by Love Belvin
And fuck! When it tipped, I needed more of him on me and tried snatching my hands from his gripped. Failing miserably, the yanking was violent and measured up to his tongue thrusts. The combination of the two dizzying me until complete warmth blanketed my body and I came so fucking hard I couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want me to, I knew this by rapid tongue lashes and rough pushes against my wild bucking until it slowed and my grunts turned into whimpers.
First his thigh slowed then stopped. Then Ezra withdrew his mouth, releasing urgent breaths. My mind was still fogged, breathing was ragged, eyes closed and ears disturbed by the orgasmic alarm still blaring. He caressed his face on the side of mine, then his teeth scraped the brim of my ear as he still held my arms in the air.
I vaguely heard him whisper, “What is not expected doesn’t necessarily equate to what is not planned out.” His abstruse words rang sweetly in my ear, intensifying my sensitive, post-orgasmic state. Though still out of breath, I craved his mouth again. “Thank you, Alexis.”
He released my arms that fell loosely around us until my fingertips pointed toward the door and my chest collapsed against his. My face burrowed into his neck. I was too spent to swipe my tongue against it, but could still appreciate the virile aroma wafting from it.
With Ezra’s assistance, I managed into my apartment minutes later. The unsullied kiss on my forehead was in direct contrast to the forceful one he’d bestowed on my mouth out in the hall. He never crossed the threshold, and I was sure in my sober mind, I would’ve understood his discipline, but my drunken one registered it as rejection. I’d pushed him too far is what echoed in my brain as I sulked into my apartment, dropping my purse and stripping out of my dress on my way to the bathroom for a much needed leak. When I collapsed on my bed, all I could consider was the coldness of it, the emptiness Ezra spoke of earlier.
But at least I didn’t rub off one alone…
I felt a faint smile crack on my face at that thought.
The next morning, I woke up to the fucking rudeness of the sun glaring through my lids. My scalp ached, tension radiating in my sinuses, reminded me I’d overdone it last night.
Okay, so it isn’t a total hangover.
I reached over to the nightstand for my phone to check the time. Even my goddamn hand hurt. The first thing I caught were text alerts from Ezra and Tasche. After learning I’d slept until eleven, I went into the app and checked Tasche’s; it came first.
Tasche: So sry I cudnt mke it. Ima call you when I wake up.
Although I wanted to be mad, I knew her regrets were sincere. I had to remember to be as logical when I spoke to her. I anxiously went into Ezra’s thread. He sent it just after five this morning.
Damn! That man is intense!
Ezra: If it’s not up to your standards, I’ll understand.
There he went again with another ambiguous statement. I vaguely recalled the one from last night. Before I could give it further thought my house phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered after picking up the cordless.
“Whaddup, yo,” Tasche’s morning gravel pushed. “My bad, yo. I wish I coulda made it.”
I exhaled, my fingers raking through my hair. I blanched at the pain from the side of my right palm. “I know, Tasch. Shit just pan out that way.” I remembered to be diplomatic. Though, I didn’t feel so considerate as I lined up to take the stage last evening.
“You know I’m proud as hell of you. I just needed the money to cover what I owe you for Puerto Rico.”
I rolled my eyes, head still aching, hand still pulsating. “T, you know I won’t sweat it if you miss a payment. Don’t stress yourself out over money. You good.”
“I know, man, but you always got my back, Lex Dawg. You go so fuckin’ hard. I ain’t trippin’ over what I owe you. I’m payin’ you back, yo.”
“I know you are, Tasche.” I tried changing the subject. “What the hell did Rusty have to meet about so damn early anyway?” I asked, mustering interest for her employment.
I hated every day my friend worked there. Every year she was still on his payroll. But Tasche was one of those around the way chicks who knew no better so she did no better.
“That fucker on his shit again.” She yawned. “Bitches ain’t cleaning up behind theyselves, got nasty ass tampons all over the fucking bathroom, not cleaning up the dressing rooms and shit. He threatening to dock everybody’s pay if the cleaning crew keep finding shit.”
“What cleaning crew? His crackhead ass cousin, Junior? Fuck outta here,” I hissed. I hated that place. Hated the owner just as much. Weak ass.
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I stretched over my mattress and flinched again at the pain of my right hand. This time I took a moment to inspect it. I saw a pink line running through my palm. A bruise. Odd.
“You be knowing, yo.” She yawned again. “Anyway. You take any pix? I wanna see how my G looked on her big day.”
I quickly thought of the picture Ezra had some random guy snap of us and my dehydrated body warmed at the memory. Then memories of last night. Shit! I told him I’d marry him. I also said I’d remember because I knew I would this morning. Details like that a girl never forgets no matter how wasted she gets while accepting the proposal.
“Yeah,” I answered then tried to consider my words. “Ezra came last night, Tasche.” I don’t know why I was so timid with that minor announcement.
Maybe because your ass said you’d marry dude.
“Oh, word! His preacher ass really want that pussy,” Tasche gave a half committed chuckle. I knew it was because she didn’t think I had an ounce of interest in him. He wasn’t Harlem. He was…different. “I bet he took you out to dinner after, huhn? He cute.” She laughed this time. Fondly, from her belly.
“Yeah, he did.”
“You should give ‘dat nigga some ass for that. Applaud him.” That was delivered with a more inspired pitch.
That mention reminded me of our kiss in the hall. So much of that part of the night was sketchy, but oddly sent a teasing shudder through me.
“He took me to DiFillippo’s,” I shared as I got up to answer my screaming bladder. “It’s a new place in—”
“Tribeca!” she trilled. “I heard that place is fancy as shit. Old girl…Reba. She left Rusty’s for rehab and somebody got her the hook up as a dishwasher there. She make like $15 a hour!” That revved Tasche’s excitement. “I ran into her a couple of weeks back. She said they serve shit she can’t pronounce!”
With that level of exuberance I couldn’t tell my girlfriend how I’d been there with Ezra more than once. As I sat on the toilet, I chose my next words wisely. I’d stopped confiding in Tasche a few years after the attack. As I started school and met people with goals and ambition beyond money, my lifestyle evolved from what commonality my world had with hers. It wasn’t enough to end our friendship, but enough for me to see I’d changed. I’d grown past that ‘local’ mentality. But as memories of last night began flooding in, I needed to share my experience with someone and she was here on the phone with me.
“He wants to get married, Tasche,” I murmured as I let my bladder go.
“Shit, I bet he do! That hood pussy changes a suit and tie nigga.”
I shook my head. She wasn’t getting it. This was some legit shit. Then I thought against detailing the evening. What if he wasn’t serious anyways? What if he had a change of mind when he left? He’d woken up to a sounder head, his text was a soft way of saying, ‘Never mind’? My mind wasn’t yet fresh. I hadn’t even been able to fully recall last night at my door past making out with him—a kiss. Ezra’s kisses weren’t something I could ever forget. But what if he wasn’t of the same resolve that he was when I’d last seen him?
“Lex Dawg, you good?” Tasche called out.
“Yeah,” I sighed, pulling toilet tissue from the roll as I squeezed my eyes from the dull ache. I went to the sink and rubbed the bar of soap into my hands as I peered at my sleepy eyes and expired makeup in the mirror. “Just
feeling the remnants of drinking too much last night.”
“With who? Not the damn priest!” she gasped.
I chortled at her shock. “Nah. He don’t drink, but yeah, with him. He’s cool, Tasche. Not the uptight assho—” I flinched. “FUCK!”
“What the fuck was that?” she screamed.
I glanced down and found the cause of my injury. It must’ve been from last night when I washed my damn hands after taking a leak.
“Oh, shit, Tasch…” I croaked.
“What, bitch?” she trilled in alarm.
I couldn’t remove my eyes from the big ass glistening rock on my left ring finger. It was an engagement ring.
“Ezra gave me an engagement ring last night!” I shouted.
“What the hell? And you just now telling me?” I could hear the rustling from Tasche’s end through the phone.
“I didn’t know till now!”
I quickly rinsed and dried my hands and ran into my bedroom to grab my cell. I tapped until I heard the phone ring.
“Yo, Lex, what the fuck is going on over there?” Tasche asked exasperated.
“Hello, beloved,” Ezra answered the call so casually, cool deep chords dripping its usual confidence.
“How in the hell did you pull this off?” I asked, hardly able to breathe as I examined the extravagant stone on my hand.
“What?” Tasche asked.
“I explained that last night,” Ezra replied with casual aplomb.
That’s when it hit me.
“What is not expected doesn’t necessarily equate to what is not planned out,” I breathed out in recollection.
“Precisely,” Ezra rasped.
“What the fuck is you sayin’, yo?” Tasche shouted.
I plopped myself on the bed, sitting up dumbfounded. “Fuck, Tasch,” I breathed. “I’m engaged.”
“WHAT?!” she screamed in my left ear.
“That we are,” Ezra affirmed in my right.
Goddamn!
I collapsed on my back, asking myself how would I explain this to Ms. Remah.
seven
Lex
Thick woodland…
That was the only way I could describe what I saw as we drove into West Milford, New Jersey. The houses ranged in size until about three minutes ago when they became sparse, but the trees tripled in number. We turned into a long driveway, and drove yards until a home appeared. The road was made of a fancy burnt orange, polished concrete and at the apex of it was a fountain.
“Wooooooooow. He is paid…” Miranda uttered her thoughts up in the passenger seat. “This is huge.”
I caught Thaddeus’ quick snapping of the neck to observe her with furrowed brows. Somehow it sounded odd coming from her. My eyes returned to the large home. It was by no means a mansion, but by far the largest home I’d ever visited. Even bigger than Nyree’s parents, who had four bedrooms, a family room and a finished basement.
As I stepped out of the car, Ezra opened the front door and looked as good as always in a thin brown v-neck sweater, tan plaid pants with hints of orange, and matching shoes. It was more casual than his usual formal look, but so Ezra to never be caught lounging in anything resembling relaxed. He approached the car and greeted a waiting Thaddeus first with a quick shake, then moved to Miranda, taking her the hand and greeting her with a grip, shake and polite smile. Then he arrived to me, damn near taking my breath away with his scent and big presence. He gathered my wrists, circling them with his index finger and thumb as he burned me with a deep gaze, minus the smile he offered Miranda. For some reason, I didn’t feel the slight I normally would.
How could you after that mind-blowing orgasm he gave from his knee?
“Thanks for bringing her, Thaddeus,” he spoke to his friend—or whatever he considered big Thad to be—behind him. With pensive eyes he murmured, “Having you here is surreal, beloved. I was excited that you agreed to come, but now that I feel you here, I’m overjoyed with elation. I have to switch the itinerary now.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Thaddeus, please see Miranda to the backyard where there’s food prepared for us. I’m going to show Alexis around. We will join you soon.”
Miranda’s covert clearing of the throat had me craning my neck to see beyond Ezra.
“Ummmmm…” her thick darkly lined eyes blinked coyly. “Pastor, nice place you have here. My first time visiting.”
What the hell? She was asking to join us for a tour?
“I’m well aware of that. Thaddeus can show you the back area. It’s recently been under construction. We’ll be with you soon,” he dismissed her notion easily. “Come, beloved.” He pivoted and took me at the hand, leading me into the house.
It was grand; long white pillars, spacious doorway boasting a curving staircase winding to the second level.
“We can start in here.” He gestured to the left of the massive foyer.
I stepped into the room where there was a large, contemporary living room with a brick fireplace and fancy framed paintings on the wall. The furniture was ivory upholstery over a rich mahogany wood. The tables were a combination granite and a coordinating wood. A huge white grand piano sat on the dark mahogany wood floors just in front of the large arched bay windows that reached to the ceiling with fancy treatments. There were no family photos or personal touches, yet the room screamed Ezra.
Next was the dining room, which was just as contemporary in design, though with a zap of traditionalism. It was further back in the house, next to the kitchen, but in a separate room. The room was pretty big with a dark wood table for six, art deco style.
“The walls are covered in wainscoting, and this room, similar to others, have trey ceilings,” Ezra narrated before we moved along.
“And here’s the kitchen,” he continued when we entered that room. “I had a standard model installed when the home was built four years ago. I really had no direction then…just needed something functional. Last week, this design was completed,” Ezra informed formally.
This room was rich in color and personality. Again, the sun shone brightly into the kitchen, heightening the experience.
“The walls are mosaic slate tiles. And as it appears, the walnut and white-washed cabinetry does work well together,” he noted. And when I broke my observation and turned to him, he answered my unspoken question. “There was a huge point of contention there between the designer and me. She won.” He shrugged.
She? Who in the hell was she?
Next, we ventured into the study. Like the other rooms I’d seen on the main floor, the walls were painted a light color. The study was totally contemporary with a huge acrylic desk reminding me of the lectern at Redeeming Souls. There were also metals and white lycra sealing the deal of the modern motif. There were French doors off to the side of the room and I could see what could be a veranda. This was a statement. Ezra’s study. There were three plasma screens in varying sizes mounted on the wall across from his desk and one to the right. I also noted the two computer monitors on his desk that was topped neatly with file organizers and baskets, telling me this was a functional office. But there was something about the brilliance of the room.
“White,” I observed out loud.
“Cloud white,” Ezra clarified. “It has a soft yellow undertone in it. Incidentally,” he began moving toward his desk. “…this room has more sun light than any on the lower level. Once I realized that during the end of construction I decided this would be my study.” He picked up his phone and tapped a few times.
“Why was it so important to claim your office,”—I turned to him to amend—“specifically?”
“Because I live so far away from work and the church, I need an alternate way to be there without physically being present. I conference business when weather prohibits my commute.”
Oh…
I often forgot Ezra was an actual professional who worked to earn a living.
“Come,” he called over to me. “Let me show you upstairs and then outside.”
When I joined hands with him, he led me up the back staircase, my heart pounding at each level I rose. I didn’t know if Ezra could pick up my sudden nervousness; if he could, he didn’t say. Instead, he remained on task, showing me four guest bedrooms, all outsizing mine at home. Then we arrived at the end of the hall where I quickly understood we were headed into his bedroom. He stopped and I noticed the moment his eyes faltered. Ezra was struggling with something.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to show me your room after what you did to me in mine,” I attempted a joke, though it was true.
Ezra’s preoccupied eyes made their way to mine.
“This is not simple hospitality, Alexis,” he stated with full on confidence. My face wrinkled. “No. I’m showing you my home because it will soon be yours as well. I’ve been waiting for some signs of approval and haven’t gotten an utterance of it yet.”
“Well, perhaps if you told me your intentions and what you were looking for, I could have been more straightforward with my compliments,” I explained, my tone laced with irritation. “Your home is beautiful, Ezra. Any woman…I mean, I would love to have one like this one day—”
“Soon,” he interrupted.
“Well, hell. While we’re wishing, let me request debt cancelation, too.” He was being ridiculously bossy Ezra again.
“We can arrange that.” His face was just as solemn as a soiled diapered baby. “And please watch your mouth.”
Ignoring his reprimand, I switched to rest on my hip. “Ezra, what exactly is going on here?”
He took a fortifying breath. “I want to propose a wedding date.” His eyes grew at that, carefully awaiting my response to another outlandish proposition.
“When?”
“July of this year.”
“Ezra—”
“We make our own rules, remember,” he advised.
“Forget rules! How about finances! I can’t afford a wedding in a month!”
Ezra’s head dropped in frustration then shook. Then he gruffed, “…the most exasperating woman.”
I popped back on the other hip. “One you asked to marry you!”
His head popped up, eyes as severe as I’d seen them. “More than anything I ever needed in the past seven years, and anything I wanted in as long as I can recall.”