He pumped in and out of her, the pent-up frustration and the need after of all the months apart eased with each powerful stroke. "Angel," he said between powerful thrusts, "I wanted to go slow, but I can't. It's been too long."
"I don't need slow, my love." She wrapped her legs around him tighter and rode the erotic wave with him until they were both spent.
They were together, and that was what mattered. But would that heady sense of euphoria remain given what they must do? It was time to talk to her parents.
Chapter 6
"I forbid you from leaving. I am your father, and you must obey me," Stuart Munro's voice boomed.
"I love you, Papa, but this is what I want. He is what I want. I love him. You can't stop me."
"You are a part of this tribe, and you must marry one of your own kind. You have an obligation to the tribe to preserve our legacy just as the other girls in our village do."
"This is my tribe, and I will always be a part of it, but I want to marry for love, Papa, not for duty. My heart is my own, and I want to give it to the man I love."
"You barely even know him. What kind of future could you have together? He probably doesn't even know who his ancestors are," her father said caustically. "Our ancestors go back to Moon, our Blessed Spirit God, and protector. Your life is steeped in tradition. What can he offer you but money and material things? You were never taught to value such worldly objects. They will corrupt you, and you will be cursed by the Great Spirits for turning your back on your people."
Broderick stood silently as Elise, and her father went head-to-head. His daughter’s decision hurt Stuart Munro, and he needed to give them time to work it out. Broderick didn't want it to escalate into ugly words neither Elise or her father could take back, but her father just crossed that line. He respected Stuart Munro for trying to protect his daughter. That's what parents were supposed to do. He wanted Stuart to understand how much he cared for Elise and he had no intention of taking her away from them completely. He would never do that.
"Sir, I love your daughter and want to make her happy. I understand the importance of one's legacy."
"You can never fully understand our heritage, Mr. Devereaux."
"Please, call me Broderick."
"Mr. Devereaux," Stuart continued, ignoring him, "You are a white man, born and raised in a white home with white values. How do you think you could ever walk in our shoes and be a part of our family? You are taking our daughter away from her mother and me and our tribe. She is our only child. She is the only one who can carry on our legacy. You are tempting her away with all of your money and fancy ways. What vulnerable young girl wouldn't be tempted by that? Walk away now and leave us in peace."
"I can't do that."
"You have to, goddammit!" Stuart bellowed, his face flushed with anger. “I won’t lose my only child!”
"Stop it, Papa," Elise cried out, her tears filled her eyes. "You told me to choose, and he is my choice."
Her father glared at her. "I told you to decide, but I didn't mean for you to pick a white..."
"Enough, Papa, we have to go," she implored, suddenly too weary to continue the pointless argument. She would never win. Her father would never capitulate. She tried to hug him, but he stood rigidly and made no move to hug her back. Her face blanched as she stepped away and turned to her mother.
"Mama," she implored, her voice quivering. Her mother embraced her as the two of them quietly cried as they held onto each other.
"Elise, my beautiful, sweet daughter, promise to call me and let me know you're okay."
"Loretta!" Stuart growled.
"Stop it, Stuart," Loretta swung toward him, her brown eyes flashing. "She's our daughter, but she’s also an adult, and she has the right to make her own decisions."
"But..." Elise's father stammered.
"No more," her mother shouted. She turned back to Elise. "Go."
"I love you, Mama. Papa…"
Stuart Munro turned his back to Elise, his hands curled into fists, refusing to look at her. She suppressed the whimper that tightened in her throat but said nothing else. What was the point? She turned to Broderick and took his hand.
“Let’s go,” she said in defeat.
Broderick was seething at Stuart Munro's cruel words but held his tongue. He would have confronted Elise’s father, but he didn't want to make things worse. Elise was already suffering enough.
Loretta turned to them. "Take good care of her, my son. She is our precious flower. May the Great Spirits grant you both happiness and much love."
Broderick leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Mrs. Munro. I promise I will take good care of her. I'm sorry for any pain this has caused the two of you. It wasn't our intention."
Elise’s father swung around and glared at him, sparks of hatred flashing in his eyes.
Broderick ignored the older man and led Elise down the stairs. He prayed that one day, Elise’s father would find it in his heart to accept their relationship, but he knew the chances of that were slim.
Broderick leaned down and whispered in Elise’s ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to take anything with you? It’s not a problem if you don’t. I will make sure you have anything you need.”
“No,” she looked up at him, “I have everything I need.” Elise looked back and waved, leaving her personal belongings behind except the backpack over her shoulder and her sketchbook cradled under her arm. She needed nothing to remind her of the world she was leaving.
Stuart Munro stalked to the stairs to stop his daughter, but his wife grabbed his arm. "Let her go, Stuart. You knew this day would come. She needs more than this village life can offer her. She always has. She wants to see the world, and he can give her that and more."
"What about what's good for the tribe?" He said in exasperation.
She eyed him defiantly, her hands on her hips as she looked up at him. "What about what's good for Elise?"
"I'm her father," he grumbled under his breath, "she supposed to listen to me."
She smiled at his frustration. He was a proud man, and she knew that. He doted on his daughter. Losing Elise was devastating for a gruff, stubborn man like her husband, the absolute center of her universe and the love of her life.
"She has always obeyed you, Stuart, even when she didn't want to. You can be a little hard to take sometimes." She slid her arm through his. "Let's go back inside, husband," she said softly. "I know just the thing to ease your tension."
He stopped abruptly at her words, his haze of fury slowly morphing into something just as volatile. He looked down at her with unrestrained desire and chuckled despite himself.
"Loretta Munro, you are a wicked, wicked woman. You don’t play fair." There was hunger in his eyes as he followed her.
She laughed. “No, I don’t,” she replied, and closed the door behind them.
****
Broderick and Elise got married a week later in Seattle with Beverly Segal, Stan’s Crenshaw’s administrative assistant and her husband Bishop as their witnesses. After a honeymoon in San Francisco, Broderick took Elise home to the mansion he inherited from his father.
For the first year, Broderick and Elise were blissfully happy. They spent the weekdays at their penthouse in Seattle where Broderick introduced Elise to the vibrant city nightlife and their weekends at their estate near Kalaloch, taking long walks on the beach and having picnics by the lake or in the forest. Things couldn't have been better for them.
During their second year of marriage, they talked about starting a family. After multiple attempts, Elise could not get pregnant, and it began to weigh heavily on her.
"Angel, we have plenty of time to have children," Broderick said as they settled into bed for the night. "There is no need to worry about it now."
Elise pulled the covers tightly around her. "What if it never happens? What if I can't have children?" Her eyes filled with tears.
Her husband heard the di
stress in her voice and put down the folder he was reviewing on the nightstand and pulled her into his arms. "We will have children. You’re causing yourself undue stress. We need to be patient and let nature take its course."
She rubbed her face against his bare chest. "My mother had a hard time carrying a child to term. I’m the only one that survived. What if I'm like her?"
He kissed the top of her head. "You are not your mother, and if for some reason we can't have children, we can always adopt. Many children need a good home. It's something to consider but not right now. Why don’t you focus on painting? You have so many sketches that would make beautiful paintings. You said you wanted to take some art classes. Why don't I hire someone to come here and give you lessons?"
She lifted up and stared at him, her eyes alight with excitement. "You'd do that?"
"Of course. I know how important your drawings are to you. I'll call someone tomorrow and get it set up."
"Thank you."
He tipped her face up and kissed her gently. "I love you, angel. Anything you need, it’s yours. Let's get some sleep. I have to be in Seattle early tomorrow to prep for a case. Do you want to come with me? We can stay the night in the penthouse."
"No, I'll stay here and make a list of the art supplies I'll need. I also need to figure out where to set up my art studio. I’ll talk to Mr. and Mrs. Sims."
He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Ok. I'll try to get home early enough for us to have dinner together."
She smiled. "I'd like that."
She lay her head on her husband's chest and closed her eyes as he turned off the light. She didn't want him to see the fear in her eyes. She believed her inability to have children was her punishment for turning her back on her tribe. She left her family and her traditions behind to have a different life. She ignored her father’s admonitions that there would be consequences. Marrying Broderick was a decision she would never regret even with the threat of a curse hanging over her. She loved her husband completely.
Over the last year, she only talked to her mother a handful of times. The phone calls were short, and she assumed her father was hovering nearby making a frank conversation with her mother impossible. Her father refused to talk to her. It broke her heart, but it was another price she paid for leaving.
Being infertile plagued her endlessly, despite her attempts to appear otherwise. She never told her husband just how much or how deep her pain went. He was trying so hard to make her happy.
****
Elise loved her weekly art lessons. After a few weeks of learning the basics, she found she preferred the texture of oil painting over pastels and decided to concentrate on that medium. While she appreciated the vibrancy and luminosity that pastels afforded, she loved seeing the brush strokes in her painting. The images she created felt alive on the canvases. She set up her studio downstairs in a room near the library. It was secluded, had adequate light, and plenty of room to store all of her art supplies and finished paintings. She spent much of her time there, but when the weather was good, she painted on the balcony of their master suite. The balcony had breathtaking views of the cliffs and the ocean. Besides her art studio, it was her favorite place in the mansion.
Broderick returned home early one day after spending a grueling morning in court to find his wife painting on the balcony. "Hello, angel. I thought you'd be in your art studio."
She looked up from the canvas she was working on and smiled. She had a smudge of blue paint on her nose. "The light is better here when the sun is out, and you know how much I love the outdoors. It's the best of both worlds. And the view from here is spectacular."
Broderick couldn't help it. The sight of her was arousing. She was a tempting vision. Besides the cute little smudge of paint on her face, her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was wearing a white tee shirt that hung off one shoulder and shredded jean shorts that showed an ample amount of thighs. Her enticing nipples poked at the front of the tee shirt. She was adorable, and the sight of her turned him on. His cock stirred.
He eyed her appreciatively. "The view sure is lovely. No disputing that." His blue eyes glinted hungrily.
His meaning was not lost on her especially when he was looking at her like prey. She blushed. "That wasn't the view I was talking about, you crazy man."
He strode onto the balcony and took the paintbrush out of her hand and laid it down on the palette. "I know that," he murmured as he pulled her into his arms. "But this is the only view I’m interested in." He kissed her until they both were breathing hard.
"Broderick," she whispered.
"Let's go inside," his voice rumbled deep and husky. He picked her up and carried her through the French doors to their bedroom.
He laid her on the bed and began to strip off her clothes. When she was naked, he took off his own. He bent over her and captured a nipple in his mouth. He licked and sucked it to a tight peak. Satisfied with his work, he moved to the other one.
She inhaled sharply as tremor after tremor rippled through her. Her nipples were divining rods to her aching sex.
“You are not the only one who can create art,” he whispered, as he eyed her hard nipples. “Your nipples are living sculptures that change shape and color when massaged just right. It’s only our mediums that differ. You use a paintbrush, and I use my mouth. Right now, I prefer my technique so much better.” He captured her right nipple in his mouth.
“Broderick…”
He released her nipple and rubbed his cheek back and forth over it. "I love having your hard-little nipples in my mouth."
His nostrils flared at the heady aroma of her arousal and his erection pulsed. His eager mouth followed the tempting scent down her stomach and through the tight mahogany curls. When his tongue found her, she arched up, and he delved deeper. He growled and got to his knees, lifted her ass up until her legs hung over his shoulders, and he feasted on her pussy. His tongue probed and licked until she begged him to stop.
Her words came in long, pleading gasps.
“Please…stop…I…can’t…take…anymore.”
He didn't stop through her first orgasm that bowed her spine or the next one. He licked and fucked her with his tongue until she was limp with pleasure. Only then, did he lower her hips to the bed and spread her wide for his rock-hard cock. He slid all the way into her with one smooth motion, filling her completely as they both cried out with mind-numbing ecstasy. He thrust his powerful hips against hers, driving over and over inside her, bringing them both closer and closer to release.
"Broderick," she cried out, gripping his ass in her hands, her nails dug into him as she came, her pulsing sex squeezing him tight.
The bite of pain on his ass and the tightening of her feminine walls on his cock brought him so close. He held on for as long as he could, tipping her over the edge again before he followed her. He surged into her again and again until the last drops of his cum poured into her. They collapsed in each other's arms, too exhausted to move.
"That was truly inspirational," she breathed, as she snuggled into him.
"I’ll say," he teased and nuzzled her face with his. "Maybe I'll be the subject of one of your paintings."
"For that, I may need a little more inspiration."
He rolled her over until she was on her knees. He positioned himself behind her. "Then I better get started," he whispered in her ear as he gripped her hips and thrust home.
Chapter 7
The following year, Elise's paintings were displayed in two major art galleries in Seattle. Her artwork created a buzz in the local art community and beyond. She started receiving requests for art shows in Portland, San Francisco, and Los Angeles.
Broderick was delighted to see his wife so happy. Before she started painting, her preoccupation with getting pregnant had turned her into a different person. But when she was in her element, doing what she loved, she was the carefree young woman he discovered at the waterfall.
She starte
d traveling around the tri-state area exhibiting her work. When she wasn't doing that, she was painting in her studio or on the balcony. Her paintings sold for top dollar and what began as a childhood hobby became an acclaimed professional career. Soon, requests were pouring from art galleries as far away as New York and Washington D.C.
Elise was busy with her paintings, while Broderick was busy working on his criminal court cases. She wished they could spend more time together, but he was doing important work, and she didn't want to interfere with that. When he came home, he brought his work home with him and often didn't come to bed until two or three in the morning. There were many mornings when she woke up, and he was already gone. He didn't talk about the cases he was working on, but she could tell he was totally immersed into them.
Elise’s life seemed to be perfect, but there were forces at work inside her that contradicted that persona. Her husband was unaware of the internal demons that were eating away at her. She went about her life as if nothing was wrong. She painted tirelessly, spending long hours working when she wasn't traveling to her art exhibits. Keeping endlessly busy was her way of coping with the absence of her mother and father from her life and her inability to conceive. She was glad her husband was preoccupied with his work because it prevented him from detecting what she was going through. She loved him with all of her heart and didn't want to burden him. So, she continued to live with the debilitating pain.
Broderick too was dealing with his own difficulties, most of which he had no control over. He was juggling a heavy caseload with the demanding needs of his jaguar. When he wasn't working, he was pacifying his beast by going on 'business trips' to let the eager creature out to hunt and feed. He believed the frustrations he was dealing with at work were affecting his jaguar and making his beast more aggressive and restless. While he preferred to release his jaguar in the forest on his estate, he feared Elise might see him though there was little chance of that happening since the Devereaux estate was several hundred acres with large expanses of dense forest and mountains. But he wanted to be careful. He knew the places on the property that were her favorites, and he avoided them. How could he tell her what he was really doing? She didn't know about his jaguar, and he doubted he would ever tell her. If she knew what he was, he was convinced she would leave him.
Dawned (Circle of the Red Scorpion Book 3) Page 6
