In Love with Ezra (Love Unaccounted Book 2) (13 page)

Tossing and turning in this big ass bed, I kicked the sheet from my legs: the comforter was shoved down twenty minutes ago. I let out a hefty breath. As tired as I felt earlier, sleep was nowhere near. Just months ago when I was this restless, I’d rub one off and toss myself into slumber, but not tonight. Tonight, I was in a new bed, in a big ass strange home, and alone.

Ezra hadn’t even texted me to check in and I only had hours before I had to be up to take Ms. Remah to the doctor. I didn’t need to add my cranky to her surly façade.

Ughhh... Enough!

I crawled out of bed, pushed into my slippers, and headed downstairs. I found myself disarming the security system and making my way onto the deck. It was damn near pitch black but for the night light on in the suite where Ms. Remah stayed. I took in the night air, let my mind roam. I studied the contour of the structure, recalling when it was completely new inside. When Miranda asked Ezra what were his intentions for the place, I remembered distinctively when he glanced at me with dark eyes and answered, “
Another recreational room of sorts
.”

My shoulders dropped as I sat propped on one of the patio chairs.

“
The sandbox
,” I whispered the revelation ghostly.

Ezra was building that to be our sex house!

What the hell type of marriage are we in?
Even more disconcerting was my sudden state of arousal at that realization. I shook my head at the rampant thoughts coursing my mind. I heard crackling off to the side of the property and that was enough for me to get my black ass back inside. This city girl didn’t fight bears. I locked up and set the alarm again then poured myself a glass of juice and went back upstairs. This time, I went to the guest room Ezra spent those days in during our fight.

I sighed as I lowered myself onto the bed, inhaling the pillow that still held traces of his unique scent.
That man
. His beard. His sex. His control. That last one was like cold doused water and I left the bed. The lights from in front of the house shone dimly into the loft window, casting a dull gray glow into the upper corridor of the house en route to the master suite. When I arrived at the foot of the gigantic bed I thought of what I could do to tire myself out, because I didn’t want to roll around in bed anymore.

My hair.

It was still unnourished after Ezra’s washing yesterday, the way I told him it would be. I could treat it and rinse it in the shower.
Yes
. I grabbed Ezra’s iPod, that I’d been adding my music to, from the coffee table in the sitting room. Keyshia Cole’s “
Work It Out
” boomed through the speakers.
How timely
. I shook my head, turning for the bathroom.

Damn. Puffing on a spliff would be perfect while waiting on my hair to condition.

I pulled out my shampoos and mixed my conditioner. After washing my hair and applying the treatment, I sat in front of the large vanity mirror in the bathroom, and examined my dark brown pudding of a head and noticed the strain in my eyes. It was from no sleep. It was stress. Again, usually when I’m stressed or anxious, I had remedies to help manage it, but my fish were bigger this time. And I couldn’t puff on an “L” in the preacher’s house. He demanded no more masturbating, and while I honestly had less of a reason to, I felt stifled.

Rules.

Limitations.

Control.

In the moment, the shit irritated me. In the next, guilt washed over me. I’d just gotten back into his good graces after showing up pilt to his luncheon with another preacher: a bishop. I looked up Bishop Jones after that god-awful ordeal and saw his prominence, his large organization in California and how he and Ms. Remah shared the same nationality. My husband was connected to people I had to wear a damn mask around similar to the one he wore for everyone he encountered.

This wasn’t going to work. I was in way over my damn head. Every once in a while I did stupid shit, like go to a fancy as shit restaurant and order up a hefty meal with two dollars to my name, and then slip a piece of hair into the last of it to skip out on the bill. Or show up high as hell to Saks. But I could do that when it only involved me and only I’d have to face the consequences alone. Maybe this was one of those wild things, only now it had a messier impact and heftier consequences: we were married! He’d never tolerate some of the shit I was known to do from time to time. He wouldn’t accept the real Lex. An average girl from Harlem World.

And him! He had some shit going on, too. Why was he so damn quiet around here? Why the hell did he read so damn much and such thick ass books? Why was he still single at thirty-nine? Why did he like to spank women? How did he learn to fuck the way that he does? What the hell was up with him and Natalia back in Kamigu, where we honeymooned?
Yeah
—that one still boggled me. I can’t forget the glint in her eyes when she looked at my husband like she knew what his come tasted like.

Damn! A fat arizona would put me in a nice zone right now! 

I peeled off my clothes and ambled into the shower. And just minutes in there I questioned why in the hell was the Keyshia Cole track looping? It must’ve been because I had the last song I listened to was set on repeat. The
In
song I couldn’t shake. The song that brought me just as much peace as it did confusion.

I thought about all the ways this marriage shit could blow up in my face. Yeah, I’d ultimately survive, but at what cost? I could go back to my little apartment in Harlem, but Ms. Remah’s place had been rented out already. She’d have to stay with my father and me in that cramped apartment until I could figure things out. That would be hard because I had no job. Ms. Remah had no job. Rasul had no fucking job! I didn’t like the bleak outlook; loathed my peace of mind riding on one man, who I didn’t understand. He could flip and turn my little stability upside down. What in the hell would I do then?

I saw no upside. And Nyree’s two cents didn’t help. It’d only upped my anxiety about not being able to meet Ezra’s needs. Sex was a big deal for my husband; I’d been learning this more and more each day since we’d married. He approached it like one of his rituals of prayer, meditating, and working out. What if the day came where I couldn’t perform on the same level? What if that day came before I found a job?

AND WHY IN THE HELL DID I SET THIS SONG ON REPEAT!

I was fighting emotions that were becoming too frequent nowadays, and always involving Ezra. My eyes stung and my throat felt like a thousand needles were stabbing it. I buried my face in my hands as I tried to anchor against the waves of sadness.  I held tight, muscles tensing all over while the storm washed over me. When I could feel my lungs again, my head rose and moved under the faucet to rinse my hair. My eyes remained closed as I massaged the conditioner from my hair, my mind no longer reeling, but my heart no more settled.

A breeze whipped against the front of my body. Suddenly, I felt like I wasn’t alone. I cleared my eyes as best I could before opening them and could see a blurred being at the end of the shower. When I’d normally swing or scream, I didn’t. I somehow knew the person at the other end was him. As my eyes squinted to make out his broad and lanky figure, I noticed he was fully clothed, dress shirt, tie, pants and socks. The water hadn’t hit him in his position in the shower, but Ezra didn’t seem concerned with the threat.

Underneath the bush of his brows his eyes danced over my naked body. His face was deadpan, eyes hard, forcing mine all over the shower. 

“Is it tomorrow afternoon already?” I tested, sarcasm laced in my tone.

“For me it is,” he rasped over the sound of spraying water. His eyes raked up to my wet head. “My efforts weren’t good enough?”

My eyes fell and I shook my head. I didn’t like Ezra washing my hair. It was too…intimate, and he didn’t want the type of closeness that mere act conjured in my mind.

“Why are you here?” My eyes returned hard. “You had a room in Delaware.”

There was a silent pause. Only the sounds of the sprayers, Keyshia Cole, and my pulse could be heard. Ezra’s pools of chocolate were piercing into the weak façade of annoyance I tried to muster. I didn’t understand him. What was going on underneath the mask? What was he reading? I damn sure knew when he channeled my arousal. It was when his head slanted, bushy brows nearly met and nostrils flared as his eyes perused my naked frame that gave a clue. But when his tongue appeared, meeting his right canine and brushed all the way to the left one, it was a clear sign of the beast rearing.

My breathing turned heavy, and suddenly I could no longer hide my anxiety of the mask he chose when in this state.

“You never answered my question,” I noted breathlessly.

“The room would’ve been stale. And besides, I have a bedroom here at home that is far more inviting than it ever has been.” His head shook back and forth briefly, seemingly to clear itself. “Why don’t you believe you’re mine, Alexis?”

My face wrinkled. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re up at this late hour, washing your hair.” He stepped closer to me. “You’re upset, beloved. And I know the surface of it is because of your lack of employment, but the root of your ill-disposition is that you don’t believe you’re mine to care for until the tide changes for you.” He’s now so close, the fabric of his shirt reached my hard nipples. 

I rolled my eyes, not in the mood to argue again about not being okay with living off a man. A virtual stranger.

I exhaled, frustrating emotions that he’d distracted me from began rolling back in. “Listen, you don’t—”

My rebuttal was quieted by his tongue pushing into my mouth. My body was lifted from the floor and pushed into the wall while he pulled my thighs around his small waist. When he was this close, not giving me my own air to breathe, he weakened my will and turned my resolve into mush. My arms acted on their own by pulling him into me. His broad shoulders that were wider than his hips, reminded me of his powerful build. The whiskers of his full beard saturating under the shower as he ground his solidness into my naked frame.

Ezra yanked my head by pulling my hair from behind and bit harshly into my neck. I moaned, melting into the roughness of his touch. His thumb found my clit and rubbed feverishly while he sucked on my nipple. My head immobile from his tight clutch of my hair behind me, alerted me of being bound for him to have his way with my body. A body that now craved him, oddly yielding to his rough play. His aggressive approach. I began feeling the familiar flutters and thrust into his hand to chase my release. Ezra’s mouth was fast and rough, demanding mine. And the moment I felt my release, his thumb stopped and his thick wide crown drove into me.

“
Ohhhhhh!
” I screamed at the first intrusive breach.

Ezra didn’t stop or slow to let me welcome him. He plunged into me with brute force. I opened my eyes trying to gain his and that’s when I realized my husband was fucking me. He wasn’t gentle or loving. Ezra was hard and demanding. He was staking a claim. And just when I decided I would fight against it, my orgasm tipping me urgently.

“Oh, fuck!” I screamed, feeling my sex quiver and liquidate all at once. “Permission to come, sir!”

“Mouth, Alexis!” he barked as he bucked into me, slapping into my pelvis causing it to thrust into the air. “You wait! I’m not ready. Oh, baby, you feel so good!” he howled lowly.

And shit! That slip of vulnerability worked against me. I tried holding it off, my thighs tensing painfully around him, my body heating from the strain. I bit my bottom lip using the pain to chase the threat of bliss away.
But Goddamn, Ezra!
I needed to let it go. I don’t know how long I was able to hold out, but I did.

That was until he grunted so low I was hardly able to hear, “Now, kitten. Come now.”

My thighs relaxed and mouth went slack. I moaned throughout the entire ride of my orgasm, the wails of Keyshia being drowned out by the magical bliss of cresting. Ezra released my hair from behind and covered my lips once again with his own, quieted my moans as he jutted his release inside of me, stifling his own groans. My heart was still beating out of my chest when he slowed and eventually stopped grinding into me. Chest to chest, Ezra’s face burrowed into my neck as I clutched his head, his breath just as ragged.

“You’re not the only one with emotional needs,” he rasped. “Do you know why it was so important for you to learn how to come for me?”

Panting with my head pushed back against the tile and eyes closed, my neck rolled while I bit my bottom lip. Damn, the tingles from the most distant places of my skin. Parts I had no idea had nerve receptors, undulated with fizzling electrical impulses.

“Because there’s significance in climaxing. There’s a power exchange, particularly for women. A woman, typically, has to be totally relaxed with you to give in to an orgasm. She has to have a level of confidence, either in her own sexuality or yours, to let go.” My one eye burst open at that. Ezra continued directly in my ear. “It was clear you hadn’t reached that place with your sexuality yet, so there was my perfect opportunity to guide you there. Orgasms make you vulnerable. When you’re coming, you’re releasing, not only because of me, but
for
me. For those brief and blissful moments, you’re giving me full submission of your most exposed self.”