2. Mahasin St. James
Mahasin St. James
“ Y ou look so beautiful on your knees for me, Mahasin. Gag on this dick, make room for your king, baby.”
Doing as I was told, I deep-throated Hunter, warm tears slid down my face from the pressure.
I relaxed my throat and, since I was a no-hands type of woman, I grabbed one of his hands and guided it to the back of my head.
Between the insane amount of spit in my mouth and Hunter’s thick, chocolate-velvet length, I managed to hum out…
“Dominate me, King.”
As an only child, I was raised to take up space.
I dominated every arena I stepped into—from classrooms to boardrooms—you heard me, felt me, soaked in my presence.
I was a winner, with my only competition being my reflection.
But in the bedroom? I submitted. If I were bad, spank me.
If I talked out of turn, stuff my mouth with your dick until my eyes rolled back, and snot ran down my nose.
I needed my man to know that even though I was a boss in the streets, in his castle, I belonged to him.
Hunter picked up the pace, guiding my head while his hips thrust deeper. Looking up at him, nostrils flared, his head tilted back, and he bit down on his bottom lip like it owed him something. His ass was under my spell, and the power in that only made my pussy wetter.
“Dr. St. James… baby, you're insatiable. The best a nigga ever had. Who do you belong to, baby?”
But I wasn’t the type to say it; I showed it.
I knocked his hand away and sped up, bobbing faster, slurping loudly, messily, greedily.
Without breaking rhythm, I stroked his length with both hands, spit slicking everything down, and massaged his balls until he groaned—a sound so primal it probably set off the motion sensors in our penthouse.
He released his legacy down my throat, and like the good girl I was, I swallowed every drop, licking him clean of any residual.
“Good girl,” he growled. “Revive me, baby.”
That was my command to kiss him. I did as I was told, getting off my knees and pushing up onto my feet, I crashed my lips against his.
Kissing Hunter was always an experience.
It felt like I was pouring every part of myself into him—like I was willingly draining my soul, giving my last breath if he needed it.
“Breathe your strength into me until I’m overflowing with you,” he ordered.
I kissed him harder, my subconscious slipping somewhere between space and time.
His grip on my ass was so rough I knew it would leave a bruise.
Picking me up, he walked over and laid me down in front of the fireplace.
The crackling flames and the rich, smoky scent of burnt maple made this Valentine’s Day morning even more romantic.
Here I was, making love to the man of my dreams in a two-story penthouse, finally living everything my heart ever desired.
I’d kissed too many frogs, but I’d found my king.
Positioning himself at my flower, he parted my petals with his tongue and began to drink my nectar.
He could never fully clean me—my body just produced more, and more, and more.
His mouth closed around my clit, sucking until I opened wider and my hands locked on the back of his head.
I rolled my hips against his pretty mouth.
“Oh fuck, Hunter!” I screamed as release took me.
I kept grinding through the waves, smearing my honey across his lips and beard.
He leaned over me and kissed me passionately, letting me taste myself—something that felt intoxicating and forbidden all at once.
Slowly, he broke the kiss, buried his face in my neck, and began to suck hard and slow.
Ecstasy rippled through me, another orgasm building just from his lips on my skin.
Then reality cut in. My eyes flicked to the antique Tiffany’s clock on the coffee table.
“Shit, Hunter, baby, stop. I’m running late—I have to get to the hospital for a scheduled cesarean.”
“Don’t take what gives me life away from me, baby,” he whispered into my neck.
I didn’t want to. But the health and safety of my patients came first. Childbirth was the closest a woman came to death without dying, and the maternal death rate for Black women was significantly higher than any other group. The least I could do was be on time.
“Baby, I don’t want to, you know I don’t,” I whined softly. “But it will bother me if I’m not at the hospital to welcome her. This woman’s fertility journey wasn’t easy—she’s already survived a miscarriage and a stillbirth. I want to be there for her.”
He lifted his head, his lips pausing on my skin. His hazel eyes locked with mine.
“Why are you so perfect?” he asked, smiling.
Small cries echoed through the operating room. You’d think that after hearing this sound hundreds of times, it would dull. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. New life was God’s way of blessing us with a do-over, and a newborn’s cry was like tears from the stars.
“Congratulations, mom and dad, she’s perfect,” I said, laying the baby on her mother’s chest for skin-to-skin. “I’ll just need a few minutes to close you up. The nurses will take you into recovery until your room is ready.”
“Dr. St. James, feel free to give me a tummy tuck while you’re down there,” my patient joked.
We all chuckled in unison. After stitching her up, Amber and I made our way to the washing station. Besides maternal care, gossip was what we did best.
“Her husband was fine as hell. Had me ready to ask if he could get me pregnant next,” Amber said with a grin.
“Girl, don’t get thrown in the river. You know Creed ain’t having that,” I laughed.
“Hoe, please. Ain’t nobody worried about Creed. But…” she shrugged, “he’s been mentioning our hypothetical kids a lot lately.”
I barely heard her, too focused on the buzzing in my phone.
Hunter: Praying the delivery is successful.
Hunter: I can’t wait to finish what we started.
Me: Everything was perfect, the baby is beautiful.
Me: Can we have dinner before dessert? LOL
Hunter: Absolutely. I got us reservations at Candles.
Me: Baby, we’re going to Jersey. I didn’t pack.
Hunter: No need. The limo will pick you up from the hospital and take you to the jet, from there you’ll be driven to our suite. Everything, including your dress for the evening, is waiting. I’ll be right behind you.
Amber cleared her throat. “Are you listening to me?”
“Girl, no. My bad. I was answering Hunter’s texts.” I gave her a pouty face.
“It’s okay, I love seeing you like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, honestly puzzled.
“Happy. Off your damn square,” she said.
I laughed at her silly ass.
“No, seriously, Mahasin. You deserve this win. I’m happy for you. So, what’s the rich bank owner got planned for tonight?”
“Thank you, Ambs. But he doesn’t own a bank—he’s the portfolio manager at Summit First Credit Union.”
“Girl, same difference. Rich is rich. Now, spill the plans.”
Her eyes lit up as I told her about Hunter’s surprise evening. Amber was the perfect person to share my joy with—number one, she was truly a girl’s girl. There wasn’t a hating bone in her body. And number two, Creed kept her living the life of her dreams, too.
“Now, I know my imagination runs a tad wild,” Amber said, pinching her fingers together.
“A tad?” I raised a brow.
“Okay, okay. I’m a whole urban fiction, sue me. But hear me out—Hunter might be proposing tonight.”
“What? No way.” I waved her off. “We’ve never talked about marriage, kids, or any of that.”
“Yeah, okay. Candles is the hardest reservation in the whole tri-state—unless you belong to that scary Rae family. Why else go through all that trouble? He could’ve taken your ass to Olive Garden.”
“Shut up, heffa,” I laughed.
“Mmhmm. I’ll be waiting to see the ring when you get back. Now, let’s get you ready. Your limo awaits.”
Candles had always been romantic, but on Valentine’s Day, the restaurant transformed into something straight out of a fairytale.
Each place setting was dressed in designer china and gleaming utensils, with a single deep red rose laid across the plate—its velvety petals practically bleeding love.
Beside it, a small lacquered wooden heart waited like a keepsake, Candles’ signature Valentine’s touch.
“Baby, this is absolutely perfect,” I said, savoring a forkful of lobster mac and cheese.
“You’re absolutely perfect,” Hunter replied. He set his glass down and leaned forward. “Can I ask you something, Mahasin?”
“Mm hmm,” I hummed, my mouth now full of lamb.
“You think you could see forever with me?”
My mind instantly flicked back to the conversation Amber and I had at the hospital.
“I mean, I know we moved fast—living together in less than a year. But with us both being successful, I didn’t see it as a big step for either of us. I just don’t know how seriously you take it, since technically we could part ways like we were just… roommates.”
I laughed softly. “Okay, first off, Hunter Knox, you bought me that penthouse—and suddenly you lived there too.” I grinned. “Second, you are my forever, King.”
I watched the weight lift off his shoulders, but his expression still said he had something on his mind. Something unsaid. I didn’t know whether to feel nervous or order dessert and pretend the mood hadn’t shifted.
“Hunter, you okay, baby?” I asked.
“Uh, yeah… I guess I just needed a little reassurance, that’s all,” he admitted, his voice lacking confidence.
“Well, rest assured, I am yours and you are mine,” I said firmly. “I plan to spend forever and a day with you. Hell, I might even give you forever and the whole weekend—if you lay that dick down tonight.” I winked.
His lips curved into a hungry smile. “Let’s get out of here. I need to feel you.”