Broken Daddy

by Blake North

  “I’ll see if Cameron has hidden that cake away,” he said, heading across to his tall, broad-shouldered friend.

  I blinked, surprised. I didn’t know he had decided to have a cake. It was so different from our fake wedding: simple and classic and heartfelt.

  Brianne and I chatted excitedly until he returned.

  “Come, dear,” he said, eyes bright with fondness. “Let’s cut it.”

  He had ordered a chocolate cake; my favorite. I was so touched. He had thought of everything. We cut it together and our guests applauded enthusiastically.

  I smiled up into his eyes and we kissed.

  Later, the dinner finished, we bundled into the car together on the back seat. Instantly, we were in each other’s arms. His mouth on mine was hot and wet and demanding, and my body responded in kind, my womb throbbing with my need.

  When we got home to the manor it was as if we had not seen each other for years. My body was hungry for his as if we had been separated for ages. In truth, we had shared a bed the previous night. But this was different. This was new territory. We were married.

  “I love you, Hayley,” he whispered into my hair.

  “I love you too, Beckett.”

  His hands moved gently on my shoulders, moving the straps of the dress slowly down. His mouth drifted from my lips to my body, making a trail down my neck to the top of my neckline. His hands fumbled behind me and I reached up to help as he pushed me onto the bed.

  Our bodies moved together as he slid down to take a nipple between his lips and I slid toward him to get closer. He drew my nipple into his mouth, lapping it gently.

  I gasped and rubbed myself against him. He smiled and moved to draw my gown down over my feet. It slid to the floor. He sat back and looked at me.

  I smiled at him.

  “I think it’s my turn,” I said, grinning playfully.

  “I’m yours to command.”

  “Oh,” I said, my voice warm with smiling at him. “Well. There’s a change.” I reached up and started to unbutton his shirt. He shrugged out of his jacket and I carefully unbuttoned the shirt, letting it slide back to reveal his lean muscled body underneath.

  “You are just wonderful,” I smiled at him. I looked at him, kneeling there on the bed, his body shining slightly from sweat, his well-cut trousers still fastened about his waist.

  He looked down, looking shy. “You are wonderful,” he said.

  “Well, I am full of ideas to take advantage of this command I have been given,” I said playfully. “So get those trousers off and lie down.”

  He raised a brow, smiling at me.

  “This is a change. But may I finish undressing you first?”

  “That,” I said softly, “would be a pleasure.”

  He undressed me, the bridal lace parting to show my breasts and then all of me. He sat back looking at me.

  “I want you so badly,” he said, voice tight.

  “I want you too,” I said. My voice was thick with longing and I was shaking. I wanted to pleasure him too, though. “But first, lie down.”

  He did so. I slid over and sat on him, guiding him into my body, and he gasped, closing his eyes.

  I rode him slowly and then gained speed. Seeing his face as I did so was all the pleasure I hoped. He was stiff with desire. His face twisted in a spasm of pleasure so intense it could have been agony.

  I knew what it felt like, as I was getting to that stage myself. I moved of my body’s volition, no conscious control over my motions except my urgent need for release.

  “Oh, oh…oh!”

  He moaned and shouted and, shuddering, he came inside me.

  I collapsed on top of him.

  We lay like that for what felt like an age.

  Later, we did more. His body explored mine, discovering new ways to pleasure me that I did not expect and would never have thought of. I did the same for him.

  “Hayley,” he whispered, holding me close. We were lying together, exhausted, the night’s darkness enveloping the room.

  “Yes?”

  “You know, I love you. I think I have from the moment I first met you.”

  I giggled. “Really?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Really and truly. I remember how angry you were, how you stood up for your convictions. That was what made me notice you.”

  I smiled. Snuggled closer to him. “I’m surprised,” I said gently.

  “Why?”

  “I always thought those were bad things about me,” I said, my throat tight with emotion.

  “Well, they’re not,” he said, kissing my hair. “They’re wonderful things. So believe me.”

  I giggled. “The first thing I noticed about you was your poise,” I said thoughtfully. “Arrogance, maybe,” I teased. He chuckled and I continued. “You have a very assured quality about you,” I explained. “It makes you a reassuring person to be around. I feel like there’s nothing you can’t fix.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you feel like that,” he said, breath warm on the crown of my head as his voice passed it.

  “I do,” I smiled. “So believe me.”

  He laughed. “The other thing I love about you, of course, is your willfulness, your cheeky side. That grin.”

  He was kissing me as he said it, planting little kisses on my brow with a maddening tickle that made me squeal with laughter.

  “Beckett, you’re tickling,” I protested weakly.

  “Oh,” he said teasingly. “She’s ticklish, is she? Let’s find out how much…”

  I yelled as he started to tickle me all over, my body contorting in helpless laughter as his hands, expert and strong, elicited the most terrible, wonderful sensation from every inch of my body.

  “Help!” I yelled. “Beckett, please, stop!”

  “Please?” he asked, continuing. “Really?”

  “Pretty please,” I laughed, feeling my poor body ready to collapse with delicious exhaustion.

  “Well, then,” he said, smiling. He stopped and lay back beside me again, cradling me in his arms. “That is another matter.” He kissed my hair and I lay there, tired but satisfied, then slowly felt my desire start to rise again. We would still draw more pleasure out of our night. But not too much for one day; not to tire ourselves out that much. We had a lifetime together, and so we could take things slowly. One night at a time. One day at a time.

  EPILOGUE

  The sound of the water wove into my thoughts, rich and complex and refreshingly-loud. I sighed and shifted closer to Beckett, where we sat, on the verandah, watching the sun over the sea.

  “I love it here,” I whispered.

  “Good,” he said.

  He smiled at me and I smiled back. We were at his new holiday-home in Bali, built by the same architects who designed his hotels. This one was a small double-story home, in the middle of a small village, for us alone.

  “Is Estella—” I began.

  “Hey, you two,” a cheerful voice called from the hall. “Are we going to the sea to swim now, or what?”

  I looked at Beckett. He looked at me. He looked peaceful and contented, sleepily relaxed.

  “No, sweetie,” he replied. I was glad. I hadn’t wanted to go now either. I wanted to stay here alone with him. “You go.”

  “Okay!” Estella called happily round the door. She appeared in the enclosed verandah in front of us, a tall, bronzed body wearing a white floral swimsuit. “I’m going down now, though. See you in an hour.”

  “Okay.” Beckett nodded sleepily.

  I smiled at her and she smiled back, then headed back out of the room again.

  When she had gone, I turned to Beckett.

  “I’m glad she’s accepted me now,” I said softly.

  “I knew she would,” Beckett said fondly. “She’s a wonderful person; so are you. It was natural you’d like each other.”

  “Oh, Beckett.”

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing,” I said gently. “I’m glad our news wasn’t t
oo difficult to accept.”

  “No,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t. She seemed really pleased, actually. She’s sweet.”

  “She is,” I nodded.

  My news, which I had told him a week or two ago, was that I was expecting a child. We had been married for four months. I had never seen him look so pleased about anything in all the time I’d known him.

  We had come here for a honeymoon and a chance to relax.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I said again, as he stroked my shoulder.

  “I had to bring you here. It’s beautiful. And you’re beautiful. And our child will be beautiful.” He laid a protective hand over my belly and it made my body shudder with desire. “I love you.”

  “You’re so sweet sometimes.” I sighed. I looked up at him with love shining out of me.

  “Sometimes,” he said, grinning. “Sometimes I’m just honest.”

  I chuckled. “And sometimes…” I added, nestling in closer, looking into those green eyes that had a certain wicked glow to them.

  “Sometimes,” he said, kissing my lips and then looking into my eyes with that warm, intense stare, “sometimes I’m a very naughty man indeed.”

  I laughed, as desire stabbed into my body, making a delicious flutter spread from my loins to my head and back again. “Sometimes,” I whispered back, “I quite like it when you’re naughty.”

  “Only sometimes?” He looked crestfallen, and I had to giggle.

  “Oh, Beckett,” I said, as my body moved toward his almost as if drawn there by a magnet and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him against my rounded breasts, “I like it when you are naughty almost all the time.”

  “Almost all?”

  I laughed again. I was shaking, but I had to obey my wish to tease him some more. “Well, sometimes I like it when you’re just a bit naughty,” I said, shivering as he kissed my throat and pushed me backward, inch by delicious inch, “and sometimes I like it when you’re downright wicked.”

  He laughed, and I laughed, and we collapsed together onto the seat, his body moving onto mine.

  Yes, we were very, very happy together.