Broken Love: The Illusion Series, #1

By L. Harvey

Roman taught me that the devil does not come at night, from the pits of hell, with red horns and a spiral tail. He came as everything I could have wish for, from the chambers of his own torture. Whilst my demons forced me towards him, Roman's pushed him to rebel against me. - Lily

 

Darkness was the epitome of a world as warped as my own but now i was stronger than my past could ever be. Control was my way forward.

There was no such thing as love.

There was no such thing as hope.

These were the rules i had learned to live by, so why could i not let her go? One kiss. That was all it took. Now I would find a way, any way, to have some part of her. - Roman

Will Lily finally flee the wounds of her haunting past long enough to save Roman from his self-destructing dystopia or will they both forever be broken in love?

This is no love story, this is the tragic telling of how two souls so willingly helped destroy eachother.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. Harvey
• Release date: Sep 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516336319

Book preview

I stand and stare. Looking at the dissembling portrayal of who I once was in the reflection of the hotel mirror. Staring into eyes that I no longer recognize, a vacant smile masking my crumbling soul. It was my best friend’s wedding, a day that should have been filled with nothing but the most sincere happiness. Happiness was no longer an emotion I was familiar with.

Everything that was me, everything that made me, it was all gone. I lost everything when I lost him.

So here I am smoothing down a luxurious dress I have no desire to be in. I practice my proud stride up and down the aisle. I attempt several pathetic smiles. I recite a speech of how true love is the most beautiful attachment mankind could find. It is all a lie.

This is the story of how everything I prayed for broke me. Everything I longed for stole me. Everything I had come to believe in, to keep me sane, ruined me.

He was everything.

Everything is gone.

Shakespeare once said that 'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds'. That was the kind of love I wanted. I craved it. A captivating bond between two souls that I had spent my life reading about. A significant attachment I would day dream about for hours on end; trying not to get lost in the depths of my own mind. They tried to say it was a coping mechanism.

Peyton had her trash mouth, stubborn persona and hard exterior; convincing herself getting close to someone would only end in pain like it did that day.

Harley chose to mask her pain with the need to help others in order to never appear as broken or tainted. If she became perfect then perfect would become her.

Then there was Albie. She had the four walls of her cushioned cell, the repetitive chants of our childhood trauma and the soul shattering screams from the events of our past - forever locked in the memory of the fright that made us all this way.

And finally there was me. Successfully portraying myself as an average twenty two year old. Internally I was fighting the many demons of what once was. Daily trying not to lose myself to my genetic weakness.

I found my release through reading, mesmerized by a never ending list of beautifully tragic love stories that helped to shape my vision of love. Trying to form an essence of hope in my hopeless mind. I was fascinated by somehow attaining the ability to mentally strip someone bare of their shields and falling in love as you witness their world unravel around you; whilst they so freely let you in.

They said love was just a simple four letter word, as if, it was always much more than that. To me - it was never about having someone whisper sweet nothings into my ear and try to mentally embed their gentle kisses in my mind, I had enough experience of those mediocre attempts of affection.

The love I believed in was not a series of emotive actions and generic phrases copied by millions before, pathetically attempting to explain the feelings you could not be bothered to find words for on your own. I needed someone to look right through my outgoing demeanor and falsely manufactured appearance and fall for the ugliness of what hid inside.

My long blonde hair and perfectly painted mask was enough to attract them, I could manipulate them into perceiving me in any way I thought necessary to captivate them. But it was never real.

A temptress. A slut. A conniving manipulator. An attention seeker. Leading careless men into their unknown downfall, it was always just a game, no different than the victim before yet just as mind numbingly boring as the previous encounter. Every failed attempt at finding someone truly worthy to let in was always that extra push nudging me back into the comfort of a book, trying to humor myself with another illusion, confirming there was nothing for someone like me left in this time.

They called me an empath and just as they said; it was not only my greatest gift but equally my most threatening downfall.  A flaw I battled with daily yet managed to use it to my seedy advantage.

Reading people came naturally to me, what made them tick, what they needed in order to let loose and how easily I would be able to draw them in knowing they were never going to be cut out for the wrath of what I had grown to be. So once again, like all the ones before, they would helplessly fall into the pit of the innocent partners I would chew up and spit out. Like a dog growing bored of its latest chew toy - it was no simpler or more complicated than that.

Do not get me wrong for I am not some egomaniac bitch who enjoys braking people, I was just making the best of a game that continued to brake me. I was never entirely to blame though, they gave as well as they got and boy I was just about done with being treated so disgustingly when I found sanity in these mind games. Illusions.

Intentionally hurting someone was not something that came lightly to me, I never wanted a fate like hers. I would never take it too far. Just far enough to make them loosen our tangle and run for the hills. They would simply begin to resent me when I would either cut them loose with no explanation why, or, get too comfortable and reveal my passionately psychotic traits. I needed to find power in showing them I was not going to be a weak girl seeking approval, trying to ignore the contradiction of how desperately seeking love could be conveyed as that.

I was just another broken girl trying to find some sort of belonging in what was left of my tainted soul.

I was just another hopeless romantic doomed by the wounds of my haunting past.

My only source of hope led in the idea that two broken lovers could mend themselves whilst trying to mend each other. No matter how disturbed they appeared to be they were always salvable. I needed to believe that.

As time went on I would stray further and further from my young naive self. Slowly, my passion for love became altered and withered away along with any dream of belonging to someone.

Dear girl if only you paid as much attention to getting better and confronting your past as you do to these silly books.

What if I did not want to get better? I just wanted to be me. A normal, accepted and well-polished version of me.

Remember, love is a destination not a journey and you cannot board that ride in a state like yours. Your knight in shining armor is not a prince on a horse but confronting your past. You cannot love anybody until you learn to love yourself.

Age does not make you wiser, I believe that experience does. I hated the way our councilors would look down on us as though we were pathetically clinging to the idea that love would make everything better. I knew how corrupt and sinful it could be, I had witnessed it firsthand. But I had also witnessed how it saved people.

They were all wrong. Love was a chaotic journey dissembling all in its path; luring victims into the powerful over bearing emotion, convincing them they could not survive without it. I was far past princes, unicorns and happily ever after’s but I still wanted to be loved. I still wanted to exist in the make belief for I knew it was the key. By feeling something real in turn I would become real.

Was it that much of a crime to want somebody to foolishly woo you even with the knowledge of the real you? Someone who was equally tortured yet strong enough to carry us both to the other side. Indeed the grass may not always be greener but it was not the color that attracted me, it was the stability of solid ground.

Stupidly thirsty for the anticipation of mentally consuming and being consumed. Enjoying the idea of an excruciating whip of anxiety when faced with events that could jeopardize your entanglement with someone, for that was when you knew you were head over heels in the deep end and I longed for it - completely raw and completely captivating.

Maybe it was because I still believed in the hidden magic of this world despite my conflicting past.

Or maybe it was because I needed to understand why he did what he did.

Why they all do what they do.

Wanted.

Was.

Longed for.

They were all past tense. The closer I got to what I wanted, the more I was beginning to understand the cliché, 'be careful what you wish for'.

This is the story of Roman, of me and everything in between. This is why I stand here just a mundane reflection of my wasted hard work and why I am dreading the celebration of love that is about to take place.

This is how I so willingly let Roman Court ruin me.

Fuck, that’s it, take it, go on take it. My force on the back of this chicks head was pushing boundaries but she should not have flaunted her apparent cock sucking skills if she could not follow it through.

Another willing girl lusting after me was just what I needed to sooth the unchangeable anger inside of me. Fuck. This one was not working. I cringed at the realization that not even losing myself in an orgasm could dull me from the pain.

I could not remember her name but hey that was nothing new, if they were going to throw themselves at me the kindest thing I could do was let them have me. I did not need to ask for a name or endure small talk to win them over so why should I bother?

At least being this way I was not luring them into a false sense of security thinking things could possibly escalate. Plus, as far as I was concerned, the less they knew about me the better.

Gaining the reputation of the seediest playboy this side of the continent was a thing of that past.  I was no longer about dating various amounts of hot easy girls at the same time, hell - I had no desire to date at all. The longer it went on the less I would even need to exchange anything with them. They knew the agreement and if they were still willing to participate then the fault of the aftermath was their own.

A relationship or any form of unnecessary attachment was not on the cards.

Tonight’s sacrifice had been measly attempting to take the entire length of my cock for the last fourteen minutes to be exact. Yes she was that terrible my mind was able to focus on a task other than what was happening – this was a new record.

This situation had begun to occur too often. Something inside me was holding back. Whether it was my internal battles or just my lack of interest was a topic I could not divulge in.

I was nowhere near even close to filling her mouth with my overdue spunk. If I did it would only be to mute the fake groans she was putting on for me. I got up from the bed releasing my almost limp dick from her uncoordinated mouth and began to button up my signature black jeans. Wearing colors as dark as my forsaken soul apparently was my thing.

Huh? As Kate (at least I think she is called Kate, she looks like a Kate. I guess a plain name for a plain girl) wiped the excessive saliva from her plastic lips she gazed up at me - her eyes glinting with lust. She looked confused at my change of mind, surely she knew how much of a fail that ‘blow job’ was.

The girl actually looked hurt at how easily I could pull myself away from her – if I was not such a heartless git maybe I would of tried to ease the blow with some bullshit cliché Sorry babe it’s not you it’s me. But I was as soft as a rhino’s horn and I proceeded the way I do best. Like a pompous ass.

Maybe next time you run your whore mouth claiming to be good at sucking dick you should actually follow it through. I spat at her, rearranging my aggravated dick in my boxers.

Not even a glimpse of remorse crossed my eyes as I took pleasure in watching the light go out in hers. If there was one thing I hated more than not being able to get off it was people (chicks especially) who thought they could fix things and more importantly fix me. They all held that familiar light in their eyes as though they thought it could heal.

I had burned in hell for far too long, there was no amount of holy water that could wash away my corruption.

I was getting by just fine, I had ever since that day, the day that sealed my persona and taught me the most valuable lesson I could have ever learnt. People are always going to leave, it does not matter if they are the last thing you have got in the world, your one reason for survival, your one chance at having a safety net or form of stability. If they want too, they will leave and that is why I was never going to let anyone in again. In this life, the only chance for survival was by focusing on number one.

Smack.

You’re a jerk! Kate squealed at me as the annoyance of my rejection poured from her assault.

Shit – I had forgotten about the unsuccessful lay still knelt in her bra and panties, if you could even call the sheer piece of clear fabric pants. I loved nudity and kink as much as the next man but when you are being presented with a pussy that had been disposed in one time too many, there was nothing appealing about see through lingerie. Now, I was half tempted to offer her a pair of thick black boxers just to cover herself - for her own sake as well as mine.

I’m a jerk, how could I say that? Why do I have to be so mean? I’ve heard it all before, so if you could hurry up and cover yourself then get the fuck out. My mocking tone was sharp and fearful. I turned my back to her signifying the discussion was over.

With that, she clung her clothes to her chest, not even wanting to waste a minute longer in my presence by getting dressed and fled for the door.

I was sexually frustrated. After spending countless of nights awake I was now also sleep deprived, this had my attitude taking an unsteady turn for the worse. My libido was through the roof. I was no Romeo on an average day but I sure was the closest replicate of Satan himself on a bad day.

The nightmares seemed to be coming around too often these days. They were always lingering in my mind waiting to catch me off guard.

In two minds I gave into my male need. I pulled my phone from the depths of my jean pocket and dialed a familiar face, all in attempt to forget the blood curdling nightmares that had been keeping me awake and my sanity at bay. I convinced myself this was necessary.

I knew you would be back

Odette answered the phone with such a smug tone I placed my heavy head in my tensing hands. I knew by me using her sweet pussy for my own selfish purposes would result in making her believe we were back on. Fortunately, for my attention seeking shaft, it was a risk I was willing to take.

Odette was a sadistic Russian girl whose father I was currently trying to screw out of his company and anything else that mattered to him. Some would consider her as beautiful but I knew of the evil that ran in her veins, ones she inherited from him. She told me time and time again she loved me and there was a reason I drifted back to her. That reason was clear – she knew how to suck dick like a vacuum and drink cum like it was water, the reason was as simple as that.

Cut your crap and get your pussy here. I commanded knowing my dominance only exited her further.

I ended the call and after tossing my phone to center of my satin sheets I led back stretching out in my king-size sleigh bed. I did not even need to wait for her response, I could practically hear her hooker heels screeching along the pavements running for a chance to get to me. Needy bitch. Another self-obsessed primped Barbie who was only good for one thing and had the audacity to think she could change me. As if I would change for someone like her.

What was so appealing about change? What gave chicks this baffling impression that any man who was interested in rough sex and chose to keep the world locked away could be saved. Did they honestly believe the execution of every tainted soul would end in some beautiful love story? The only story lines I would ever be involved in were tragedies - what was so appealing about that?

Despite my hardened exterior, something I would never admit to another living creature, a small part of me clung to this fabricated idea that maybe the saving of my soul was actually a possibility. Then the realistic part of me squished that weakness with the sole of my shoe.

There was no such thing as love and I was not about to let some cock greedy girl take over my already complicated life in hope I was capable to love another.

Bang. Bang.

I was pulled out my unwanted day dream by Odette’s arrival. Part of me wanted to give in to her endless begging of requesting her own key for the simple fact I would not have to keep getting up to let her in but I knew that would unleash a whole new level of crazy. I was just about putting up with this much of her and that was because it was necessary for the plan, no amount of mind numbing head was enough to outweigh the craziness of a stalking slut.

On your hands and knees now Odette. I demanded before giving her chance to enter my place.

I was an in and out kind of guy, no need for foreplay, I knew she was loose enough already and I just needed to get off without relying on the pathetic overused grip of my right hand.

Odette stormed into my personal space slamming the front door behind her as she entered. First she shed the cover of her leather jack, then she stood parallel to me with each hand on her hips.

But Roman, aren’t you even going to kiss me? She whined in her high pitched tone that caused the hairs on my neck to stand on edge.

Here we go.

The whininess in her curiosity bugged the hell out of me. She was going to have to be retaught. I entwined my fist in her auburn hair and jerked her head to the side; allowing me to access her bony neck. She needed to eat more.

The scent of lavender almost choked me as I was hit with her overuse of cheap perfume. Her father could somehow manifest the ability to scam innocent people out of their own fortunes yet lacked the power to buy his only biological child a decent perfume, the irony.

It seems as though someone has forgotten all their training. I closed in on her. Do I need to start from the beginning? I trailed my tongue down to the length of her neck as she whimpered in my ear. Her lack of response was the only answer I needed.

Lesson one, this is about my pleasure not yours.

I bucked my growing erection into her clenched stomach, warning her what was about to come. The control turned me on, the power made me lust drunk, it could have been anyone rubbing against me for all I cared.

Lesson two, the only things I hear from your dirty little mouth are; Yes Sir, Please Sir, fuck me harder Sir. My hand skimmed her thigh tickling up to her wet pussy. That was one of the few good things about Odette, she always came ready, offering herself to me on a plate demanding to spoon feed me.

Lesson three, I am your master, I control your body like a puppet. You only move your hands when I say so. You only grind yourself against me when I ask. My last word is the final one. I could not be controlled.

Lesson four, brake any of the rules and I will fuck you so hard you will be crossing your legs for a week. And no pet, you will not enjoy it. I continued to warn.

With that, I grazed the pad of my thumb over her pulsing clit and she shrieked into my ear. Ouch. Odette jumped onto me attempting to wrap her legs around my waist, I could see her puckered lips desperate to taste mine. Mid-air, I firmly gripped her hips and twisted her flexible body. Pressing her erect nipples against the wall. Thanks to her lack of panties and self-respect, I bent her forward, allowing me to pound my iron cock straight into her soaking flesh.

My mind wondered to salacious images of porn videos I had watched last week, a hot red head going down on a moaning blonde. Fuck - I was coming. It was over as quick as it came, even sex was not enough to silence my demons for any longer than a few moments. Maybe if I had a conscience I would reach my hand around and tease Odette’s clit to get her off. I didn’t. I just simply didn’t care, I was done so in my eyes mission had been accomplished.

I’ve got to sort some things out in the office, let yourself out.

Odette serenaded me with heart felt verbal assaults as I wiped the remains of cum glistening on my dick along her back and proceeded to leave. Jeeh, I was an ass and I couldn’t care less. This version of me made me smirk.

Before I had chance to leave the room I heard the muffled sounds of my phone vibrating on my bed, one of the many things I was thankful of my brother for was his perfect timing - always unintentionally helping me out of awkward situations.

Hey man, how’s it going? I inquired. His phone calls may have been often but they were never this late without purpose.

Bro, you might want to take a seat, I’ve got some pretty big news. The excitement lingering in his voice was unmistakable, sparking my curiosity.

Go on. Shit, was he about to say what I thought he was going to say? No, he couldn’t be, he wasn’t that blinded by love? Surely?

"I’m getting married." He exclaimed, dragging out the final word of his bombshell.

Yup, just as I expected, my young naïve brother was so deeply enhanced by a female spell, he was lured into actually believing he would spend the rest of his life with her.

Umm, congratulations I guess. I knew the flatness in my tone would irritate him, another who dedicated their existence to making me believe that things lasted.

Well I guess that was more than I was expecting. His light hearted chuckle calmed me, there was something about my baby brother that felt like home – no matter how I tried to push him away in the past he was always there placing me on an undeserving pedal stall. If I did have any glimpse of hope then he would be responsible for it. But yeah, you know we have been together since we were kids and I know we are young but when you know, well you just know I guess.

I guess I will have to take your word for it. There was no way I would find out for myself. So what is the real reason you called? I continued.

I was never one to beat around the bush. I knew my brother, his usual tactic would have been to lamely pose for some overbearing romantic picture and text me it.

"I’m having a party this weekend to celebrate and get all of our friends on side before we unleash the news to our families. Please say you’ll be there? I’m not taking no bullshit excuse that it’s not your thing, I am your brother! Plus, you owe me for what I had to endure last Friday. The sight of that chick still haunts me. Tristan said he’ll pick you up so you can both come from the office. See you then." He hurried before hanging up.

I didn’t even have chance to protest. A sly hackle left the smirk planted on my lips as I remembered what I made him do. I had spent the previous Friday banging some random brunette into the early evening, I had her stripped and tied to my bed at my disposal.

My cock twitched at the memory of her. She was all Yes Roman, no Roman, three bags full Roman. It was not often I was able to dive in dick first without educating them on their role in the bedroom. I was a one trick man with particular likes and they were to be followed. But this seedy brunette was the kind I would fuck repeatedly, a willingly trained submissive with no interest in anything more.

As I left to clean myself up in the bathroom I received a call, some mayhem was going down in the office and I needed to sort it out urgently. Business always came first. I had my right hand men that could take the reins but anything involving this new project was my upmost priority.

That was probably the one downfall