Mistress Avenue

Chapter Twenty-One: French Guiana

Delilah could not believe her eyes when seeing the amazingly crafted jewel settled in its box, she thought the champagne and dim light has fooled her mind, but when waking up in the morning light to see the gift; it seems her eyes has belittled the necklace. The sapphires and large diamond sparkles like stars in the clear night sky, it would hang high upon her neck and settled just right upon her breast for the entire rich culture of America could see. Delilah was so fascinated, she sought the reason to hide the necklace and only make it a family heirloom, hidden in a safe for only her children and children's children to touch.

"What are you pondering about?" Wyatt's grumbling voice causes her to snap the box close and tuck it away in her luggage. Delilah turned, stuck with her eyes wide as if she's been caught snacking on lemon cake before breakfast. The American rested on his elbows, the thick covers fell just below his pelvis, his hair even more wild and curly, and beard has grew thicker through the night.

"Nothing." She chirped while climbing back into the firm bed. Delilah tucked herself under his arm, fingers glide along his hairy chest before kissing the base of his neck. "Other than you." Climbing on top of the large being, she kissed his lips slowly, the tip of her tongue gliding against his lips like a seductive feline arousing her mate.

Her mate chuckled, hands grasping her bare hips. "You are becoming adventurous, Miss Durand."

Delilah arousal shrunk into nothing with just the sound of her actual name. She sat up straight, hand plant firmly upon his chest and eyes narrowed in frustration. "Don't call me that. I'm not a Durand."

"I can't keep introducing you as just Delilah."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not... normal."

"None of this is normal. I'm not normal, why does it matter if I have a surname or not?" Delilah huffed in frustration while combing back her hair and pouting like a furious child. "Delilah... Hunt. That would be my surname, happy now?"

Wyatt snorts and shakes his head in distaste. His own eyes narrowed while sitting up for them to be face to face, palm caressed her warm smooth cheek as his thumb rubbed against her pouting lips- releasing them from the childish frown. "Everything you do and say must make you happy, Delilah, not me. No one is here, on this earth, to make another person feel better about anything to only forget what truly makes them happy. If you don't want a surname, if you just want to be Delilah and that's all, it's fine by me."

She managed to release a small smile, her fingers still resting upon his chest, she bites down on her lip before confessing the trade secret she was hoping not to repeat. "I know who my father is. Well, not by name, but I know who he was. Just some man from Ethiopia who fell in love with a gypsy, a drunk and gambler that was the cause of my mother's death. So, technically speaking, I'm not an England citizen- I'm Ethiopian, would of been raised there if my grandmother didn't give me away."

Delilah slides off his lap, the sexual urges between them has now simmered as she covered herself in a silk robe that stopped at her ankles. "I'll take your silence as a shock." She teased with a light chuckle. "You see, my life is not normal, and I do not deserve a normal name."

"Do not let your family's past define you, Delilah, nothing good can come out of that. Who told you about your parents?"

"Charlotte, who else?"

Wyatt tried his best not to roll his eyes at the woman's name, instead he distracted himself with the comfort of his love. Crawling by her side, he rest his head upon her slump shoulder and delicately kissed her neck. "And you believe her?"