Chapter 8 #4
“Do you know that ladybugs are considered a sign of good luck, and some say they grant patience and fewer burdens?”
“Don’t believe in luck, nor in superstitions.”
“What do you believe in, then?” I ask as the ladybug finally starts walking on my finger. She is so pretty and small.
Ezra stares at it with a critical eyebrow. “My own inner strength.”
His responses always make me pause and reflect. He believes in himself. That’s deep. The little beetle decides to fly away, and I purse my lips as it disappears. It’s too cold for it outside, I hope it’ll find a warm place to rest.
“Cute.” I think I hear him muttering. But when I look at him his eyes are on me, not the disappearing beetle.
He takes his place on the bike and passes me the helmet.
We ride a short distance. The restaurant he stops at has valet parking and a doorman who lets us in to the hostess desk.
She gazes at us for a little too long, then checks for our reservation on her tablet and escorts us to our table.
The atmosphere is sophisticated—stylish lighting, luxurious white-and-gray furnishings, champagne linen tablecloths, and small floral centerpieces in high vases.
The tables are generously spaced, creating a quiet, intimate setting for the customers.
“Would you like to give me your jackets?”
While I’m unbuttoning mine, I see her reaching out for Ezra’s shoulders with a sugary smile and a lustful gaze.
I react before I can think better of it.
I slap her hand away. She yanks it back and holds it close to her chest. Her brown eyes flicker between us as I beg my brain to find something to say.
Ezra does first. “Do refrain from touching me.” Is he grinning? “My boyfriend is possessive.”
She nods, staring at us as if we are a couple of weirdos, and maybe we are. Ezra hands her our jackets as she finally finds her voice. “A waiter will come shortly.”
Ezra grabs my hand and drags me away from the table and toward the bathroom. I can’t see his face; is he angry? Was he faking a smile in front of the hostess?
“I-I don’t know why I did it,” I try to explain. “I just didn’t want her hands on you. I’m-m sorry…I…”
He pushes the bathroom door and doesn’t stop until we are inside one of the stalls, and I hear the click of the door lock.
I’m shoved against the wall, his lips devouring my mouth, his hands palming and molding my ass as his cock rubs against mine. My leg hooks on his hip as his mouth moves on my neck.
“What did I say about apologizing?” His fingers find my nipple through the sweater and pinch it hard, making me scream.
“Stop. There are people outside.”
“Can’t fucking stop. Seeing you all possessive toward me made me so damn hard.”
Oh gods, if he keeps stroking against me, I’m going to come.
“Ezra, please.” This restaurant is too high-end for sex.
His hand slides inside my pants, grabbing my ass cheek. “Bathroom sex is one of your fantasies, don’t you want to make it real?” His gruff voice rumbles in my ear.
Fuck yes, I do. But…
“How do you know about my dirty fantasies?” My body turns rigid as I wait for his reply.
He lifts his head and, looking straight into my eyes, he replies, “I read your diary.”
My diary? I feel a flame of embarrassment reaching my neck and spreading to my cheeks and the top of my head.
“Those were my most intimate thoughts.” It was for therapy, to help me give my emotions a concrete form in order to confront them.
I feel his body pressing me even further into the stall wall, as if he’s expecting me to run.
“That’s why I read it. I needed to know what you were thinking and feeling, your desires and fears. I still need to know, Sully.”
“No shit! I’m so embarrassed,” I whisper, avoiding his piercing eyes. He’s so infuriatingly shameless.
He pulls my head back and hisses right on my lips. “I fucking savored every single word you wrote. I jerked off every fucking day remembering your dirty dreams about me.”
“You did?” The thought of Ezra beating off while imagining me makes my heart miss a beat and my pulse race.
His hips are rocking slowly and forcibly against mine. “I will make all of them come true, Little Chick.” His deep voice sounds so tempting, compelling.
I let out a moan. Still, I can’t let this go. “Promise me you won’t read it anymore.”
“I won’t if you tell me yourself. You are mine, Sully, your thoughts, your dreams, your desires all belong to me.”
I still don’t want him to read them. But I do want to keep turning my fantasies into reality and I don’t know if I’m bold enough to actually describe them to him. Maybe letting him read my diary isn’t such a bad idea. No. What am I thinking? His nearness is confusing me. I feel so horny.
“Take me home,” I plead. “I want to scream your name when I come.” I try to use his obsession in my favor.
“Fuck!” he cusses. When he looks at me again, I know I won. Or did I? Wasn’t taking me straight home his plan from the start?
My stomach chooses that moment to grumble. “Can we grab some takeout?” I hazard. “The food smells so good here.”
He mutters something that sounds like, “I’m losing my fucking mind.” Before letting me down.
I can see how hard it is for him to put my desires before his but he still does it. Ezra can’t love me, but strangely, he makes me feel loved.
I gently run my fingers along his stubble and let my hand drop back to my side as I promise myself I’ll show him how grateful I am tonight.
“Crawl to me.” Ezra’s commanding voice makes me tremble all over with excitement and a light hint of anxiety.
He wasn’t bluffing when he said he’d make my kinky fantasies come true.
Because here I am naked, wearing a full-body leather harness, with a choker around my neck and handcuffs on my wrists.
It barely covers me from my neck to my thighs, where it ends in leg garters.
Belts are crossing my back and torso—emphasizing my pecs, groin, and ass—with chains and metal rings.
Did I bite off more than I can chew?
I look at him from the threshold of the bedroom.
And gods, he’s so hot sitting naked on the bed, legs spread, cock jutting proudly, wide chest out.
He is the embodiment of lust. His darkened, penetrating gaze is eating me alive, like he wants to lick me from head to toe, taste my flesh, and chew on my bones.
And I’m melting like a bar of butter under the sun.
“Come to me on your hands and knees, Little Chick.” His demanding tone is a bolt of lightning, zapping right down my spine. This is turning out more intense than I expected, but everything always is with Ezra.
My belly grows hot as I slowly drop to the wooden floor. It feels hard under my knees as I start crawling. My arms feel a little shaky. The leather belts around my thighs and back pull against my skin, making a crinkling sound as I keep moving.
“Fuck, you are a vision.” His growly voice makes me freeze for a moment.
I gaze up at him, and from my lower position, he looks like a sexy, powerful king, waiting to dominate me.
I don’t know when he bought this harness or how he knew my size, but I love it.
I feel so kinky and empowered, seeing how aroused he is right now.
“I’ll hold off on the pain, because that’s not what you want.” I nod at his words. “What you want is to hand over the control of your body and mind to me, to feel overpowered and owned.”
He must have re-read my diary countless times since he’s using my exact words.
I still feel a little annoyed by the invasion of privacy—of the hidden, deepest part of me—but at the same time, relieved by his total acceptance of me, turned on by his desire to make my fantasies come true, and nervous about failing my own expectations.
But he is right, all I want right now is to stop thinking all together and give myself to him.
I close the distance between us and reach his legs.
My hands land on his knees as I push my torso up.
The light hair tickles my palms as he spreads his legs wider.
My mouth goes dry, and I feel momentarily stunned.
I bite my lower lip. I can’t help but stare at his cock, the head shining with precum.
He groans, eyes on my lips. “I’ll pump every one of your holes full of cum and spit tonight,” he whispers, bending down.
The fire in my veins is turning my skin blazing hot.
His head is coming down, and I close my eyes, expecting a kiss, but Ezra grabs my wrists instead and pulls them behind my back.
He ties the leather handcuffs together securing them over my ass on a chain and then pulls on the ring dangling off the choker around my neck. I fall forward, face on his hard shaft.
“Such a cock-hungry little chick.” His smirk turns into a wicked one. “Now, suck it like you’re starving for my cum,” he growls possessively.
I push back, but it’s hard to find my balance in this position with my hands restrained behind my back. Did I really fit all of him in my mouth yesterday? It was brief; he didn’t actually let me blow him properly, and that’s what I want to do this time. But are unskilled blowjobs still good?
I move my legs a little until I feel steady on them, and then lower my face.
Without my hands, I can’t pull it toward me, so I lick the head first, tasting his salty precum, and then take it into my mouth.
My tongue twirls around it as I suck at the same time.
It fills my mouth, hard and smooth, delicious.
My own cock is dripping as I take more of him inside, bobbing my head, encouraged by his low grunts.
My mind is clouding from the intoxicating mix of Ezra’s intimate scent and flavor.
I want more. My head goes further down, welcoming more inches inside.
I work slow and steady until I get all of that hot column of flesh down my throat.
I halt and squeeze the muscles around it, enjoying his loud hissing.