Broken Love

by Ghiselle St. James

  “Not all women are…” Delilah glances at Sandy, finally acknowledging the other woman’s presence, who is still shooting daggers at her. “…ditzes, Mr. Cordeaux.”

  Sandy gasps and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. She huffs in contained anger and stomps off. I know I’ll have some explaining to do later.

  “My dear, you are a rare exception,” he says to Delilah then turns to me. “You are truly a lucky man, Benjamin. We should have a drink sometime. I haven’t seen you at Allure for a while, my friend, but I can see you were otherwise occupied. Maybe you should come by the apartment; we have not fenced in a while. I miss defeating you.”

  “Phillipe, once again, that was a one-time occurrence. Luck was your ally that day.”

  “If you gentlemen are done with your pissing contest,” Delilah interjects. “I’d like to introduce you to my mother and my best friend, Mr. Cordeaux.”

  “Phillipe, please,” he corrects her, still flirtatious.

  Delilah introduces Wilhemina and Rachel, and after talking for a while – Delilah once again commanding his attention and charming him – we leave.

  Delilah nudges me as we step outside to wait for the car. “So…I guess you slept with Bottle Barbie in there, huh?” she asks, referring to Sandy. This was sooner than expected.

  “Uh,” I stutter, rubbing the back of my neck. But this was no time for lies. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Like three months ago, long time ago?” she presses.

  …The fuck? How did she know?

  “Yeah,” I answer sheepishly. “How did you know?”

  “She still looks freshly fucked, Ben,” she responds bluntly. “Her pussy’s probably still wet since the last time you’ve been inside her. The memory is still well and truly vivid in her mind.”

  I’d forgotten it as soon as it was over, to be honest.

  “I saw the way she blushed, the way she looked at you,” she continues. “And if her scowling at me and silently plotting my demise wasn’t indication enough, I’m guessing you gave her a lasting and thoroughly satisfying memory.” Delilah winks at me conspiratorially with a wolfish grin and my heart slams in my chest.

  I think I just fell in love with her again.

  “You know you’re awesome, right?” I say, curling my arm around her neck and bringing her in close for a kiss.

  “I don’t know about awesome,” she negates. “Maybe aiight,” she says, waving her hand in a so-so fashion, her New York accent thick and cute.

  “What? Are you a teenager?” I laugh at her Ebonic translation of the word alright. “You’re more than, aiight, Miss Keyes. You’re pretty fucking amazing. And a pretty fucking amazing woman, deserves a pretty fucking amazing day.”

  “Well, my day was pretty fucking amazing,” she concurs.

  “Well, it’s not over yet.” I uncurl my arm from around her neck as the valet pulls up in my car.

  I open the back door for Mrs. Keyes and Rachel to step in.

  “Not over?” Delilah eyes me dubiously.

  “Not by a long shot.” I kiss her forehead and usher her into the car.

  Checking my cell and finding no missed calls or urgent messages, I board the car and set off for Delilah’s apartment…I mean Rachel’s apartment, because Delilah lives with me now – wow, never thought that would ever happen.

  I just hope Delilah likes her surprise.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “What are we doing here?” she asks as we pull into the parking garage of her old apartment building. She glances at the back seat to see her mother and Rachel grinning like Cheshire cats. “Ok, creepy. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I’ve got a surprise waiting for you back home,” I answer with an equally wide grin on my face, finding a parking spot.

  “O…kay. Um, should I be worried, what with you guys grinning at me like you’re trying to get me to drink the Kool-Aid or something?” she questions, shooting us all suspicious glances.

  “Get up there and get changed, Sherlock Holmes,” I instruct, scooting her out.

  “Get changed? In what? All my clothes are by your place,” she says.

  “Our place,” I correct. “I know. I’ve got you a surprise waiting upstairs as well.”

  Delilah smiles brightly, lighting up everything inside me. I want to keep a smile like that on her face forever. She illuminates everything with a smile like that. Gives a guy hope.

  “What’s the occasion, Mr. Hayes?”

  Rachel and Wilhemina both scramble out of the car and head for the elevator.

  “A surprise, Miss Keyes. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “More than I trust myself,” she confesses, looking down into her lap.

  My throat constricts with emotion. I hate this partially insecure version of Delilah. Tilting her chin upward, I force her to face me. “I trust you, Delilah. I trust you with my heart.”

  “You shouldn’t,” she says softly, almost tearfully.

  “You can’t tell me what to do, my sweet girl. I’m the dominant, remember?” I tease, lightening the mood.

  She laughs softly and I see now that her eyes are brimming with tears.

  “Delilah, I love you.” I cup her face and I feel my hands shaking slightly. Oh, get a grip pansy.

  She nods and a genuine smile glitters her features. “I know, Ben.”

  We exit the car and walk, hand-in-hand, to the elevator. She leans on me the entire ride up to the eleventh floor. When we step out, Rachel fishes her keys out and opens the door. It’s dark, that’s the way I left it. Rachel steps aside and Delilah gives her a confused look. She hasn’t been home since her kidnapping. The thought still gets me angry.

  Nudging Delilah inside, I flick the lights on. She gasps loudly, her hands shooting to her mouth. Spinning into me, she grabs me and presses me into her and I know she’s crying; judging from the increasing wetness of my shirt.

  “Oh…my God, Ben!” she cries. “It’s…It’s so beautiful!”

  I had a roomful of roses delivered to the apartment, each with a red balloon. In the midst of the room, stands a voluptuous mannequin – had to shop around in a few black boutiques to find that damn mannequin – with curves like Delilah, wearing a knee-length, skin tight metallic gold long-sleeved dress. I don’t do inanimate objects, but that mannequin is oozing sexuality right now.

  “But, it’s not my birthday,” she says, referring to the huge Happy Birthday, Delilah banner splashed above the large windows showing off the Philadelphia skyline.

  “You deserve this, Delilah. I know you said that being rescued was the best present you could ever receive, but I need you to have a happy memory,” I tell her.

  “It was, Ben. It was the best memory. You don’t know how happy I felt to see you bursting through that door. Who knows what would’ve happened to me, if you hadn’t arrived?” she states, choking back a sob.

  I clutch her tightly to me as she cries into my chest. Wilhemina starts crying and Rachel embraces her as quiet tears run down her face as well.

  Christ, I’m surrounded by hormonal women.

  I hug Delilah tighter as though by some strange occurrence, she’ll vanish from my arms. The thought is unsettling. I need her. Forever. My heart twists and tears pool in my eyes. Guess the hormones are rubbing off on me. I just…I can’t…I don’t want to imagine an existence without her. I’d die.

  “If you…if he’d…” I fumble over my words, trying my best not to utter the words. I don’t even want to imagine them.

  “I’d die, Delilah. I’d die,” I declare vehemently.

  With that, Delilah’s sobs get louder and she tries to inch herself deeper into my embrace, like she can’t get close enough. I just hold her and soothe her with gentle rubs of her back.

  My sweet girl deserves all the happiness in the world.

  After we got the tears out of the way, we went our separate ways to get dressed. Delilah, Rachel and her mother took Rachel’s room, while I took Delilah’s room.


  I’m ready, but of course I have to wait on the ladies. Just as I step out of the room, Rachel’s door swings open. My dick springs to life, my jaw slacks open, my eyes widen, sweat mists my skin, my palms get damp, my breathing stops, my heart races, my legs almost give way and all coherent thought flies through the window.

  In three long, hard strides, I grab the object of my discombobulation and plant my lips roughly on hers, careful not to mess up her hair that is the same as it was when I picked her up at the spa. As our tongues meet, we back into the wall and I dig my fingers into her ass, lifting her up. She laps her legs around my waist, her champagne colored Louboutin heels, with feathers on the sides, digging into my thighs. I grind my hips into her so she can feel what she’s done to me and she tightens against me, her lips kissing me with more urgency.

  “Damn it!” I yelp as I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. Delilah nipped me and she has the nerve to be smiling about it.

  I groan and rest my forehead against hers. “This isn’t gonna work,” I tell her.

  “What’s not gonna work?” she asks, winded.

  I set her down and watch her straighten her dress and it takes every bit of control not to attack her again.

  “That…” I motion to her dress. “That dress isn’t going to work. Delilah…God! You look…God!” I’m losing it. I can’t even find an appropriate word to describe how sexy she looks. Sexy isn’t even the word.

  Delilah is all hips and tits and ass in this fucking gold dress that’s not just hugging her, but caressing her, tracing her figure with a tight sensual touch, setting her body ablaze with the touches of the fine fabric to her already hot body. Saying she’s hot is so damn shallow, but fuck if I know what else to say.

  The dress stops just above her knees, rests tantalizingly on the swell of her breasts with a slight V that your eyes can’t help but be drawn to which displays the space between her perfect, perky 38Cs. And what’s more…she’s not wearing a bra.

  This is going to be a long…challenging night.

  I make her twirl around to check out the back of the dress. That’s what sold me on it in the first place – just thinking about being able to run my hands up and down her naked back had made me want to jump out of my pants back at the Nordstrom’s. My imagination, however, did not do the real thing justice. Motherfucker…

  The back of the dress drapes and is bare to the waist to the top of her ass. The exposed skin of her back calls to me, beckons to me, lures me in. I reach my hand out and I lightly brush my knuckles against her back. She shivers at my touch and a rush of chill bumps race up her spine.

  “Ben,” she barely whispers.

  I groan and press against her, caging her in facing the wall with my hands. Bringing my lips to her exposed neck, I run my tongue below her ear then suck it between my teeth.

  “Ben.” Her voice is light and airy and I know she’s struggling with control.

  “Christ, Delilah,” I whisper, my breath tickling her ear. “This dress isn’t going to work out for me.” I am now dry humping her ass, grinding her into the wall. I feel like such a horny dog.

  “You…bought it,” she retorts breathlessly.

  I smile. She’s so clever.

  “Go change into something of Rachel’s,” I order her, needing to get her out of this dress not just for my sanity, but for every man’s safety…from me. Fuck if I don’t shoot some dumb fuck tonight who tries to hit on my woman.

  She wants to tell me no, her silence says it all.

  “Go,” I growl, pressing my erection further into her ass. “Change,” I finish.

  A whimper tumbles from her lips and that’s when I know I’ll be getting my way. She’s so obedient.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls us back to reality. I position Delilah in front of me as we face her mother whose arms are folded and staring at us – me – with a questioning glare. No way am I letting her see this raging hard-on I’m sporting. I can’t imagine what she must be thinking of me. She must think I’m some kind of perv for mauling her daughter the way I did.

  “How do I look?” Willy extends her hands to the side and spins slowly so we can take a look at her light green billowy dress that’s figure-hugging at the top and all-flowing at the waist. That throws me for a loop. I thought she was mad at me.

  “You look beautiful, mom,” Delilah assures her.

  “And me?” Rachel steps out in a quarter-sleeved, tight, red off-the-shoulder number, that falls mid-thigh, and gold strappy heels on her feet. Her strawberry blonde hair is in messy waves around her and I must admit: Marshall will have a hard time taking his eyes off of her tonight.

  “All I know is that the Keyes men are in trouble tonight,” I comment, gripping Delilah’s waist. She’s rubbing up on me and I swear this woman is driving me crazy.

  “And what about you? Look at this dress you picked out for Lilah?” Rachel highlights.

  “Oh, I’m in hell,” I quip. “That’s why she’s gonna change. You have a dress she can borrow, Rachel?”

  “Baby,” she whines, turning to me and pouting. So fucking cute.

  “No, Delilah, this dress is too sexy. I can’t risk jail time.” I’m standing my ground on this one.

  “You are the one who bought it for her,” Rachel points out.

  “Yes, but–”

  “And it’s her special day,” Wilhemina cuts me off.

  “It is, but–”

  “Don’t you want me happy, baby?” Delilah asks, her mouth curving down into a sad smile. She’s even thrown in a quivering lip for good measure and her sad, pleading eyes are cutting me in half.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” I groan, swiping a hand over my face in reluctant resignation.

  “I’m gonna beat the crap out of some guy tonight, I know it,” I declare on a sigh. “He’s gonna give her a second glance and I’m gonna kick his ass. I may even let her walk around in her coat all night.”

  “How positively caveman of you,” Willy comments, with a victorious grin on her face. “Very romantic. Possessive, but romantic.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” I groan again, realizing that I’ve been bested by three women. I’m losing my touch.

  Delilah elbows me in the stomach and turns to me. “So, what are we doing tonight? You got us all dressed up. You ready to tell me why?”

  “No, I’m not. It’s a surprise. Let’s go, nosey.”

  Delilah is all childish excitement when we pull up at the house. The entire way she plies the three of us with questions, trying to get answers. Little Miss Delilah can be a handful, but so beautiful when she’s petulant and pouty. Her brows crease together and she chews the flesh inside her bottom lip and, every so often, blows out frustrated breaths when she gets that way. She’s adorable.

  I usher Willy and Rachel inside and hold Delilah back who is trying to rush in. She looks up at me, puzzled. I press my lips to hers and she melts into me.

  “I love you,” I say against her lips.

  “I know, Ben.” She runs her fingertips across my brow and down my cheek. Then she kisses me. Deeply.

  It’s a distracting kiss. By the time I get into it and try to press her to me, she pulls away and dodges me, running into the foyer giggling.

  We strip off our jackets and walk into the leisure room. A startled gasp whispers past her lips and before she can say anything, excited shouts of Happy Birthday ring out. When she looks inside, there are about thirty people in the room, some she knows and some she doesn’t, gathered around with a glass of champagne in hand.

  “Oh, my God! Ben!” Delilah exclaims.

  “Happy birthday re-do, my sweet girl.”

  “Ben,” she whispers, turning to me. Tears dance in her eyes and my heart swells. I did good.

  Her parents walk up to her beaming, her mother with tears in her eyes, and hug her. When Marshall Sr. pulls away, he’s wiping his eyes. I guess they know how close a call it was. They almost lost their daughter.

  Rachel and Marshall are
next, then Simone, followed by my mom and Matt. My dad walks up after Matt and my irritation is peaked. What is he doing here? I really don’t want to ruin this night for Delilah, but I am feeling the strongest urge to kick him out on his ass.

  I look to Matt who shrugs. Looking at mom, her eyes plead with me to give him a chance. It seems she’s forgiven him and I trust my mother’s instincts. She has a heart of gold. If she’s forgiven him after what he did to her, then surely I can do the same.

  After Roman hugs Delilah and wishes her a happy birthday, he walks timidly over to me. He sticks his hand out, but instead of shaking, I pull him to me and embrace him. Delilah stares at me with the utmost pride on her face. It feels so good to have her look at me like that. I want to change…she makes me want to be this new man.

  Before, if someone wronged me or my family, they would be dead to me; but to see myself hugging my father now after all the heartache he put my mother through, I know that I’ve changed…for the better, and it’s all thanks to Delilah.

  “Okay, time for the birthday girl to open her gifts!” I announce after pulling away from my father, ushering Delilah over to the pile of presents situated under the Impassioned painting she loves so much.

  Simon enters the room and hands me a black velvet box. He kisses Delilah on the cheek and she blushes and tells him thank you. Hmm…I need to have a talk with Simon.

  “This is your first present,” I say, handing the box to her. Her eyes dance with excitement and amusement.

  “Are they anal beads?” she asks loudly, shooting me a saucy grin.

  “Delilah!” I growl admonishingly. She wants to drive me crazy, I know it.

  The rest of the room erupts in laughter and she gives me a wink as she rips through the wrapping of the box.

  Her eyes widen at the shiny new iPhone that’s in it. She looks at me, her eyes wide with glee.

  “You didn’t have a phone,” I explain.

  “Oh, thank you, baby!” she responds, throwing her arms around me.

  Pulling her closer, I whisper seductively, “I think you’ll find something very intriguing when you open it.”