Chapter 23 #2
The tension he’d just worked out of my back returned.
I placed my right hand on the biggest of the mechanical devices.
Although my first time emptying magic had been the disaster at the forge, Xan had me practicing on smaller objects.
The train flashed into my mind. I couldn’t stop my magic then, but that had also been really complicated.
Warm weight settled on my ass as Ezra ran his hands down my bare sides. “You’ve got this. Control. Unlike my lover, I reward success.”
He kissed my upper back, tongue tracing up to my neck before he nibbled. My already heated clit pulsed.
At this moment, I wanted Ezra’s reward more than anything.
I focused on the object and nudged it with my magic. Instantly, power flowed.
“Breathe,” Ezra whispered in my ear.
I did. The object in my hand glowed as I felt it fill up. It swelled unhappily as I overfilled it, but I cut my magic off before anything broke.
Ezra sucked my earlobe into his mouth and kissed down my back. “Next object.”
“I’ll just wait in the hall,” Mott squeaked.
The door opened and shut, though I was barely aware of it.
I touched a large crystal next. Once again, I let my magic flow before stopping it.
Ezra’s kisses moved farther down my back.
I filled two more objects, and he slid my modesty blanket down to kiss my butt and eased my legs farther apart. My breath caught, and I had to hold back a whimper of need.
“One more,” Ezra’s lust-filled voice sounded like gravel. “You’ve got this.”
I found the last object, a tiny dark crystal, and filled it. As my magic cut off, Ezra’s hand slid between my slick folds to rest on my clit. I bucked, and he placed his other hand on my ass, holding me in place.
Hot pleasure became my world. My heavy breasts pressed into the padding of the massage table.
I was too aware of every piece of skin Ezra slid his free hand over while his other one gently rocked against me.
Moans and cries spilled out of me, getting higher and higher.
He paused to pull my hips up, and I ground down on him before he could lose contact.
Ezra growled, low and feral. “You like this, don’t you, Kitten?”
I did, so much. I rocked and shuddered under his touch. I loved it, but I also wanted more. As if hearing me, one of Ezra’s fingers slipped into my opening and squeezed me from the inside.
That was all it took. My orgasm spilled out of me. I contorted on the table and bucked. My toes curled as I pumped and rode the wave against Ezra’s hand. Slowly, Ezra eased out of me, and I shifted to my side to gaze at his perfect form. His erection threatened to burst out of his pants.
“Let me,” I said.
Ezra shook his head. “I’ve been denying, Quinn. Just give me a moment, and I’ll control it.”
I sat up. “No.”
Before Ezra could move, I was on my knees in front of him. The cold carpet helped ground my still-flushed body. I fumbled with his belt, and he backed up a step. No. I wanted this. I called on my Majekah. His pants disintegrated into spools of cloth and leather strips.
Ezra let out an adorable, surprised squeak I didn’t know he could make.
And my heart raced. His erection filled my view, somehow soft while being unbendingly rigid.
I wasn’t a big fan of porn, but I’d seen enough that I at least knew how to start.
I wrapped my hand around him before nerves could catch.
A cough accompanied another surprised gasp as his erection tightened under my touch. I looked up to see the faintest blush on Ezra’s face. His hands floated above me as if he couldn’t decide what to do with them. It was the most uncomfortable I’d ever seen the man, and I loved it.
Three silver piercings glinted at his base, a dangerous promise of pleasure. My mouth watered. I ran my fingers from top to base again, still marveling at the combination of soft and hard under my fingers. After an experimental pump or two, I licked the tip of his dick.
Salty-sweet pre-cum kissed my taste buds.
Ezra went rigid with a curse, a rough moan ripping out of him as his cock pulsed in my hand.
Heat spilled across my chest in shocking spurts, but all I could think about was him—this unshakable, controlled man unraveling because of a single lick from me.
His breath came ragged as he braced a hand on my head, and pride bloomed in my chest, dizzy and fierce.
He dropped to his knees. “I couldn’t hold back.
” He cupped both my breasts, bringing them together and smearing some of his essence into my cleavage.
“But this…” he trailed off, his gaze memorizing every detail, before he kissed the top of each of my breasts.
“You must come home. Our lives are empty without you.”
My breath caught. Ezra—the man who never bent, never faltered—was on his knees, his seed still warm between my breasts as if he’d marked me.
My chest ached, sharp and unbearable, because for the first time I saw the truth under his control.
Empty without me. The words hollowed me out and filled me at once, a plea I wanted so desperately to believe it hurt to breathe.
“Quinn,” Brit’s voice came through the door. “You in there?”
My moment of awe crumbled in the face of our situation.
She pounded on the door. “That rat Mott’s supposed to be with you. Ravana swore he was trustworthy, but he’s out here, not in there. Quinn, open this door now, or I’ll bust it down.”
“Ah,” I called out, turning bright red. “Give me one moment.”
I managed to pull on Ezra’s shirt seconds before Brit, covered in her Majekah-hardened skin, made good on her threat. Bits of wood and plaster flew into the room. Naked as the day he was born, Ezra stepped in front of me, face-to-face with an enraged Brit.
Brit froze with her fists up. “He’s not supposed to be here.”
Ezra stood tall. “Not leaving.”
Her gaze snapped to me. “Quinn. Do you want him here?”
My chest pounded. “I do. I want him here.”Brit nodded and released her Majekah. Without her moss-green skin, a slight blush stained her cheeks. Her gaze drifted toward Ezra’s dick.
I snorted. “Mine, Brit. Eyes up.”
Brit made a yummy noise before finally looking past Ezra to me. “Then we need a plan. You may want him here, but the Westwaters won’t.”
I sat in the far corner of Ravana’s camp, around a round game table, playing Machiavelli. Of all the things to survive the apocalypse, collectible card games weren’t on my list.
On my left sat Brit. Across from me, Joe, rocking bomber pants and a studded leather vest, desperately attempted to understand the rules. And on my right sat Ezra, who looked nothing like Ezra.
“Stop looking at it,” Ezra mumbled.
I couldn’t. Instead, I reached up, running my fingers through his short, hazelwood-colored hair. Brit had cut it herself, buzzed the sides, and left the top a little longer but still neatly cropped. She called it a High and Tight.
It hadn’t occurred to me that Everly and I had to dress as men, beards and all, because magic couldn’t manipulate the physical. It was energy, and, other than cutting off limbs or encouraging more hair growth, it didn’t affect a person's appearance.
Ezra shivered. “It doesn’t feel right. My whole head feels wrong.”
I’d never cut my hair short, but I lived under its weight every day. Sometimes, it made me hot, so I put it up in a ponytail, which sometimes gave me a headache, so I’d have to change to a braid or put in a hair clip. Long story short, I was always messing with my hair.
Now, Ezra didn’t have any locks to mess with or feel the weight of.
Brit had even trimmed his eyebrows and dyed them to match.
A pair of tiny, stylish specs changed the lighting around his eyes, washing them of their vivid purple.
I expected his darker skin to look lighter with the new hair, but the contrast made it look richer, giving him a dramatic and almost artsy-fartsy appearance.
I needed to find this man a zoot suit, fast.
The thought made me grin, a sharp contrast to the haunted look creeping into Ezra’s eyes.
I cupped Ezra’s cheek, forcing him to look at me. “Have you never cut your hair short before?”
Ezra took a deep breath and put his hand over mine on his cheek. “My slaver kept our heads buzzed, easier to clean. I haven’t cut mine since I took my freedom.”
My heart skipped a beat as the gravity of what he’d done sank in. “Ezra. No. I didn’t. You didn’t need to—"
“I did. And I’d do it again.” Ezra squeezed me. “I want you with me. I don’t dwell on the past. But with my hair gone…” He glanced at Brit, who had her full attention on Joe as she helped him with his cards. “I’ve never felt the urge to open that part of me before. But I want you to know who I am.”
Tears blurred my vision, and I launched myself from my chair into Ezra’s arms. “I want to know you too, Ez.”
The door to the main room burst open, and a group of laughing voices stumbled through. I gave Ezra a peck on the lips and slipped back to my seat. The voices turned into a group of laughing, tan-haired Westwaters with one massive raisin-haired man in their center.
Ravana slipped out from under Silas’s arm and literally pranced over to us. She took one look at our card game and sighed.
“How are you this boring already, kid?” Ravana swept in, cutting me off with a flick of her hand. “Don’t answer; I don’t need an excuse. We’re fixing it. Tell me—did you finally take my advice and get a massage?”
I blushed.
“Oh, look at you blushing!” Ravana crowed, bouncing on her toes. “Didn’t think you’d be brave enough for the happy ending, but good for you. Not like those pricks at the castle ever gave you anything worth smiling about.”
I pointedly did not look at Ezra. “It was a different kind of giving.”
Ravana shook her head. “They shove you into boot camp, work you half to death, and still keep their secrets. Call it what it is. Meanwhile, we spoil you rotten and ask for nothing back. You really are the worst guest.”