In Love with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 2) (4 page)

Adele appeared moments later. I fought to not roll my eyes.
Not now, Adele!
We were in a sensitive place with conversation on the table, and as much as I could use a distraction, Adele wasn’t it. She doubled my anxiety of not being able to maintain a man that I’d been growing unhealthily curious about.

“Ezra,” she giggled femininely and familiarly. “Remember Thomas Adès?” She laughed harder.

“You didn’t know contemporary classical. All that interested you was that Jesus stuff.”

And there it was.

That was when I realized why Ezra had never fucked her. Adele didn’t believe in the one thing of Ezra’s ambiguous existence that was abundantly clear—to all. Ezra loved Jesus Christ. He was a man of God, had uncompromised enthusiasm in the existence of Christ. And although my faith wasn’t as strong as his, even I knew Ezra couldn’t attach himself to any woman who didn’t believe. Maybe at some point in his life he could be involved with a woman who wasn’t a devout believer or who was unclear about her beliefs. However, in present time, he couldn’t fuck a woman who declared that Jesus was anything less than the Savior of the world.

My insecurities about Adele possibly having a stronger attachment to my husband than me immediately withered.

She walked away, still laughing heartily and shaking her head. “Oh, Ezze...”

I turned to him, shifted into his personal space and shared, “My mom used to beat the shit outta me.” My eyes squeezed shut as I realized how unceremoniously that was delivered. “She wasn’t evil or unkind. I eventually understood it to be a part of her illness—mental illness.”
Damn!
It’d been hard to hear myself say that the closer I grew to thirty years old. “I needed her…a lot. I loved her and didn’t want her in jail or in the psyche ward, so I guess I just dealt with it.”

“Developed a coping mechanism while under duress,” he murmured his revelation.

I shrugged my shoulders, not fully appreciating his words.

“My parents weren’t perfect, but they loved me.” I sighed. “I just chose the wrong room. I’m sorry.” I whispered more to myself.

“Room?”

My eyes diverted again, and I almost bit my bottom lip before remembering I was wearing lipstick. “She used to tell me to win every fight or die trying. She said to kick, punch, scratch, pick up a brick and smash their head with it, but don't lose that fight. She said to just black out, and that’s what I did. I blacked out until it was clear the fight was over. I’d go into a space in my head and stay there until I was done.”

When I peered over to Ezra again, he was clearly in deep thought. I didn’t want him to think I was a wimpy princess who couldn’t handle a little roughness. I wasn’t as sold on his kink as I was his sexual skillset, but I had to convince him to give me another try.

“I want to try it again,” I spoke abruptly. And the moment his lips parted and he tried to speak, I interjected, “In the sandbox! You said that we had to revisit that room before we could move on. I want to try to play again in the sandbox.”

Ezra’s eyes grew for a few moments and his mouth opened slightly before his face straightened. Then he took me at the back of my head and pulled my face to his, covering my mouth. He took my lips savagely. He was demanding, greedy, a predator with his tongue lashings and lip sucking. This was so unlike the mild lover entertaining me in the dining room a couple of days ago. This was the aggressive dominant. The beast.

The errant, spikey hairs of his mustache and beard deliciously stabbed my face. That minor irritant brought back a new familiarity of nearness between us. His scent and heat gave that brief moment of realization: we were at a formal event where I had to sit up and keep my elbows off the table, but it instantly dissipated because Ezra was finally giving me what my body perceived it needed. The beast. This was definitely the beast. I knew it because my heart raced in a mixture of excitement and fear of him. I’d just demanded to go back into his basement with all the workbenches and implements I couldn’t name or, in some cases, identify their function. The ones that could possibly kill or bruise me. But that quiet voice deep inside that I’d always listened to concerning this peculiar man had told me once again to trust him.

He pulled back, shoulders and chest heaving.

“Christ! What you do to me, Alexis!” he whispered almost angrily, eyes heavy, but face blank.

But I knew he wasn’t unmoved. He was finally displaying that he was just as sexually frustrated as I had been for weeks, I’d been too ashamed and confused to disclose it.

I fought to cover my concerns. My fear. I gazed into his chocolate pools, struggling for a tough resolve.

“Let’s go home, kitten,” he rasped.

There it was. The name that was demeaning to me just seconds before the first time he’d bestowed it. Now it seemed like the most comforting melody I’d ever heard.

He stood and reached for my hand. As we approached the door, Ezra signaled for a man in a black tux. He was there when we reached the door of the ballroom. Ezra whispered something to him, to which the man nodded and bade us a good night. We were in the car and headed home in no time. The ride was met in complete silence as Ezra road with both palms against his thighs. My thighs clutched at the sight against my thrumming clitoris. I was finally getting what was valued as therapy—
medication
—to me. I was headed home to be ravished by the beast. It was a torturous commute to the house up until Carlos pulled up right in front of the door.

Once we were in the vestibule, Ezra ordered, “Head straight downstairs and remove your clothes, Alexis. Leave your panties and shoes on. I will extract those myself.”

The crisp authority in his voice didn’t give me a moment to think. It propelled my action to the back of the house and down the stairs. As soon as I reached the bottom step, I began yanking at the zipper of my gown until it was undone, and shuffled out. My strapless bra was tossed on top of it in the corner, and I was down to just my thong and sling backs. Then my eyes landed on the downy and firm square, purple pillow. My pulse leaped as I dropped to my knees on it and extended my arms over my shoulders. My misted palms dragging to reach ahead until my breasts touched my knees and the heels of my feet met my ass.

My breathing was out of control and my mind spun with the possibilities of me failing this again. I swear I could feel my arousal reach my thighs. The beating of my clitoris so loud and its size so swollen I could feel my lips squeeze it if I rocked on my knees.
If only I could rub one off now
. I was so wet; I didn’t need help finishing. Ezra had my mind so heightened that I could finish off this climax and have it be more explosive than all my masturbation sessions combined.

I didn’t touch myself, though. My rocking continued as I waited so long I wondered if Ezra would show. I took my mind back to Kamigu where I was met with one of Ezra’s many masks: the sexual one. The beast. Although he started off gentle, I eventually met the man who liked his sex dirty. Aggressive. And suddenly I found myself craving his touch no matter how kinky it was.

“Quit your purring, kitten,” I heard rasped above me. “I’m here.” That’s when I realized I was moaning my anticipation. Then I felt his finger swipe behind me with an electrifying connection between the lips of sex and up my ass. “I’ll address that,” he groaned lowly and my spine jerked and shivered. “Eyes down, not on me. I’ll be just a moment more.”

My shoulders trembled the moment his fingers were gone. And I waited. I cracked a lid and saw him gait past me with his shoes still on. Then I heard slow and provoking music seep from the speakers throughout the room, and that’s when I lost him. I heard very little over the music. So badly I wanted him to drop behind me and take me from the back, putting me out of my misery. But I knew nothing that urgent would be happening tonight. I understood Ezra wouldn’t simplify things that easily. He would punish me for my actions the last time I was down here. I just didn’t know how.

“Stand, kitten,” he ordered. And moments after my brain had processed it was finally time, I slowly stood.
Fuck!
His chest was bare. He’d removed his tux jacket, bowtie, and shirt. He wore his pants and shoes, making me feel more vulnerable than ever. I just needed him inside me already! “Come here,” he commanded with quiet authority.

I stepped toward him in my heels until I was mere inches away and saw a thick purple rope in his hands. My eyes and breathing hiked.

“I won’t hurt you, Alexis. The plan is to tie you up so that we don’t have an episode like before, nearly landing me unconscious,” he assured. “More than that, I’d like to introduce you to another method of bondage. It’s a soft cotton rope, perfect for your first time.” His big hands pulled it through the fingers on his left hand with finesse. “Is this okay with you, kitten?”

And there was that feline reference that liquefied me, reducing me to agree to his terms, similar to my father when he sang “Chocolate Girl;” I wanted to be coaxed. From Ezra, I wanted to be seduced, not that I had much choice in the matter. The shit this man did to me when it came to sex.

He waited for an answer.

“Yeah—yes!” I corrected.

His eyebrows narrowed and head inclined toward me. “Yes, what, beloved?”

Shit!
What?—
oh!

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

“Very good, kitten. Now, what is the safeword you will use tonight if anything gets uncomfortable, frightening or undesirable for you?”

I considered that answer for a few seconds, calling upon my experience down here.

“Trinity…
si
—sir,” I sputtered, relieved at the recollection.

“Good, kitten,” he groaned unabashed and my eyes flew to his dusted chest, down to the big bulge in his pants.

He started at my waist and began wrapping and tying the thick rope around my torso with a speed that wasn’t threatening, but I was still scared out of my ass. By the time he made it up to my ribcage, my chest expanded and folded uncontrollably. He was too calm, his moves were too fluent, practiced. Ezra knew this shit too well. I glanced down to find a horizontal design that I wouldn’t be able to free myself from in the event I decided to ditch this crazy need to play along with my husband’s kink. When I caught his quick hands knotting and swinging the rope around me just beneath my hard nipples, I questioned my own kink. Why in the hell was I so turned the fuck on?

I needed to stop this. It was moving too fast and my body was responding in conflicting ways. Things were quickly growing out of control. That’s when Ezra once again cupped me at the back of my head and thrust my face into his, taking my mouth savagely. My hands held in mid-air, afraid to touch him under the circumstance of being in this room that had unfamiliar rules. Ezra didn’t give me long to wonder. He pulled the rope around me, in between us and knotted it a few times before I felt my lower arms pushing my breasts together, and nipples brush against the fine hairs of his broad chest. His focus was dedicated to the process, forehead and eyes relaxed. His shoulders wide, big fingers threading, rounding the rope onto my torso. Here he was. This was him. Ezra without a mask. This was his comfort zone, his organic state—at least one of them. When I was fully bound, I felt his arms above me while his mouth was still on mine, deluding me.

“Done,” he rasped after withdrawing from my mouth.

I glanced up and saw the ends of the rope knotted. He was done. My entire upper torso was tied up from the waist to the shoulders with my hands free at chest-level, but wrists immobile.

Holy fuck!

This shit was deeper than I thought! Ezra had my ass tied up, helpless to his sexual expertise! But that revelation was late. He kissed me again, taking me into his arms, lifting me into a straddling position, and carried me to the other side of the room. His tongue still danced in my mouth dizzying me.  He pushed my lower legs out until I caught on and stretched them out behind him. I felt my body lowering until my heels hit a cushion. We were on the large dimpled, purple ottoman where he sat with me in his lap.

Ezra pulled from my mouth and took me at the shoulders, pushing me back toward the floor behind me until my head touched the padded carpet.

“So beautiful,” he whispered and my eyes squeezed closed at the rush of endorphins from my head being lower than my body and the state of helplessness I was in.

Ezra peppered my belly with wet kisses between the ropes. And shit! It felt like blissful teasing in between the restricted sections of my flesh. I turned my head and focused on his long leg that was spread out aside me. He even looked damn good in dress shoes. When his mouth made its way below my belly button my spine jolted, but Ezra didn’t slow. He kissed his way to the triangle of my satin thong. The material felt so thin that I could feel the moisture of his mouth on my bare skin. My pelvis began to thrust toward his mouth, my sex needing his oral touch.

“Stop moving, kitten. I’m coming. I want to relax you,” he informed gently.

Then his mouth returned, lowering onto my lips. He licked me through the saturated strap of my thong running against my clit. I could feel his wide and heavy tongue on the sides of my labia. I whimpered, tortured and painfully aroused. Then he pushed the material aside and went in full throttle. Ezra didn’t tease me by licking around the target. The tip of his tongue went straight to my throbbing clit and he took long lashes, striking it provokingly. It didn’t take too many strong lashes from his tongue before I exploded in his mouth. My heels dug into the cushion on both sides of him, and I pumped into his face, screaming insanely. My body convulsing wildly, saliva collected in my mouth, and I struggled to swallow as my body lay upside down.