Chapter Thirty-Four

 

Ezra

 

 

I’m covering a steaming pot of pho when the doorbell rings. Probably Kimba. She texted from the Uber fifteen minutes ago. When I open the door, I can barely restrain myself from kissing her right on the porch. She’s still wearing the blue jumpsuit from the CNN spot. Her hair is huge, coiling all around her beautiful face in a careful chaos. Her makeup is flawless, and that is the first thing I want to change. Getting her out of her clothes is the second.

I tug her in, close the door and cage her against it right away.

“What took you so long?” I ask, bending to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Like it’s hard being gorgeous on CNN while speaking truth to power.”

She giggles and reaches up to plunge her fingers into my hair. “You watched?”

“You were fantastic. I knew you would be.”

“I stuttered in the beginning.”

“I didn’t even notice.”

She searches my face and grins. “Liar.”

“It didn’t matter and it didn’t detract one bit from how powerful you were. Knowing how you struggled with that in the past, seeing it growing up, and then seeing you now, I’m amazed. Do you even realize how incredible it is that you fight those fears off to follow your dreams? The fact that you do things like that, put yourself in situations you know make you uncomfortable and shine that way makes you more of a badass than if it came easily to you.”

She blinks up at me, her eyes sobering. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“That’s why you should keep me around,” I whisper, dusting kisses along the tops of her breasts exposed by the jumpsuit’s low neckline. “That and I promise to do this every chance I get.”

I slip a finger inside the jumpsuit and coax one nipple out of hiding. The erotic sight of her plump breast makes my mouth water instantly. I take it between my lips, groaning at the soft texture, the stiff button against my tongue. I suckle gently at first, my dick going hard at the moans that slip out of her. Then my hands slide down to palm her full ass, and I suck so hard my cheeks hollow.

“Ezra.” She bangs one hand against the door. “Keep doing that. I love it when you suck my tits.”

She reaches between us, finding my dick and grabbing it, stroking me through my jeans. I choke, pulling my mouth away from her breast to draw a deep breath. I run frantic hands over her back and sides, hungry to see all of her.

“Dammit,” I growl, close to coming just from her touch. “How the hell do I get this thing off you?”

Shit. My dick is a slab of concrete and my balls feel heavy.

“Help me get this damn thing off you, Tru.” I trace the curve of her waist, the plane of her back searching for a zipper, a button, a peephole, some way in and off. “How do you pee wearing this thing?”

Panting, laughing, she slides one shoulder out of the jumpsuit, exposing a lacy bra barely containing her breast. I take her tit into my mouth, sucking through the cup of silk and lace. She wiggles until the other sleeve slides down her arm, the top flopping over. I plunge my hand down the waistband and cup her pussy through her panties. She’s soaked and my hand is wet between her thighs. I drop my head so our temples kiss, and I turn my nose into a cloud of fragrant curls.

“I want to taste your pussy again, but I also want to fuck you immediately. It’s a conundrum.”

She pushes at the gathered waist of the jumpsuit, forcing it over the exaggerated flare of her hips and ass.

“Door number two,” she laughs huskily. “I promise you can eat me out later.”

The dark blue silk slithers down her long legs. She steps out of the jumpsuit, standing in her panties and bra and heels. She doesn’t wait for me but shimmies out of her underwear.

“Bra, too,” I order, my voice gruff with desire, my mouth slack with awe.

Her body is made with a reckless disregard for resistance. Full, firm, heavy breasts tipped with chocolate kisses. There’s a decadent fullness to her hips and thighs and ass. Aiko is extremely petite, and I’ve never compared the women I’ve been with. But by my response to Kimba’s body, I could tell myself I just never realized I’m a breast man. I’m an ass man. A leg man. All the things Kimba has in abundant beauty, but that would be a lie. Kimba could be smaller. Bigger. Less toned and less smooth. My preferences aren’t defined by what a woman has, but by who this woman is.

I’m a Kimba man, and I think she’s ruined me for anyone else.

I don’t want anyone else.

She strips off the bra and reaches for the heels.

“Keep them.” I catch her hand, linking our fingers by her head against the door. “Let’s fuck.”

“I have one request,” she says breathlessly.

“What?”

Her eyes drop between us and she licks her lips. “Can I suck your dick just a little bit first?”

Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good. I look up to the heavens and offer a silent alleluia.

“You may,” I manage to grit out.

Our gazes tangle, and she pulls her hand free of mine, opens my belt, slides down my zipper, and pulls my pants and boxers down until my dick appears.

“Oh.” She sighs, holding me with one hand and caressing my balls with the other. “This is good. This is very good.”

The tip is already leaking and engorged. I’ve always been a man of few words and she’s talking too much. I push on the elegant curve of her shoulder, pressing her to the floor, to her knees. She takes me into the warm, wet world of her mouth, sucking me, licking up and down my shaft like I’m one of the ice cream push-ups she used to love.

The sight of this powerful woman on her knees, naked except for her costly shoes, devouring my cock, just about undoes me. Saliva spills from the sides of her mouth as she takes me so deep her throat closes around me. Sounds strangle in my throat. I close my eyes in brief, beautiful agony, but open them again because the sight of her doing this is too riveting. Her nipples brush against my legs. I imagine my tongue dragging from the top of her pussy and between the firm, naked globes of her ass. I want to spread her and eat until my tongue aches. When I see her hand moving between her legs, that’s it. I can’t take another second.

“Up. Now, Tru. Shit.” I groan, fitting my hands under her armpits and pulling her to her feet.

I push her fingers, wet with her juices, into my mouth. It’s ambrosial and I lick every trace of it away and bring her fingers to my nose.

“Fuck, you smell good.” I drop her hand abruptly and grip under her thighs, hoisting her up, aligning our bodies. “Dammit, condoms.”

“I’m…” She licks her lips and lowers her lashes. “I’m, um, protected, and clean.”

“Me, too. Can we?” When she looks up, a shadow in her eyes gives me pause. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Her smile chases the shadow away and she links her ankles at the base of my spine, rests her back against the wall and grips my neck. “You don’t need a condom. We’re good. Let’s do it now.”

Now.

Forever. Always. Never end.

I plunge inside and it’s a rhythm in my head echoing the rigor of our bodies. Her pussy contracts, squeezing my dick, and my reason, my thoughts scatter. The house could burn down around us as long as this door and the two of us were still standing and fucking against it.

My hands clench under her thighs, holding her in place while we grind together, crushing the desire between our bodies. I reach the end of her with a rough thrust. Her breath catches and her eyelashes flutter. I hit that spot again and again until her eyes roll back in her head and her arms fall away from my shoulders and she’s limp against the door, me supporting all of her weight while my thrusts grow more frantic, out of control. She bites her lip and tears roll down her face.

“Jesus, Ez,” she whispers, her lashes dampening on her wet cheeks.

The rush of her climax washes over me. I’m as deep as I can physically go and my body keeps searching for a hidden passage to get closer to her, to inhabit her the way, with every kiss and every thrust, she inhabits me.

“Kimba.” I shift so one arm holds under her butt and her back is supported by the door. With the other hand I lift her chin. “Look at me.”

She opens glazed eyes.

“Your number,” I rasp. “I don’t care about it. I don’t give a damn who you’ve been with. How many. Baby, I don’t give a fuck.”

Some of the haze clears, her gaze sharpens, focuses on me.

“But I want to be the last,” I tell her, letting her search my eyes, my face so she’ll see the truth I can’t hide from her anymore. “I couldn’t be the first, but I want to be the last. No one else. You understand what I’m saying?”

Another tear slides from the corner of one eye and down the sleek curve of her jaw. “I understand.”

And like a million times during our childhood, she hears the things I don’t say aloud. She reads between lines of invisible ink when no one else even knows I’m writing. It feels too soon to give it voice, but every part of me, body, soul, heart and spirit quakes with the inescapable truth I know she saw even though I didn’t say.

Our first time together was stolen from us, and I don’t hold against her any who have come since. But the truth was carved into ancient tablets of stone and etched into our hearts.

I love her.

And from here on out, I want to be her last.