by Love Belvin
“Son, before I leave, I need to know you and Alexis will be fine,” Bishop’s accent had mutated into a clear proposal for assistance.
Without removing my regard from Alexis, I replied, “Bishop, all is well here. It seems that my new bride and I need a convening to go over a few ground rules of proper conduct and etiquette.”
“Fair enough. I will be calling you soon. Mrs. Carmichael,” he took her hand and planted a kiss. “It’s always a pleasure. Next time.”
Alexis didn’t reply when he walked off and out the door. I took the keys from her hand.
“After you,” I offered, gesturing for her to lead the way out of the restaurant.
Rasul moved when his daughter did and I intercepted, shifting between the two. Once outside, I pulled my phone from my jacket and texted Carlos I was ready.
“Rasul, I’ll be driving Alexis home. My driver is pulling around now and will drop you off at home. I’m sure Alexis will be in touch.”
His face hardened. Stunned, he recoiled, but didn’t speak right away. I glanced up at the black sedan. Carlos was pulling toward us.
“Hold up!” Rasul barked. “You good, baby girl?”
Before I could speak, Alexis assured, “Daddy, I’m fine. I’ll hit you up later.”
That street lingo wrangled the bit of self-control I was able to muster. Carlos left the car and opened the back passenger door.
“Rasul, your ride awaits you.” My tone dismissive.
“Yo, man, you ain’t trippin’ ‘cause she drank a little, are you? Lex a big girl. She can take care of herself, my dude!”
Rasul was bucking.
You don’t want to do that, bruh…
“My man,” Carlos was at Rasul’s side, presumably sensing the tension. “Where you tryna’ go. I don’t have a problem taking you. It’s no problem at all, brother.” He tried to mollify. As a converted gang leader, he approached with finesse.
I may have needed Carlos to remove Rasul from my presence for the moment, but not to handle overall. There wasn’t an ounce of him that intimidated me.
I issued him an uncompromising glance. Without another word, and with tangible hesitance, Rasul backed away, toward the sedan. Swiftly, I took Alexis at the small of her back and urged her down the street until I located the Jaguar. I ushered her inside and then took to the driver’s seat. We pulled into traffic, my left hand on the steering wheel with a fierce grip.
“Moving forward”—I began in a hushed tone—“there will be no drinking when I’m not around.”
From my peripheral I caught Alexis’ head whipping to face me.
“What type of ancient ruling is that?”
“The type you will follow. You get drunk and come to a public place to meet an associate of mine drunk?” I posed as an incredulous question.
“You’re mad because he’s a preacher?”
“I’m infuriated because you’re my wife, my concern, and my responsibility!”
“My father—”
“Doesn’t even have a driver’s license!” I shouted. An unusual response from me. I don’t recall ever being so venomous. “Did you even think of that? What if you two were pulled over? You both would have been arrested; him for driving without a license and you for being publicly drunk. Do you know what type of unwanted press that could have brought to me, my church and my overall livelihood?”
She could have been hurt or worse; killed. She’d put herself in danger, and so unnecessarily. My reputation or the church’s were the least of my concern, but she didn’t need to know that.
Alexis slammed her back in her seat and crossed her arms petulantly. I wanted to say so much more, but decided against it, not trusting myself after snapping as I’d just done. I counseled people on conflict resolution and listening to absorb rather than to build a response and/or lashing out. That had never been me. I’d never been the type to lose composure until…her.
It took us an hour to get home, Alexis fell asleep midway there. When I parked in the garage she was still out, lips parted and softly snoring. Still angry, my resolve had softened. I was no longer filled with violent rage and could think with a calmer head. Her slack jaw revealed her innocence.
“Alexis,” I called her to no avail.
Though anger still flowed through my veins, something tugged at my gut at her virtuous relaxed countenance. A voice of reason sounded in my head. My kitten had never been taught etiquette and didn’t appreciate how inappropriate her actions were today. At least not entirely. As I lifted to carry her from the car, I considered how Alexis was a twenty-nine year old woman only formally reared to survive yet not to flourish. She hadn’t been taught reverence and decorum, only how to fight and be resilient. I meditated on this all the way up to our bedroom and when I laid her on the bed and removed her shoes.
I had a lot of ground to cover with her before Ms. Remah’s return next week.
The following morning, I was in my office working on a S.O.P. for the lab when Alexis abruptly appeared in the doorway, arms stretched, clasped to the each side of the frame. Her hair a wooly nest atop her head, her face tight and her robe untied, exposing her lace maroon underwear set. She was visibly out of breath. That concerned me.
“I thought you left,” she panted.
My brows lifted in reflection. “I ran out to get milk after my workout.” Maybe she heard the garage door?
“No.”
“No?” Not only did she appear disoriented, Alexis wasn’t making sense.
She shook her head and swallowed deeply. “Me. I thought you left me.”
Uhn-hunh… I sat back in my chair.
“Why would you assume I’d leave, Alexis?”
“Because of last night—well, yesterday. Because I had a few drinks and lost track of time for your lunch date with Bishop Jones. It was an honest mistake—”
“A grave miscalculation of risk,” I corrected.
Her hands dropped from either side of the frame. “A huge risk, but it wasn’t like you think. When I went to see about the apartment after my interview, a few people from around the way was there. A friend from my childhood just come home from prison and they were celebrating. Tasche was even there…and I swear I had two shots and those two had me on my as—” she caught herself and recoiled. “I hadn’t eaten since I left home. I lost track of time and when I texted you the first time I was panicking, trying to figure out the safest way to get to Greenwich Village. That was the only solution I had.”
And your father needed your money to get back home. Pathetic.
Rehashing the event, I could feel the venomous serpent seeping through my veins again. I didn’t relish my reaction to her in the car. No one was worth evoking that type of raging reaction from me. Not even Alexis. I was uncontrolled and off balance. She would never bring me to a low like that again.
“Well,” I went back to my document, “thank God for His grace. You should have breakfast.”
“Wait! That’s it?”
She wanted to needle the beast. I would not have it.
I gave her a leveling glare. “What more could there be, Alexis? Do we separate? Do I leave? Send you back to Harlem?” I was on my feet reeling from over my desk. “I married you indefinitely. While there’s a way I’d like to deal with this, I don’t think you’re ready for that, so instead I have to simply dismiss it!” My tone only slightly elevated, revealing my true issue: the very beast I fought to protect her from had roused.
Her eyes were wild, mouth forming an “o”.
“You want to punish me, don’t you?” she spoke just over a whisper, revelatory.
My head dropped over my shoulders held up by balled fists.
Yes. I wanted to punish her. Not harm her, but bruise that plump hind to correct that unruly spirit. I wanted to tie her up and lash her cheeks until she dripped her sweet juices for me to sop with my mouth and use to ram my cock in her, to make her scream my name in a hazy combination of pain and unadulterated pleasure. I wanted to dominate her.
“Then let’s do it,” Alexis whispered.
The room spun swiftly, and the moment I could regained my equilibrium to lift my head, I saw her small hand reach for me shakily from across the room. Countless images raced through my mind; that split second of time for me to make the right call. I needed this just as much as she did. She’d been such a risk, putting herself in possible danger and relying on that pathetic father of hers to assist her.
She was topping from the bottom, but yes; Alexis needed correction and I craved to give it to her.
I didn’t recall crossing the room. When my hand touched the tip of her palm an electrifying bolt shot through me and immediately my control had been restored. I moved past her taking the lead down to the basement.
As soon as we entered the room, Alexis peeled off her robe, bra and underwear, and assumed the position on her assigned cushion. I removed my shoes there by the stairs and went further in, dousing my shirt and undershirt until I reached the black cabinet I had built for my hanging implements. I ran my hand down the row of handles while the other grazed my beard in deep consideration, until I decided on the appropriate one. A black 20 inch vinyl riding crop.
With each step I took, I could feel the swell of my erection, the racing of my heart and burst of adrenaline into my system, yet there was a semblance of uninterrupted poise in my appearance as I pulled the horse bench to the center of the floor. Alexis’ physiological response was more evident. Her eyes danced, chest heaved and palms couldn’t remain still.
“Come here, Alexis,” I ordered.
Immediately, Alexis jumped into step, I intersected her stride. “Your response should be…” I growled a frightening murmur.
She blinked several times, mind apparently racing. Her eyes closed then opened. “Yes…sir?”
Peppered with relief, I nodded my permission for her to take position on the bench. I moved to adjust her properly and could hear blood rushing through my ears, pure excitement pumping in my blood.
“I won’t restrain you this time, I don’t want to traumatize you during your first punishment, but you will need to grasp the edges and keep still. If you move an inch to relieve the sting, beloved, I will increase the number of lashes. Am I understood?”
There was a short pause.
“Yes, sir.”
Alexis’ body was a wild feline fantasy: sienna skin, modest tits I could cup to feast on, narrow waist, the most generous, curvy hips and firm cheeks. I couldn’t help but stroke them, plant a chaste kiss on one and mark a spot on the other with my tongue where I would land my first lash.
“Pick a number from one to ten, kitten.” I struggled to keep the groan from my quivering chords.
She hesitated before uttering, “Six.”
“Very well. That is the number of strikes you will receive. Is that understood?”
She nodded initially before abruptly sputtering, “Ye-yes, sir.”
“And what is the safeword that you will use if something becomes more than you can handle, kitten?” I grabbed the back of her thigh, mimicking the anticipation of a caged animal.
“Trinity,” she muttered, her shoulder blades heaving in anticipation, her hips swaying to position herself in preparation.
When she settled, I threw the first strike.
“One,” I counted, something she’d soon do instead.
It landed on her left side, center of the cheek. Alexis grunted mildly, and I gave her a moment to feel the bite. She took it well. I’d given enough of spankings in my sordid past to know she’d done well.
“Two.” I didn’t wait too long before I struck again.
At that one, her torso trembled as Alexis tried keeping her hands fastened to the edges. I sauntered around the bench, circling around her like a fierce predator. We were here. I was reprimanding my kitten for the first time and had to begin my plans for rewarding her. I couldn’t wait to hear her cries of ecstasy from a post-spanking orgasm.
I’ll even give her two—no, three. I’ll give her three mind-blowing orgasms for her courage.
A fresh rush of adrenaline shot through me and I quickly doled out the third.
“Three,” I groaned, and before she finished her wail I’d landed the fourth. “Four.”
She stood on the balls of her feet, her calves flexed. Sweat beads surfacing on her twittering cacao skin from her shoulders all the way down to the small of her back. Almost there. I could feel the tension leaving my neck and my control being restored at each lashing. I was ready.
I struck again.
“Five!” I roared feeling empowered beyond what mere words could describe. So much so, I cracked the final blow. “Si—”
Before I could finish the count, Alexis leaped from the table like a lioness springing from a body of water. Wooly hair in the air atop her head and lengthy legs bounding from the floor, her left shoulder forward and right drawn back. Her face stretched, disfigured with contempt I’d never seen of her.
“MUTHAFUCKER, I WILL—”
That was all I heard before seeing her fist shooting directly for my face.
####
Ezra and Lex’s story continues in In Love with Ezra…
Love Acknowledges
Researcher: Shumethia Seal — Guuuuuh! If you didn’t have such patience with me, I don’t know where I’d be. I know you hate all of my characters, but you make them so sound. LOL!! I appreciate all you do, even listening for hours on end, to my babble about these fictional people. Love you dearly, Shumster!
Love’s Betas — Angela Jennings, Sabrina S. Scott, Shumethia Seal, and Juaquanna Gaines-Sams. Thanks for the sacrifice of your time and your honest feedback. I appreciate you immensely! Special shout out to my sister, Yorubia McNeil! You were really the push I needed to stay on track with this timeline. Your feedback and enthusiasm for this story fueled me. I’m so glad we have a connection through literature…and vino!
Planet Love Belvin — Richell, Rita, Ashleigh, Terri, Kalehia, Roz, Grace, Adele, Alicia, Diane, Yvette, Kerry, Kim, Gail, Mimi, Korei, Vivian, Angie, Paula, Stacey, Nikki, Sabene, Katrice, Linda SWW., Angie, Tineka, Kita, Michelle, Erica, Azaria, Crystal, Sharon, T Thomas, Yolanda, Terri G., Tesha, Kamashia, Betty, Le’Onna, Jos-Renee, Ayanna, Olusola, Linda W., Diane H, Angelia Vernon Menchan (my colleague), Té Russ (my colleague), Rae Lamar (my colleague), and nearly seventy-five more of you, thanks for the daily encouragement and support you provide. I can’t believe we’re in touch so much and have grown to be so intimate. My #woes! Jemeka, you’re honestly a gift from God. There’s no other way to describe you. You’re a true fortune! Rita, how funny is that I connected with another church girl! LOL!! Your mind is brilliant! It’s nothing but the work of God that we’ve connected, truly!
Christina C. Jones aka CCJ — I don’t mind telling the world about how much of a gift your friendship has been. Your talents are endless and that, the world should know. I remember praying for a trust-worthy ally in this field, and now I can say I’m reaping the benefits of it. #AuthorBae
Interior Artist: Cedeara Ardell McCollum — Thanks, baby girl, for the sketches you’ve designed for my books—books that you aren’t allowed to read for like…ever! Love you forever!
Proof Reader: Tina V. Young — Your #petty eye never ceases to amaze me! So fortunate to have a geek (insider) on our team! And congrats again on your most recent degree!
Editor: Karen Rogers-McCollum of Critique Editing Services — I told you I’d do better! Thanks for your words of encouragement. So grateful for your competence—just don’t tell the secrets of my weaknesses! LOL!!!
MDT: I’m getting better at the business of publishing. Thanks for overseeing my madness.
To my Master, my Jireh, my Rohi, 2 Corinthians 4:3-4. Nehemiah 8:6. I don’t take this execution of my passion and purpose lightly. You give it to all, but most never discover them. I bless You for Your favor and faithfulness.
Other books by Love Belvin
Love’s Improbable Possibility series:
; Love Lost, Love UnExpected, Love UnCharted & Love Redeemed.
Waiting to Breathe series:
Love Delayed & Love Delivered
Love’s Inconvenient Truth (Standalone)
Extra
You can find Love Belvin at www.LoveBelvin.com
Facebook @ Author - Love Belvin
Twitter @LoveBelvin
Goodreads: Love Belvin
and on Instagram @LoveBelvin
Join the #TeamLove mailing list to keep up with the happenings of Love Belvin here!
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Prologue
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
Love Acknowledges
Other books by Love Belvin
Extra