13. Ezra
Chapter 13
Ezra
I 'm leaning against the cool, polished surface of Atticus' grand piano when they finally emerge from his office. The door clicks shut, its sound barely audible over the hum of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lemon's got a flushed look to her cheeks, like she's just sealed a deal with the devil himself. And I suppose she has. Atticus can be persuasive as hell.
"Well, now that business is done," I start off, pushing away from the piano and sauntering toward them, my smirk growing wider by the second, "let's go eat."
Lemon blinks, surprise flickering across her face. She's still caught up in whatever shark-infested waters she’s been navigating. "Eat?" Her voice quivers slightly, a subtle tremor betraying her confusion. "I thought—I mean, aren't we...?"
"Yeah, you know, food. Sustenance," I chuckle, closing the distance between us. My words are light, playful, but there's an edge to them. "Come on, bellezza. We're not animals. There's more to us than that."
She hesitates, looking between me and Atticus, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. Her dark, wavy hair frames her face perfectly, but it does little to hide the uncertainty in her striking eyes. How the fuck did such a beguiling thing fall into my lap?
"But I…what kind of place? I’ll need to cha—" she starts, clearly bewildered by our sudden shift from the intensity of what just occurred in Atticus’ office.
"One of my favorites," I interrupt smoothly. "You'll love it. Trust me and no, you don’t need to change unless you absolutely want to. Remember what I said? Whatever you wear is the damn dress code." My grin widens as I see her internal debate play out right in front of me. I’ve thrown her off balance once again and it’s adorable.
Atticus steps forward, his imposing figure looming like a reminder. "Lemon," he says, his voice deep and controlled, "you agreed to the deal."
Her eyes lock onto his, and for a moment, it’s like the world stops spinning. The air grows thick with tension and possibility. She nods slowly but doesn’t look away.
"So we’re going to eat," Atticus continues, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Unless you’re already considering disobeying me? We can add to your punishment." His tone is teasing but carries an underlying promise of consequences that I love. I love when the consequences of my actions catch up to me.
"No," she rushes out, shaking her head vehemently. Her naivety shines through as she straightens up, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "No, I’ll come."
"Good girl," I murmur under my breath as I move toward the elevator that will whisk us away from the penthouse.
"Let's get out of here then," Atticus says, his tone commanding yet playful. He places a hand on Lemon's lower back, guiding her toward the door.
"I think we’ll go to Cedar and Stone." I suggest as I push the lobby floor button.
Lemon's brows knit together in confusion. "Your restaurant?" she asks, confusion thick in her voice.
"Yeah, babygirl." I wink at her, savoring her puzzled expression. "I want to surprise you. Remember that dish you wanted to try when I cooked for you that first night? I'm dying to see your reaction."
Her eyes widen, lips parting slightly. For a moment, she's speechless. I relish the sight of Lemon Vaughn at a loss for words.
"Wait, you remember that?" she finally manages to say, her voice tinged with disbelief.
"Of course I do," I reply, leaning in close and catching a whiff of her. "I remember everything about you."
"Careful, lemon drop," Atticus chimes in, his tone unusually playful. He places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Don't fall for his playboy ways. Ezra's full of surprises and he’s a damn brat."
"Fuck off, Atticus," I shoot back, unable to suppress a laugh. "You're just jealous because you didn't think of it first. Not all of us want to be glorified cavemen all the time."
"Hardly," he retorts, but there's a glint in his eye that suggests I’m going to pay for that.
"Okay, can we not? I’d like to eat sometime before midnight," Lemon says, trying to hide her growing smile.
"You’ll be eating something before midnight alright," I say, taking her hand again. Her skin is like silk under my fingers. I can feel the pulse quicken in her wrist, matching the beat of my own heart .
We step out into the cool afternoon air. Car horns, distant chatter, the occasional siren all reach our ears. Fuck, I love this city. It never sleeps, and it fills my well.
"Trust me, you're going to love this place," I say as we walk toward the street, keeping her close and between the two of us.
"Ezra," she murmurs, her voice almost lost in the urban symphony. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to," I reply simply, and it’s true. Why wouldn’t I give her something she’s always wanted to try?
"Don't let him fool you, Lemon. He’s buttering you up. He’s playing at being the good guy," Atticus adds, moving to step behind us for a moment. His presence is a comforting weight, his hand brushing against mine in a silent show of solidarity.
"He's right," I admit, not missing a beat. "But food is life. Food is sex. Food is a gateway and you’ll need all the energy from a good meal if you want to deal with him and I."
"I’m not going to lie. That sounds just a little bit terrifying." She glances between Atticus and me, her eyes wide with curiosity and fear.
"Thrilling isn’t it though?" I ask, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Now let's get moving before I decide to ravish you right here in the street."
"You’re just a ravishing rogue," she teases, finally breaking out of her innocent spell, but I can see the flush rising to her cheeks. I can’t wait to see her blush on every inch of her body.
Atticus signals, and almost immediately, a sleek, black town car pulls up to the curb. The driver steps out and opens the door for us.
"Ladies first," I say with a wink, motioning for Lemon to get in.
She hesitates for a split second before climbing into the car. Atticus follows her, and I circle to the other side and get in. The backseat is surprisingly snug for a luxury vehicle, forcing our bodies close together.
"There's not enough room," Lemon notes, her voice tinged with a hint of anxiety as she tries to find a comfortable position between us.
"One of you is going to need to sit on my lap," Atticus says, his tone unusually playful but commanding all the same.
"The hell I will," I retort with a grin. "If I sit there, I'm gonna want more than just a g-rated seat."
Lemon's eyes widen in shock, but before she can respond, Atticus' strong hands wrap around her waist and effortlessly haul her onto his lap. She gasps, her short frame eclipsed by his imposing one.
"There we go," Atticus murmurs, his lips grazing her ear. "Much better, but I wouldn’t say no if you want to ride my dick like Ezra just inferred."
Lemon lets out a nervous laugh, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her top. "I'm too heavy for this. Really, you both can sit here, and I'll just go up front."
Atticus growls low in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Rule number one: stop bringing up your weight as if it's a negative. It isn't."
I lean in closer, my warm breath tickling her neck as I whisper, "You had no issue sitting on my lap the other night at the club, remember? So stop talking disparagingly about yourself."
Her cheeks flush with color at the memory, and she huffs in exasperation. "You guys are impossible."
"As we continue," Atticus says, "you’ll see that being with us means dropping those latent insecurities that creep up. You're perfect just the way you are."
His hand starts trailing lazy circles on her hip, his touch possessive. It’s mesmerizing to watch how she responds to him. Her body softening against his touch.
I slide closer until our thighs touch, my hand resting casually on Lemon's knee. "You good, now?" I ask, observing her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.
She nods but doesn't speak, seemingly overwhelmed by us. Just how we want her.
Ten minutes go by and I’m forced to shift in my seat because I can feel myself growing hard in my jeans.
"Atticus, I swear if you don't stop looking at me like that, we're going to have a problem," I say, my lips curling into a smirk.
"Is that so?" he replies, his tone dripping with mock innocence. His eyes lock onto mine, daring me to make a move. "What kind of problem are we talking about?"
"One where I can't guarantee we'll make it inside the restaurant before things get complicated," I shoot back, letting my voice dip into a husky growl. Lemon's gaze flicks between us, her cheeks flushing as she catches the undercurrent in our words.
"You see how he’s always so impulsive," Atticus murmurs, drawing closer. His hand brushes against my arm, sending a jolt of electricity through me. "You know better."
"You love it when I'm impatient," I retort.
"True," he concedes, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "But today, let's focus on getting Lemon dialed in, shall we?"
"Fine, fine," I mutter, though my mind is already shifting gears as we pull up to Cedar and Stone.
As we step into the restaurant, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. Warm light washes over us, casting everything in a golden hue. The clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation envelop us, making the outside feel like a different world.
"Wow," Lemon breathes, her eyes wide as she takes in the elegant surroundings. "This place is amazing, Ezra."
"If I’m going to do something, it’s going to be the best," I reply, guiding her further inside. The scent of roasted garlic and fresh herbs fills the air, mingling with the aroma of wine.
"Let's go to our table," Atticus suggests. "You two can keep flirting your asses off there."
The ambiance shifts as we move deeper into the restaurant, the dim lighting casting a sensual glow over our faces. It's the kind of place where secrets can stay hidden.
"Excellent choice, pet," Atticus murmurs, his voice low and approving. His hand lingers on Lemon's lower back, sending a jolt of possessiveness through me. I want to be both Lemon and Atticus at this moment. It’s exhausting being me. Whoever said being a switch is the best of both worlds conveniently forgets to tell you about wanting both at the same time.
"Only the best for you," I reply, sliding into the round booth on one side of Lemon. Our legs brush under the table, and I reach out to grip her soft, meaty thigh underneath her thin black leggings.
"Don't tease her too much, Ezra," Atticus warns, his gaze flickering between us.
"Who said anything about teasing?" I counter, my fingers trailing up Lemon's leg and to her side. Her breath hitches, and I can't help but grin. "I'm all about delivering."
"So you keep saying," she murmurs, her lips curling into a seductive smile. Before I can respond, a server approaches our table, her presence barely noticeable until she's right beside us.
"Good evening, Mr. Stratton, Mr. Reid, and ma’am," she greets, her voice smooth and professional. "Are we ready to order?"
I nod, my gaze lingering on Lemon's flushed cheeks. "Ponzu tofu poke bowl for the lady," I start, my voice prideful as I see her eyes widen in recognition.
Turning to face Lemon directly, I ask, "Will it bother you if we eat meat in front of you?"
She shakes her head quickly, a small smile playing on her lips. "No, it doesn't bother me at all. I don't judge others for what they eat."
"Perfect," I declare, flashing her a knowing grin before turning back to the server. "I'll have the Halibut Cedar special, Norah. Shall I take charge and order for you as well?" I say the last part while smirking at Atticus.
Atticus raises an eyebrow at my forwardness, but doesn't miss a beat. "I think you’d be hard-pressed to give the reins back." His tone is laced with challenge.
I lean back into the plush seat, smirking. "I’d enjoy you putting me back in my place."
Atticus chuckles before addressing the server. "I'll have the Wagyu filet mignon, medium rare."
The server scribbles down our orders and nods before disappearing into the sea of tables and softly whispered conversations. The air is rich with indulgence and pleasure.
Atticus shifts his attention to us with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He leans forward, the ambient lighting casting shadows across his chiseled features. His voice comes out low and commanding as he speaks .
"Ezra," he starts, eyes never leaving mine. "I want you to find out just how wet my lemon drop is."
Lemon's eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. The tension at the table increases, anticipation and arousal the only thing I can feel.
I swallow hard, my hand trembling slightly as I reach for Lemon. Atticus edges closer, his presence overpowering.
Slowly, I slide my hand up her thigh once more, feeling her heat through the thin fabric of her leggings. She's already wet; I can feel the dampness seeping through as my fingers graze her most intimate place.
Atticus' voice cuts through the haze like a knife. "That's not what I said to do," he reprimands. His hand clamps around mine, strong and unyielding as he guides me to cup Lemon's center firmly over her leggings. The tips of my fingers brush against the soaked material, teasingly close, but not quite there.
"Do it right or crawl under the table and stay there for the rest of the meal," he orders, his grip tightening on my hand until I'm sure it will leave marks before he moves and rests it casually on the table once more.
I take a shaky breath and nod, understanding perfectly well that disobedience isn't an option. My other hand slips beneath the tablecloth as I gently maneuver Lemon's legs further apart and the soft fabric of her leggings stretches taut.
My fingers trace the waistband of her leggings before sneaking underneath, brushing against the smooth skin beneath. She inhales sharply, her hips instinctively lifting toward my touch. My fingertips glide over the damp fabric of her panties, feeling the heat radiating from her core.
"Damn," I mutter under my breath, unable to contain the awe in my voice. "She's soaked through already." Atticus' eyes darken with satisfaction.
I hook my fingers into the waistband and slowly pull Lemon's panties up so it nestles between the lips of her pussy. The action causes Lemon to gasp audibly, her hands clutching the edge of the table for support. Her eyes close momentarily as she surrenders to the sensation. I slick my fingers through her folds, gathering her wetness and smearing them across her lower lips.
With slowness, I let my fingers explore her swollen folds, feeling how they part eagerly under my touch. Her juices coat my fingers instantly, making the fabric cling even more to her sensitive skin.
"Look how soaking wet you are," I murmur, pulling her panties up even more. The thin fabric becomes an instrument of pleasure and torment as it rubs against her sensitive flesh.
Lemon whimpers softly, biting down on her lip to stifle any louder noises that might draw attention from nearby tables. Yet, there's no mistaking the way she moves against my hand, pushing herself further into me.
Turning my head just enough to catch Atticus' gaze. "She's dripping for us."
Atticus leans back, clearly enjoying the show.
"Is she now?" Atticus' voice is smooth, something dark lingering in his tone. He leans back in the booth, eyes never leaving mine as he instructs, "Now, slip those pretty fingers of yours inside her."
My breath hitches and I obey. I slide two fingers into Lemon’s cunt, feeling her inner walls contract around me. She's so tight and warm, it takes everything I have not to groan aloud. Lemon's hips jerk involuntarily forward, a soft moan escaping her lips as I start to move my fingers inside her.
"Easy," Atticus murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic. "Tease her. Make her beg for it."
I start with slow, deliberate movements, barely moving my fingers in and out of her as I explore the slick heat within. Lemon's breathing grows ragged; she's on the cusp already. Every time I brush against that sweet spot inside her, she gasps and trembles. Her hands clutch the table so hard that her knuckles turn white.
"Ezra," she breathes out, her voice trembling with need.
But before I can satisfy that need, Atticus' hand closes around my wrist again. "Not yet," he commands softly. His blue eyes meet mine. "Bring her to the edge."
I nod, biting back my own frustration as I continue tormenting Lemon with feather-light touches and shallow thrusts of my fingers. Her body quivers beneath my touch; she's so close. The scent of her arousal hangs thick.
“Fuck, she feels so good.”
"That's right," he murmurs, his eyes flashing with possessive delight. "Make her squirm for us."
"Fuck," Lemon breathes out in a broken whisper, her eyes locking onto mine. Her pupils are blown wide with lust and need.
"Patience," Atticus admonishes softly, his own arousal evident in the way his gaze never leaves Lemon's writhing form. He reaches out and gently cups her chin, forcing her to look at him instead. "Do you feel how good Ezra's fingers are?”
Lemon's voice trembles as she nods, her breaths coming out in short, needy gasps. "Yes…yes, I feel it."
"Good," Atticus replies, satisfaction coloring his tone. "Remember this feeling. Hold on to it. "
I continue my slow ministrations, my fingers curling just enough to elicit another soft moan from her, relishing in the way her body responds. Every tremble and clench around me only fuels my own arousal.
"Ezra," Lemon whines, her need palpable, "please..."
Atticus' grip on my wrist tightens momentarily before releasing. "Stop."
It takes every ounce of self-control not to disobey. I reluctantly pull my fingers out of her, feeling the cool air replace the warm slickness that had enveloped them. Lemon's eyes flash with frustration and longing. She opens her mouth to protest, but only a whine comes out. A cute little whimper escaping from between her lips in desperation.
I bite my lip hard to keep my own whine suppressed, the taste of copper coating my tongue. The need to continue touching her is almost unbearable.
Atticus notices this immediately, his eyes shifting from Lemon to me. His expression softens marginally as he says, "Good boy, for your reward you can taste her off your fingers.”
My heart pounds as I bring my fingers, glistening with Lemon's essence, up to my lips. Her scent is enthralling. I take my time, drawing each finger into my mouth slowly, savoring the taste.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter between licks. "She's…she's like honeyed peaches. Warm, ripe, and dripping."
Lemon's blush deepens; her green eyes flicker away in shy embarrassment, but I can see the desire still in them. She tries to look anywhere but at me as Atticus watches with an approving smirk.
“Tangy.” I swirl my tongue around another finger, closing my eyes briefly. “And earthy. Like a wildflower after the rain.”
Atticus leans back in his chair, his gaze darkening with lust as he watches me. "You enjoy that too much," he says coolly, though the hunger in his voice betrays him.
"She deserves it," I shoot back, licking the last of her off my fingers. "And so do we."
Lemon's breathing hitches at my words. She's trembling slightly, her body still on edge from our earlier teasing.
Before anyone can say more, Norah returns with our food. She sets down plates before us with practiced grace. I’m about to thank her when she interrupts.
"Excuse me, Mr. Stratton," she says softly, her eyes lingering on me a moment too long. She discreetly hands me a folded note, whispering, "A customer asked me to deliver this to you."
"Interesting," I mutter, my curiosity piqued.
I unfold the note, my eyes darting over the words.
What the fuck.