3. Ezrah
Ezrah
3
I’m floating in an endless sea of pleasure. There is no ground beneath me to hold me up, only strong sure hands running up and down my sides, like waves lapping at my skin. I squirm in impatience, reaching out to pull him against me. He’s already on top of me, our bodies pressing against each other. We are as close as we can possibly be, but I need more.
My hands clutch at every inch of skin I can touch, drinking him in like I am dying of thirst.
“Slow down,” Lucas whispers against my ear. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”
I drop back to the bed with a desperate moan.
“Good boy,” he smirks, hands still running up and down my ribs, soothing down my sides like I’m a skittish animal.
Then his lips are on mine, soft, gentle, like the sun on a warm day. His breath fills me with life. Lucas moves to pull away, but my lips chase after his, desperate for just one more taste.
He chuckles, pressing our lips together one last time before he works his way down my neck. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
His hand comes to tangle with mine, a grounding anchor in the stormy sea of pleasure tossing me about.
Each careful caress of his lips against my skin, each rough scratch of stubble leaves a chain of fire in his wake. Burning embers of pleasure light me to my core, running across my skin and leaving me hard and aching.
It isn’t enough. I’m starving and Lucas is the first meal I’ve seen in months. I wrap my arms around him, urging him down to my aching cock, but he just laughs.
I tighten my grip, silently begging him to stay where he is, but he pulls away. “Ezrah,” he sighs. My name sounds like a holy word coming from his lips. “What did I just say?”
“Maybe if you did more than just tease me,” I grumble, hiding my face in the pillows.
“Why the rush?” one of his hands strokes my thigh. “We’ve got all day.”
I growl, rolling so I was on top of him. “Some of us don’t have the patience to wait all day for something that’s right in front of us!”
“Ezrah-” I cut him off with a kiss.
I pour every ounce of passion and need I can into it. One of his hands comes up to tangle in my hair, his nails scratching gently at the scalp.
I lean into the touch, as my hands touch every inch of skin I can find.
It’s like he was carved from marble. Every inch of him is smooth muscle. My palms trace the firm planes of his chest before one comes to rest over his heart.
It sends a thrill through me to feel his heart pounding as hard and desperately as mine.
“I need you inside me yesterday,” I pant against his skin.
“Now who’s being a tease?” he runs his hand along the back of my leg before giving my ass a firm squeeze.
“Please,” I beg, spreading my legs wider.
“I’ve got you.” He breathes against my ear. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”
His large strong hands hold me open and exposed before a single well-slicked finger strokes at my entrance.
I can’t wait any longer, and I press back, pushing his finger inside me.
“Slowly,” Lucas chides, his free hand playing along my dick.
“Fuck slow. I want you now. Give me another.”
He shakes his head, but he does as I ask.
I moan, aching for more of him as I fuck myself on his fingers. Lucas is only moving occasionally to curl them so they rub inside me just right. It’s not long before I’m begging for a third.
Even less time between that, and me forcing myself to pull off him completely.
“Please will you get inside me now?.”
Lucas smiles, pulling me in for a deep, consuming kiss. I feel the velvet steel of his cock pressing against me before sliding in, in, in.
I knew he was big, but feeling him inside of me is almost too much. He stretches me far more than his fingers, pressing surely inside of me, hot and unyielding. My thighs shake with the effort of holding myself still.
His hands trace along my thighs, lips brushing against my ear, whispering disjointed words of praise.
When I’m sure I can take it, I start to move, small grinding motions, rubbing his cock against my prostate.
I moan, throwing my head back. It feels like his hands are everywhere all at once, tracing my thighs, stroking my back, caressing my chest.
Everywhere but where I need them. “Please,” I beg. “Please touch me.”
“I am touching you, baby. If you need something else, you’re going to have to be more specific.”
I whine. “But you know what I want.”
“Maybe, but I still want to hear you say it.”
“Please,” I move desperately, hips faltering as I try to move his hands where I want them.
When that doesn’t work, I move to take matters into my own hands.
Lucas catches my wrist, pinning my hands as he grinds into me “None of that.”
“Then do it yourself!”
Lucas grins like he’s won something before releasing my wrists and pulling me in for a kiss. “I’d hoped you’d ask nicer than that, but I’ll take what I can get.”
It only takes a few strokes before I came with a cry-
I wake up with a start, jerking straight up in bed. My eyes immediately dart to the wall between our rooms, as if he could somehow know. Did I talk in my sleep? I didn't, right?
Oh my god, what if I talked in my sleep?
I shake my head. I do not have time to spiral now. Besides, I'd know if I talked in my sleep, I think, climbing out of bed. I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way he knows.
It was just a dream. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't even about him and his big brown eyes and his full lips and-
The only reason it was even happening is because it's been too long since I’ve gotten laid. Now, I’m acting like some teenager over a pretty face. I just need to give it a few days for him to show his true colors, then I’ll be over it.
Whether or not I finish myself off in the shower while thinking of absolutely no one in particular is between me and God.
All that matters is by the time I’m done getting dressed, I’m ready to face Lucas and his big strong hands that I definitely don’t want on my body, holding me close, caressing my skin-
The second I step into the kitchen, my hair stands on end, suspicion filling my every cell. There Lucas is, humming along to some top 40’s shit, and doing a little dance while he does something that looks an awful lot like making pancakes. The only thing he’s missing is a frilly little apron.
Even more infuriating is the way he occasionally pauses to give Beatrice belly rubs, only to pull back, skin still completely intact.
I narrow my eyes. She’s never let me anywhere near her belly.
Lucas does a little shimmy as he turns around to put a plate on the table and our eyes meet. He freezes.
“Ezrah! Good morning. Did you, uh, sleep well?” he blushes, a wide smile blooming on his face.
How can someone as big as him blush? And why is it cute?
“Fine,” I take my normal seat at the table, forcing my face into a glare. “You seem to have made yourself at home.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been up for a while. Usually, I go for a run, but well, since, you know,” he gestures in a way he probably thinks means something.
I frown.
“I thought I’d make you breakfast instead! You didn’t have much, but I found some pancake mix and-”
I cut off his babbling which definitely isn’t at all endearing, crossing my arms. “Why did you make me breakfast?”
He shrugs, a soft smile on his face. “Yesterday was a lot and we didn’t finish dinner last night. I know you’ve got a big day today, so I wanted to make sure you got something to eat. I just thought we should start on a good note.”
My frown deepens. “How do you know I have a big day?”
He laughs. “You gave us a copy of your schedule for the next few weeks when you hired us, remember?”
Right. I hired him. He’s only doing this to be a good employee. That’s why he’s making me breakfast. It must be part of the job description I forgot about. I look away. “Whatever, thanks I guess.”
Looking at his smile feels like looking at the sun, so I don’t, instead focusing on the wall behind him.
“I’m glad you like it. I’m going to go get dressed. Eat up!” He moves to leave the room, squeezing my shoulder as he goes.
“You’re not eating?” Not that I care. Not that my shoulder was still tingling where he touched.
He shrugs. “Like I said, I’ve been up for a while, but I’d be happy to stay if you want company.” He has a chair pulled out to sit back down before I can respond.
“When did I say I wanted company?” I scoff while taking a bite of the pancake. I freeze when the taste hits my tongue and try to school my expression. There’s no way this is just cheap pancake mix. It’s way too good and tastes faintly of apples.
“You didn’t have to. Knowing what you need is part of the job after all.”
Job. I remind myself. I’m just a job. I don’t let myself forget that for a second while we eat. If I don’t make myself remember it will be too easy to believe he cares.
I make him wait in the lobby for the presentation. In the end, it’s the right choice. He doesn’t need to see me get rejected again and again, but his bright, cheerful, and clueless “How did it go?” stings like going in the ocean with an open wound.
“The same way it always does,” I say without stopping to look at him.
He brightens. “So you got it?”
My forehead twitches. I whirl on my feet to face him. I can feel my face twisted into a scowl. “What on earth makes you think that’s how it usually goes?”
He shrugs apologetically. “I searched you last night. You’ve worked on a bunch of things. You seem like you’re really good at your job, so I guess I just assumed these things came easy.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah well, only if I’m willing to ruin my work.”
“Why?”
“Because suits and marketing execs wouldn’t know good storytelling if it bit them on the ass.”
He frowns. “What do they want?”
I cross my arms defensively. “Same thing they always do. They said I can’t call my work a romance if I don’t add a happy ending, but the whole point is love can’t have a happy ending. People just don’t work like that.”
The look he gives me is far too close to pity for my liking. His eyes soften like the caramel center of a chocolate bar, “I don’t think that’s true. I’ve seen people grow love in places where everyone else wished it would wither and die. People can find a happy ending, if they nurture it.”
I sniff. “You sound like someone who’s never had their heart broken. Give it time. You’ll get it.”
Lucas narrows his eyes, getting far closer to me than feels professional. I can feel the heat from his body and willed myself not to lean into it.
“Look, I’m not some innocent kid who doesn’t know how the world works. I’ve seen heartbreak. Had my own broken a few times, but I’ve also seen people so in love it hurts to look at them. I’ve seen people go through awful shit to stay together and come out the other side stronger than either of them thought possible. Someday, I want that for myself, and I know, regardless of what you say, you probably do too.” His face softens more. There’s that look again. Like I’m a stray cat he wants to fatten up and turn into a house pet. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve been through, and I don’t need to. Your past is your business and I won’t pry if you don’t want to talk about it, but I do know you don’t hire a bodyguard for no reason. You deserve to find happiness too, you just need to find the right person. Someone who will treat you right. Someone who deserves you.”
The argument poised in my throat dies. Why does it sound less like he’s telling me and more like he’s offering? All I can focus on are his lips. I wonder if he would kiss as gently as he did in my dream. He was so close. It would be so easy to-
Reality crashes back around me courtesy of my ringtone. I step back with a frown. I don't recognize the number. For a moment fear courses through me. Did Allen get my number somehow?
I shake my head, willing the thought away. Even if he did, it doesn’t matter. He can’t do anything. Lucas is right here.
I let out a breath through my nose. “I’ve got to take this.”
I don’t answer until I put a little space between me and Lucas. Not enough that he can’t listen in if he wants to, but enough that I can imagine I have a little privacy. “Hello?”
“Good afternoon, is this Ezrah McKallas?” a woman asks from the other end. Her voice is friendly but tired.
Still, I can’t say for sure she isn’t somehow involved with Allen. “That depends on who’s calling.”
“I’m Sarah Anderson with Child Services. I’m sure you’ve already heard the news and wanted to see if you would prefer to pick up Delilah or have us drop her off.”
I frown. “What news? Who the hell is Delilah?”
I can hear her fumbling around on the other end. “Oh my. I’m so sorry. This is awkward. Usually, the family would already have informed you and you’d be expecting to hear from me. I was surprised you hadn’t reached out to me first to be honest. I’m sorry to inform you, Jamie McKallas has passed away. She had a daughter, that’s Delilah, and you’re the next of kin. We’d hoped you’d be able to take her in, otherwise, we’ll have to place her in a care home.”
“You mean foster care?”
“I do.”
I shake my head. “No, no, don't do that, I can take her. Give me a day to get everything ready. Can I ask, how did Jamie die? When’s the funeral?”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. McKallas. She passed away last month. The funeral was weeks ago. It just took me a while to find you.”
The phone almost falls from my hand. “That’s- I understand. I can come get her tomorrow. How old is she? Is she alright?”
I can hear the relief in her voice when she answers. “She’s nine months old and she’s beautiful. She’s perfectly healthy. Just in need of a good home and someone to love her.”
“Right, tomorrow. I’ll be there tomorrow. Just tell me where.”
“Perfect, I'll send some more information to your email so you know how to prepare.” She checks that she has the right email, while I stand on the sidewalk with my head spinning.