She had woken up in a panic, on the verge of an attack when she brokenly called out my name. Not that I had been sleeping. I was too worried to force slumber.
She’d been home with me for three days now, as were her parents, Rachel and Marshall. She had spent four agonizing weeks in the hospital. Weeks that tested all of our patience, and challenged my love for her.
The first week, we had to deal with the mood swings and the nasty change in her personality as a result of the withdrawal from the drugs that had been in her system. They’d had to restrain her many times as she threatened to leave the hospital to get what she needed. I’d even been tempted to try to score drugs for her, and if that wasn’t a low point, I don’t know what is.
She had assaulted a nurse and had propositioned an orderly who almost took advantage of her weakened state. After he was fired, Marshall, Marcus and I had a strong talk with him, our fists doing all of the one-sided dialogue.
The next week, Delilah had checked out; refused to speak to anyone, not even to her therapist who came by every day to see if she was ready to talk. This was also the week she had her first nightmare – woke up kicking and screaming in the middle of an afternoon nap. She had had to be sedated, but didn’t have another.
Going to work that week proved tumultuous as I found myself snapping at more people than I had ever intended. It came to a head when I snapped at Fields in a meeting and he gave me the rest of the day off to “sort my shit out”. I got off easy, if you ask me.
By the third week, Delilah had come around, but started having more frequent nightmares. For the most part, she was improving, and thankfully, finally talking to the therapist. I had to deal with not knowing what they were talking about but being happy that she was finally taking therapy – a necessary step to wholeness for her.
Her bruises had started to fade and her broken ribs had begun to heal, though there was still some tenderness. She still had shivers that rocked her body involuntarily, as a result of her withdrawal, but the most important thing was that she was hopefully making a complete recovery.
By the fourth week, Delilah’s personality had returned, as well as her bright smile. She was walking around without a hint of pain and the fading discoloration on her face and arms had completely disappeared. Her back still sported scars from being whipped, but they were not as pronounced as before. The purplish bruise at her side became light brown and no longer hurt, so the doctor saw this as a good sign for her release.
Since she’s been home, she’s been experiencing terrible nightmares that have kept me, her and everyone else up for a few hours a night worrying about her well-being, and tonight is no exception.
It makes me even that much more pissed at myself for not killing Rick and his accomplice where they stood that day; because with Delilah such a wreck, they would have deserved every single bullet I’d have pumped into their low-life bodies.
“Shh, baby. I’m here,” I console her as she trembles with tears in my arms.
“You left,” she cries, and I know her nightmare probably had something to do with the day I left her at my parents’ house. I can only imagine the rest of the dream that could have gotten her so worked up.
“But I’m here now, baby. I won’t leave you again,” I assure her; promise her.
Delilah claws at me, crawling further into my lap as I cradle her. I want to ask her about her nightmare, as I do every time she has one, but I don’t. I know she will eventually open up to me. I just have to give her time. I’m just glad she’s, at least, talking to a professional.
I had to locate the best for Delilah. Dr. Patricia Munroe is an amazing psychiatrist, dealing specifically with trauma and drug counseling. Delilah has been seeing her since her time in the hospital and is very excited about seeing her each week.
They had a three hour session yesterday, which I found odd, and I had to restrain myself on too many occasions from barging in there and demanding that they either wrap things up or tell me what was going on. It was my office anyway, damn it.
I hate that she is talking to yet another person, rather than talking to me, but as Dr. Munroe says, “She’ll open up to you. She wants to. You just have to be patient.” That’s my only hope now as I wait…impatiently.
“I’m sorry I broke up your family,” she mumbles against my chest.
“Delilah, it’s not your fault.” Her guilt over my parents’ split breaks my heart every time. She doesn’t need to hang on to that.
“You forgive me?” she asks, looking at me with those big browns and I melt into a pool of sappiness. Those eyes…they render me helpless.
“I should be asking if you forgive me,” I say, smoothing her mess of curls from her face.
“Of course I forgive you. I was mapping out how I was going to get you back all that time,” she mentions, smiling weakly before a few more tears slip down her face.
“What took you so long?” I whisper, kissing each tear.
“I was tied up.” She shrugs, smiling cutely I might add. This is what I love about her: she takes her hardship and turns them into something to smile about. My strong fucking girl.
“What took you so long?” She snuggles into my chest waiting for my answer.
“I’m a douchey, bratty, entitled piece of shit?” I guess, reminding her of her description of the guys she usually dated, hoping to get a smile. I’m rewarded with something so much more beautiful, though.
Delilah laughs and it is such an amazing sound. Since I’ve rescued her, she hasn’t laughed like this and I’m glad I’m the one to make her do it.
“I was too proud,” I say more earnestly. “I missed you the moment I walked out that door that night, but I was too proud to turn back. I felt lost that entire week. Each and every day without you was a reminder of how much I needed you. But I was too goddamn…”
“Proud?” she quips, finishing my thought. I smile, as does she.
“And scared,” I confess, touching her nose with my forefinger. “I was terrified that you wouldn’t take me back.”
Delilah shifts so she can look at me. No more tears and she looks beautiful as hell. My eyes drop to her trembling lips. They beckon to me. She licks them, tugging on my desire. I know I should resist. I have been. To be honest, I’ve been avoiding the sexual situation altogether.
I’m afraid to touch her any at all. Rick and his friend hurt her so much and if the bruises on her back aren’t indication enough of how much they physically hurt her, the doctor had told me that she suffered some vaginal and anal tearing and would need time to heal.
She would have already been healed, but every time I think about getting close to her, all I see are images of Rick beating her or raping her and I go cold; but with Delilah biting down on that luscious bottom lip of hers, how can I resist? Damn it!
I lean in and take her lips, licking and sucking them, begging for entry with my tongue. She grants me access and when our tongues touch, it is like an electric jolt. Delilah’s soft moans trigger an animalistic desire in me and I grip her tighter.
The minx that she is, she starts to gyrate on my lap as she feels my cock hardening beneath her. My chest is pounding. I need her desperately, but I know we can’t. We shouldn’t.
I’ve been beating off in the shower so far – to muffle my sounds – sometimes three times a day when a cold shower doesn’t work. Avoiding Delilah has proven to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do in my life; especially when she prances around here in sweat pants that fall low on her waist and tank tops that contour her breasts and show a peeking of her stomach. It’s even worse when she cuddles up with me at night in pajama shorts that barely cover her meaty round ass and those stupid tank tops she wears without a bra. I’ve had to restrain my roaming hands on too many occasions and put pillows in between us so I don’t poke her with my throbbing dick. Not touching her has been especially hard since her skin is so soft and supple.
Now here I am, kissing those lips because I’ve been starved too
long, and caressing her body like my life depends on it. I don’t stand a chance with her grinding into me like this, but, I have to be strong. I need to put up some kind of resistance.
I practically tear myself away from her, even as my lips continue to search for her when we part. She whimpers and tries to pull me to her but with my hands on her shoulders, I keep her in place.
Staring at her with lust-filled eyes, I try to calm my breathing and my raging hormones. I find myself kissing her again. How the hell did that happen?
“Please, Ben,” she begs. Oh fuck. Don’t say it, baby. “I want you.” She does.
Having Delilah tell me she wants me is like a switch flicking on in my brain. I love when she begs for it; it restores my control…but we all know I’m putty in her hands.
“We can’t,” I say against her lips, even as I push my hands under her tank top. Don’t do it, man! If I touch her breasts, I’m done.
“We can. Ben, I need you.” She angles her body away from me and God if she doesn’t look sexy with her bruised, kiss-plumped lips.
“Take their touch away.” Tears build in her eyes and I see the desperation in them and feel the desperation of her words. “Erase their every memory, Ben. Please…”
“Fuck, Delilah,” I curse, running a hand through my hair. “You’re killing me.”
I slide her away from me and move off the bed. Every cell in my body is warring with me right now and this aching thing between my legs is throwing some choice words my way. I can imagine all he’d have to say if he could speak.
I drag a frustrated hand through my hair and groan when I chance a look at Delilah. She’s panting and biting that damned bottom lip of hers; and her nipples – God help me – are sticking through that tank top begging to be plucked and sucked.
Take their touch away. Did she whisper that again just now?
I surge toward her, taking her lips roughly. Her legs part and I shift my weight between them so she can feel the effect she has on me. A roll of the hips into her junction and she responds with a soft moan that really messes with my control. With rough kisses, I glide down to her neck all the while plumping those plush breasts of hers that fill my big hands so perfectly.
My fingers brush her erect nipples and her chest rises to my touch. I love how responsive she is. Peeling her tank top off her shoulders, perfect, supple breasts are revealed and I pause to take in the sight before me.
“Ben,” Delilah mewls as she wriggles underneath me. “Do something.”
“What do you want, baby? Tell me.”
“You,” she whimpers.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Suck them,” she breathes in a rush. “Suck my nipples.”
I smirk victoriously then swoop down on her chest, nuzzling her breasts and inhaling the fruity scent of her body. At least, I think it’s fruity. Hell, she smells good, that’s the important thing.
Grazing my tongue across her breast, I come to my destination, swirling around her areola before sucking the tight bud of her nipple between my teeth. Palming both breasts to give me greater access, I nip her hardened peak and she shivers beneath me. Her hands find my hair and she musses it as she rakes her fingers through it. I suck on her nipple as I firmly pinch and roll the other. Her hips undulate as waves of pleasure overtake her.
“Yes,” she hisses. “Just like that. God!”
That’s all the motivation I need. I pull away from her nipple and she whines in protest, forcing my head back down. I blow on the glistening wet, elongated tip and she moans as the sensation moves through her body.
The other nipple is my next victim. I curl my tongue around it and take it into my mouth. Suckling her like a babe, I reach down and cup her sex. I suck in a breath and pull away from her. She’s soaked right through her shorts.
“Jesus, Delilah,” I groan, adjusting the throbbing in my boxer briefs.
“That’s all for you, Ben.”
Lust-blinded, I drag her shorts off and rip away her pink lace panties and bring them to my face. She smells intoxicatingly incredible. Gripping her thighs, and lowering my face to her juncture, I lick the wetness from her inner thighs and make my way upwards to her cleft. Swiftly, I bury my face into her opening, getting a taste of just how wet she is. Delilah wriggles in my grasp as I breathe heavily over her hyper-sensitive core. God help me, she’s beautiful.
“I’ve missed this,” I say to her, eyeing the masterpiece in front of me.
“Then do something!” she begs breathlessly.
I kiss her clit, then with a flick of the tongue over the swollen bud, she convulses. Easing a finger into her, I suck on the swollen area, struggling with my own control. One finger turns into two as I lick between her folds and delight in hearing her sweet moans. Faster and faster I work my fingers as she keens above me, grinding into my mouth.
“Oh God, Ben,” she chokes out. I love it when she calls my name in the throes of ecstasy. “Ben!” she whimpers, as though she read my mind.
I can’t take it much further. Rising from the floor, I yank my boxers down, freeing my cock. It bobs in her direction, seeking her out – he’s missed her so much – and I kneel, positioning myself at her opening.
“Yes! Oh, please, baby. I want it.” Delilah reaches for me and whimpers when she can’t get to me. I know how bad she wants me. I want her just as bad and I wish I could savor the moment, but I can’t.
Lifting her legs apart, I surge forward and slam hard into her and she falls apart on a wail, shuddering with her climax. I still my movements because I know if I move an inch, I’ll blow. Her vibrations and the spasms squeezing my dick are not helping my control whatsoever.
“Delilah, honey, are you okay?” A knock on the door and the sound of her father’s voice drags me back to reality. What the hell am I doing?
I try to pull out of Delilah but she wraps her legs around me and forces me forward into her. Shit that feels good.
“Honey?” Mr. Keyes continues knocking. “Ben?”
I can’t speak. Delilah feels too good wrapped around my cock. If I say anything, it’ll betray what we’re actually doing. I really can’t pretend to be cool right now. Not when I’m on the verge of release. Fuck.
“Yes, daddy?” Delilah answers and although her voice quivers a bit, she sounds completely cool and collected.
“Honey, are you okay? We heard screaming,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine, daddy. I just had another nightmare,” she answers, only half lying.
“Move,” she commands me through gritted teeth.
I smile at how brazen my not-so-sweet girl is. Damn she’s hot when she wants me so bad.
Slowly and inexorably, I begin to thrust in and out of her warm wetness. I’ve missed this. Damn, I’ve missed this.
“God, you feel so good, Delilah,” I moan softly.
“Ben, is everything okay?” Oh, but the man is persistent.
“Don’t stop,” she instructs softly as she rolls her hips into my thrusts. “Answer him, but don’t fucking stop.”
An expert thrust of my hip has her hiccupping on a choked scream. She narrows her eyes with a sly smile. Contained in those eyes are promises of naughty deeds and I’m happy that her spunk is back.
“Yes, Mr. Keyes. We’re okay in here. She just had a nightmare. Ooohh,” I moan that last part when Delilah squeezes the head of my cock with the walls of her pussy. The vixen.
“Okay, well we were just a little worried, son. We’ll see you both in a while. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” we say in unison, snickering.
“Now, show me how much you’ve missed me,” she orders and it’s about the sexiest thing having her take control like this…for now. I’ve always loved her fire.
I drag her further into me and drive into her powerfully. The slapping of my thighs to the backs of hers, the sounds of her glorious voice as her body quakes under pressure, the growls that escape me – well, more like manly whimpers – fill the la
rge room. The sex in the air is thick and it is like an aphrodisiac to my senses, driving me wilder and wilder with every whiff.
Towering over her, I sink deeper with long, lunging strokes into her moist heat. This is what we do best: become one. Every time we join together like this, as consummation of our lust, of our intense longing for each other, we imprint a part of ourselves on each other’s souls. It’s a cosmic branding almost, aligning our stars as we align our bodies. I look down and stare at her beautiful face twisted in ecstasy and that feeling of rightness returns; like a key opening a locked door. My destiny…right here…this woman.
I take her lips in a contrastingly tender kiss, savoring her, worshipping her. She is my goddess; my love. She is made for me.
Emotion grips my chest and I whisper in her ear, “I love you, Delilah.”
Her hands glide up to my face where she takes it and stares into my eyes. I am rendered powerless by her big browns. Her eyes gloss with tears and I wipe away the single one that falls.
Rolling my hips and hitting that sweet spot of hers, she throws her head back and I have to cover her mouth as she screams out her pleasure. Tears run down the side of her face and I can feel her legs tightening and the walls of her pussy flexing. Oh, this is going to be good.
“You’re mine,” I state firmly before sending her over the edge with thunderous strokes.
I’m still inside her, the tendons in my neck tightening, as I release all my fears, doubts, and mistakes, and fill her with all the love and security I wish to give her. I’ve given her back her body and have taken back her pleasure.
My sweet, beautiful girl…all mine.
Chapter Seventeen
“Good morning.” I nuzzle Delilah’s neck as I slide between her legs.
I’m up with a raging hard-on, and with Delilah back in my bed, back in my life, I feel like a new man. How I ever thought that I could have a life without her was probably the most asinine thought I could ever conjure; because right here, right now, gazing at my beautiful woman; well, this is what romance novels and movies are made of. This is what men fight wars over, and I would plow through cities, destroy empires just to have her in my life always.
Broken Love Page 14