Chapter 21 Princess Monday | 112am #2
He turned his back to me for a moment, reaching for the bottle on the counter.
The sound of amber liquid being poured into two glasses filled the quiet.
When he walked over, he held one out to me, and I hesitated.
My fingers brushed his as I took it, and my pulse jumped before I could hide it. Of course, he noticed.
“You don’t drink,” he inferred, settling onto the couch beside me.
“Here and there, actually,” I answered, lifting the glass with a steady hand even though my nerves were anything but. The burn hit my chest the second I swallowed. I breathed through it. “I figured I deserved one… considering everything.”
“Mmm.” His eyes dropped to my mouth, lingering.
I gave a soft, dry laugh. “I got kidnapped, almost shot at, and ran through some underground tunnel like a slave. And then…” I paused, meeting his gaze. “You gave me head that damn near changed my life.” The heat between us wasn’t just simmering anymore. It was thick and heavy, like I was sure his…
“You’re not wrong,” he muttered, breaking my thoughts. “I don’t build shit unless I plan to use it. That tunnel’s saved my ass a few times. That’s all you need to know.”
The way he said it made me sit up straighter.
That wall of his cracked for half a second.
Just long enough for me to catch a glimpse of what was hiding behind it, something hurt and buried.
“You’ve been through a lot,” I said quietly, surprising even myself.
“I can see it. Whatever it was… it’s still in you. ”
He stiffened as if I had touched a nerve he thought was numb. His jaw clenched as he raised his glass and sipped from it before he really looked at me. “You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered.
My breath caught. There it was again. That heat. That damn invisible thread was pulling me toward him, no matter how much I hated it. I didn’t even think. I just moved, climbing onto his lap like I didn’t care what came next.
His head fell back with a soft “fuck” as my thighs bracketed his hips and my hands slid up his bare chest. “Don’t,” he warned, voice gravelly, his eyes squeezing shut. “Move, Princess.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Nyce. I’m attracted to you, and I know you feel the same towards me.”
His hands came to my waist, gripping tight like he was trying to move me off him, but he didn’t. He just held me there, breathing deep like he needed a second. “You don’t know how the fuck I feel.”
“I do,” I whispered, my body pressing closer. “I want this. I want you.”
He opened his eyes, jaw ticking. “Nah. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe you can just… make an exception.” He stared at me for a long time, and then I leaned in. My lips brushed the edge of his jaw. “Just this once.”
He exhaled slowly, and his grip tightened. And for a second, I thought he was about to push me off, but he didn’t. He groaned instead. A sound so low and guttural it made my whole body clench. “I can’t do this shit,” he muttered, sliding one hand down my thigh, squeezing hard.
“You know you want to,” I whispered. “Fuck me until I cry.”
And that’s all it took. He flipped me so fast my breath caught, laying me out across the couch in one smooth move.
His mouth crashed into mine, and I moaned, arching into him as he yanked my pajama shorts down.
I gasped, rocking against his fingers. Nyce sucked in a breath, then pulled back just enough to look down at me.
His face was tense, eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
“You sure?”
I nodded, heart racing. “God, yes.”
He didn’t make me beg. He just shoved his basketball shorts down just enough for me to see he was blessed in the dick department. More blessed than I’d ever seen, although I’d only ever had sex with one other person years ago.
My ex. Former church choir member. We had been together for a few years before I’d learned he was sleeping with half of the choir and had even gotten two of the girls pregnant.
Then, like a shrimp dick coward, he vanished from the city, leaving me heartbroken and cold.
So, this… whatever I was feeling for Nyce…
was different. He was dangerous. He was holding me captive.
He wanted to kill my father. And yet… I couldn’t fight the pull that was growing between us. I just couldn’t.
Nyce lowered himself between my legs and licked my pussy slowly, pulling a whimper from me. Then, he positioned himself and slid inside me in one thick, slow, unforgiving stroke. My head fell back.
His mouth dropped open, a deep groan dragging from his chest. “Fuck…”
I gripped his back, nails digging in as he moved inside me, slowly opening up my damn near virgin hole.
The couch creaked beneath us, the fire casting shadows across the room.
Every thrust felt like something we couldn’t undo.
Every moan, every kiss, every desperate grab for each other all felt dangerous. But it also felt inevitable.
His lips brushed mine again. “Fuck. I should stop.”
“Please don’t,” I whispered, already knowing he wouldn’t.
He groaned again and buried himself deeper, one hand sliding under my thigh, lifting my leg higher, hitting a spot that made me cry out. “Damn. Why do you feel so fucking good?”
His thrusts got rougher, and my moans turned to whimpers. The way he was looking at me was as if he hated this and needed it at the same time, and it made my stomach twist.
“You don’t know what you’re starting,” he gritted out, sweat beading on his forehead. “You really don’t.”
“I don’t care.”
That did it. He flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and slammed into me again, his chain swinging against my back, the sound of skin on skin loud and filthy. “You wanted this dick?” he asked, roughly.
“Nyce! God… yessss!” His strokes grew deeper, angrier, and needier. He grabbed my wrists and folded my arms behind my back, delivering relentless strokes. Biting my lip, I felt the tears coming. “Ohhh, Godddd!”
He leaned over, mouth at my ear, breath hot. “This is what you wanted. Take this dick like a good princess.”
I nodded through tears. “Yessss…”
“Fuck…” My body was already on fire, but the way he was moving inside me now had me unraveling fast. His grip tightened on my wrists, and every thrust was deep and deliberate, like he was trying to push the feeling out of me and failing. “Pussy too good. I fucking knew it.”
I moaned with my heart racing, my thoughts scattered, and every nerve in my body lit up.
This type of sex was dangerous. I knew it was.
He relaxed my wrists, and my arms fell limp as he reached around and slid his hand between my thighs.
His thumb found exactly where I needed it.
The sensation on my clit sent a sharp gasp out of me, my thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tight in my belly.
“Nyce…” I breathed. “I’m…”
“I know,” he said, his voice rough now, strained. “Let it shit go.”
The orgasm hit me hard, stealing my breath completely. My body locked up around him as I cried out, pleasure ripping through me in waves I couldn’t control. My legs shook, my vision blurred, and for a split second, I forgot everything except him.
“Shhhhiiittttt!” I screamed, gripping the couch cushions with what little arm strength I had left.
He groaned low, deep in his chest, the sound almost pained as he felt me release on his dick. His movements grew rougher, faster, as if he were chasing his own release and barely holding on. “Fuck,” he growled, burying himself deep. “That’s it.”
A few more hard thrusts, and he cursed again, his body going rigid as he pulled out and came on the floor.
His breath was ragged, and for a moment, neither of us moved.
The fire crackled softly in the background.
My heart was still pounding, my body sensitive and trembling, everything inside me buzzing, sore, and alive.
He finally pulled back slowly, stumbling toward the couch across from me as my body fell forward on the cushions.
Panting, hair wild, my eyes found him. His dick was standing at attention with my essence as well as his dripping down. And that’s when it hit me… what he’s said earlier about taking my heart and soul as though he were God. I knew I’d heard it before but it wasn’t until right then that I knew.
Breathless, I said, “I will not be satisfied with the little words you say to me. I will not be satisfied with the touch of your hand nor the sweet of your lips alone. I will take your heart for mine. I will take your soul. I will be God when it comes to you.”
It was a poem by Langston Hughes.
To Artina.
And Nyce had quoted it to me.
The look in his eyes spoke volumes when I finished, and I knew he was trying to make sense of everything. This wasn’t just business anymore. This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just an impulse. I knew it, and he knew it, and that realization scared me more than anything else had so far.