Chapter 21 Princess Monday | 112am
Princess
The water was hot enough to steam up the glass, and I stayed under it longer than necessary, letting it beat against my shoulders while my mind refused to shut off.
Nyce’s voice, his eyes, the way that kiss shouldn’t have happened, and yet kept replaying anyway.
I hated how my body remembered him before my pride could stop it.
My hand drifted without permission, slowly finding my clit. I chased that familiar, quick release to quiet the ache twisting low in my belly. I was right there, breath uneven, head tipped back, when a knock sounded at the bathroom door.
I froze, then slowly peeked my head out past the glass to see Nyce setting a towel and folded clothes on the counter. He didn’t say a word or even look at me, but I couldn’t help looking at him. God, help me.
His chiseled chest was exposed, muscles flexing, tattoos seemingly more dangerous.
He wore a pair of black basketball shorts that hung low on his hips, socks, and slides, with his chains resting against his skin.
I forced myself to look away before my body betrayed me again and muttered a quiet, “Thank you,” hoping my voice didn’t give me away.
Steam lingered in the bathroom as I rinsed off, letting the heat chase the tension in my body down the drain. My thoughts stayed messy, just like everything about this situation. I finished cleansing myself, then stepped out slowly, wrapping the towel around my body.
Catching my reflection in the mirror, I whispered to myself, “You can’t like him, Princess. What the hell? He kidnapped you. He’s trouble.”
After I dried off and lotioned with the cocoa butter Nyce left on the sink, I reached for the silk two-piece pajama set. That’s when I heard voices speaking in low, urgent, and hushed tones. I paused and stilled myself to listen.
“It coulda been that preacher nigga or the council muthafucka,” Crook’s voice muttered.
“Definitely wasn’t Zeke. Broke ass can’t afford a hit,” another voice I didn’t recognize spoke.
“It was Brandon tryna come for his bride,” Nyce snapped. “This nigga is grasping at whatever to get her. She ain’t going nowhere until I fucking say so, but for damn sure ain’t going with that nigga.”
I slipped into the pajamas slowly, the silk cool against my skin.
The voices dropped even lower until I couldn’t make out much more.
When I finally opened the bathroom door to step out, the conversation cut clean like a sharp knife.
Nyce stood there, one hand holding a blunt, the other in his pocket.
He blew out a stream of smoke, eyes cool.
“Go in the bedroom,” he said, not asking.
I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes as I brushed past him. Down the hall, I found a dimly lit bedroom all warm and cozy with a fireplace going. There was something intimate about it.
I was still taking it all in when a knock came at the door.
I walked over and slowly opened it. Nyce stood there, his gaze low and glassy.
Locked on me, watching every breath I took.
The way he looked at me made goosebumps appear on my skin.
It was as if he were trying to figure out if I was a threat, a puzzle, or temptation. Still, neither of us said a word.
And then, his hand wrapped around my neck with just enough pressure to make my heart race faster.
Then he kissed me, and it wasn’t soft or gentle.
It was hard, wet, and hungry like he needed it just to breathe.
I could taste the liquor on his tongue as it met mine and I moaned into his mouth before I could stop myself.
His grip tightened on my neck, and I felt my skin heating, my nipples pebbling through the silk, and my pussy pulsing like it was begging for more.
I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. Nyce walked me back slowly, still kissing me like he was pissed about how much he needed this. When the backs of my legs hit the bed, he grabbed my hips, picked me up, and laid me flat like it wasn’t up for debate.
“Nyce…” I breathed, trying to find some logic in the storm building inside me. But he was already peeling my shorts and panties down, tossing them like they didn’t matter. He dropped to his knees and yanked my legs apart before I could think twice. “What…”
“I’ve been tryna stay away from this shit,” he muttered, looking at my pussy like it was the last meal on Earth. “But I can’t no more.”
And then his mouth was on me. The first flick of his tongue made me cry out. My back arched off the bed, and my legs instinctively tried to close, but his hands were already locked around my thighs, keeping me wide open. He licked me slowly at first, like he was tasting something forbidden.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. Then his mouth started moving as if it had something to prove.
“Oh my God…” I gasped, my hand flying to the back of his head.
He groaned like I’d said something he liked and pushed his face deeper between my thighs.
I couldn’t think or even breathe straight.
Every swirl of his tongue and every suck of my clit sent a fresh wave of heat through my body.
He moved like he knew exactly where my soul lived and was determined to drag it out of me with his mouth.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My toes curled as my fingers dug into his braids. “Nyce… please…”
He moaned into my pussy and kept going, flicking his tongue faster, sucking harder, working like he was trying to ruin me for anybody else. The orgasm built quickly, tearing through me before I could prepare for it. I screamed his name, shaking, legs trembling as I came all over his face.
And he didn’t move. He stayed there, lips still wrapped around my clit as I rode it out, crying and panting and falling apart.
When Nyce finally pulled back, his face was glistening, his goatee soaked, and his eyes were wild.
Every logical thought I had about danger, about not getting too close, about keeping control had left.
I wanted him. Badly. And just when I assumed the moment was about to happen, he switched from hot to cold.
He raised slowly, licking his bottom lip. His chest rose and fell with an intensity that made my stomach flutter. And those eyes, dark and heavy lidded, locked on me like I was the one who crossed the line. Then, he backed away from the bed.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, voice low and unreadable.
I blinked. “What?”
He turned without another word, and I sat there stunned, still trying to catch my breath as he walked to the door, calm as ever.
I heard the lock click behind him, and I fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers.
My body still hummed, still sensitive, still wide open in more ways than one.
My thoughts were all over the place, torn between wanting to slap the shit out of him for flipping the script like that and wanting him right back between my legs. I should’ve known better. I should’ve remembered exactly who he was… what this was.
I forgot. Because the way he touched me, the way he tasted me like I was something he needed to survive… God help me, I forgot. And now I didn’t know if I was falling for a man who actually wanted me or a man who just wanted another thing to control. It was almost maddening.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I sat on the edge of the bed, stunned, my chest rising and falling like I’d just run through a storm.
I shot up off the bed and pulled on my pajama shorts before pacing the floor.
After a few seconds, I stormed to the door.
I banged on it, loud and hard. “Nyce! Open the damn door!”
I heard movement, then the click of the lock.
The door cracked open, and there he was, leaning against the frame, looking too calm.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, then slowly lifted to meet my stare.
He said nothing. Anger flared through my chest. Without thinking, I raised my hand, but before it could land, he caught my wrist.
“Don’t.”
I snatched my hand back. “You don’t. Don’t act like you didn’t just...”
“Princess,” he cut in, jaw clenched. “We’re not doing this shit.”
I laughed, humorless and breathless. “You kissed me. You touched me. You looked at me like you couldn’t stop. And now you’re walking away like… it didn’t happen?”
He stepped forward, crowding my space for half a second before backing me toward the bed. I stumbled slightly, and when the backs of my knees hit the mattress, I sat down, staring up at him. “I shouldn’t’ve done that shit,” he muttered, shaking his head, voice low.
“But you did,” I whispered. “And now you want to pretend like you didn’t?” He didn’t answer. He ran a hand down his face, sighing hard, then turned and walked out of the room again. I sat there for a second, stunned, then got up and followed him. “Don’t just walk away.”
He didn’t say a word. Just kept walking until he reached the living room and plopped down on the couch. I stopped a few feet away, staring at the tension in his back, the way his chest rose with each slow, forced breath. I swallowed hard, voice soft as I kept inching closer to sit across from him.
“What just happened?” I asked. “What are we doing? I mean, we haven’t even talked about the fact that you have a whole damn underground escape route. And then… this. What the hell, Nyce?”
He didn’t say shit right away. He just sat there, eyes narrowing like he was trying to decide if I deserved an answer. Then, with a slow sigh, he stood up and walked over to the bar cart and poured yet another drink.
I chuckled, sadly, shaking my head. “You know what? I need a damn drink.”
His mouth curved like I’d just said something funny. “That so?”