Chapter 4 EZRA
I’d been thinking about that tool of destruction for days, weeks, from the first time I saw it.
He pulled his jeans down and there it was that first time, like a thick prize, curved and throbbing.
I could’ve sworn it had its own orbit with the way it pulsed and had me desperate to wrap my lips around the tip, travel down the length of his cock, grow teary eyed from all the gagging but feel the worth of each dribble of rewarding precum he gave me.
The slightest push on the back of my head, followed by his cock spurting nectar down my throat.
It consumed my thoughts, constantly. And right now, seeing him standing there staring, at the bottom of my bed.
There were butterflies in my belly because he was going to stay the night.
This couldn’t be real, but it was everything I’d imagined, him needing me the way I needed him.
But my own mind fought against it, telling me lies.
I wasn’t in the best place to start a relationship—if Jacques were a normal guy that is—but maybe with him, this was the perfect time.
“Are you—”
“Wait,” he said, pressing his fingers to his lips. “I’m not going to go in until I’m satisfied with your body.”
“Satisfied?” I asked in a weak moan. My hole twitched as I clenched hard, rubbing my thighs together. “What do you—”
Once more, his fingers pressed to his mouth, telling me to be quiet.
The last time we’d been here, it was all quick.
He’d positioned me squarely in the middle of the bed and forced my legs into a box split with his hands stretching me out at the ankles.
He’d kissed across my calf, up my thighs, and back again, all the while teasing my hole with a thumb he’d wet with my own saliva.
“I’m taking my time,” he said. “I’m in no rush.”
He might not have been, but I’d been relying on memories of the time we’d spent together to get myself off for the last two weeks. I might’ve even embellished a little on things and the feelings he’d made me feel, but it had all enhanced the rush of adrenaline through me.
Jacques climbed onto the bed, parting my legs, and he pushed them up to their limit.
“You stretched for me?” he asked, moving my legs around.
He kept one of them straight, pulling it upright, parallel against him, the heel of my foot resting below his chest. He kissed the sole then rubbed his hairy chin against it.
I winced up, trying not to show him how much it tickled, and how much I was about to thrash my leg out—it was uncontrollable.
“You’re so soft,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down my leg like I was some type of instrument, and he was playing me so well, even eliciting sounds. My moans and grumbles came out, I couldn’t suppress them. “Since I’m staying over, we can take it really slow.”
I’d practically begged him to stay over.
There was an infectious energy about him, and I’d felt it the first day we met.
I knew he was going to either make the world complete for me, or break it into a thousand pieces I’d never be able to put together again.
“Fuck me,” I begged, it was all I could do, and with his cock brushing against my thigh, those butterflies begged to be turned into a batter inside my stomach, with his thick cock as the whisk of my dreams. I was going to keep begging until he stretched me out again.
“For me, it’s only been a couple of days,” he said, kissing my heel before pressing my leg back, stretching it out in an unbending line of flexibility. I would get my heel up to my head if he pushed a little harder on my thigh, but his hands were so close to my ass, and he didn’t press further.
“Please.” It was all I could offer, except for my entire body which was on a platter for him. I wanted to be taken, to be pulled apart, rearranged, stuck back together, remade from his strong hands like I was playdough.
He finally dipped between my legs, and the moment sent a full body shiver through me.
My back arched up, pressing my ass deeper into the bed.
Jacques thrust his hands beneath my ass, pulling at me to stay still, his tough fingers parting my ass cheeks, acting like I was a peach he could tear in two with the strength of his thumbs.
His fingers, his tongue, he explored me like I was a present, slowly being unwrapped to find the gift inside.
Except, he was going to be the gift inside me.
All those inches—in thickness and length—future wedding vows if I ever needed them.
I was ready to commit myself to this man, who I’d just accused of spying on me.
And he was, but for his own reasons. Reasons that had the fire burning within me for him growing stronger.
“You like that?” he asked, pushing his hands out across my legs, moving them however he pleased because I was his to play with.
Resting them over his shoulders, he ate my ass, cupped both my balls in his mouth, and hummed, sending a bone-shattering vibration right through me.
I almost clamped my knees around his head, not like he’d feel it.
He was working his way up to my dick, pushing the foreskin up then pulling it back, my precum collecting on the tip which he licked clean.
Down and up, down and up, creating more of it.
I had to screw my eyes shut and force my head back into the pillow to keep myself from coming—and I would if he continued to jerk me slowly like that.
His big warm hands felt like they could just tear me apart.
“Don’t be shy now,” he whispered, turning and kissing my inner thigh which was wrapped around his head.
“Come on, Ezra, my little kitten, whimper for me.”
“Please,” I let out, my bottom lip trembling. “Please, Sir. Please can I have a taste now?”
“Mhm, have you been playing with yourself?”
“No,” I lied, whimpering, my lip still uncontrollable.
“Have you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I let out. “I’m sorry. I thought about you every time I touched myself. I promise.”
On his knees, pushing my legs up from around his head where my ankles now were, he leaned across me, stretching me, and it was a good burn.
He pushed on until we were looking at each other.
I stared at him, trying not to breath too heavy.
Testing how far my legs would go, he kissed me.
They could wrap around my head like a pretzel if he tried.
“Good,” he said, the hard sensation of his cock against my ass, teasing me, but it wasn’t ready yet, it needed my lips around it just one time. “Now come work that magic on me.”
I sucked Jacques’s cock with force, taking it deep into the back of my throat, gagging on it until my eyes became watery and I could potentially pass out from lack of oxygen.
I tried to get him to moan like I had, but all he did was smile down at me with those big tattooed pecs in between us.
He pulled one of my hands up to place onto his nipple and told me to keep going.
Worried I would come hands free from sucking him, I pushed away and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fuck me,” I begged once more, and this time he did.
Jacques laid me on the bed, and he worked both thumbs inside me, pulling me open then pushing them deep.
The first time we’d fucked, he struggled to get the tip inside without a lot of pushing and lube.
I could’ve sworn he’d torn my ass right open, but he didn’t, and I was still so tight for him, even after several rounds of play.
He fucked me in all different positions, starting slowly and passionately with missionary, face-face with kisses and sweet talk in my ears, then in doggy with my back arched and his voice becoming more aggressive, spanking me gently for playful things like touching myself without his permission, and for being a demanding doctor.
Then against the wall, and on the sofa, the kitchen counter, knocking over the pint glass of roses, before we ended up back in the bed where he threw my sweaty body down.
“Come in me,” I said, as he crawled up the bed from the bottom, all feral, and my limbs were worn out from all the positions he’d put me in. Now I wanted my reward, and I wanted it in me.
“In you?” he growled.
“Yeah,” I whimpered.
“On your stomach, then.”
I flipped over and he went to town, jackhammering his dick inside me.
I’d been leaking precum everywhere, my cock hard and sore from all the times I’d touched it but didn’t let it release.
It wasn’t until he pushed the tip of his cock effortlessly inside me to the deepest point, that my load exploded onto the bedsheets and made a wet mess.
He continued pounding me as my hole throbbed around his cock, and then he lay across my back, kissing my neck, breathing heavily as he came inside me, filling me up.
We lay beside each other for about five minutes afterwards, catching our breath and letting the sizzling sensation on our skin settle.
“I missed you,” he said, looking at me with his ocean-green eyes.
“I missed you too,” I said, as he reached out, and the moment his hands touched my back, I shivered. “Shower with me. You’re staying, right?”
He nodded, shuffling until our sides were touching, his leg interlaced with mine, tugging on it. “I told you I would.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The growing worry someone would come for me in the middle of the night had become increasingly intense, alongside the paranoia.
Every day I went into work, I assumed I’d be taken to some windowless office, and then every day I left work, I told myself they’d come for me at night, while I was in bed.
But for the first time in over a week, I felt comfortable at home—perhaps not in this sweaty cum-soaked wet patch on the bed, but here, I was content.
* * *
I’d woken every fifteen minutes during the night, tossing and turning by Jacques’s side.
My already beat-up teddy from childhood, Mr. Thimble, had fallen off the bed, and it was for the best. He would’ve been trampled on by Jacques’s hot and heavy body.
The clean bedsheets were a little scratchy from having them drycleaned, and whatever starch they used in my office clothes, they’d used on the sheets too.
Jacques didn’t seem to mind it, though. He’d slept soundly—he was awake now—but he’d stirred when I’d checked to make sure he was breathing a handful of times.
Eventually, I’d slept with a hand over his body and his leg hooked around me. I thought it would be impossible for him to leave without me noticing.
He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, though.
Lying in bed, the dull red light of the clock on my nightstand revealed it was 6:56 a.m., and so I lay there until I heard him cuss and stomp his heavy feet.
I jumped right out of bed and ran to the kitchen, completely naked.
He looked me up and down and grinned. He was in his sweats again—no T-shirt, his physique like a Greek statue if they were covered in graffiti.
He stood over a frying pan, cracking eggs into hot oil.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I just keep getting fucking shell in the egg,” he said. “Don’t come near, you might get splashed by hot oil.”
“You’re there,” I scoffed, approaching him, but now the oil sizzled and spat. I flinched after a single drop touched me. “Fuck.”
“Now, now, kitten. Language,” he said. “You know that doesn’t faze me.” He fished a hand into the cooking egg and pulled the shell out. “You don’t mind me touching them, do you?”
I giggled. I felt like I was ready to collapse like a fainting princess because this had to have been a dream. He wasn’t really standing in my kitchen this early, making eggs. Making me eggs? “How many—” I looked around. He’d used an entire carton of twelve eggs. “That’s a lot of eggs.”
He flexed a bicep, and what were words again? “We both need the protein,” he said. “I looked for meat, but you’ve barely got anything in.”
“That’s because I’m—” I stepped forward, then back.
I wasn’t going to get any closer, not with hot oil firing on all bases.
“You know, any day now they’re going to come and get me for their protection.
” I didn’t want to say anything to loud; it was impossible to know if my home had been bugged.
And then I realized, I’d bared my soul to him last night, so if there were people listening, they’d heard it all anyway.
I sighed; my brain couldn’t keep up. I needed a vacation, but most importantly, I need Jacques to stay.
“Put some clothes on,” he said. “I don’t need a peeping Tom looking in at you. Or you getting too close.”
“Okay,” I said, turning around and giving my ass a little wiggle, and looking back at him, his eyes were fixed on it. And he was being covered in pops of hot oil, completely unfazed by it. “Watch yourself too,” I said.
He smacked his lips. “Get your ass in some clothes.”
I rushed off, still giggling to myself about the fact I’d finally gotten him to stay the night.
I’d also managed to have someone make me breakfast—was this a continuation of the third date?
Or maybe it was now considered date four?
Either way, having him around might be a long-term solution to whatever was coming my way—especially since he was a killer.
My body shivered to think it was completely true.
I’d not seen him in action, but if he was willing to climb that tree, be covered in wounds, and come out of it stronger, then my bosses at the pharma company weren’t going to be any match for him.
And then a knock came at the door.
A bang. That was a gunshot.