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prologue
Ezekiel.
A failed marriage.
And now I’m starting over.
The reality was bittersweet. I finally had my freedom. I was no longer stuck in a marriage of convenience.
Had it ever been convenient? She’d resented me the whole time.
I tried to be a good husband. Arrangement or not, I wanted things to work. As an intelligent man, I understood it was hard to accept someone who stood in the way of your ability to be with the person who truly owned your heart.Iwas a constant reminder of her inability to be with the man who owned her heart.
Witnessing my brother’s happiness fall into place made me realize what little emotions I felt for Sasha were never enough. They would have neverbeenenough to bind us to the marriage of which we were obligated. Had she at least tried, I would have given her all of me. Or as much of me as it was possible to give.
Now here I was. Newly divorced and starting over.
My eyes lowered to the bourbon skimming the bottom of my glass. It was my third. Before the ink was dry on my divorce paperwork, I was seated here at the bar of Black Diamonds.
I hadn’t told anyone, not even my brother. He would have wanted to be there for me. Elias understood my plight. No matter how much of a sham my marriage was, it was still a marriage. I’d professed vows to a woman I planned to honor and protect. Possibly love if she allowed.
I’d committed my life to her and now that was done. Elias had Cress. They had their son, and now, a daughter. He understood what marriage and family should be, so he knew what true love felt like. He couldn’t understand my current position—what I had been through, what my life would look like moving forward. He lived for them and they lived for him. My marriage would have never touched his but now it was over. Elias would have wanted to support my transition to the next stage in my life. Whatever the fuck that would be.
I had a lot of soul searching to do. As dysfunctional as my marriage had been, I realized the structure of marriage better suited my needs and I would venture down that road again at some point. The goal at the moment was to satiate needs I’d long since suppressed. I would deal with my emotions—good or bad—in the coming days, possibly weeks or months. But tonight what I needed was to fuck my troubles away.
It had been years since I’d laid with my wife Sasha and I never once cheated. Even when we fell apart and I knew there was no feasible way to repair what was broken between us, I still didn’t cheat. Even after discovering she had been sleeping with the man who truly owned her heart, I held to my vows.
It wasn’t about her. It was about me and who I was as a man. Being faithful was about my commitment to honoring my promise to God. I held onto what little I could control. I was so far removed from being a perfect man that the concept was laughable. I did wrong, sure. But the commitment I made to my wife I could control. I honored her even when she refused to honor me. Tonight, those vows no longer existed and I was celebrating.
Balls deep in pussy was the goal. Then I’d figure out the rest of my life. As of right now, I didn’t have a gotdamn clue what was next. I tossed back what was left of my drink and my eyes met the bartender’s as soon as the glass made it to the sleek wooden surface.
“Another?”
I nodded my approval and he turned away, returning with a bottle of bourbon and pouring two thumbs before sliding the glass back toward me. I nodded once more as he went to serve other customers. With my fingers wrapped around my glass I lifted it to my mouth and turned toward the open area of the club. It was a busy night which meant the crowd was thick. Then again, the crowd was always thick at Black Diamonds.
I scanned the faces of women who were either alone or with friends, trying to decide if any of them piqued my interest. Not that it meant much because the first woman I fucked after my wife didn’t need more than a decent body and a willingness to open her legs for me. I could have gone to Chapter House but the idea of my first time laying with a woman post-divorce being arranged or purchased didn’t sit well with me. Not that I couldn’t entertain a collection of willing participants there. More women than I could keep up with had offered themselves to me over the years.
They made promises and I didn’t have to settle for the no touching policy while I pleasured myself in their presence. Several had even pushed the limits but I never once folded. I desired the feeling of being chosen. I hadn’t been chosen in years and maybe that was deeply embedded in my subconscious. So here I was.
Turning back toward the bar I lifted my glass and chuckled lightly at my twisted analysis until I noticed movement in my periphery. I also caught a whiff of something sweet. A woman had filled the space next to me. I slowly turned to check her out and appreciated that her focus was on trying to flag down the bartender. The lack of awareness on her part offered me an opportunity to take her in.
I enjoyed the limited visual of exposed smooth brown skin. The rest of her was wrapped in a tight black skirt and a long-sleeved, sheer, black blouse with a black cami beneath discreetly covering pert breasts. My palms itched with the desire to be filled with what she hid beneath that shirt.
I shook the thought, blaming it on the bourbon that warmed my veins but the dismissal didn’t last long. The minute she felt me staring and turned to offer a complete visual, I realized it damn sure wasn’t the alcohol; it washer.
“You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re invading my personal space.”
I smirked and nodded, lifting my drink. After the sweet, smooth blend trickled past my lips I turned my eyes in her direction once more. Hers were back on the bartender. I tossed my hand up subtly and got his attention. When he glanced my way, I tilted my head slightly to the side, acknowledging that the beauty next to me needed assistance. He nodded, offering a finger to request a moment.
“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
“No, I didn’t and you’re welcome.” I extended a hand. “Ezekiel Omari.”
She frowned, lowering those beautiful pools of ebony to my hand lingering in front of her.
“I’m not interested, Mr. Omari. All you’ll be getting from me tonight is a thank you.”
