Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  He plays it for me again. Again, I melt. I hit stop and release a deep sigh. “Will you play ‘Everlong’ for me?” He grins and plays so that I can record it. And I just want to die. This song is genius already. Acoustically it’s musical nirvana. I laugh a little at that thought. I watch him for a while and then let my head drop back. I bring my knees up and stare at the ceiling while I absorb every last fading note.

  After a few seconds, I hear the thunk of his guitar being set down. I feel my sheet fall to my middle and a little fingernail grazing the inside of my ankle, my calf, my knee. When it hits my knee, I look down my body and watch him. Only it’s not his fingernail but his guitar pick. The silver one with “Dog Tags” engraved on it. Oh shit!

  “This,” he says as he flicks it between his fingers to face me, “is my favorite pick.” Resuming his path on my knee, he keeps grazing until he is at the top of my thigh. He circles it around a little, making a playful pattern. Goose bumps populate my skin from the delightful little scraping. “My favorite pick wants to hang out in my favorite spot. Shall I acquaint them?” he asks with a raised brow.

  I don’t know exactly what he means by that but I don’t care. I nod at him and reach to remove my glasses.

  “Leave them,” he whispers and gives me a naughty grin. Without further ado, the guitar pick makes its way to my clit and plays it to perfection. I mewl as sensation after sensation rocks through me.

  Leaning in, he places his fingers over the corner of my mouth before kissing me gently. He thrusts his tongue in my mouth suddenly, never losing his rhythm below. Dipping his fingers over my bottom lip, he pulls his mouth back as I suck and lick at his fingertips. Those fingers find their way inside me, and Adrian renders me senseless as he works me inside and out.

  Gasping and shuddering, I enjoy what I hope is one of many orgasms to come today. My poor body hasn’t had one, let alone several in quick succession, in so long I’m sure it’s wondering what in the hell is going on.

  Adrian collapses beside me and pulls me in tight. “I just thought this was my favorite before,” he says as he holds the pick above our heads and stares at it in awe. “Now, I know it’s my favorite.”

  I laugh and burrow my face in his side while running my hands over him. “I believe that act would be considered misappropriation of a musical implement, sir.”

  “I should mass produce these with a stamp that reads, ‘For maximum pleasure: use for purposes not intended.’” This elicits both our laughter.

  “I think you may be on to something. That guitar pick knew what it was doing. It was amazing.”

  “OK...now I’m getting jealous,” he says as he tosses it on the nightstand and attacks my neck.

  Giggling, I give him the praise he deserves. “You can’t be jealous over an inanimate object. You’re so creative, musically and…otherwise.”

  “Lately, I’ve been feeling especially inspired,” he says as he pushes the sheet down and devours my breasts like I’m his own private smorgasbord.

  “Mmm…Adrian. I’m going to miss you so much. Your talent, your hands, your mouth—how did I ever manage without them?”

  He nips at me, causing me to giggle, before he lies back beside me. “I’m wondering the same thing. I knew it would be good between us,” he pauses and turns my face toward his, “but this is beyond anything I’d ever imagined, ever hoped for.” He runs one fingertip down my cheek, and I tear up at his beautiful words and his gentle touch.

  Leaning in, I give him a chaste kiss before I tell him simply, “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Celeste. More than anything. More than everything.” He smiles against my mouth. I love the feel of him smiling, so I run my fingertips over his lips for a moment before my growling stomach vies for our attention.

  He chuckles. “Am I starving my baby?”

  “Apparently I need sustenance and real coffee.”

  “Café Du Monde?”

  “Yes! Absolutely!” The speed with which I spring from the bed mirrors my enthusiastic response. His chuckle follows me to the bathroom.

  ****

  AFTER WAITING IN the perpetually long line at the café, we are shown to our little wrought iron table for two in the corner. Adrian pulls a seat out for me, and I sit facing the bushes, which I never do when I come here because I love to people watch. But with Adrian around, I have tunnel vision so that doesn’t even factor in.

  I’m surprised and thrilled as he grabs his chair from the other side of the table to bring it close to mine. I glance up to the server and watch her expression go from interested in Adrian to impressed with Adrian. He’s gorgeous and can’t stay away from me—a winning combination.

  “What can I get for y’all today?”

  “I’ll have a café au lait, please, and two orders of beignets.”

  “Babe, no beignets for me,” Adrian cuts in.

  “Oh, no, those are for me,” I reply unabashedly.

  “Hon, you know those come in orders of three,” the helpful server offers.

  “Yes, I know,” I say with a smile.

  “My woman has a healthy appetite. I love that,” he says, those blues never leaving me. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

  I glance up to see the server staring shamelessly at Adrian while fanning herself with her notepad. Correction—gorgeous, addicted to me, encourages my eating—freaking slam-dunk.

  “Thank you so much,” I say, taking pity on our entranced server.

  “I’ll be right back,” she mutters.

  “So you don’t think I should worry about my figure?” I question him.

  He gives my whole body a deliciously slow once over with his eyes. “I like my woman with a little meat on her bones.”

  “Really? You don’t mind my little pudge and my bubble butt?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. I know that he doesn’t. He’s proven repeatedly that he loves my body just as it is.

  Turning in his seat a bit so that he faces me and the restaurant, his thigh lodges itself against mine. His hand slips up the inside of my thigh. “Babe, don’t change a single thing about the way you are—inside or out. I’m in love with you just as you are.”

  Before I can respond, his fingertips slip further up and graze my bare center and his hand springs back like he’s been scorched. My eyes widen as do his. I didn’t expect him to actually touch me there while we’re sitting here.

  “Fuck,” he grinds out under his breath. I watch fascinated as those crystal tranquil pools morph into dark stormy seas. “Please tell me that was my imagination and you are wearing panties under that tight, short fucking skirt.”

  Oops! Sounds like something’s caught him off guard as well. “Umm…”

  “Celeste, what the fuck?”

  “I don’t like panty lines?” I offer weakly. “I thought you knew that from the other times we’d fooled around and I wasn’t wearing any,” I grit out.

  “I thought that you just slipped them off for convenience when we were making out. And that time in the laundry room, I thought you were at least wearing a thong.”

  “Well, there you go.” I put my hands up as if we’ve just reached a truce. “Just pretend I’m wearing a thong. Is that acceptable?” It’s everything I can do not to laugh in his face. He’s being ridiculous.

  “Babe, I cannot be over there doing what I need to do when I’m worried about your fine, naked ass traipsing all over New Orleans without me here to watch out for you. Today’s the last day you get to go without wearing panties.”

  I have to admit I’m addicted to his bossy nature in the bedroom and about our rules of proximity outside of it; however, I draw the line at being openly told what to do with things that don’t even concern him. I open my mouth to argue my no panty lines motto, but the server returns with our coffee and my beignets. Shooting daggers at him with my own eyes, we make nice in front of her.

  Once she leaves, he doesn’t give me the chance to counter his demand. “I’m serious, Celeste. Do not walk around this city l
ike that. I…I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it if I think about that.” I see immediately that he’s not exaggerating; it really bothers him. His eyes read panicked. I can’t have him panicked and worrying about me when he’s got to keep himself safe.

  I put my hand on his thigh and lean in to him, putting my lips against his ear, I whisper, “I’ll only not wear panties when you’re around, OK?” I feel the tension seep from him immediately. “I don’t want you worrying about that. I promise I will wear my undergarments. I’ll wear a corset if it makes you feel better. I can’t have you distracted or worrying about me for any reason, got it?”

  “Hell no, you can’t wear a corset. That’s even hotter.” He pulls back to pin me with his gaze before nodding. “Your beignets are getting cold,” he says with a raspy voice.

  I give him a quick peck before beginning to devour my first order of these melt-in-your-mouth French donuts.

  After slaking my hunger, I glance up to find him watching me with a smile on his face. “What?” I mumble around the little bit of donut in my mouth.

  Tilting his head, he leans in and runs his tongue across my lips once, twice, three times, licking me clean. He places a chaste kiss on my lips. “Powered sugar,” he answers.

  “Mmm…but you don’t like sweets.”

  His tongue darts out to lick his own lips like he can still taste me there. “I like the sweet that was under that sugar.”

  My blood heats and pounds in my ears. How can I be wanting him already? We’ve just left the room. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I say barely above a whisper. “All I can think about right now is how much I want you. I’ve always had a healthy libido, but this borders on nymphomania.”

  “Lucky me,” he says with a grin. “And if it helps, the only thing I’ve been able to think about since I touched you is the fact that if I took you behind this building I could be inside you in about a half a second.”

  I rub my thighs together with that thought, trying to alleviate the pressure that has built between them. It only makes the pain more acute. “That doesn’t help at all actually,” I admit.

  “Let’s go back to the room,” he says.

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Nuh uh…you promised me the French Market. I want to get a few things for a day behind closed doors.”

  He groans, runs his hand through his hair, and springs from his chair. “I’m going to pay,” he bites out.

  “She’ll bring the check, Adrian.”

  “We don’t have time for all that,” he says as he huffs away. I can only laugh.

  I really don’t want to waste time outside of our hotel room either, but I can’t help teasing Adrian and making him follow me like a lost puppy through the French Market. It’s priceless. I look at different breads like buying the wrong one would be tragic, all the while knowing exactly which loaf I want. What’s really priceless is that each time I bend over I can feel Adrian move in closer as if protecting my virtue from a wandering eye. I’m not a novice. I know how to bend and move when I’m not wearing underwear since I’ve been at it for years. Well, except for that one time in my kitchen with Adrian. Now I have to wonder if that was really an accident. Things that make you go hmm…

  When the vendor asks me if I’d like the mozzarella sliced, Adrian and I answer simultaneously yet in complete contradiction to one another. I laugh and confirm my response for the vendor and turn to Adrian. “Adrian, we have to have the cheese sliced so that it’s easy to eat once we’re in the room.”

  “You didn’t get the bread sliced,” he practically whines.

  Trying to placate him, I lean in and run my hand up and down on his chest and croon, “That’s because the bread is better torn from the loaf.”

  “Only you can make tearing bread sound hot,” he says with another groan. He leans in and whispers, “I’m hard as a fucking jackhammer, Celeste.” His voice deepens but doesn’t getting any louder. “You can stop being a tease and go back to the room with me now like a good girl, or I can punish you later like a naughty one.”

  “Excuse me?” I barely breathe out, searching his turbulent blues.

  “You heard me,” he says, his voice sandpaper. His hand comes up to play at my waist, slipping down and teasing a little bit.

  My entire body melts into his. I’m shocked at the way he speaks to me sometimes, yet I’m turned on beyond anything else. And he knows it. I just got played.

  “Mmm hmm, that’s what I thought, mimi. Tell him to hurry his ass up.” He grunts. I have to say I’m loving my new nickname.

  He barely closes the door behind us when I hear the bags being tossed on the ottoman and feel my hand being grabbed. I can barely register those two things before being turned into his arms and his mouth is relentless on mine. I groan and bring my hands up to run through his dark brown mess that I’m about to shear for him. His kiss is impatient and rough before he releases me only to push me toward the door with a gentle command. “Mimi, put your hands on the door and bend over.”

  I gasp at that mind-blowing command, which renders my brain useless so that I comply instantly and rapidly. Putting my hands on the door, I bend over slightly, but he grabs me by the hips and pulls me back so that my torso is parallel to the floor. I moan, I’m already beyond turned on. I can’t even imagine how amazing he’s going to make me feel. When I hear his zipper, I rub my thighs together in anticipation.

  My skirt is pushed up around my waist, and his knees nudge my legs further apart. “Spread your legs, mimi, I’m taking you fast and hard.” On another groan, I immediately cooperate.

  I feel him at my entrance, but he stops. I push back and feel him retreat a little, only keeping the slightest contact. “Adrian,” I breathe.

  “Is that what you want? You want me to take you that way, don’t you?” I can only groan in response. I have no words.

  “I want to hear you say it, Celeste.”

  I turn my head, noticing the full-length closet mirror across the room from us and almost come undone at the sight of us. His gaze follows mine, and he smiles lasciviously at us. I swallow hard before I rasp out. “Take me, Adrian, fast and hard, please.”

  He touches my womb with his first thrust, and I cry out with abandon. Holding tight at my hips, he never relents. I just hold on for the ride.

  I can feel him nearing his climax, and then his thumb finds its way to my nub and works me so that I find mine first.

  Grasping both of my hips again, he chants, “Mine…never…ever.” He says those three words over and over as he spills himself into me before finally stilling and draping himself over me to plant kisses along my spine.

  Straightening, I turn my head and he takes my mouth tenderly with his. He may have been rendered almost inarticulate but I understand. He’s mine, and I’ve never ever had it this good either.

  ****

  AFTER SPENDING MOST of the day feasting on bread and cheese and each other, Adrian and I finally leave the room for drinks and dinner downstairs. When we enter the elevator, he turns to me and runs his hands up my thighs until he gets to my hips, looking down and back up to my eyes. “This dress is much more acceptable,” he says of my full-length turquoise ensemble.

  “You like?”

  “Yes, all the other guys have to use their imagination, but I know exactly what is waiting for me underneath all this,” he says running a finger under the neck of my halter-top. He straightens a bit and rewraps me with my brown and turquoise paisley scarf until hardly any skin is showing. I just laugh at him and roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.”

  “Thank you, Adrian. You’re so considerate.”

  “Damn straight. So I made a reservation at the restaurant after we have a drink, but I’m rethinking that. How about some Bar Bites instead?”

  “I’d love that.” The Carousel’s Bar Bites are phenomenal, and if you order enough, they make a nice meal.

  When the elevator dings, he takes my arm in his and leads me to the Carousel. It’s making one
of its legendary revolutions so that we have to wait a moment before sitting. Once I’m up on my red and white-striped seat, Adrian sits beside me and turns so that he’s facing me with his feet resting on my stool. I reciprocate.

  “Good evening, folks, what can I get for y’all tonight?” the bartender asks.

  “Hi, I’ll have the Goody, please.”

  “Can’t go wrong with a classic, can you?” Adrian asks. “Hendrick’s Martini with an extra cucumber, please.”

  “Coming right up. Are you ordering from the grill tonight?”

  “Yes, sir,” Adrian responds.

  “I’ll give you a minute to look at the menu then,” he says as he hands us menus.

  I give it a cursory glance, but I always order the same thing. “What are you thinking?” Adrian asks me after a minute.

  “I’m going to have the Crawfish Pie and the Mini Monte Po-Boys.” I’m proud that I show enough restraint to keep from licking my lips.

  He gives his menu a quick glance and says, “I’m gonna have the po-boys and Blue Crab Beignets.”

  “Oh, those sound delicious. I’ve always wanted to try them. You won’t mind sharing will you?”

  He laughs. “What’s mine is yours, babe, you know that.” He picks up his coaster and spins it before tossing it back down. “Speaking of…we need to talk about a couple of things. While I was running my errands, I met with Louis and made sure that I left everything in trust to the boys should I not make it.” My heart drops to my toes, my stomach lodges in my throat, and tears spring to my eyes. “You’re the guardian, and I would’ve left it to you but I know you have a shitload of money and wouldn’t have any use for it. I figured the boys were the best bet. They can access it when they’re in college.”

  “Adrian…” I try to say something but all I can think is “should I not make it” and that makes me want to lose it.

  He reaches out and cups his hand around my neck, bringing my face close to his. “I don’t like talking about it either, but, Celeste, it’s a real possibility and I just wanted to do right by the boys. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore if that’s OK with you.”