I throw her over my left shoulder and march up the stairs, already unzipping my jeans with my right hand…
CHAPTER FIVE
Ophelia
With masculine Ezra inside my bedroom, its girlishness has never been more obvious.
When he sets me down at the foot of my bed, the full-length mirror to my right reflects back our height differences. I barely reach his shoulder. He’s easily double my size and riddled with muscle. All nine hundred of them flex while he looks me over, his hand busy inside his pants. He’s jerking his hard flesh, grunting. I’m arrested by the sight of his forearm. The play of veins and sinew that dance as he touches himself, hot eyes on me.
The man who I let into my house was intense, but sweet. He talked to me. Fed me chocolate. This man in my bedroom is jealous and angry. He wants to eat me alive.
I don’t know which side of him I’m drawn to more. But I’m drawn. So drawn.
Deep down, I’ve always known I had what it takes to be a bad girl. And I prove it by leaning my hips against the bed and arching my back, tossing my hair and letting him use my body as pornography. Isn’t that what I’m doing? Providing him with an image to make that big staff between his legs harder and harder, so he can put it inside me?
That’s what I want. If my heart wasn’t ripping through my chest with excitement, the spreading wetness between my legs would tell me how bad I need him. If I’m distracting him from his suspicion that there’s another man…well, that’s just an added bonus.
He can’t know.
He can never know there is another man. One I detest. One I despise.
One who is using my father’s folly to draw me into a disgusting web.
Don’t think about it now. Focus on the man you do want. Need.
“I’m your man, Ophelia,” Ezra rasps, taking his erection out in a tight fist and rubbing it on my bare stomach. “First, last. Only. Fucking mine.”
There are so many obstacles. Wagner. Princeton. His prison record—and my father’s reaction to it. None of those things seem to matter right now in the darkness of my bedroom, but I know in the morning reality will be back with a vengeance. I don’t want to voice my concerns now, though. I want Ezra to overwhelm me. Make me think of nothing but him. He’s looking down at me beneath drawn brows waiting for me to tell him, yes, I’m yours. But I can’t do that, knowing so many things stand in our way.
So I show him instead. I show him how much he owns me—body and spirit—even if he can’t in the other ways. I go down on my knees in front of him and strip off my shirt, tossing it away so I can run my hands up his thick, sturdy thighs. Looking up at his penis from below makes it seem even bigger. It extends out from a thatch of untamed black hair, a wide vein pulsing along the underside, a fat, helmet adorning the tip. Once at school, I overheard a classmate talking about a porno she found on her brother’s laptop wherein a man whipped a kneeling girl across the face with his erection. At the time, I found that terrible. Now? I would crawl over broken glass to have him whip me with that big thing. The sight of it is such a turn on to me, because I know I made it huge and hard and I’m the only one who gets to touch it.
“What are you thinking about down there, little girl?”
I rub my cheek against his inner thigh. “Nothing much. Just your penis slapping me across the face.”
Ezra sucks in a groan. “That ain’t nothing, princess. And you’re going to call it my man’s cock from now on. That’s what it’s called.”
“Okay,” I breathe, inspecting it closely, licking my lips and deciding where I want to start. “Will you? Do…what I said? Or is that a silly thing to want?”
His fist chokes up to the tip, turning it purple, then strokes back down. “I don’t like the idea of slapping you in the face. Not in any form.”
I lap my tongue against the side of his arousal. “Then why are you breathing so hard?”
And he is, his ridged stomach expanding and dropping in quick succession. “Look up at me like I’m your lord and savior and squeeze those titties.”
I’m pretty sure that’s how I’m already looking at Ezra, so I palm my breasts, catching my nipples between two fingers and clamping down. The smooth head of his cock drags along the seam of my parted lips. Right, left, right…then he smacks me across the mouth with his long, thick arousal. One direction and then the other, gritting out my name in between curses. By the time he finishes, I’ve got a swollen mouth and I’ve soaked clear through my shorts.
“Jesus Christ, Ophelia,” Ezra growls. “If I’d known there was a little girl hot to get dick slapped waiting for me, I would have ripped down the fucking walls of that prison to get out.”
I don’t have a chance to respond, because Ezra squeezes my jaw to make my mouth open wide and his thickness is stuffed inside my mouth. Every corner of my mouth is filled to capacity and I’m still staring down the ruddy length of him. Holy cow. His texture is nothing like I expected. I thought it would be fleshy and pliant. Instead, he’s smooth and hard as concrete. Pulsing. Full of life. And looking up at Ezra, I realize his entire world is narrowed down to my mouth. He’s holding his breath and suffering and blissful all at once. It’s beautiful.
“What are you going to do with it, little girl?”
My hand grips the lower half of his cock and I start to suck, turning my face side and side, twisting, drawing deeply with great big pulls. Ezra groans—“fuuuuuuuck, princess”—his balls jerking, plumping and tightening in front of my eyes. His fingers twist in my hair, his stance widening and he begins to have frenzied intercourse with my mouth. The whole idea of it is so erotic, I’m almost dizzy with heat. With hunger. I love being used like a pretty toy, a place to relieve his male aches. I want to taste more and more, so I slacken the muscles of my throat and let him plunge even deeper, listening to his strangled cries of my name. I have to hold on to his thighs so I don’t topple over, he’s going at my mouth so hard now—and all I can think is more, more, more. Please.
“Get the taste of me in your mouth and down the back of your pretty throat, Ophelia. Memorize it. That’s the only cock you’ll ever suck on.” He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind and I gasp around his flesh. “When you taste your man’s flavor from your knees it means you’re about to be fucked hard and dirty.”
I have no time to prepare before Ezra pulls his erection out of my mouth. I slump against him and inhale oxygen in great gulps, my whole body shaking with lust. My fingertips claw at his big thighs and I look up, watching as he strips off his T-shirt, using it to wipe the saliva off my chin. And then I’m scooped up tossed onto the bed. “Yes. Yes,” I whine, squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, rolling and pinching my nipples. “You’re going to put it inside me, right? Please, Ezra. Please.”
“My God,” he grits out from the side of the bed, in the process of shoving down his jeans. “How am I ever going to tear myself away from you for a single second, you horny little girl? Look how bad you want my cock.”
“I want it, I want it,” I chant, mindlessly. I can’t think or breathe or wait another moment. That tickle I had in my stomach the first time Ezra touched me has bloomed and spread to my entire body. I’m on fire. I need so desperately. “Ezra.”
When he climbs onto the bed, huge and raw and naked, I sit up and reach for him, but the world turns sideways. I’m flipped onto my stomach and yanked up onto my hands and knees. Ezra’s hands grip my buns hard and he lets out an exultant growl. “All that sweet pink is just for me. From your tight asshole to that dripping pussy. All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I moan into the comforter, tilting my hips to show him everything. Everything. I just want to give it to this man and put him in charge of fixing my ache. I know he will. I know he’ll take care of me. “Fill me up. I hurt so bad.”
I’m writhing my hips in the air shamelessly and I pray—out loud—for him to fill me, but instead Ezra’s hot breath tickles the insides of my thighs, my sex, and suddenly his mouth is suctioning my clit
from behind. I scream and press back against his mouth, pumping my hips up and down, grinding into the wet texture of his tongue, trying to come any way I can. And when he presses his finger to my back entrance, I don’t expect the jolt of blinding pleasure.