17. Raven

Chapter seventeen

Raven

I spend half the day in the indoor garden, gazing at the flowers while the same thoughts about the confrontation I had with Ezra last night run through my mind.

Ezra was right, his life is none of my business, and I shouldn’t meddle. But that doesn’t mean I’m not hurt.

The words strike my chest over and over each time I remember. I was stupid…ignorant… a fool… a–

My stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I’ve had nothing to eat since last night, but I can't find the motivation to do so. I get up from the pedestal I’m sitting on and move closer to the flower beds before squatting.

“I hear you haven’t eaten all day,” I hear Ezra say behind me, his voice calm but serious.

I glance up, trying not to let my eyes linger, but it’s impossible to ignore how incredible he looks in that suit. The dark fabric clings perfectly to his broad shoulders and tapers down his lean torso, highlighting every inch of his well-built frame. The suit is expertly tailored, hugging him in all the right places, and the fine material stretches across his chest as if it were made just for him.

His shirt collar peeks just above the jacket, crisp and white, a sharp contrast against his olive skin.

Even the way his tie hangs, slightly loosened and revealing a glimpse of ink, adds to the alluring aura the don carries. Despite the fight, I can’t help but think how attractive he is.

His brows are slightly furrowed, his lips tight. I blink, surprised, and catch something I didn’t expect to see for a brief moment—nerves.

Clearing my throat, I exhale shakily and rise to my feet. My gaze drops to the floor, fingers fidgeting.

“I'm sorry.” We say it at the same time, and I blink, startled. I must’ve misheard. “What?” I whisper.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday.” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto mine. “I said some harsh things,” he adds, eyes searching mine.

My lips part, but no words come out. Ezra, apologizing... to me. I break the intensity with a small cough, looking away.

Now, it's your turn, Raven. “And I'm sorry for prying,” I manage, my voice finding its way back.

The air hangs heavy between us, the distant chirp of birds the only sound that fills the silence.

After a long pause, he clears his throat.

“Come with me,” he says, slightly more composed. “I want to show you something.”

I hesitate for a moment before following him. As we leave the garden, the air grows cooler, and there is a noticeable shift as we walk through the house toward his study. Once inside, Ezra remains silent.

He moves to a cabinet in the corner, his steps slower than usual, as if pondering his next actions. When he turns around, he's holding the fancy box from earlier. He must’ve moved it.

Without a word, he sets it down on the desk in front of me.

I lean forward to watch him open the box and take out a frame hidden underneath. The photo is aged, with faded edges, yet I can still clearly see the woman and little girl from the locket. Their smiles are accompanied by joyful glints in their eyes.

“That’s my wife…” he begins, clearing his throat, “...and my daughter.” I notice how his voice seems to break at the mention of his daughter.

“I came home one night, and…” he hesitates. The painful glint in his eyes tells me that it’s indeed a painful memory for him. I suddenly hate myself for letting him relive it.

“You can stop if you wa–”

He interrupts me with a small shake of his head, his fist tightening as he glances away. “…and they were both dead.”

My eyes widen instinctively, and I look up at him, feeling a strange ache in my chest. I wouldn’t know what to do if I suddenly came home and found my loved ones dead…

“My daughter was holding this.” He taps the photo, where the little girl clutches a teddy bear in her small hands. “A teddy bear covered in her blood.”

The scene in my mind leaves me lightheaded—the small girl, still holding tightly to her cherished toy, crimson liquid oozing from a cut somewhere on her body.

Ezra’s voice drops lower, his eyes darkening with what I assume to be old memories. “I couldn’t protect them.”

“And this man?” I reach down for the picture of the clean-shaven man who piqued my curiosity earlier.

I see anger settle in his eyes when he looks at the picture. I don’t expect him to answer.

“He was my best friend. He was behind it all…” he trails off, his palm fisting.

“Where is he now?” I wonder, reaching out to stroke his arm.

“Dead!” His tone is clipped.

The air is filled with his heavy, frigid words. In that instant, he appears more like a defeated individual who has lost it all rather than a crime syndicate leader.

My heart tugs. I don’t bother to ask how they died as I move closer to him, feeling my heart constrict with each step.

Slowly, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, one of my hands moving in slow, soft strokes across his back and the other wrapped tightly around his torso. At first, he tenses, but then I sense his body soften in my embrace.

I place my cheek on his chest, listening to the harsh, unsteady pace of his heartbeat. His body feels warm with sorrow, and I feel it in every pore of my skin.

When he tightens his grip around me, tears sting my eyes. This is him, Ezra Marino, a simple man like every other.

“You know, I lost my dad, too, not in the same way,” I start, and when he doesn’t say anything, I continue. “He disappeared from my life. Ran away…vanished…whatever you want to call it. He hasn’t reached out to me, and I have no clue as to where he is.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes thickly.

“Sometimes I try to…move on with life and just forget about him, but I can’t. I still miss him every day. I just wish…I could see him again.”

I finally pull away, and our eyes meet; the air between us feels thick. And just as I think about it, his lips are on mine, soft. His tongue tangles with mine in the same soft embrace, and as my grip tightens on his side, it quickly grows hungry and desperate.

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and hoarse.

“I think I have an idea,” I whisper back, my hands sliding up to his neck as he pulls me closer. “Because you’re doing the same thing to me.”

He tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling softly as I release a gentle moan. I get lost in the warmth of his kiss. He lifts me onto the cold mahogany desk, pushing my legs apart as he positions himself between them.

His hands slip under my striped blue gown, tugging at my panties. I shift, wiggling my ass so he successfully gets them off me. Just then, a thought sneaks into my head, and I pull away fast, breaking the kiss.

“What if someone walks in?” I ask, barely above a whisper, as I glance at the door. He didn’t lock it earlier when we walked in.

“Won’t happen,” he dismisses my words.

He leans forward to kiss me again, but I move my head back, avoiding it.

The air is different this time. It’s not like before—when we were in the stitch room, bodies tangled under the thickness of lust. Back then, the thought of someone walking in had barely brushed the edge of my mind. But now, when the lust is replaced by something else–desire– I’m wary.

“Still—”

His eyes darken. “Move away from me again…” he warns, his voice low and dangerous, “…and I might just fuck you in the hallway instead. Is that what you want?”

I gasp, my eyes widening at the image in my head. A shiver pricks my spine, and I quickly shake my head. He smirks, obviously pleased with my reaction.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now, get off the desk.”

I swallow hard, glancing at the bulge in his pants before doing as he says. My hands tremble slightly as I slide off the desk.

He steps closer, reaching behind me to pull down the zipper of my gown, the slow, deliberate movement sending a thrill of anticipation through me.

“Take it off,” he orders, his voice thick with desire.

His green eyes follow my every move as my hands slide the gown’s straps off my shoulders. Time seems to slow as he takes in the sight of me, his gaze lingering as the chiffon material glides down my body and gathers at my feet.

As soon as the fabric touches the ground, he is back on me, his lips pressing against mine with a hunger that takes my breath away. He gently guides me onto the desk, half leaning over me. His lips move down my neck, igniting a fiery path with each kiss.

He discovers the tender area beneath my ear, causing me to clamp down on my lip in an attempt to stifle the moan that’s desperate to escape.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growls, against my skin, before pulling back to stand straight, his hands cupping my breasts as he massages my nipples. The teasing motion sends jolts of pleasure straight to my core.

Keeping my eyes on him, I unbuckle his belt and slip my hands into his pants. Wrapping my fingers around his firm shaft, I gently stroke him, enjoying the deep, primal rumble he lets out. The sound doesn’t last as he pulls his pants down, then uses one hand to hold my chin, making me meet his gaze.

"Open your legs for me," he orders, his voice harsh.

My body willingly obeys, spreading my limbs without hesitation, my back still flat against the wood.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, stepping between my legs.

His fingers brush against my wetness, and he groans softly. I can’t stop the blush that creeps up my neck, but I hold his gaze, my need for him growing by the second. Suddenly, he takes off his necktie and holds it up, his eyes gleaming with a darker intent.

“Turn around,” he orders.

I pause briefly before obeying, facing away from him. My mind buzzes with excitement when I realize what he is getting at. The thought of being bound wasn’t new to me. It was a quiet fantasy that lingered in the corners of my mind.

Gently, he pushes my face into the desk, my taut nipples kissing the cold furniture. I’m now in a doggy position.

I glance back to see him bring the soft fabric of his necktie to my hands, binding them firmly. His belt slips off next, the sound of the leather against the air causing a thrill of anticipation to shoot through me. He locks it around my waist, yanking me back toward him as he tightly grips my hips and positions himself behind me.

The excitement is unbearable, and as I sense the head of his dick touch my entrance, I can't stop the gentle sound of distress that escapes my lips. He continues to playfully tease me, rubbing his hardened member on my dripping core, his warm breath brushing against the nape of my neck.

“Beg,” he whispers, his voice a dark promise.

My need is real. “I need you so badly,” I breathe, my body trembling with desire. “Please…”

“Call me Sir,” he growls.

Desperation floods me, and with a teasing whimper, I purr, “Please, Sir.”

With a low snarl, he slams into me, the sudden intrusion stealing the air from my lungs. A strangled moan escapes my lips as he fills me completely and starts thrusting without hesitating.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his fingers digging into my hips as he thrusts into me, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.

I am unable to think clearly, my thoughts overwhelmed by the intensity of the present moment. I adjust my face on the desk as I attempt to anchor myself in the intense pleasure.

He pulls my hair back, prompting me to arch my back as he leans over me, his lips brushing against my ear. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I gasp, my body trembling as he slams into me relentlessly.

“Sì, move those hips like that for me,” he growls, his voice strained as I move against him, each word punctuated by the buck of our hips. “ Così dannatamente perfetta (So damn perfect).”

A whimper escapes my lips in a sound I barely recognize as my own as he tugs at the tie, tightening my hands with each pull. He roughly pulls me back onto him as he pounds into me. The desk rattles beneath me, but I don’t care. All I can focus on is the sensation of his cock filling me, the friction driving me wild.

“Ezra…” His name tumbles from my lips, breathless, almost a plea.

He bends over, his teeth lightly skimming the skin on my neck before softly biting, igniting a sudden jolt of electricity in my body. "Call my name again," he demands, his voice a low growl in my ear.

“Ezra!” I gasp, my body trembling under the intensity of the moment. “Please…”

He chuckles darkly, the sound low and filled with lust. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

I nod, unable to find the words as my legs start to tremble, the pleasure coiling tight in my belly.

His fingers trail down my back, all the way down my ass, and find my clit with ease. He rubs slow, deliberate circles that make my knees buckle while he continues to slam into me.

“Don’t stop,” I manage to whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heavy breathing.

“Never,” he promises, his fingers unrelenting, his hip unrestrained as it smashes against my ass cheeks. “I want to feel you come around my dick.”

His words are my undoing. The tension in my body snaps, and I shatter around him, a strangled cry escaping my lips as the orgasm crashes over me. My body convulses as my pussy clenches around him. He groans deep in his throat, his pace quickening as he chases his own release.

“Fuck yes!” he mutters through gritted teeth, his grip on my waist tightening as he slams into me one last time, burying himself deep. His entire body tenses, and I feel him throb inside me, his release hot and thick.

For a moment, neither of us move. We both breathe hard, our bodies slick with sweat, until his hands slowly loosen their hold on my waist, and he presses a kiss to the back of my neck.