her smell, everything about her pussy is intoxicating and wildly addictive. Hmm…maybe that’s why I’m now eating away at her right now while thrusting my finger deep inside her puckered rosette like I’ve been starved.

  Delilah, in a rush, explodes; her body shuddering with her climax and her hands grip tightly in my hair. She rides my mouth and finger, moaning in her own sexy way.

  “Baby, please. I need to pee. If you don’t stop I’m going to pee all over you,” she begs.

  Chuckling, I slip my finger out of her and move out of her way. She springs up and rushes to the bathroom. In a few short minutes, she returns and jumps into bed alongside me, settling into my arms.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “You’re welcome, ma belle fille.” I kiss the top of her hair, inhaling her sweet Delilah scent. “Thank you for giving that to me.”

  It means more to me than I can even explain. I’ve freed a part of her that Rick only abused.

  “So, today,” I say, eager to give her my news.

  “Today…?” she presses.

  “I want to treat you – well you, Rachel and your mom – to a full day of relaxation. Spa, shopping, whatever you want,” I tell her.

  “Really?” She is all smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “You don’t have to do that, Ben.”

  I know she feels uncomfortable, especially after telling me the kind of person she used to be, but those are the operative words…used to be.

  “Oh, yes. I want to do this.” I’m adamant. “I’ve made reservations for you guys at Le Paradis de la Relaxation.” Her eyes widen at the news.

  Le Paradis is an exclusive, membership-only spa. Luckily, Phillipe, the spa owner, and I go way back to my adolescent vacation days with my family on the South of France. When I’d told him my plans early this morning and sent him a picture of Delilah, I had to make the bastard promise he wouldn’t be at the spa. He’d agreed eagerly, too eagerly.

  Phillipe is a ladies’ man so for him to agree to bend the rules so easily made me a little edgy. I may be in love, but that does not make me stupid. Lust was written all over his actions and I could almost see him mulling over plans on stealing her from me. After threatening to pull Fielding Investments out from backing his business, the French bastard finally grudgingly relented to my wishes.

  “Wow! How did you do that? That place is as exclusive as the fucking Lodge, Ben,” Delilah voices, excitement shining bright in her eyes.

  “I know the owner,” I answer simply, like it’s no big deal. Delilah gapes at me in an of-course-it’s-a-big-deal sort of way and she looks so adorable. I snap her back to reality. “Get your post-orgasmic, sweet ass up. It’s time for breakfast.”

  We hop out of bed and, after putting on proper clothes, race downstairs. After playfully shoving each other, I scoop her onto my back and give her a piggy back ride into the kitchen.

  I’ve never been so carefree and happy in my adult life and it’s all thanks to Delilah. It is my intention to make her this happy, always. She’s in for a surprise today and for the rest of the weekend. I just hope she likes every bit of it, starting with her spa day.

  I go to pick the girls up at the spa, satisfied that all the plans are in place for her surprise birthday party. As I hand the valet my keys, I see Phillipe’s car pull up and I eye the carbon black Aston Martin V12 Vantage with lust. I need to get me one of those.

  The handsome Frenchman – yes, I said handsome because that’s what he is, and only guys as straight as I am can admit that another man is handsome – steps from his car with easy grace.

  At least I didn’t say the man was cute.

  The valet he hands his keys to, is literally drooling and I can hear them rattle in his hands as he approaches the Bond car with nervous elation. I must admit, I’m a little jealous. My Bentley gets fawned upon, but not drooled on or shook up over.

  Ah, Phillipe you pleasure-seeking bastard. Always has to have the finest clothes, most luxurious houses, the most expensive cars a
nd the most beautiful women. Well, I can proudly say that I’ve thoroughly bested him in the beautiful woman category. No one is as fair or as lovely as my beloved Aphrodite, the epitome of inner and outer beauty.

  I shake my head vigorously. What the fuck? I’m spouting sonnets now? Choking back a laugh, I watch as Phillipe says something to the poor valet who is now a bright shade of red. I can imagine that Phillipe has just threatened to end him if he hurts his “baby”.

  “Ben, I knew that was you,” Phillipe crows in a French accent. All these years in the US and his accent is still thick. “I would remember that Bentley anywhere. How long have you had it? Two years?”

  Fucking high-handed French bastard.

  “Phillipe, unlike you, I don’t have a car fetish. Women are my thing, not toys,” I dismiss and watch his mouth gape open on a glare, but he quickly recovers. He knows I’m only joking. That’s just how we rib each other.

  “Bonjour, mon vieil ami!” he greets me – his old friend – in French, pulling me into a warm hug and slapping my back twice.

  He pulls away and grips my face, kissing both sides of my cheek and I glare at him. He throws his head back in a loud clang of laughter then thrusts his hands up in mock surrender. He knows I hate when he does that shit – kissing me on the cheek like a French familiar. Greeting me as his old friend should remind him that much.

  “Phillipe, bonjour, comment vas-tu aujourd’hui,” I acknowledge. “I thought we had a deal, Phillipe.” My tone is light but cool. I don’t trust his womanizing ass. He promised to stay away.

  “Ah, my friend, I have only come to check on my business. Well, with the small hope of running into your beautiful maiden, of course.” He gives me a cocky grin. I know he’s joking, but I know Phillipe all too well to take anything he says regarding a beautiful woman lightly.

  “But, I promise, I won’t let her be beguiled by my charm.” He was always so cocky.

  That’s one thing we have in common – our unshakeable confidence in who we are and what we’re about. We’re dominant men and we don’t claim to hide it, thus our participation in the BDSM scene.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, old friend,” I dismiss with a snort.

  “Is that why you threatened me to stay away earlier? Afraid of a little, eh, competition, Ben?” he taunts. “I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge. Not since we were boys and I beat you at kickboxing, begging for mercy.”

  I grit my teeth. He always brings that up.

  One time! The one time I surrender and he holds it over my head for fourteen years! And it wasn’t even a fair fight. He kneed me in the balls and dropped me, making it look like a legitimate kick in the stomach. So, it doesn’t even count.

  “That was not a fair fight and you know it. Besides, that was fourteen years ago, Phillipe. Stop living in the past.” I pat his shoulders. I’m not gay or anything, but the man’s shoulders are firm…just like mine.

  “Besides, why fight for what I already have?” I smile a winning smile and start off toward the doors of the spa. I know that will shut him up.

  “Ah, touché, mon ami.” He nods sagely and a small smile of defeat creases his lips.

  Inside, paradise greets me. I haven’t been here in over a year and I’m regretting it. He’s expanded and it’s even more impressive than I last saw.

  “We have had some changes as you can see, my friend,” Phillipe says beside me, but his words are lost on me as I take in my surroundings.

  The front is the standard reception area where a very attractive blonde greets guests. I ignore her furtive glances and make my way through the glass doors to the waiting area, where guests – all women – are waiting to be pampered, while being pampered. They are seated in plush black recliners, a neck pillow around their necks and their feet are being soaked. I swear one woman is asleep. Well, it’s obvious she is. Her mouth is wide open.

  We push through the next set of glass doors into paradise. This place has certainly earned its name. I feel like I’ve stepped into Greek mythological times. The only things missing are birds chirping, water nymphs, and cascading waterfalls. Well, if you count the beautiful women sitting by the pools wrapped in towels or completely naked, then the water nymphs part is covered.

  The decor is very outdoorsy, reminding me of mythological springs and rivers. Flowers hang from the ceiling, green vines spread across the walls of the mud bath and relaxing pool area. The employees are dressed in short, white Grecian dresses as uniforms and women are strutting around in short terrycloth bathrobes. They are all casting flirtatious looks and I wonder if those looks are for me or for the owner alongside me.

  It doesn’t matter though since I’ve spotted my prize. She is like light. Beauty personified. Her long white strapless dress hugs her breasts like a glove. That empire waist reveals the rest of the dress that tapers down her body and flows in a romantic dance around her curves. The gold platform shoes she wears reminds me of lunch at Matt’s garden restaurant and the aftermaths of said lunch: the sex, the arguing, the make-up. The shoes make her look like a goddess. Grecian goddess is what Mrs. Wade called her that day. Her dark hair is freshly done, smooth and shiny, swept over her shoulder in a delicate caress of her skin. She almost doesn’t seem real, but I am afraid to blink for fears my sweet girl may disappear from view.

  I see no one else as she smiles at something, I think Rachel, says. Phillipe’s sharp intake of breath alerts me to the fact that he has seen her and is just as affected by her beauty and sensuality as me and every other man has been.

  “Mon dieu!” Phillipe whispers. My God, indeed.

  “Yeah, what you said.” I swallow and adjust myself, trying to ignore my growing erection.

  We stare at the beautiful woman from a distance in stunned appreciation, not chancing to miss the gleam in her eyes, the spread of her lips, the twitch of her hand, the way she moves that same hand to the back of her neck in a smooth – almost sensual – caress. We both swallow simultaneously. Yes, I know we both seem like freaky voyeurs right now, but damn it if I care.

  “Mr. Cordeaux, Mr. Hayes, how may I be of assistance?” The chirpy familiar voice of Sandy breaks through our hypnotic fog.

  When I unwillingly tear my gaze away from Delilah, Sandy is too close to me and her smile is one of salacious intent. Why, oh why, did I ever sleep with her? Beautiful? Yes, she is. Sexy? Eh…not bad, but Molly has a better body and Molly can’t even strike a match alongside Delilah’s curves. Sandy was good in bed, but only for one time purposes. I doubt she could’ve handled my…perverse proclivities.

  “No, Sandy. Mr. Hayes here has found exactly what he desires,” Phillipe declines. But I notice the hedge in his voice and I know that the pause is saying, So have I.

  My nostrils flare and I want to knock Phillipe on his ass and tell him to back off. My fists clench at my side, unwarranted jealousy thrumming through my veins. All of a sudden, I don’t like that he’s staring at her. Yes, I enjoy being the envy of every man because I possess such a rare beauty; but now, all I can think are caveman and Phantom of the Opera thoughts. I want to trudge over to her, throw her over my shoulder then lock her in a dungeon somewhere, for my eyes and pleasure only. Not a dom/sub thing. Just a selfish bastard thing.

  Phillipe looks at me then, a nervous but resigned smile on his lips. Yeah, back off.

  In that instant, Delilah looks toward us and a broad grin flows across her beautiful face. Sandy follows our line of sight and she catches the beautiful vista of the woman she could never hold a candle to. I don’t even have to look at her to know that Sandy is steaming. The shift in her body language is palpable.

  Delilah excuses herself from Rachel and her mom and she floats – I swear to God she floats. Holy shit, she’s an angel! – over to me with that sexy smile on her face that renders me speechless, boneless and thoughtless.

  She doesn’t notice anyone else around me when she fits herself into the space I swear was made for her – my arms. She feels soft as I fold her into me,
smelling like Jasmine and mint and her own unique smell. I feel like I want to bottle up that essence somehow, so I can have her with me at all times. Fuck, how much weirder can I be?

  Delilah pulls away from me and looks up into my eyes. Like a magnetic pull, my lips lower to hers and I feel her melt into me.

  Sandy clears her throat and I reluctantly break the kiss, remembering where I am. When I look around, all eyes are on us. I look down at Sandy shooting daggers at Delilah, who is oblivious since she doesn’t take her eyes off me.

  Phillipe clears his throat as well and I grudgingly tear away from Delilah before I get lost in those brown eyes. I say grudgingly, because this is where I introduce this cocky French fuck to the love of my life and watch, and listen, to him fawn over and make passes at her. This should be interesting. It will do much for my self-control, I’ll say that much.

  “Delilah, this is Phillipe, one of my oldest friends and owner of this rather paradisiacal establishment.” I inch her toward him and she extends a manicured hand toward him.

  He takes her hand and places a lingering kiss to the top of it. “C’est un plaisir de rencontrer une telle rare beauté. Vous êtes trop bon pour Ben.”

  I hate when he goes off into French. It has been a way to get women to fall all over him. I’m sure Delilah understood nothing, but Delilah blows me away, yet again.

  “Thank you for today. This is truly paradise, but…” she pauses then continues…in perfect fucking French! “Il est celui qui est trop bon pour moi, Monsieur Cordeaux.” I’m too good for her? She must be joking.

  “Et pour mémoire, flatterie vous mènera nulle part.” And for the record, flattery will get you nowhere, she further says.

  Wow, just…wow.

  Delilah slips her hand from him, flashes him her megawatt smile and wraps her arm around my waist. I have to hold back a snort. My girl did good.

  “Beautiful, sexy and she speaks French. I am jealous, my friend,” Phillipe voices, staring at her in wonder. I guess he doesn’t.