by Amarie Avant
Lying in bed, I hold the pillow that I bit down on the last time we were together to my chest. “So, do you honestly plan to keep me holed up in your home tomorrow for an entire seventy-two hours.”
“Hmmm.” His deep voice sends a ribbon of desire down my spine. “Could keep you in a hut in the Amazon, igloo in Switzerland, a condo in Florida, Mikayla, you tell me. Where would my woman like to go?”
In a giddy voice, I reply, “Jag, how about I let you surprise—”
Instead of cowering to Anathi in my head, I hear a symphony of trumpets in the background. The royal announcer boasts loudly welcoming Prince Fari!
“Um, it appears I have a visitor. For the sake of me knowing my greedy man, and all the time he needs to love me, let’s just stay at your place, Jag.”
He grunts. “Damn, why do you know me so well, Kayla? I was going to use a loophole—indicating that travel time did not count and transport us around the entire world, capitalizing on the short amount of time that I have with you.”
Though filled with trepidation regarding Fari’s impromptu arrival, I shake out a tensed chuckle. “Don’t sound so disappointed. I have a surprise for you at the end of the week. Hopefully, it’ll give you a reason to raincheck this round the world trip for next time.”
I hang up, considering how our weekend will end with Jagger not only dropping me off, but I will introduce him to my people as the man that I love. A delicious tremor rolls through me. I should’ve claimed my bully a long time ago.
While moving gracefully and with purpose down the stairs, I try to determine how long is appropriate for Jagger and me to date before the townspeople are whispering about a wedding. Elder Chumi said I should be married by the end of the year, I countered that if I weren’t in love, his version of normal and traditions weren’t going to transpire.
But I set aside thoughts of the man I love and focus on the task at hand, asking, “Kmota, what is going on, and why wasn’t I previously made aware of it.”
A full-blown grin brightens her face. “Prince Fari has a surprise for you.”
Jaw clenched, mouth hardly set into a smile, I walk through the double doors of the palace. A convoy of commercial sized trucks clutter the area and people. A crowd of townspeople have walked up the hill following—
My eyes narrow at Fari when he jumps out of the first truck. A tailor-made suit drapes over his lean muscles, and my god, his cologne is even more tantalizing than the hypnotic gaze he uses as he looks me up and down.
“Though our relationship is blossoming, My Queen,” he says, “I have come to learn that you do not desire jewels to adorn such a gorgeous vessel.”
And I have come to learn that you don’t listen at all. A few days ago, I let him down while he was in Saudi Arabia, now this? He’s like night and day to the royal who supported my endeavors after my uncle, Qaaim, was dethroned.
“Fari, what is this?” I stop staring at a him and all of his flirtations, there are at least eight trucks.
“Until you told me, I hadn’t noticed how busy I am. My life has kept me running a million miles a minute since before I can recall. This is only the start of my attempts to make it up to you, Mikayla.” After what appears to be a sincere declaration, his intense gaze leaves mine. He then clicks in Xhosa while shouting, “Show my queen her presents!”
The door on the back of one truck rolls up, revealing an abundance of golden bits, and the entire truck is filled to the brim. It’s a thoughtful gift, grain. Nivean is slowly working our lands but our people could use more food. Another door rolls up, and this time chefs exit, holding silver trays with various fish on ice and other choice meats. A truck filled with expensive spices, the brunt which is for me, and thousands of satin pouches are handed out to Nivean mothers and grandmothers, whose eyes alight thinking of what they plan on cooking. One by one, a vital need for Nivean or a wish—in the form of gifts being given to children—comes from the trucks!
Now, I know that Anathi is no longer with me. I can almost hear a choice, sarcastic response that she’d use, asking me if I’d deny my people such fortunes. Around me children are laughing and playing with toys.
Damn, and here I was counting down the days to my very own slice of heaven, in the arms of the man that I love, yet I’m glancing up at another.
“Thank you.” My eyes warm with sincerity. Smiling softly, I offer a nod, which indicates that’s as much of a response as Fari will receive from me. Granted, I am fortunate for his help, but his altruistic behavior is going to cost me.
Prince Fari takes it upon himself to clasp both of my hands, stepping forward. He brings them both up to his lips. Warm breath tickles my knuckles. “I spent the last few weeks assessing a few of my oil rigs, and then it occurred to me, I didn’t thank you for dinner.”
“No thanks needed. I enjoyed the presence of everyone who came.” I hope my emphasis is enough for him to read through the lines, especially when letting him down with half my kingdom watching might not be a good idea.
Prince Fari grips me about the waist and tugs me to him. Voice booming, he instantly captures the townspeople’s attention. Fari says, “Everyone, come see how beautiful your queen is. Is there anything in the world that can match her, eh? You?” He points to a little boy as I whisper under my breath for him to let me go.
The kid blushes, smiles hard, and shakes his head no. “She’s pretty,” he murmurs, eyes lowered.
“No!” Fari growls. “She is gorgeous.”
In an instant, Fari moves around until he’s behind me. Another diamond necklace drapes around my neck. This time he takes the liberty of touching the curve of my bosom when adjusting the diamond pendant.
“I am in love with someone else,” I whisper, though my lips are not moving and curved into a smile.
The tone of adoration he’d used this entire time disappears, Prince Fari snarls, “I don’t care, My Queen. You will realize soon that you were made for me.” With one last squeeze, this time tight enough to rattle my bones, Fari lets me go. . . . for now.
38
Jagger
Current day . . .
The Mercedes that I bought for Mikayla pulls up into the driveway, and I’ve bounded down the stairs and burst through the front doors in seconds. She’s alone, perfect, just how I like her. Her frizzy hair grazes softly over her shoulder. A camisole and a pair of scrappy old jeans, which will soon be torn off her hidden beautiful curves, adorn her body. And a smile, a smile that warms my frigid heart. She grabs the duffle bag from the passenger seat and starts to walk, but my forearms swipe under her calves and arms, lifting her and the bag with it.
“My queen doesn’t—”
“Walk?” She giggles, though there isn’t the usual sparkle to her eyes.
“What’s wrong? And you’re late. You’re an hour late that means come Sunday, you will leave an hour late. Understand?”
“Roger that, big bully.” She bites her lip for a moment then her eyes meet mine. “We have to stop by Zane and Zora’s tomorrow just for a sec. I swung by there on my way here. They weren’t there. I waited a while that’s why I’m late, but I’m also prepared for punishment and for you to count beans er, time.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No Solarin’s. Not tomorrow.” I place Mikayla down on her own two feet, glowering down at her. Usually, it’s enough to end the discussion. She places her hand on her hip, and so I elaborate. “Because a visit with them will also cut into your time, and since you readily agreed to being punished, we won’t have time to stop said punishment to fraternize with them.”
When I go in to pat Mikayla on top of her head, she pushes at me. “I really have to see them for a quick minute or two. Jag, you’re a greedy, stingy bastard but—”
Okay, why the fuck am I arguing, we have a few precious days together. Forcing a smile I ask, “Why?”
Her hands go into her kinks, and she sits down at the edge of the couch. “Remember the girl you wanted me to fire?”
“Jag, can you listen?”
“Alright, Kmota. Your servant who barked at me for walking before you. I cleared her, Kayla.” I fold my arms, becoming more serious as this discussion pertains to Mikayla’s safety. “The two of you figure things out?”
“Yes and no. I . . . she . . .” Mikayla shakes her head. “That girl makes me so friggen paranoid. I want to trust her because she’s an Okeke. On the one hand, its tradition that her family is a Mthembu’s closest confidant and protector. She makes it so hard to just . . .”
Noticing her fingers fidgeting, I take her smaller, silky hands into mine. “What did she do?”
“Well, let’s start with today. She . . . she just screwed everything over for me, Jag.” Her eyes come up to meet mine. “You know what, whatever. It won’t make sense.”
“No, no whatever, uthando.”
“I’ll deal with her on Sunday. I had a special tea from Zora that Kmota dropped while placing it into my bag. Every last leaf. . . dropped.”
“Tea?” I raise an eyebrow, growing up with a modest mother, I never knew what women fought over. I assumed it was makeup and shoes when I met Ava Sinclair. “If you need tea, tell me the kind. I’ll have a car send for it.”
“No, I need special tea, Jag. But don’t worry about it. I’ll text the Solarin’s tomorrow. They must’ve gone out on a date tonight. I’m sure I can pick some up on Sunday when I go home. I’ll be fine until then.”
I pull her into my arms with a smile. Fine until then? Must be a placebo beauty tea that women harp about. Nibbling on her ear, I ask, “Did I agree to Sunday? Or was it Monday?”
“It was Sunday, Jagger.” Mikayla chuckles, reluctantly pushing my mouth away from her neck. “You can tie me up tonight. Tomorrow give me a chance to reach out, and I’m sure you’ll tally every single second—feel free to round up to the nearest minute.”
Before Mikayla can continue chatting, my thumb bruises her lips. Lust drowns my loins, and I sink down onto the couch, pulling her into a straddling position on top of me. Silence takes precedence as I shred her blouse away from her gorgeous brown skin then hand pulling at her bra until that snaps. She’s naked in my arms in the blink of an eye. Clasping the back of Mikayla’s neck, I bring her to my mouth, groaning at the delectable taste of her. I reach between us, unzip my jeans, and adjust my briefs. My cock spears up between us.
“Jag . . .” She moans, eyes warming over in desire. Her silky tiny fingers reach out to clasp my cock, but I grip her waist and slip her hot, sweet pussy down on my cock. Fingers biting into the skin on her hips, I forcefully go deeper, until Mikayla’s back bucks, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to venture further. Her drenched walls tighten, making a perfect death grip on my dick.
“Fuck,” I gasp against her neck.
Eyes sparkling with an array of sensations, Mikayla mews, “You went too deep.”
But I can’t stop myself.
My biceps flex. She soars up off my cock, thick, glossed, throbbing for an explosion, and then slams right down to the hilt. “Fuck,” I grit, her pussy spasming. Sensations of pleasure and pain crescendo from Mikayla’s lips. Her arms clutch around me in fear and wonderment as I slaughter her insides. Sweat forms over my brow, coating my muscles, telling me to take it slow, and that I have her for three days.
What the fuck is three days?
No time at all, so my cock bangs deep inside of Mikayla’s body. I’m uncontrollable, needing to flush her tight cunt with my cum. My woman’s fingernails dig into my biceps. She gives a little squeal each time I toss her into the air only to slam her right down on top of me. I try to focus on her moans of delight, but a volcano of a release is brewing and my toes curl. Her pussy is a glorious, sopping mess. She bites on her lip then her voice breaks as I plunge one last time. Hand gripping her throat, I stifle the ear-shattering scream tearing through Mikayla’s body as she matches my primitive orgasm. Roaring like a lion, I come hard and deep, until every neuron in my brain fires off.
A few minutes later, Mikayla’s head lays against my chest. Her heart is slamming at my abdominals. Fisting her hair, I bring her chin up until I’ve got her eye contact. “Did I hurt you?”
She nods.
“You’ll let me make it up to you?”
A bright beam spreads over her cheeks. It’s comparable to watching the sun rise over the ocean. “The Jagger I know doesn’t ask.”
I rub my thumb over the crease of her grin.
This time, we start over, and I love Mikayla’s glorious body just as it was meant to be. It’s pitch black, just before early morning, when she’s on her knees before me on the floor of my bedroom.
“Do you know how much control you have over me right now?” My calloused fingers dance across her jaw. Black lace is around her wrists, and I tied them to her ankles from behind, placing her in a position of submission. But little does Mikayla know, she holds the power, and I’m consumed by a craving.
Through thick lashes, Mikayla looks up at me. Her lips are a fraction of an inch from the crown of my cock. “I doubt that.”
“Place those lips on my cock, and you’ll see just how much rule you have, baby.”
My cock is coated in her desire. She dips her tongue out, and I take on an even wider legged stance. I hiss as her tongue slithers around my cock. Be patient, Jag, don’t be an ass.
Miraculously, Mikayla’s mouth widens more and more. She moans, sucking her sweets off my cock, gathering a rhythm, pushing me toward another orgasm, but I’ve got the beast under control now.
“Do not neglect my balls,” I growl.
I cock a grin as Mikayla flinches against the restraints. It was automatic, her instinct to use her hands to massage my balls. Little does she know that her mouth is a thousand times more magical. She plays it off well, letting her tongue dance over my cockhead until she finally moves her mouth over my two members, giving a bit of suction.
“Fuck.” I sigh. Magic indeed.
Later on, after making love to Mikayla again, I lay in her arms. My cock is begging for just thirty minutes. She breaks the silence. “A few hours of sleep would do us well, Jag.”
Don’t be a bastard, give her a little time. “This entire weekend was for you, Mikayla.” Licking my lips, I center my beast, reminding myself not to be so greedy. My addiction is right here in my arms. We may not have all the time in the world, but that won’t stop me from bringing her to euphoria and cherishing what we have.
39
Mikayla
So, we’re at the part of the story where I grab a knife, twist it into my own heart, pull it out and slaughter Jagger’s too, huh?
I’d forgotten about Zora’s tea for a while, since Jagger had ensconced us in our own corner in heaven. I had his acceptance, his love, his adulation, I had him . . . untarnished by Anathi’s wild thoughts for Prince Fari.
I had him.
The man who crashed into my world, tilted it off kilter, and brightened my horizons. Just to think, when Jagger took my virginity, I dreamed that there would be an us. Though I was naïve and quite sure that we had no future, I knew without a shred of a doubt that I’d have that moment with him forever. Him telling me to climb on top of him, to take my own virginity because he could not hurt me. That chosen memory would be with me in my old age, past the point of going senile. I’d remember him. I’d reminisce on this one choice second in all the hours of my life. Probably not recalling his name or much, but the feeling, and that I’d take that to my final resting place.
That won’t happen, though because I’ve made a mistake. I’ve waited too long to find Zane and Zora. With Anathi here inside of me, I know that she’ll dash away every single good thing about Jagger and me. Who knows, perhaps she’ll leave me as a vessel, fully inhabiting my body with her precious Fari.
This alternate reality flash
es into my mind as I sit in the Mercedes. Though it’s apparent that Anathi’s power grows greater and more invincible inside me each time she returns, she’s unable to match Jagger’s wiles as he stands at the door.
I slam my foot down on the gas again. That taunting computerized voice reminds me that Jagger Johansson has revoked my right to use this vehicle.
Voice breaking, I scream, “Niveans will riot! The Zihula nation will riot. I’ve already accepted Prince Fari’s hand, Jagger.”
That’s a lie. I just need to get to Zane and—
“You will marry Prince Fari. Are you ready to verbally declare you love him!”
With Anathi blaring into my ears, I beseech him to let me go again. “They’ll come looking for me.”
“Let them come!”
I stop cowering against the steering wheel and glare at Jagger. Searing hot tears run down my cheeks, I can feel it, with each day, and each return, Anathi is becoming fiercer, seizing the moment.
“I am in love with the prince, Jagger,” she says for me. The words are enough to feel like I’ve stabbed my ears with shards of glass.
Click.
The door opens. The remote in Jagger’s hand falls to the ground. The entire scene that transpires feels like it’s moving in slow motion because I don’t have a seed of power. It’s as if I made a deal with the devil and am attempting to take it back.
“You love this prince?” His voice is uncanny, inhumanely angry. “You love the Prince Fari? Say it to my fucking face, Mikayla.”
My arms tremble. Anathi is attempting to get me to stay staring forward, to keep a crass façade. With all the willpower I have, I turn to him. My mouth is ready to do the thing I should’ve done at the beginning.
I should’ve told Jagger Johansson on day one what was going on. Should’ve made him aware.
So that he’d know that this black magic bitch is speaking through me. A voice that sounds just like mine while staring him in the eye says, “I am in love with Prince Fari.”
