Chapter 30 Princess Friday | 812pm
Princess
The moment I turned on the TV in the hotel suite, I couldn’t even focus on my fork.
The local news anchor was in full spin mode, talking about how Don had officially announced his “voluntary resignation” and how a “major private development firm” would be spearheading community work on the Northside.
I knew exactly what happened behind those bright camera flashes, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I sat cross-legged on the plush bed with a tray of chicken alfredo, garlic bread, cheesecake, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a slice of cake before me. I was celebrating, stress-eating, and just feeling everything.
For the last few nights, I’d been under Nyce or on top of him, screaming his name while he gripped my hips. Pure bliss. And in the mornings, he’d leave the hotel to handle business. It became routine, and he made sure of it.
I chewed another bite of cake, eyes locked on the screen. They showed a clip of Nyce stepping up beside Don like he owned the entire damn city. God, he was fine. I was in full fan-girl mode when I heard the soft click of the hotel suite door.
I froze mid-bite as the cologne hit me before I even saw him. That deep, woodsy scent lived in my skin at this point. I dropped the fork, scrambled to wipe powdered sugar off my fingers, and jumped off the bed.
“Nyce?”
He rounded the corner, and my heart skipped.
He didn’t have the same suit and tie on.
He was dressed down in cargo pants, a tee, and sneakers with his chains resting against his chest. My whole body reacted before I could think and I launched myself at him.
He caught me, arms locking tight around my waist as I buried my face into his neck and kissed him once, then again.
“You really stuck it to him,” I mumbled, grinning against his jaw. “I watched the whole thing. God, you were amazing! The way you cut him off in front of the press? He was dying inside, I could tell. And when you said you don’t do neglect, you…”
I pulled back, breathless, and finally looked at him. He hadn’t said a word. He was just… staring at me and holding me close, but his face wasn’t right.
“Hey,” I said softly, brushing my thumb across his jaw. “What’s wrong?”
He exhaled. A slow, heavy breath that sounded like it had been sitting in his chest all day. “Sit down,” he said. “I gotta talk to you.”
Immediately, my stomach tightened. “Okay…” I stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed, heart already racing for reasons I didn’t understand yet.
Nyce stayed standing. His hands were in his pockets, head tilted slightly down like he was measuring every word before it left his mouth. The silence made my skin itch. “I’m sending you away for a while,” he said finally. “Out the country.”
I blinked. “Wait… what?”
“You can bring a friend if you want,” he added. “You’ll be taken care of when you land. You won’t need to pay for shit.”
“No, Nyce… wait.” I stood. “What are you talking about? Why?”
He didn’t look at me. He stared past me, jaw flexing, voice lower now. “I can’t explain right now. It’s just what needs to be done.”
I shook my head slowly, confusion flooding me. “So you’re just… sending me away? Out of nowhere? Just like that?”
“I’ll join you when it’s over.”
“Over?” My voice cracked slightly. “Over as in… what? What are you talking about? Is this about my father or Brandon?”
“Both, but I’m not telling you shit else. The less you know, the better. I’m just protecting you.”
I stared at him, emotions rising. “Then protect me right here. Why can’t I stay with you?”
“Because if you’re here, I won’t be focused,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “And I can’t afford that shit right now, Princess.
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”
“I need you to trust me.”
“I’m trying to.”
“Good. Your flight is in two hours.” Nyce’s eyes softened for a split second as he stepped forward and cupped my face gently. “I wouldn’t be sending you away if I didn’t fuck with you. I need you to trust that.”
I stared up at him, his hands warm against my skin. And even though my heart was racing and my stomach felt like it was folding in on itself, I nodded.
As he made some calls, I reached out to Mora.
Of course, I apologized for my behavior the other night, and she used every curse word in the book to describe how she felt.
Eventually, she agreed to accompany me on this vacation…
if that’s what you’d call it. After ending the call, I barely had time to put the phone down before Nyce was all over me.
His hands were on my hips, firm, guiding me to bend over the edge of the mattress like it wasn’t up for discussion. I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. I was still trying to hold myself together, but he already knew what I needed. Hell, what we both needed.
I felt the hard press of him against the thin fabric of my boy shorts, and my knees damn near gave out. His palm slid up my spine until it was at the back of my neck, holding me in place.
“Fuck,” he grunted, and the sound of him unbuckling his belt echoed like a countdown. “You got me gone, Princess.”
My breath caught. “Me too.”
Then, I left the heat of him pulsing between my thighs as he pushed inside of me. I cried out, hands gripping the sheets as he filled me completely, stretching me deep in one go. He groaned low behind me, both hands gripping my hips like he was trying to memorize the shape and feel of me.
Each thrust hit with an intensity that said everything he wasn’t saying out loud. The kind that pulled moans straight from my chest and made my thighs tremble. “Oh God… yessss!!!”
The mattress creaked, and the headboard thudded once, twice, then fell into a rhythm. He leaned over me, body blanketing mine, his breath hot on my neck as his chain swung and slapped my back.
“This shit ain’t easy… fucking with a nigga like me,” he muttered, his voice tight, teeth gritted as he drove into me again. “I’m not easy to love, Princess.”
“I know…” My brain told me to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. All I could do was gasp, cry out, and push back against him like my body needed to hold on to this moment.
He cursed low, dragged his hand up my side, then grabbed a fistful of my tank top and pulled me up. I arched back into him, mouth parted, chest heaving. His arm wrapped tight around my waist, and the angle changed. Nyce’s strokes hit deeper and rougher.
I whimpered, eyes fluttering. “Please stay alive.”
He stilled for a split second. Then his hand slid between my legs, found that spot, and rubbed slow, deliberate circles as he kept stroking deep. “I’m not going anywhere,” he rasped.
It hit something inside me. I clamped around him without warning, body trembling, eyes squeezing shut as my orgasm snapped through me. I sobbed his name, legs shaking, and he didn’t stop. He gripped my waist, cursed under his breath, and kept going until his rhythm got ragged, desperate.
“Get on top,” he said suddenly, pulling out. I turned, dazed, breathless. He sat on the edge of the bed, legs apart, stroking his dick with one hand, jaw locked tight. “Come here.”
I climbed into his lap, straddling him, my thighs sticky and trembling, and sank down. We both moaned. My hands pressed to his chest, and his arms wrapped around me like he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to touch me again. I moved slowly, grinding into him and rolling my hips.
He cursed again, head falling back, teeth clenched. “Damn, girl. What the fuck are you doing to me?”
I kissed his neck, his jaw, his mouth. “Letting you in.” I kept moving only deeper and faster.
“Just like that,” he groaned. Then, Nyve slid his hands under my ass and guided my rhythm. His lips parted against mine with quiet grunts and whispered words that made no sense and made everything make sense at the same time.
I clenched around him again and released a flood, gasping for air along the ride.
He came right after, body stiffening, arms tightening, his face buried between my breasts as he exhaled roughly against my skin.
His heartbeat was a hammer against my chest. And even though nothing was certain outside these four walls, I felt safe.