by Shara Azod
“No!” Clutching him did no good. He was much stronger, moving out of her grip with ease, holding his hips just out of her reach.
“Easy, sweetheart. There’ll be more, I promise.”
“Now, Edward. Please?” Demanding, pleading, it didn’t matter as long as he was inside her again.
“Turn over.”
Goosebumps broke out down her spine as she rolled onto her stomach, then lifted to her knees while pushing her backside upward. Three sharp smacks set the cheeks of her ass on fire, only adding to the nearly unbearable heat already bubbling like a cauldron at her core.
“You ran from me, Delilah. You went back to the club after I distinctly told you not to.” One thick finger rubbed against the opening of her pussy. He didn’t push inside her, just fingered her opening, driving her wild. With his other hand Edward pushed the upper half of her body down lower. “Hold your hips higher and keep them there.” She didn’t even consider defying him. She wanted to do exactly as he told her. It seemed as if her entire being craved to obey here in bed. Fully dressed standing toe to toe would be another thing, but stripped of all but their elemental beings, she’d yield gracefully. She didn’t move, not even when the palm of his hand came down against her quim from behind. God it burned, hurting so good she was throbbing, wanting more with an absent-minded determination blind to all else.
“Will you leave me again, Delilah?” He moved to kneel behind her as he spoke, grabbing both ass cheeks roughly. It felt so damn good it was surely illegal. This was the South, after all—this had to be at least ten kinds of sin.
“No.” Not after tonight, not willingly.
“No what?” Another smack against her pussy, followed by two sharp smacks against her ass. She was going to come if he did that one more time. “Tell me exactly what you’re saying no to.” He rubbed the broad mushroomed head against her labia without moving forward. He’d keep doing it too if she didn’t answer.
“No, I won’t try to leave you.” It didn’t hurt her pride to say so. Funny, but with Edward there was no such thing as pride.
“No, baby. You won’t.”
There was no time to reply, not when the slow, steady slide of his dick deep into her pussy robbed her of all coherent thought. Her body trembled as she forced herself to stay perfectly still. If she moved like she wanted to, slamming her hips back to force it all the way in, he’d only move out of her reach. It may be hellish, but the torment of teasing without satisfaction was much worse.
“Eddie, please? I need you inside me so bad.” Pleading he wouldn’t mind. How easy it was to express exactly what she felt once she opened herself up to it.
“And you’ll have me.”
A push of inches and he was there, so deep she gasped. When he tugged her ponytail she lifted up and back, keeping her thighs apart so as not to lose one precious inch of his plundering shaft. God, his arms felt so right around her, his lips so good against the side of her neck.
“I promise for as long as I live you’ll never be alone again. I am here for you always.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as the words sank deep into her psyche—not words of a casual lover, not an empty promise of a careless man after only what he could take. She believed him. She believed in him, and it scared the shit out of her as much as it warmed her very soul.
Obviously Edward didn’t expect an answer as he began to thrust in earnest. His grunts made her heart swell, her body quake. Proof of his pleasure turned her on as much as his actual actions. Her arms curled back around his neck, her hands burying in his hair. She was completely open, eager for his possession. It was so much more than the way he moved in her just right, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside her every time he pushed up. His fingers rolled her nipples, sending sparks of electricity to her toes. Delilah felt herself melding with him, truly becoming one.
Lost inside each other, the meaning of oneness finally became clear. It was losing yourself inside another so you left a piece of yourself behind and accepted a piece of the other person to be a part of you. Edward had opened himself every bit as much as she had; she felt him give as much as she gave, leaving nothing behind.
“I love you, Delilah. Against all odds, know I love you.” The words may have been panted rather than said, but she felt them. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard such words. Sometimes they’d been smoothly spoken, accompanied by flowers and a smile. Sometimes they’d been carelessly thrown out in the throes of passion, or slyly uttered intending to break down a barrier. Never before had they been sincere, never had she felt them in her gut. He meant them, and she believed them.
“Oh God, Edward.” How she wanted to reciprocate, but even now the words wouldn’t come. To her shame, she felt them, but they refused to be said.
“One day, baby. I can wait.”
Of course he would know. But then, he had known that first night far more than she’d ever wanted anyone to know about herself.
“Come for me now, sugar. Show me now; you can tell me later.” Fireworks started deep inside, setting off a series of explosions. One after another, they just wouldn’t stop. She screamed, scratched, clawed. Edward held her upright against him, refusing to let her fall.
“I can’t stop!” Climax rolled into climax; she could barely breathe, her vision blurring. “Oh God, Eddie, I can’t stop!”
“Then don’t. Give it all to me and don’t ever stop.” It was the last thing she heard before she sank into unconsciousness.
***
There had been a lot of dreams in Delilah’s past; some possible, some wishful thinking. A dream of a family of her own, full of love and acceptance, had been one of them once upon a time. Finding a man who would love her without sucking the life out of her had proven more difficult than her childhood dreams. Lying in Edward’s arms, the dream she’d given up on came rushing back with the force of a hurricane, and all he’d done was place the flat of his hand on her stomach. It felt so good there, so natural.
No matter how hard she tried to tamp down the desire that she was ripening underneath his hand, visions of that large palm rubbing against a swelling belly kept popping up in her mind.
“I want you to have my baby, Delilah. I want it bad.” A knot formed in her throat from hearing the words that so clearly reflected her heart. This was crazy. They didn’t know each other well enough to freely talk about a child like this. The possibility that it’d already happened was too great to ignore.
“I will get on the pill for now—”
“No.” Shame on her for being thrilled by the curt denial, but she was. “You are probably already expecting.”
“You know you’re not normal, right? Nothing about you makes sense. Men like you don’t fall in love with strippers, they don’t look like you, and they damn sure don’t talk like you. I don’t get it. Why me?” Once she allowed a little of her doubts and confusion to slip past her lips, the rest released in a torrent. “There is no reason you should care about me, no reason for this…this craziness between us to exist. I don’t understand any of it.”
“Why does it have to make sense? Sometimes life doesn’t make any sense at all, it just is.” How matter-of-fact he sounded, as if nothing else mattered.
Well, Delilah had seen enough to know it did matter. Women came and went from her profession for many different reasons. Most had made really bad decisions somewhere along the line. Some thought it was an easy way to make big money only to find the big bucks were a myth for most, or the price of making the thick rolls of cash was higher than they had ever anticipated. There were struggling single mothers, addicts of various sorts, the lost among the masses that had drifted in and out of the various clubs she’d worked. Those lucky enough to get into a high-quality establishment fared better than others, but the end was often not pretty.
Delilah herself had lost good friends along the way. Beautiful young women chasing rainbows that never panned out. The last club she worked before ending up at Sailor’s Delight had been extremely high
end on the outskirts of town. It was owned by a woman, though Delilah had never met her, couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name. With cash following hand over fist, she had been living high; the best clothes, the best shoes, playing the role. Back then she’d thought she’d had someone special, a steady boyfriend who loved the fact she was a stripper. Bragged about it to his friends.
She’d never known, never saw until it was too late he would always show up at the club to pick her up and take her out. They always went out of New Orleans to restaurants, or on little getaways.
Never did she notice how there was a tan line around his ring finger. It was too late when she put together how he’d never taken her out in public in the city in which they both lived. And after all her little dreams of a happily-ever-after with the last in a long line of men who equated stripping to being a whore, her girls, the ones who were supposed to be there for her, all deserted her. Not all at once, but gradually, after the word got out she was easy. She lost her job because she’d been sleeping with a customer. Not a week later, one of her so-called best friends was fucking the same married man, albeit knowing he was married. Her other friends stopped calling when she couldn’t get a job in a club with higher clientele lists. She’d lost her nice apartment, her brand new car, her pride, and almost her hope.
Sailor’s Delight had been her last stop before she knew she had to get out or drown in the cesspit waiting at the end of the rope. She really had thought she was on that road. And then, in walked Edward. Like some kind of fairy tale, just when things had reached critical mass, there he was offering something more, something better. That she would stay was a given. She hadn’t been lying when she’d promised not to leave.
But what kind of ending would this have? It was that part that scared her the most.
“Stop overthinking it, Delilah. I love you. I am here for you. The rest we’ll figure out.”
Edward pulled her closer to his side, wrapping her in arms that felt so damn good it was all too easy to exhale and relax. Lying in bed with another person had never felt so good.
“I hope we do,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“We
will. Now go to sleep. We have a full day in front of us tomorrow.” She didn’t even want to know what that meant. The entire night had been emotionally exhausting, not to mention the many times they’d made love. The thought made her smile as she snuggled against his hard, lean body. It had been making love. If nothing else was true, if it all blew up in her face later, she would walk away at least knowing what it really felt like to honestly make love.
Chapter Twelve
Before getting involved with Aubrey, Katrina had no idea who Edward Prichard was, but she had heard the name. Who hadn’t? They were only slightly less known to the Chevaliers, and though not politically active, they owned enough of the state to effectively have a powerful influence in Baton Rouge. The fact that Edward lived a mere two houses down in the Garden District didn’t surprise her. His houseguest, however, did.
Although Katrina had sold most of the clubs she’d formerly owned, she remembered the women who worked for her. Admittedly some more than others, but Cinnamon, as Delilah had once been known, she had never forgotten. There had been something about the young dancer that tugged at Katrina’s heartstrings. Unfortunately, it was right around the time she’d been running from Aubrey with all her might. By the time her life had gotten straightened out, Cinnamon had been long gone, dismissed by an overzealous manager and disappeared from every place of contact the club had on her.
That had always bugged her. When she found out that Cinnamon got fired for falling victim to a well-known player, Katrina had been livid. At twenty-one, it was easy for strippers to fall for smooth-talking, married customers. Now here she was, sitting across from her at the dining table and looking all kinds of uncomfortable.
Katrina wished she could take the other woman somewhere private and have a heart-to-heart with her. More than perhaps anyone else could, Katrina knew what Delilah was going through. There were some differences, of course; Delilah didn’t have the money or friends to fall back on like Katrina had. Delilah had Edward Prichard, whom Aubrey had informed her was usually antisocial in the extreme and whom no one had apparently ever seen have an actual human emotion.
Katrina had never met Edward before, so she couldn’t really say what he’d been like before the woman at his side came into his life. She could, however, see very clearly the antisocial professor was very much in love. Throughout dinner, and now while they were just sitting and talking, Edward touched Delilah often. Nothing overtly sexual, just comforting pats and caresses here and there whenever Delilah looked like she might jump out of her skin. Gradually the woman relaxed as he lavished attention on her even while talking to Aubrey. It was kind of fascinating to observe.
Casting sideways glances at Aubrey, Katrina noted her husband was less touched by the sweet display of affection. That could be explained by his gender; men were rather oblivious at times. It was the shock Aubrey was trying to hide that got Katrina’s attention. Oh, it wasn’t obvious, but she knew her man. That right there spoke volumes about the couple. She had to say, she was relieved.
Silver spoon types were just strange. There was an overt conversation between the two professors about history, but underneath the niceties there was an entirely different conversation going on. One Katrina was sure was much, much deeper than she or Delilah could imagine. And the other woman had noticed as much as Katrina had. Another sure sign whatever was going on between the two was a good thing. Then Edward went ahead and said it out loud.
“Delilah and I will be out of the country as of next week. I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on the house.”
Right, as if they didn’t have staff and damn good security. But hell, she’d play along, since Aubrey didn’t appear to be willing to do so.
“Oh? Are you going away for vacation?” Hell yes it was nosey, but she wanted to know.
“We’re getting married in the Bahamas,”’ Edward announced proudly, while Delilah looked ready to crawl under the table.
“Congratulations!” Katrina was genuinely pleased to hear it. Despite Delilah’s reluctance to talk much, she really liked her. But then, she had felt the connection six years ago. She just wished she would’ve made more of an effort back then instead of being so caught up in all she was going through.
She would have delved headfirst into the subject, but Aubrey finally asked Edward to his study. Even better, now she had a chance to talk to Delilah alone. Aubrey was damned lucky that was the case, though she was still going to have a serious discussion with the spouse. He couldn’t be expecting her to just befriend anybody.
It took Edward much longer to climb to his feet and leave the two women alone.
Katrina waited somewhat impatiently as he whispered something to Delilah, his hands giving her a reassuring squeeze here and there. She might’ve been offended if she wasn’t so anxious to talk to the woman—like she was scary or something. It was all very sweet, though, very touching and all that, but he needed to hurry it along.
Tactfulness wasn’t one of Katrina’s strong points, so as it stood she was hanging on by a thread.
As soon as the men left the room, words just seemed to stream out of her mouth in a rush. ”You used to work for me.” Okay, that didn’t come out the way she intended.
But then, she wasn’t known for being anything less than blunt. “Lord, don’t look at me like that.” Now Delilah looked like a cornered mouse. It made Katrina feel all guilty, well, more than she already did where this woman was concerned. “I’ve been looking for you since that asshole fired you. Not right after, because I didn’t know, but I tried to find you when I found out. You just disappeared.”
“You have me confused with someone else.” Delilah’s denial didn’t sound embarrassed. She probably didn’t understand what Katrina was talking about, which made sense seeing as how she’d failed to explain.
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br /> “Aces—the strip club? I own it. And yeah, you worked for me. I fired that asshole of a manager, by the way.”
“You owned Aces? But…” Now Delilah looked downright confused. Much better. They were on the right road. “But you’re married to a Chevalier.” The shock was genuine, but once again understandable. The Chevalier clan had most definitely had their share of scandals over the last six or seven years. However, the joint venture with Aubrey’s cousin, Thierry, had remained a secret. No one but the immediate family knew of the string of strip clubs, private BDSM clubs and swingers clubs Katrina used to own. All but a few clubs, the most exclusive clubs with high-powered clientele, had been sold years ago.
“Yes I am, and I am the owner of Aces to this very day, along with a few other clubs. I’m a Chevalier by marriage, not birth. I had an interesting life before I met Aubrey.”
Not many people knew anything about Katrina’s troubled past. It was yet another in a long line of infamous Chevalier secrets. Surprisingly, Katrina had no qualms about sharing her entire sordid story with Delilah. As a woman with severe trust issues, it occurred to her that what she was doing was not just highly unusual, it was downright shocking. With a mental shrug, Katrina pushed the thought away. A few short months ago, she’d gone through her whole trust deal with Didier’s new wife, Soleil, even though she hadn’t been his wife at the time. Soleil had been a godsend when Katrina was struggling with Aubrey’s insistence they finally tie the knot. But Soleil had also taught Katrina to go with her gut, not her fear. Her gut was telling her now Delilah needed to hear her story.