21. Chapter 21
King Damini
The front door clicked shut behind us, locking out the humid ocean air that drifted off the coast.
Nana and I kicked off our shoes in the foyer of one of her old timeshares.
It was a property she made sure to keep paid up and maintained.
The fixtures were a little outdated with the pale pastel walls, polished brass light accents, and heavy wicker furniture, but it gave off that classic, old-Miami vibe that made you feel like time moved a little slower. It was quiet, secluded, and peaceful.
We poured two small glasses of top-shelf bourbon and sank deep into the floral-print sofa in the living room, taking a minute to just breathe before heading off to our separate bedrooms for the night.
Nana swirled the amber liquid in her glass. She stared out through the sheer curtains at the faint glow of the city lights. A soft, distant smile touched her lips, smoothing out the sharp lines of her face.
"You know..." Nana started. "Sometimes I just sit back and think about the great late King... my Kwasi. God rest his soul, but I miss stressing that man out more than anything in this world."
I chuckled softly, leaning my head back against the cushion and stretching my legs out. "You miss stressing him out?"
"Oh, Lord, yes," she chuckled, shaking her head.
"I loved making his heart race. I’d go out there, start a whole mess, cause a ruckus, and then just sit back and watch him come running right behind me to clean it up and save the day.
Shit... I miss being his headache. That man loved me through every storm I created. Even when I tried being in a throuple."
“That’s wild.”
“Child, love is wild within itself.”
I smiled, but as I stared down at the ice melting in my own cup, Nana's words hit me.
I couldn't help but think about Danni. My wild wife.
She was my headache, my headache-inducer, and my heartache all wrapped into one pretty package.
But no matter how much she drove me up the wall, my life had changed for the better.
She brought a purpose out of me that I didn't even know was sleeping on the inside.
I sat there in the quiet space, praying silently in my mind that we’d actually make it through the blood and smoke waiting on the horizon.
I didn't just want to survive the war—I wanted us to grow old together.
I wanted to see her belly swell up with our children, to build something bigger than us, to raise a family, and to live a long, peaceful life together.
"I never had a grandmother growing up, Nana," I admitted. "Never had nobody to give me these type of talks. Or take me on trips just to spend time with me."
Nana turned her warm eyes toward me, the faint glow of the city lights reflecting off her glass. Her ringed fingers tapped against my knee before resting there.
"Well... I'm lucky to have you, son. And so is my granddaughter," she said. "What you and my baby have is so special. You’re a good man, so don't you ever let this cold world make you forget that."
She paused, looking out over the quiet balcony for a long second while the words settled between us.
"Love comes in all types of forms, Dame," she continued softly, shaking her head. "And in our culture…we got this beautiful way of loving on people like nobody else can. We’ll love somebody through their mess, through their scars, and through their broken parts until we bleed ourselves dry. But I’m about to be ninety-seven years old, and if I learned anything on this earth, it’s that it’s about time we start loving on the people who actually love on us.
Don't waste your life pouring into a cup that don't pour back into you.
My granddaughter loves you with every broken piece of her heart.
You hold onto that, and you pour right back into her. "
“Yes ma’am. I will.”
“You better, since I been vouching for you. I don’t be giving out recommendations like that so make me proud, son.”
She downed the rest of her drink, set the glass on the coffee table, and pushed herself up from the couch with a small grunt. She smoothed down the fabric of her pants before looking down at me with a familiar glint in her eyes.
"My Kwasi would have loved to be sitting up late, complaining about life and women with you," she said softly, reaching out to give my shoulder a firm squeeze. "Get some rest, son. We got a flight to catch tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Nana," I said, watching her walk down the hallway toward her suite.
I sat alone in the dim Miami light for a few minutes longer, taking one last sip of bourbon, knowing that no matter how wild and unpredictable Danni got, I was going to stand by her.
I knew we had to get back home soon, but I didn't even bother getting up off the couch just yet. Instead, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, unlocked the screen, and dialed my wife.
She didn't answer right away, but that was cool. I let it ring, swirling the last bit of bourbon in my glass, listening to the ice clink while the line finally clicked open.
"Yes?" her raspy voice came through the speaker.
I heard her slow, shallow panting on the other end, and I sat up straight in my seat. My blood instantly ran hot as that familiar rhythm registered in my head.
"What you over there doing, Babygirl?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave into a low, commanding rumble.
"Don't... call me that," she muttered, her breath hitching just enough to give herself away.
I smirked, setting my glass down on the coffee table before standing up off the floral couch. My shoes made no sound as I headed straight down the hallway toward my room, keeping the phone pressed tight to my ear.
"You touching what's mine?" I asked.
I could hear her biting down on her lip on the other end, her slick friction dragging as she tried her hardest to hold back a moan.
"I'm trying to cum so I can go to sleep," she whined softly. The wet, rhythmic sound of her own fingers working her body was heard through the line. "Can I... can I just call you back?"
"Nah," I said, shaking my head as I pushed into my bedroom and leaned back against the doorframe. "We gone finish this right now. Spread them legs for me, Babygirl. Let me hear how wet you are."
"Dame, stop..." she groaned into the phone.
"Stop what?" I rasped, unbuckling my belt with one hand while I listened to her breath hitch. "You want me to hang up? Tell me to hang up right now and I will."
A beat of heavy, agonized silence stretched across the line before a tiny gasp escaped her throat. "Don't you dare..."
I smirked, twisting the lock on my bedroom door.
"That's what I thought," I murmured. I reached inside my pants, freeing myself. Then, I watched my dick grow in my grip as her ragged pants filled my ear.
"Shut it down, Dame," she tried to snap, but the slight tremble in her voice completely betrayed her. "Don't do this to me right now."
"You want to see your dick?" I rumbled, ignoring her weak protest. I wrapped my fingers tight around my shaft. "It's growing so much for you. Just thinking about sliding in you."
She paused and her breath caught in her throat. The slick, rhythmic sound of her fingers working didn’t slow down. "Why... why would you tell me that?" she whispered, sounding completely undone.
"Because you need to know," I said, brushing past her question. "You rub it out while I stroke it out... I need you wrapped around my dick so fucking bad right now."
"Dame... we don't have to do this over the phone," she whined, her voice getting weaker, drowning in the rising heat.
"Are you on your back?" I demanded.
A long, shuddering exhale came through the speaker. "...Yes."
"Then spread them legs wider for me," I growled, breathing heavy against the receiver. "Rub that clit in circles and don't you dare stop till I tell you to."
A breathless gasp was stuck in her chest before she finally surrendered, completely submitting to my voice.
"Okay... baby," she whimpered into the line.
I bit my bottom lip as I stroked myself to the rhythm of my wife getting herself off thousands of miles away.
Listening to her surrender, feeling the pulse of my own blood throbbing in my palm, I knew one thing for damn sure—as soon as the sun hit the sky, I was getting back on a plane and taking what was mine.