In Love with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 2) (34 page)

“A strong vibrant young man like you, screaming like a skinned cat?” Yaroslav grabbed the ball. He made a displeased sound with his tongue before serving me. “Must be the new wife, huhn?”

I couldn’t help my snort.

Alexis kept me on my toes, for sure, but I wouldn’t tie that to my physical well-being. Last night was an exceptional mixture of sensual exploration and a regressive withdrawal of headspace. I ejaculated in her face, and saw the pure exhilaration in her response to it. When I pumped my engorged dick in her face, Alexis struggled against lunging at it. Her hunger for my anatomy was palpable. That electrified the beast in me, but as her dominant, I could not ignore the dichotomy of the lover in Alexis and the wife. My lover submitted to me with little reluctance. My wife was unsure of me.

The more I tried to create an environment conducive to her comfort for trust, Alexis showed signs of unease around me. Something had changed for her, and that had confounded me. We’d arrived at an amenable place after her third trip down to the sandbox when she endured—and
thoroughly
enjoyed—her first spanking. For as much as she was capable of her vulgar outbursts to express grievances toward me, she withheld something significant in our development as man and wife. My beloved was struggling with something, withholding from me. And I needed to find out just what.    

“What’s she’s like, your wife?” Yaroslav asked, now standing straight.

It took moments like this to realize he had a right elbow disarticulation and a left knee disarticulation. Physically, he had no lower right arm, and the lower half of his left leg was removed. One occurred during war as an adolescent in the Soviet-Chinese war. The other was sacrificed during a different kind of war, one of illegal matters in his thirties when he almost lost his reign as the leader of his organization. Oddly, Yaroslav wore a prosthetic for his leg, but never bothered for his arm.

“She’s strong-willed, determinately appeasing to those she deems worthy, reasonably nurturing to most…fiercely independent, resolute when decided, but she does falter to give room for concluding.” I twisted my lips, ending my assessment.

We stood at opposite ends of the table, both trying to gain a hold of our breaths while I rolled my shoulder.

“Ah!” he replied excitedly. His one cheek bone peaked with a sinister glare and lips twitched darkly. “Difficult to train. She’s one that I’d leave in my dungeon for weeks upon her arrival to my camp. Give her little light of the sun, and flimsy mattress that would be removed daily until it was time for her to sleep. Keep her isolated from all the others until she complied with focusing her eyes downward and calling my men ‘
мастер
’ with unrepentant pride.” His eyes cast out into the distance, I was sure managing the old world demons.

Meanwhile, I stood across from him, body tensing to dangerous strain as I allowed my raging anger to roll off of me. The thought of Alexis being held captive by ruthless sexual deviants boiled my blood. Her calling another man master or any moniker expressing his superiority had venomous heat dispelling from my nostrils. Within seconds, I recovered.

I swallowed hard. “Write the letter,” I felt the gravel in my tenor.

Yaroslav’s sable eyes rolled over to me. “
YA poklonyayus’ svoy bog. Pochemu vy khotite bol’she
?”

I worship your god. What more do you want?

“I want you to live a life of abundance.” I was pleased when Yaroslav declared Jesus as the son of God, and his Savior two years ago with tears streaming down his face. It was my most prized moment in ministry. I placed my hand over my heart. “In here. God’s grace and promises aren’t limited to forgiveness. He wants healing and deliverance,
moy drug
.”

God has the power to remove the prison walls that surround our hearts. Man has the ability to replace them…in his mind.

He removed his pained eyes and gave a quick nod of understanding.

~Ezra~

I closed the book I’d just completed and examined the cover. “
Words for Turbulent Winds
,” I murmured the title to myself as I sat in the lounge area of my home office. After my visit with Yaroslav I returned home for a conference call with the state of New Jersey about licensing of a product we were testing for an engineering company out of Colorado. I then worked on my sermon for Sunday morning worship, and had to finish this book to do so. I was glad I’d purchased it. The insight was much needed and well-timed.

My hands swept over the glossy cover. It depicted a nearing tornado sweeping through, what appeared to be, a residential neighborhood causing damage with harsh winds, flooding, and property damage along its route. I sat back and reflected on what that meant to me. When had life been such a paroxysm of misfortunes to the point of irreparable damage? How could I incorporate it into my message?

“She be here soon,” Ms. Remah announced after a quick knock on the doorframe.

I glanced up to find her eyes on me expectantly.

“You’ve heard from her?” I asked.

Ms. Remah grunted her response. That caused an odd sting to course me. I hadn’t heard from Alexis all day, not even about the flowers I had delivered this morning. Not that I needed a gushing response for the gesture. However, a simple confirmation would’ve done. All day I’d operated with a quiet sense of awareness of it being a big day for her. I expected her two hours ago when I entered the kitchen to find Ms. Remah preparing dinner. Apparently she’d been expecting Alexis as well. We stayed around that area of the house, both awaiting her return, but neither expressing it. It was confirmed by her announcing Alexis’ whereabouts.

“Text,” Ms. Remah qualified. “Should be here any second.”

I stood from my desk and followed her out. She went into the kitchen and I gaited straight into the dining room to retrieve a glass and bottle of wine. Unusual prickles of excitement shooting through my chest as the seconds past. 

“So, we should discuss you getting transportation. I know it will be difficult for you to get around independently now that Alexis has returned to work.” I broached the subject as soon as I entered the kitchen.

Ms. Remah only grunted.

“Well, what kind of vehicle do you prefer driving? Something with four-wheel drive would prove helpful in this terrain come winter.”

“No preference. Me nuh drive.”

I placed the glass and wine bottle down on the island and felt my brows rise. “Never?”

She shook her head with her back against me as she stirred the pot then turned the eye off.

“Ever?” I asked again.

“Nuh driver’s license.” 

“Well, that presents a dilemma, doesn’t it?” I murmured, pouring wine into the glass.

Just then the garage door sounded. I placed the stopper in the bottle and carried the glass to the far side of the kitchen, near the hall where Alexis would enter the house. My mind raced with sensual ideas of how we’d spend the evening celebrating her accomplishment, especially after an extended day. I hadn’t been expecting that.

I heard when she cut the engine. I rested against the doorway, awaiting her.

“Do you know how to operate a motor vehicle?” I continued with Ms. Remah.

She shook her head again, eyes cast downward.

“We can get you lessons. There’s nothing more I’d like than to see you come and go as you please. I’m sure Alexis would be at peace knowing you could come and go at your will.”

Ms. Remah grunted again. I do believe she was communicating her willingness to consider my proposal. She was a cantankerous spirit, but had been growing on me. I was beginning to see what propelled Alexis to her. Ms. Remah wasn’t much of a talker, but she was a worker bee, who quietly accommodated those around her. She simply wasn’t the one for small talk or endearments.

The sounds of Alexis strutting into the house called to something in my groin. Amazing, my visceral response to her. More than sexual, it felt great welcoming a woman home at night—into my home. I could smell her nearing and hear the jingle of her keys.

I was put off however, when she breezed past me and crossed the room to dump her purse and a thick packet of documents on the table. She didn’t speak when she marched heavily over to the counter, yanked the door open and pulled out a tumbler. My face stretched as I watched her remove a bottle of Hennessey from a paper bag I must have missed during her windstorm in here. Alexis poured herself a shot, gulped it down and slammed the glass on the counter.

“Lexi,” Ms. Remah called out to her wearily. It was clear something was amiss. “Di man mey yuh drink!” She pointed across the room to me.

I raised the glass to emphasize the gesture. That only seemed to further infuriate my beloved. Alexis marched over to me, grabbed the glass, trudged back to the sink to toss the wine down the drain, and slammed the glass on the counter, making a clash of the delicate crystal. My brows raised questioningly in response.

“Oh, mi gad!” Ms. Remah shrieked as Alexis and I exchanged gazes.

She poured another shot of Hennessey and chucked it back, the burn reflected in her faltering scowl as her eyes blinked successively. When she went for the third, I knew I had to speak up.

“Is there a problem, beloved?”

“Don’t call me that!” Alexis screamed. “Is that what you call her, too? Are names assigned to fucking concubines in
Redeeming Souls
?”

I angled my head, attempting to decipher her rage.

“Who is ‘her’, beloved?” I asked, perplexed.

“Don’t! Fucking! Call! Me! That!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Lexi!” Ms. Remah yelled as well.

I took a calming breath against the ire rising within, my eyes retreated as my mind raced. Something happened to her at work—at
RSfALC
. The possibilities of what that could have been began to file in. But before I could play the guessing game, I had to calm Alexis and prevent her from taking a fourth shot of the brown juice. I watched as she took her third.

I shifted to face her. “Alexis, please tell me what is troubling you,” I delivered with surprising aplomb.

Her eyes grew and neck popped. “Oh, now I’m one of your damn patients? Tell me, oh mask, which man are you presenting today? Because I got something for all their asses! Bring ‘em out!” she shouted through gritted teeth.

“Oh, mi gad! Whut dun got tuh yuh now?” Ms. Remah demanded with her hand on her hip.

Alexis’ wild reddened eyes shot over to Ms. Remah. “He has! That’s what has!”

“Ms. Remah, please give Alexis and me a moment alone to clear this up before dinner.”

Ms. Remah grunted as she turned for the back doors. She fired off a few things under her breath along the way. When we were alone, Alexis turned to face me.

“Do you want to start this over?” I asked with more bite, my patience dwindling.

“Maybe we should! Maybe you started with the wrong bitch!” I flinched at that. “Maybe you should’ve started with that pageant ass, prissy bitch in the first place! Why drag a clueless Harlem thoroughbred into this disgusting ring of man-sharing bullshit that you and your peeps got going on at
Redeeming Souls
?”

My eyes squinted and extended in confusion. “Who are you speaking about, Alexis?” Please don’t say—

“Precious!” she screamed. “You know who I’m talking about!”

“And how am I even remotely tied to her?”

“According to the “Nurses Ministry””—she used air quotations—“she’s damn near your second wife!” she spat, incensed by the mere mention of it, and turned to pour another shot.

I leaped over to her, snatched the bottle from her shaking hands and pushed the neck of the bottle down the drain. How did she know about the Nurses Ministry—the one auxiliary I loathed?

“What the fuck are you doing?” she gasped and tried to pull the bottle from my grip as I held it to drain down the pipe. 

“What did Precious say to you about that ministry, Alexis?”

She pulled and pushed against my hold of the bottle fruitlessly. I would not remove my hand until it was empty.

“Answer me!” I demanded.

She jumped back, surprised at my tone. It was becoming more and more difficult to rein in my temper. My wife comes home in an explosive fit after her first day five minutes ago and I don’t have a clue as to how to fix it, calm her rage. And my own, teeming.

There was a stretch of silence. Something weaving in her mind, something unknown to me, but for once she didn’t yell.

Coarsely she murmured, “Marva spoke in a roundabout way, but was very direct.”

“Marva who?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t know her last name at first because when she ambushed me in Precious’ office, Precious only introduced her as Marva. She made me feel like I had to go to this meeting and I did. She said that at the church, the women had roles. Those in this group are nurses, assistants to the ministerial staff. Some of the women were wives, and the ones who weren’t…” Her eyes glossed over. “They all had assignments in the group. They were assigned to a minister and took care of things the wives couldn’t.”

My eyes squeezed shut.

Christ
…

“Oh! So, it’s true! Your sneaky ass married me to get me in some twisted church people shit? You really want to fuck Precious? Why didn’t you just marry her! Why get innocent people wrapped up in your cult bullshit!”

“You will do well to not hurl another profanity in my home!” I grated with widened nostrils.

  “You sick son of a bitch,” she muttered, eyes blank and body trembling. “You set me up. That was the gotcha-gotcha. This sister-wives club is what you wanted into. I asked you that night to come clean with your motives and you made up some shit about being a hot-blooded man, needing to let it loose. Like a fool, I allowed you to let it loose with me. I fell for it. It was easy for you. I was unemployed and broke. I needed a job and you had me believe this job was on my own merit. But you’d been plotting this all along.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I’ve been plotting, but not even
I
could come up with the debauchery you described.”  

She lunged toward me and slapped my face. The stinging burn forced a flash of stimulation. My balls tensed then leaped, pulse thrummed heatedly in my veins. I hadn’t been hit in years; until Alexis, hadn’t struck flesh in as long. My twisted propensity to violence made that abrupt act send electrical pulses to my groin. I had only seconds to get my arousal under control. I had to quickly gain the reins of this confrontation.  

I bent into her face. “If you
ever
hit me again, I will—”

Alexis stepped closer, pushing her chest into mine. “You will what?” she yelled, provoking a reaction. She was enraged, violent, and ready to engage in a physical altercation. It made me think of those men she fought as a child. It was clear to me that she was in the throes of epileptic rage. “Spank me?” Her wild eyes flipped, revelatory. “You’ve fucked her. Have you spanked her? Probably not. Spank me, Ezra!”

My dick twitched against the fabric of my pants.

“I will not—”

Her eyes went from wild to crestfallen. “Do it!” She quickly backed up and yanked her blouse over her head, exposing her breasts, nipples straining through the lace fabric. “Give me something you’ve never given her, Ezra! Show me the beast, even if it hurts!” She pulled her skirt off and kicked off her shoes.

No
…

I’ve wanted this dark intimate life with Alexis, but never had I desired to handle all of our problems in the sandbox. I didn’t want to employ the practices of sadism. But it was here. The time had arrived. Alexis displayed signs of a masochist. I could tell by the way the muscles in her face had gone lax and she swayed her hips instinctively and arched her spine, forcing her breasts to protrude as she approached me that my kitten was aroused. I saw the first tear drop from the pool in her lids. That didn’t stop her. She brushed pass me, en route for the hall leading to the basement.

I briskly caught her by the arm. “You’re approaching drunk. You’ll never see my cock in this condition.”