21. Ezekiel
21
Ezekiel
I toss a hundred-dollar bill into the front seat of the taxi and drag Blue out.
“Let me go!” she cries out.
I keep hold of her arm and march her back to the SUV, unlocking it as we approach.
“I’ll scream. I swear I’ll scream.”
I open the passenger door and spin her to face me. “You do that. You try. And I’ll swap you out for your sister.”
Emotions ravage her face, fear and rage and frustration as she opens her mouth, closes it again.
“Get your ass in the fucking car,” I hiss, depositing her inside before she has a chance to obey. Or not. Most likely not. I strap her in then take the chain she has hidden beneath her dress out and bind her to the bar on the dash. I slam her door shut and stalk across the front to my side and get in.
I am fuming. I am so fucking angry. Angry at her. At myself. What the fuck was I thinking in there? We were on some fucking date? Why in fuck’s name did I let her slip away to the bathroom?
“This isn’t safe!” she cries out as I pull out of the spot, cars behind us honking their horns when I cut them off.
I glance at her. Her head is bent forward, and she’s got the chain in one hand to give herself some slack but it’s short and she can’t sit up.
“No, I guess it isn’t.” I speed out of the city as Blue hangs on for dear life.
“Slow down! Jesus. Slow down!”
I don’t. I keep my eyes on the road and drive double the speed limit until we reach the house. Blue is gripping the bar on the dash, and I make sure to block her view of the keypad as I punch in the numbers to open the gate then drive up to the pitch-black house. I park and look at her, still fuming, still so fucking furious. Only thing is I’m not sure which of us I’m angrier with.
I climb out, slam the door shut muttering a curse as I force myself to take a deep breath in then out before stalking to her side and opening her door. I unlock the chain and instead of letting her walk, I reach in to take hold of her and lift her out, then haul her over my shoulder.
“What the fuck! Let me fucking go, you asshole!” She pounds on my back, and I smack her ass hard, making her yelp. I stomp up the stairs to the imposing, ugly front entrance of Carlton Bishop’s house, punch in the code to unlock the door and enter. I don’t bother to put on any lights but make my way upstairs in the dark.
“What are you doing? What the hell are you doing, Zeke?” she calls out, panic in her voice as she bounces on my shoulder.
I set her down outside her bedroom door. She stumbles backward into the wall. I lean into her. Her eyes are saucers staring up at me, the cocky, funny girl from dinner gone, this terrified version of Blue in her place.
“You mistake me for a fool.” I grip her dress and tug hard once, tearing it in two. She screams when I spin her around rip it from her, stripping her, doing the same with her bra and panties. I turn her to face me again.
She presses her back to the wall, hands flat against it.
“Zeke—”
“What did I tell you about that?” I ask, lifting her, tossing her over my shoulder once more as I carry her into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind me and tossing her onto the bed.
She bounces once, scrambles to her hands and knees to get away.
I capture her ankle and yank her back. She falls flat on her stomach. I tug her to the edge of the bed, so her legs hang off the end, set one knee on her lower back and smack her ass hard three times. She cries out. I strip off my jacket, roll my sleeve up to my elbows, undo the top buttons of my shirt.
“Please. Please.” She’s half-turned on the bed, pinned by my knee.
I begin spanking her ass. She struggles beneath me, but her strength is no match for mine. And I’m pretty sure the punishment she’s taking tonight makes last night’s look like a fucking game. Her ass burns bright red and my hand stings.
“What the fuck were you thinking? Playing me for a fucking fool!”
“You’re not! I wasn’t. I swear!” She manages to crawl partially up the bed. I drag her back, lift her. She weighs nothing. I carry her to the wall, trap her between it and my body. She wraps her legs around my middle as I grip her hair and force her head backward.
“Flirting like you were.”
“I wasn’t!”
“Telling me what you told me about your father. What he did. Was it all so I let my guard down?”
She shakes her head, pulls at my hair, exhausted and panting. Both of us panting. I look at her face, her tear-stained cheeks.
“It wasn’t,” she says. “I swear. I’ve never told anyone what I’ve told you.”
I stare at her, hearing her ragged breaths, confused, angry, furious. Wanting. And in the next moment, I’m kissing her. My mouth is on hers and I’m fucking kissing her and she’s kissing me back, and I can’t get enough. I can’t fucking get enough.
I fist a handful of hair and tug her head backward to look at her. She’s panting, lips swollen. She stares up at me with those too-blue, too-sad eyes, eyes that I think I can lose myself in, and then I’m on her again, locked in a frenzied kiss, Blue all lips and tongue and then, and then, cutting teeth.
I draw back, touch my hand to my lip. It comes away bloody and she does not look sorry.
“You want to fight, Little Convict?”
I carry her to the bed, lay her down. I lay my weight on top of her and look down at her face, her hair in tangles, that scar visible after the mess of our war.
Her breath comes in pants. She’s worn out but looks at me through narrowed eyes, not giving up just yet. I reach over my head and strip off my shirt. She stares up at me, her gaze moving over my chest, my arms, the part of the twin dragons visible to her. Lower to my abs, the trail of hair that disappears into my slacks.
“You’re mine, Blue,” I say, undoing my belt, the button of my pants. “You belong to me.”
She watches as I step off the bed, unzip my slacks and push them along with my briefs down and off.
Her gaze moves to my cock, then up to my face, then back. She licks her lips, her eyes huge and dark, the blue a ring around black pupils.
“It’s time I showed you what that means.”