In Love with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 2) (31 page)

“You keep saying that.” He exhaled, frustrated.

“Because it’s true.”

“It is not. You know me very well. I can tell by the way you’ve been responding to me over the past few weeks alone.”

“I know how you fuck, Ezra. I don’t know what makes you so reclusive. I don’t know how you get up in front of thousands of people two times a week, minimally, and speak so eloquently about a matter that cures hearts and heals lives. I don’t know the man who has men, three times his size, paying him homage—at their knees crying out on the altar. The therapist who writes scripts and diagnoses problems. Who is the engineer that focuses so intently on graphs and in laboratories? What has you so captivated when you’re reading one of your thousands of scientific and philosophical books?” I peered deeply into his eyes, wanted him to understand my petition. “What drives your creativity when you’re putting together these sermons, recommending treatments for patients, making discoveries in the lab, and when you’re…” I swallowed. “being intimate with me?”

Things went quiet for a stretch of time. I was beginning to think Ezra wouldn’t answer. But something in his eyes told me he didn’t know how. It wasn’t until he spoke that I knew he was determined to give me something.

“Would you think I was being disingenuous if I told you I don’t know?” There was something in his response, maybe the timid whisper that told me he was as sincere as it gets. “I don’t know how I was able to maintain all those roles before you. I ran on fumes, worked my mind and body into the ground, and slept very little. I just…” He shrugged, eyes bouncing about. “…performed. I have this charge that I must live out: ministry. Then I have these passions—martial arts, counseling, and engineering—that I felt the need to satisfy. They all help fill an empty space. I stayed so engaged that I would forget how lonely I was, because all of my pursuits involved people. No one told me I was behaving introverted before you. No one questioned my leisure to make me realize I didn’t have any.” He swallowed, and I watched the ball of his throat dip.

“Each of those vocations and hobbies drive my competitive nature. I want to be great. That’s what I thrive on. I’ve never been indifferent to mediocrity. I loathe it. Even attaining your hand in marriage, I pursued my need of you relentlessly. You’re my gift, Alexis.” That declaration made me forget about my role name of kitten. “I am grossly obsessed with your state of happiness with me because I don’t want to lose you. I meant it when I said my wellbeing depends on it.” And at that one, I took him at the chest, my palm landing at his racing heart. It reminded me of my frequent bodily responses to him.

“My name is Ezra Travois Carmichael. I was born to Sylvester and Mary Carmichael, and raised in Murray Hill - Heathcote in Scarsdale. I was never understood as a child, admittedly because I didn’t want to be. Not even my parents could keep up with my imagination, aptitude, and need to conquer concepts to explore. The only person with enough stamina to entertain me was my maternal grandfather, Bishop Travois Daniels. He’d spend copious amounts of time with me, listening to my ceaseless ramblings of science and fascination with books. He’d take me fishing and hunting on Saturdays. We’d hunt on the property I own today with you, and we’d fish a few miles from there.”

That piece of information took me by surprise, and he must have sensed it.

“Yes, beloved. My grandfather bequeathed the property to me. He knew though I was a suburban kid, I had an appreciation for air, quiet, nature, and most importantly retreat, similar to him. He didn’t live in Jersey, only had fallen in love with the land. I didn’t build on it until a few years ago when the house was erected. But back to young Ezra.” He kissed my head gently again, his heart rate slowing. “I liked girls—plenty. I was just too shy to express it, and preferred to hide behind books and elements that created explosions in my mother’s kitchen. Then I met a girl named Keisha. Keisha had a big ol’ booty, and I wanted that—”

I leaped up to meet his face, “Shut the hell up, Pastor.” I grazed his lips with my tongue.

“Your mouth, Alexis.” No matter how intoxicated with lust Ezra was, he’d never let up on warning me to curb my mouth.

“That’s enough of reminiscing about girls with big booties. I want you to fill
mine
now.”

I pushed Ezra onto his back and straddled him. I appreciated his willingness to shed some light on who he was before we met, but I understood he was now being cute. Although that was a nice attempt at humor, there was no need to delay what I was craving to listen to some bullshit story about baby boy Ezra.

I grabbed his standing wood from behind me moving it into position and sat on him, slowly sinking down until he filled me. He moaned when I took him at the sides of his face and kissed him until I lost my breath. I rode the hell out of him, gratified by his disclosure. I didn’t have all of my questions answered, but I felt accomplished as though I was making leeway with my enigmatic husband.

Swiftly, I was pulled from him and slammed onto my back. My angry eyes questioned him, unable to catch my lungs to breathe.

“You’re topping from the bottom again, kitten,” he warned. “The only environment you’re free to exert your wishes is in our bed, and when I allow. Those are the fixed rules.”

My mouth swung open.

But we were just good seconds ago…

“Up,” he ordered, and instinctively, I obeyed.

Ezra directed me to the St. Andrew’s cross. It was literally two planks of padded wood, crossing to an ‘X’ shape with restraint points at the top for wrists and bottom for ankles. This one was larger than what Ezra had in the sandbox. I’d guess this one was to accommodate men and women of various sizes, unlike the one at home being suited just for me. The thought of Ezra being strapped to anything was laughable. Controlling men are averse to restraint. It was an oxymoron. Within seconds I was mounted onto the foot boards, my heels secured and ankles strapped against the wooden planks. My wrists were stretched and restrained next. I was thankful for the square padded block against my back. It was a relief compared to my other extremities being directly on the unyielding timber. My heart pounded and mouth went dry. Here I was again in a helpless position, willingly, with no way to prevent harm to my person. I struggled to keep my head above my shoulders. My lips trembled as Ezra assessed me.

“I am very much human, but with dark depravities, kitten,” Ezra rasped, lust thickening his chords as his bubbled chest heaved his desire. “I can’t promise you perfection, but can guarantee to blow your mind using my body and yours…”—his eyes ran the width of the cross—“…and on occasion, props.”

I swallowed hard, unshed tears stinging my eyes as my breathing rhythm resembled his. To break our stare-down, Ezra plucked my right nipple. The sting of pain rippled throughout my entire frame. My damn stomach leaped. I swallowed hard as I let the sensation wash over me, willing for the trailing pleasure to arrive. He stood in front of me, chest protruding, head slightly reclined over his wide shoulders exposing his neck. He chuckled throatily, sinisterly.

A pinch of my nipple caused me to cry out almost the moment a burst of pleasure spiked after the pain. Ezra’s tongue appeared, swiping over his left canine and moved to the right one. My pussy pulsated shamelessly.

“Sir…please!” I cried in a whisper, refusing for the tears to leave my eyes.

Harlem Pride
…

Ezra was relentless as he moved forward, pushed his hand down my cleft and pinched my swollen clitoris.

“
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
!” I screamed more from shock than pain.

He dropped to his knees and circled my nub with the tip of his tongue. The act did nothing to relieve the pain until he swiped vertically, and oh my god, my body jerked violently against the restraints causing a different type of pain: one unrelated to pleasure.

Ezra leaped to his feet in a panic, displaying the martial artist inside.

“Alexis, you cannot yank yourself against the fetters!” he almost cried with a wrinkled face and hard eyes. Mine struggled to remain open, feeling the lightening of pain. “Are you okay?” he asked deeply concerned.

It took me a few seconds, but I managed a forceful nod. My body now felt heavy against the restraints. I suddenly felt as though I was holding myself up.

“Yes!” burst from my lips. “But please! Hurry up and fuck me!”

That cry was more from unbearable arousal than it was pain. Ezra could eradicate the pain with his ministrations. I just needed him to move the fuck on!

And almost as if he could hear my unspoken demand, he plunged upward into my canal. I couldn’t believe how wet I was. Ezra jackhammered into me like a man possessed. It all happened so quickly, pleasure shooting from my core, extending to each extremity. My fingers coiled into fists, my toes curled in my boots as my body was held up, helpless, on a wooden cross being pounded into. I could see the cords of Ezra’s neck and his teeth from his gums as he worked laboriously until I felt myself ascending.

“Permission to come!” I yelled with urgency.

“Hold it!” he met my tone.

My heart dropped in my chest. How could I hold out? My groin was spinning, threatening to explode. I bit into my bottom lip, eyes slammed shut and I tensed my body against the stirring.

Choose a room!

Immediately, I searched my mind for an escape. I found myself in a post-Ezra world.

I’d had him as I was physically in that moment, and had somehow lost him. I never feared losing many people since my mother’s death, but in this place, my home was unrecognizable and barren, and my bed was unbearably cold. My body was unkempt and my aching heart… My heart was—

“Come now, Alexis!” Ezra demanding, awakened me from my mental trip.

It took me a few seconds to reabsorb the shooting bliss, but when I felt an out of rhythm thrust from his hips, my orgasm overtook me. My body lurched up and down resembling the scarecrow from
The
Wizard of Oz
. At some point, Ezra’s mouth arrived at my neck as he blew out and took in air manically. My pattern matched his, a glow of bliss sheathing my body from head to toe.   

About an hour after he released and removed me from the hard planks of wood and massaged my shaky body, Ezra and I had sex once more that night until I fell out from exhaustion. My boots never came off the entire time. I was in between sleep and consciousness when he cleaned me after the last round. He covered me in his undershirt and the raincoat while he dressed in his suit, his dress shirt untucked and tie removed. We rode the elevator in complete silence, and I was relieved to see Carlos’ small frame and buzz cut, standing at the waiting truck with the door opened. I dozed the moment we pulled off.

I woke up being tugged in Ezra’s arms. He lifted me from the car and placed me on my feet. Like dead weight, I leaned into him up the stairs to the door. Once we got in and he disarmed the alarm, Ezra removed my boots and carried me up the steps. I don’t know how I managed through the shower he gave me at one in the morning. After drying me off, he walked me over to the bed and I was tumbling into sleep the minute my head hit the pillow.

But not before I heard Ezra whisper faintly, “Thanks be unto God for this unspeakable gift,” before kissing my cheek.

~Lex~

I felt the mattress dip and lift. Subconsciously, I knew it was Ezra leaving the bed to start his day. Panic spiked in my chest and I shot from my pillow in search of the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only four forty-five in the morning; Ezra’s wake up time. I checked my phone to be sure the alarm was set properly then rolled over and back into sleep.

It seemed like I’d just closed my eyes when my alarm sounded. My torso leaped in the air. After silencing it, I shot into the bathroom, wincing from my aching muscles from last night. Immediately the St. Andrew’s cross came to mind, bringing with it a flash of arousal. I shook my head en route to the toilet. The shit that man did to my mind.

After showering, I rummaged through the bags of clothes I brought home, but never got the chance to put away. I still had more in my car that would have to wait until after work. I padded into the closet and set out to find something to wear. In the center of the floor on my side were a pair of chestnut pumps. I didn’t recall leaving them out, but didn’t have time to think much of it. I started emptying the bags to recall what I’d gotten. Within minutes, I was able to piece together an ensemble. Nothing too formal; olive wool culottes and an ivory silk boxy blouse. I tossed on brass circle earrings and a gold bangle I had for years. I skipped back into the bathroom to apply a little eyeliner. My hair wasn’t freshly washed, twisted, or blown out, so I braided it in a round up-do, keeping with the simple look.

Just before grabbing my purse, I checked my phone for the hundredth time to be sure I was still on track. I clogged down the stairs with speed but caution, too, considering the new heels I hadn’t broken in yet. I was on my way to the front door when I heard my name being called. It was Ezra. Frantic about keeping with time, I sighed, rolled my eyes and turned for the back of the house.

The closer I drew, I could smell food and hear movements from the kitchen. Ms. Remah was at that table, a cup of coffee in front of her while she read the paper. It was one of her appreciations of my husband. Ezra still read leaflet daily news. He kept with current events digitally, too. But Ms. Remah hated electronic devices and was happy to learn Ezra had the paper delivered every morning.

As I advanced inside the room, I saw Ezra at the stove, holding a bowl out for me. He was dressed in an all-black sweat suit and grey
Jordans
. I knew he’d prayed, meditated, and worked out since leaving me in the bed this morning, but still looked delicious.

“I was told you’re partial to old fashion oatmeal when up and about early.”

I glanced over the island and saw small glass serving bowls with fresh blueberries, strawberries, peaches, apples, raisins, dates, apricots, brown sugar, cranberries, and granola. This was an elaborate spread, unfortunately.

“I don’t have time for breakfast,” I informed as I eyed the both of them suspiciously. Was Ms. Remah always up this early with Ezra? I thought she’d stay in her own space for coffee, and not travel into the main house until breakfast, or lunch on some days. I turned to face her. “But…uhhh…thanks for the oatmeal.”

She tutted while still holding the paper over the table. “I ain’t make nuh porridge.”

Ms. Remah didn’t like oatmeal. I should have known.

Then that means
…

“You made oatmeal?” I shrieked my disbelief.

Ezra casually lifted his brows and formed a wry smile. He turned to the counter next to the stove, picked up a to-go cup and scooped creamy oatmeal to fill it. My mouth was still weighted to the floor.

“Pick your toppings, beloved,” he commanded.

Sensing his fierce determination and being cognizant of the fleeting time, I turned to the island.

“Strawberries, blueberries, and brown sugar, please.” I forged a smile.

The side of Ezra’s bearded face lifted in a subtle smile before he sauntered over to the island to fill my order.

“Nice selection on the pumps,” he muttered.

As he handed me the sealed cup of oatmeal with a spoon wrapped inside a napkin, I wondered if he referred to the selection from the boutique or that of this morning. Then I wondered was the statement a facetious one because he’d placed them in the middle of the floor where they’d undoubtedly catch my attention. Was Ezra toying with my subconscious again? 

I had no time to consider it. I had to go.

“Thanks, sir,” I muttered, eyeing him suspiciously.

I turned to take off and was halting in my steps when I realized what I’d called him. I turned to him for his reaction, my eyes wild. Ezra stood next to the island with his head facing down, his cheeks hiked, telling of his amusement. My eyes fell to his line of sight to catch the slight bulge in his dark sweats.

I busted out with a cackle from my gut. Ezra was being comical again! He actually had a sense of humor behind the bearded scowl.

“Enjoy your day, Ezra. Bye, Ms. Remah!” I yelled behind me, on my way to the door.

“As you should, Alexis,” Ezra replied behind me.

I sighed my relief when I pulled up across the street from the building that held the business offices of
RSfALC
where
Christ Cares
was housed. The church itself was just two blocks away. I’d arrived ten minutes earlier than my issued nine a.m. start time. Ann Bethea met me in the small reception area on the first floor. She was in a gray pantsuit with kitten heels. Her hair in tight spiral curls around her wireless frame glasses.

“Wow! You’re early,” she noted.

I gave a polite nod and exhaled. “I didn’t think I would be. I’ve never commuted from Jersey into the city before. I didn’t know what traffic would be like.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here in one piece.” Ann turned toward the room. “This is where your office is. It’s actually where all the business offices are. Even the pastor of the church has an office here. Though the leaving pastor, Sr., has never frequented the building, the incoming, Jr.,—whom I’m now aware that you do know, and well—is here several times a week.” I gulped at that mention. She now knew Ezra and I were married. I almost wanted to apologize profusely. “His office is on the third floor, and yours is located on the second. The business wing is here on the first floor. My office is just beyond the door should you need me. Let me show you to yours first.”

I followed her into the building and we took the steps up to the second floor. I noted a huge painting in the hall. It was of a large church and depicted the members with black circular faces leaving after service. It was a silent reminder that this was a religious organization.

“I didn’t know
Redeeming Souls
had a business office.” I muttered behind her.

“Yes. The church owns several properties in Harlem. This one was purchased over ten years ago. And about seven years ago the younger Carmichael insisted they use it properly for the business of the church. It underwent renovations and a year or so later, I was hired and we filled the space. We’re still undergoing physical and staff renovations, so you’re starting at a great time.”

We stopped at the landing and I was relieved at ending the sharp aches shooting in my thighs from having recently been extended. The space was confined and packed, typical for the city. There was an open area to the right lined with cubes for employees. To the left was a long hall with doors, I assumed for traditional offices.

“To our right is where most of your subordinates sit. We are still looking to fill three other roles under you, now with your assistance. You currently have seven assigned to you; social workers, outreach workers, crisis hotline administrator, case workers, a nurse, and a per diem physician, who couldn’t meet you today. You’ll meet the rest of them soon,” she quickly noted then continued down the hall toward the left. “What I meant was that Mr. Carmichael has been evolving the three pronged entity of
Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ
. He’s been performing a facelift of sorts, selecting professionals who’d best lead the ministry, business, and social work fronts of the organization. The church provides the spiritual ministry, the administrative prong here handles the business of the ministry, and your program provides the social services ministry to the community at large. Mr. Carmichael is adamant about every facet working together to bring the ministry of Christ to the city of Harlem. Though a Seventh Day Adventist, I fully appreciate his charge.” She smiled fondly.

And there I was again, astounded by information revealing a different facet of my husband. Another I was unfamiliar with. Apparently, Ezra began taking control the moment he returned to the States seven years ago. I knew his father would be retiring and that would put Ezra in charge, but what did that mean exactly? Ezra seemed to be in control already. His father hadn’t returned to the pulpit since that Sunday Ezra was asked to speak at the last minute. Ezra was doing it all. And I just learned he ran the business of the church, too.

For now, I had to brush the confusion off and take on the biggest task of the day: learning my new job. We stopped at a door at the end of the hall. With a formal smile, nod, and her hands clasped at her pelvis, Ann announced, “And this is where you’re stationed.”

She turned the knob and swung the door open. I could determine right away the office size was modest, similar to my old one at the rec, only this room had two windows that allowed the inspiration of the sun. It was bright and that made it feel airy in spite of the size. The next conspicuous attraction was the big ass bouquet of flowers in the middle of the desk.  It was booming with color and shapes from the various styles and texture of petals.

“Is that…” I couldn’t formulate the question.

“For you?” Ann finished it. “Why, yes. It was delivered first thing this morning.” Her smile remained intact.

I walked over to the vase and plucked the small card. It was small in size for the simple message drafted inside.

Congratulations on your new employment. You finished the race and kept the faith.

Your doting husband,

E.C.   

I cupped my face as I sputtered a laugh at the word doting. Ezra doting? Absolutely not. Then it hit me.

Holy shit! Ezra sent me flowers!

I’d gotten surprised with flowers. It had never happened before. Ezra was trying, keeping his word at becoming more endearing. So many questions and revelations to gain from this small act of thoughtfulness. But I couldn’t in the moment. I didn’t have the time. I had to work. I tucked the card back in the envelope and tossed it in my bag.

Then I turned to Ann and cleared my throat.

“Let’s get started.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Why don’t we.” She moved into the small space. “On your desk you’ll find a packet of documents. This is all your typical HR paperwork that should be completed and returned right away. Some you’ll be able to submit today and others when you can obtain the required information. This may take a while.” She checked her wrist for the time. “You have a 10:15 with your staff in the conference room located upstairs on the third floor. After which, Precious Graham will be looking to meet with you for an orientation of sorts. I’ll leave you to get started. My office is downstairs. You can ask anyone for me and they’ll point you my way.” She turned to leave. “Oh,” she yelped. “I.T. should be here sometime this morning to install software onto your computer and provide your email and telephone contact information.”