#aaron!pierre

The screen lit up with the TikTok app’s familiar start-up jingle, followed by a soft gasp from the girl on-screen. She wore a silk bonnet, lip gloss, and an oversized tee, holding her phone like she had just discovered treasure

“Okay. Y’all… I was just trying to figure out who this woman was that literally almost shut down a street in Milan yesterday. Like—shut it DOWN. And I fell into a hole. So, let’s get into it because—why did no one tell me this princess is that girl?”

The screen cut to the now-viral photo of Princess Atarah Mbali, draped in a chartreuse Jacquemus mini dress with a long sculptural train, strappy metallic heels, and a pair of gradient sunglasses that half-covered her face. Her hair was in two sleek, waist-length braids, and her brown skin glowed under the paparazzi’s camera flash. In the background was a blurry figure in all-black — broad, tall, still.

“First of all — yes. This is an actual princess. Like, royalty. Heiress to a fucking throne. Her mom is Queen Samira — which is the one who brought that sapphire headwrap to a UN gala she attended with her husband, and it broke Twitter. Yeah, that’s her mother. So, her bloodline is already fashionable as fuck. Sort of known to be on of the best dressed families in power.”

The video then cut to a mashup, which was actually a vintage Vogue spread from years ago featuring Queen Samira’s wedding to King Kwame Mbali, followed by a slideshow of archival footage showing a much younger Atarah. From boarding school photos, grainy royal family candids, and charity gala appearances and even the occasional one of her as a child, waving to the paps. She was always poised, always beautiful, and was always watched.

“She’s twenty-four now. Went to university in London, dipped in and out of the spotlight for most of her life — and then bam, started popping up in these random clips and videos all over social media. Baby she’s been here.”

The TikTok cuts to a now-infamous video. It shows a bustling crowd outside an afterparty in France. Nothing but chaos and screaming as different security guards yelled in four different languages. The camera shakes wildly until it catches a tall, sharply built man with deep brown skin and a calm, stoic expression emerging through the crowd from the door of the party. It shows as he turned and effortlessly lifts a girl. And there, effortlessly balanced across his shoulders, laughing in a mini dress and stiletto boots, was Atarah Mbali, shades across her face as she blushed at the attention.  

“This was her. THIS was her. And that man carrying her like a paper doll? That’s not her boyfriend. That’s her bodyguard. Terry. Richmond. Who has apparently been with her for, like, almost ten years now???”

The voiceover softened, almost dreamily.

“And he is always so there? Like—girl, look at this.”

It then cuts to another video. A jet ski gliding across the turquoise coast of Antigua. Atarah in a red bikini, long braids flying behind her as she’s driving with her sunglasses on and laughing. And behind her, hands gently resting on her waist to make sure the standing girl didn’t fall, face unreadable, sat Terry. Wet shirt clinging to him with his eyes trained on the horizon.

Then it cut again — quick flashes of mirror selfies she’d posted on her now semi-active account throughput the years. Some of them were classic influencer content in a way. Chic bags, nails, jewelry. But if you looked closely, there he was in the background every time — blurred in the mirror, half cropped, standing at the door, boots in the frame.

“So like… she doesn’t post a lot, but when she does? He’s always there, which I know he’s her bodyguard, but he’s fine as fuck.” 

The TikTok cuts to one last clip , one low-resolution and shaky.

It was a New York Fashion Week afterparty. There was loud music and flashing lights. Atarah’s hand is in Terry’s as they move through the crowd with her in front. At one point, she stumbles in heels and he catches her by the waist like it’s second nature. She doesn’t even look that surprised by the touch. She just leans back into him for one second longer than necessary with a slightly agape mouth.

“You’re telling me that’s just professionalism? She not fucking his fine ass? Please. I bet that man is in love with his job for…many reasons. Either way, I need this in a book or on a screen near me, immediately.”

The TikTok ends with a picture of her reflection in Capri, Atarah smirking under sunglasses, head slightly tilted toward the large window she was taking the photo in. And Terry was behind her, one hand on the car door, the other on his hip as he watched her. 

That was the video Atarah watched on her phone last night, the hum of the private jet subtle. Once it send and automatically started over in her headphones, it was then she felt how much she was smiling. She looked away from the phone illuminating her face, the video still playing in her ears, and her eyes landed on the man across the aisle. There Terry sat in a reclined airplane seat, asleep with a fluffy yellow blanket thrown over him, the one she placed earlier. And as she gazed at him, the end of the video rang in her ears again. 

“She not fucking his fine ass? Please. I bet that man is in love with his job for…many reasons. Either way, I need this in a book or on a screen near me, immediately.”

With that, she shut her phone off and took her earphones off her ears. She let out a soft sigh as she placed the items in her carryon bag next to her before snuggling up in under her blanket and going to sleep, the last thing she saw being the sleeping man next to him. 

────୨ৎ────

The private jet cut a clean line through the skies above Los Angeles, the soft hum of descent barely noticeable within the luxurious interior. Plush cream seats gleamed under the warm glow of the cabin lights, and through the oval windows, the city stretched like a golden mirage beneath them.

“Terry, wake up!”

Atarah’s voice rang out like morning bells, crisp and bright, far too lively for someone who had been curled up asleep moments ago. She sat up quickly, brushing a stray coil of dark hair from her cheek, her smile wide as her eyes danced toward the window. “We’re here!”

Across the aisle, Terry sat upright, dressed in all black, as always—black trousers, black fitted shirt, black earpiece, black watch. His presence alone was intimidating, but unmoved. “I see that. He replied coolly, casting her a sidelong glance, unimpressed but not unamused. “I’m awake.”

“Well get excited!” She grinned, undeterred by his tone. Her international accent—a rich blend of aristocratic English with the softness of African musicality—filled the cabin as effortlessly as the scent of her lavender oil did earlier. No one on board blinked at her enthusiasm. The flight staff were used to her, used to them. Atarah, Princess of the House of Mbali. And Terry…her unflinching shadow.

They began their landing procedures, Atarah adjusting her pale yellow polo sweater over her grey sweats, slipping on her worn-in Uggs. “You’re going to help me carry my bags, right?” She teased as she stuffed her hair into a claw clip and collected her Hermès blanket.

“I already coordinated your luggage, Your Highness.” Terry muttered.

She beamed at that, softly clapping her hands while Terry stared at her. 

Fifteen minutes later, the jet touched down, the California sun spilling across the tarmac like honey. The moment Atarah stepped off the jet, she squealed in delight, her laughter light as she slipped her arm through Terry’s. She barely made it down the steps before the sound of shrill voices caught her ear.

“Tarah!”

“Ahh!” The woman squeaked, letting go of Terry immediately to run toward the small group of girls gathered near the base of the jet. They wore matching wide-brim hats and high-cut shorts, their Louis Vuitton crossbodies swinging as they jogged forward to meet her.

The girls collided in a chorus of shrieks and perfume.

“Omg, I haven’t seen you guys in ages!” Atarah said, pulling back just slightly to admire them, her cheeks still flushed from sleep and sun. Behind her, Terry stood like a statue, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding the storm in his eyes.

“That’s because you’ve been MIA.” Said Bailey, her British accent curled like a ribbon. Bailey was slim and surgically preserved, her cheekbones a little too sharp, and her lip filler giving her a constant pout. Classic British babe with an iffy tan but a nice beat face. 

Atarah shrugged with a soft laugh. “Because I’ve been busy. You know…princess, eldest daughter things.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “Besides not hearing from you for almost months, yeah, we can tell.” She said in that soft Italian accent, before her eyes racked the princess. “What are you wearing?” She added as she brushed her Bon blonde hair away from her face, her gaze, and the rest of theirs, lingering critically on Atarah’s oversized grey sweats, polo sweater, and Uggs. 

Atarah glanced down at herself and blinked. “What?” She said. “I was on a jet.” She stated, defending herself from the scrutiny she felt. Bailey scoffed, but it was Harper’s curled lip that gave it away. Atarah followed their gaze and saw the others already dressed for Coachella, all fringe, mesh, lace, and glitter. “Oh, are you guys heading out now?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Bailey said. “Didn’t think we had to tell you we wanted you to be ready.” Her tone was achingly sweet. And it scratched under Atarah’s her skin. She gave the girl a tight smile. “Well, Lady Gaga doesn’t come on ‘til later, so I’ll catch up with you guys after I get ready.”

“Where are you staying?” Sofia asked then, her soft blue eyes too curious. She was the prettiest of the trio, a nice blonde blowout and a Swedish accent with a supermodel’s height and bone structure to tie it all in.

“Uh, the private villa up north.” She responded. Sofia nodded, but Terry saw it—the subtle glance Harper threw Bailey, the way Bailey blinked hard just before she turned her cheek. He stepped forward without a word, hand landing protectively on the small of Atarah’s back.

Atarah glanced up at him, then back at her friends. “I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you guys later.” She said with a small smile. Terry ushered her toward the line of black SUVs parked nearby. He didn’t have to say a word. She already felt the prickle on the back of her neck. She waved at the girls once more before slipping into the middle car, and Terry followed.

As the door shut behind him, Atarah exhaled, gaze flicking over her stacked LV trunks in the back, just as the sound of Terry shutting the car door sounded. She settled into her seat as her eyes then drifted out of the window. Her friends were already climbing into their own vehicle, laughing again. The engine thrummed and the SUV pulled off into the city, heat shimmering off the asphalt.

There was a silence, thick and unspoken before looked over at the man next to him. “Go ahead and say it.” She muttered.  “I know you want to.”

“I don’t like your friends.” Terry said without a pause, looking away from the passing plains and connecting his eyes with her.

Atarah turned her body to face him, legs tucked under her. “And why is that again?”

“It wouldn’t be respectful for me to say.”

She tilted her head back with a small groan, but she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “You know it’s just you and I. You can say anything.” She looked over his face, his ocean-green eyes unreadable, but they always made her comfortable. Terry just started at her and after a brief pause, the girl snapped her head over to the driver. “And you too, Sergio!” She called up to the driver.

“Thank you, Miss.” The man replied evenly, and it was never clear if he even heard what she said or was just responding to the sound of his name. But Atarah nodded before she looked back over at Terry. “Come on.” She urged with a small whine, and since she was twisted in her seat, she poked his thigh with her so foot, since she slipped out of her uggs. There was silence, so Atarah began to repeatedly nudge him with her foot. 

And Terry had the patience of a monk. He was military trained since the young age of sixteen and there was little to nothing that could break him. Even the ever spoiled persistence of a princess that he’s known for years now. But Atarah had grew to be a friend, someone he had a soft spot for. So he grabbed her ankle gently, his large hand wrapping around it as his gaze slid over to hers. Her toes wiggled in his lap.

“I think they’re spoiled brats.” He said, voice low.

“That’s not what you wanted to say.” She sing-songed, looking him in the eye. She knew him too well. “You say the same thing about me.”

Terry’s jaw ticked. “I think they’re bitches.”

“There it is!” Atarah squealed, clapping once. “See, I know you so well.” She grinned. She leaned over, pressing her fingertip from her temple to his, her smile all honey and victory. He didn’t flinch and held the most subtle smile as he watched her. Her touch lingered a little too long before she dropped back into her seat, legs still draped across his lap.

She folded her hands in her lap, then gave him a prim look. “Now let’s talk about your choice of words for women.”

He chuckled—just a breath—but it made her heart skip. He rarely laughed, rarely softened around anyone but her. And when he did…it made her feel like she was the only person on earth who could. She watched him quietly, chin resting against the back of her seat. His thumb rubbed a slow, lazy circle into the inside of her ankle, unaware or uncaring of the way her breath hitched and made her heart beat. 

Outside the window, the desert sprawled into sun-drenched silence. But inside the car, it was warmer. And there was a tension that hung somewhere between comfort and longing.

Terry finally looked away from her and back over to the passing plains. “They don’t deserve your time.” He said simply.

And for the first time all day, Atarah didn’t have anything to say back.

The ride to the villa stretched across golden stretches of highway, sun slicing through the tinted windows in drowsy beams. Atarah chattered about the things she’d missed of the city. The food trucks on Melrose, late-night runs to Erewhon, how nobody did iced lattes quite like L.A., all while Terry responded with low hums and sparse nods. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening; he always listened. He was just…more focused on watching. Her. 

When they finally pulled up to the secluded villa, tucked high in the Coachella Valley hills and wrapped in flowering bougainvillea, Atarah reached for the door instinctively, ready to burst out like she always did—except Terry’s sharp glance caught her mid-motion.

She froze. And with a dramatic sigh and a roll of her eyes, she folded her arms and waited.

Terry stepped out first, the desert sun casting sharp angles across his sharp cheekbones. His black shirt hugged the contours of his broad chest and arms, a quiet authority in his every movement. His eyes scanned the villa once before flicking back to the SUV. He reached out a hand.

“Come on.” He said.

With her small hand in his, she stepped down from the vehicle, her fingers tightening briefly around his. Terry guided her across the gravel path as Pedro and Nash, two more men from her security detail, did a sweep of the property. When the nods were given, he opened the front door for her, and they stepped into the villa together, hands still clasped like a quiet ritual neither of them ever spoke about. It was second nature to them now. A rhythm of theirs.

He led her through the villa and to her room—an airy, high-ceilinged suite with floor-to-ceiling windows and light pouring in. The rest of her bags were already being delivered in shifts by Sergio, the ever-loyal driver. When Terry finally released her hand, Atarah darted toward the patio doors like a spring uncoiled.

She threw them open, linen curtains flying up as wind surged in, tousling her dark curls. Her body moved to the edge of the balcony, where the view opened into a vast stretch of golden plains. In the distance, she could make out the Coachella stages being lit up for the day. “I’m soglad to be back in the States!” She cried, arms wide open, wind tugging at her baggy sweats and polo. She stood there a moment, basking in the warmth like a cat in sunlight.

When she turned, Terry was there, posted by the door, hands behind his back, as disciplined as a palace guard. Her grin softened as she brushed past him to return to the room, the curtains trailing behind her like silk.

Sergio was just finishing with the bags.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely as she pulled her phone form her pocket and ,add her way over to her bed 

“You’re welcome, madame.” He replied with a small bow, and after a nod from Terry, he quietly exited.

She was halfway through connecting her phone to the portable speaker when she noticed Terry turning for the door.

“Where are you going?” She asked, pausing mid-pairing.

“To keep watch.” He answered, never quite turning fully toward her.

“But I need you to help me pick an outfit.” She said quickly, padding barefoot toward him. “My friends aren’t here, and I need someone honest to help me figure out what looks good.” She explained, but his face didn’t change as he looked down at her.  She saw the hesitation in the twitch of his brow. She stepped closer, reaching for his hand, wrapping hers around it like it was natural—like it always had been. “Terry,” She said, voice soft. “Just for a little while.” She pleaded. 

The fight in him dissolved instantly. He released a long breath through his nose before squeezing her hand once, a gesture so gentle it made her chest flutter.

He turned and pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Keep watch.” He said, eyes scanning the view of the living space elf the villa before closing the doors. “Copy.” Pedro’s voice came through as Terry turned to face her again to see Atarah’s beaming face. 

Then she squealed and bolted to her bags like a child on Christmas morning. The speaker kicked on, flooding the room with a blasting beats, songs from R&B to hip hop. Thumping basslines, soft synths, and female vocals that bled into every corner of the suite. 

Terry settled into the ottoman at the foot of her bed, sitting with his legs apart, elbows on his knees. His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bathroom with an armful of options, and the show began.

She stepped out a minute later in a white two-piece, mesh skirt riding low on her hips and a crochet halter top tied around her neck, showing the cursive tattoo she had on her hip that said “made in heaven”. She twirled in front of the mirror, then turned toward him.

“What do you think?” She asked, posing for him with a smile. 

Terry tilted his head, assessing her from head to toe.

“Cute. But more so for the beach, not a music festival.” He said. 

She let out a small sight before turning away from him, giving herself one more look. “Ugh, okay.” She said before walking back into the bathroom. Next came a butterfly top with flared jeans, but she shook her head before even asking, disappeared again.

Then came sequins—so many sequins. A matching bra and shorts combo that shimmered like fish scales in the light. She struck a few poses and snapped photos in front of the mirror. She glanced back to find Terry watching, his jaw slack just barely, the muscle ticking.

“This one’s hot.” She said, teasing.

“It is.” He agreed. “But what shoes would you wear with that.”

She teasing smirk dropped and disappeared again, this time taking longer. Each time she reappeared, her confidence built. She laughed freely, twirled for him, winked at herself, even bent to see if she would flash anyone when she twerked. The air in the room grew warmer with every outfit. Every look. Every comment from Terry that made her feel seen and admired.

Finally, she emerged wearing the outfit she didn’t want to try at first. A storm-gray hooded mini-dress clung to her curves, cinched with a thick, black belt that sat high on her waist. Beneath the draped neckline peeked the edge of a black lace bra, sultry and deliberate. Stacked silver jewelry shimmered at her collarbone and wrists. Chunky black boots hit just below the knee, elongating her legs.

She didn’t pose this time. She just stood there and watched as Terry sat up straighter and eyed her up and down, her hands brushing down the front of the dress to straighten it

Her lips curved slowly. “Well?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“I think that’s the one.” He said, voice low, rougher than it had been all day.

She didn’t say anything at first, just smiled, almost shy, before walking to the mirror to snap a few photos, her behind facing him. 

Terry watched her the whole time, fingers curled on his knees, heart beating louder than usual. The song playing in the background was low and sultry, ‘Naught Girl’ by Beyoncé almost like a whisper meant just for them. When she lowered her phone, her eyes met his in the mirror. “I think I just needed you to remind me who I am.” She nodded, her eyes moving to rake over her figure again, though her voice was soft. 

Terry stood slowly, the space between them suddenly much smaller than before. “You never forgot.” He said, approaching her with a quiet kind of reverence. “You just let them convince you to question it.”

Their eyes locked and her breath caught a bit as her eyes moved over his alluring features.  In the silence that followed, they didn’t touch. They didn’t need to. But it was clear as the sunlight pouring in through the balcony door—neither of them wanted to walk away. Atarah softly cleared her throat before turning around to face him, looking up at the handsome man, his grey eyes moving down to look into hers. “Now let’s get you dressed.” She smiled, giving his broad chest a pat before moving past him. But her brushing him against him was something that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them,  especially with the spark it sent through their bodies. 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, comment here!

If their walls could talk, oh the freaky little stories they would tell. The worst ones being of the days Aaron and Sam went to the gym together. A lovely tale of adrenaline and lust carried by affection.

How there would be no warning before the front door flies open with them stumbling through it. Mental maps guiding their steps through the house while their hands wandered freely on each other’s skin.

Soft hums and light gasps chronicling their desire for one another; the occasional smacking of lips like a little ad-lib. Not much of a word exchanged as Aaron awaits a command of direction.

“Kitchen.”

“Bedroom.”

“Bathroom over the sink.”

“Fuck it, right here,” a breathy word or two from Sam, activating him like a sleeper agent.

Their movements would grow more frantic; rushed. They understand how much time they have. They know they should probably take a shower first. But what’s a little more sweat? And why later when sooner is right there? So he’d hoist her up into the arms she adored so much and take her wherever she asked-we’re going to talk about the bathroom today-and alter her consciousness.

Another door flies open, banging against the wall with a force that would have had them both knocked upside their heads by their mothers. Sam’s usually nimble fingers tug at the hem of his shirt before lifting as far as she can reach. From there Aaron finishes the job, pulling it over his head and tossing it behind him, leaving his chain to gleam against his salty sheen covered chest. He returns her initial favour, but more gently to preserve her hair.

He was horny, not cruel.

His wide, soft palm cups the back of her neck while the fingers on his other hand tug her body closer by the waist band of her black Nike tights. Her honey coloured gaze speaks to him. Tells him she wants this as much as he does. Tells him she needs him. As much as he needs her. It calls him in, and he complies, fingers digging into some of the hair at her nape to angle her head upwards.

Their lips mingle for only a moment before getting comfortable with one another like old friends. Their tongues embrace and their bodies collide. Once again he has her entire weight in his arms, walking towards the large bathroom sink. He gently places her there and trails his lips across her jaw with the occasional soft kiss and tender pull of suction.

Her hands move across his shoulders, fingers trembling in need as she studies the skin of her constant undoing. Her parted lips are an instrument of his unraveling control. His kisses grow desperate, paired with teeth and grunts bordering on primal. Biting into her soft, chestnut skin, his hands make quick work of her tights. She assists with the quick lift of her ass from the granite the small counter space. Soon they’re but a distant memory. All Aaron and Sam can think about is what’s next.

Soon, Aaron is on his knees, soft lips planting a wet trail across her thighs. He doesn’t linger there too long though, as the scent of her arousal draws him to what lies beyond them. Aaron was never really a gentle eater. He was more of a “last supper” kind of guy. His tongue’s attack on titan was nothing new to Sam, yet it never failed to rock her world. The way he’d devour her with his entire face in it would always leave her breathless and numb in the head. 1, 2, 3 orgasms with nothing but the power of the tongue; it’s no wonder it doesn’t take much for her to get dick-dumb.

As the echoes of her desperate cries and her thighs vibrate against the sides of his head, he pulls back. His hazel irises have darkened considerably and his clean shaven chin is drenched in her. Always a messy eater when it comes to her. Slowly, he rises to his full height.

“Get down, let me see you properly first,” what should be a soft whisper, comes out as a gruff rasp. But his accent-oh his accent-keeps it tooth-rotting nonetheless. As she instinctively obeys, she just hopes her needs aren’t too weak.

The low yellow light illuminated her body, hypnotising Aaron. She looked like an angel whose skin was the halo. The mirror behind her reflects his thirsty ass expression and her rounded ass; stretch marks, cellulite and hand prints from 2 nights ago nearly send him into a spiral. The previously solid ponytail holding her goddess braids was looser now. The free curls framed her radiant face; gym days meant no makeup, just an intense glow from the workouts, and now having her thoughts ate out of her. The days didn’t matter much to Aaron though. To him, Sam always looked like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

A cocky smirk stretched at her lips. “You like?” she teased, her silky voice making Aaron’s nervous system act a fool. Something inside him switches as his throat dries. His dick makes a bit of scene by jumping against his cotton sweats. Although his eyes narrow seemingly like a predator zeroing in on its pray, there isn’t a single thought in his brain anymore. No, that’s not true. There is one thought. Only one.

“I fucking love you.”

Without another breath, his hands plant themselves onto her waist, turning her around. His tattooed arm reaches around her neck. Her chin firmly in his hand, he tilts her head to the side as if creating access. Eyes trained hers through their reflections, he drags his tongue across her shoulder, stopping at the base of her neck. Back across the same shoulder he went, this time by wet, gentle kisses.

“Never forget that.”

Before Sam can respond, the hand cupping her chin is on the back of her neck, firmly folding her over the edge of the granite edge. His fingers find her slick folds and parts them for the pad of his thumb to find her clit. Her body shivers against his as his thumb works her into a pleading mess.

“Aaron-“

“Baby please.”

“Fuck me, please! I need you!” she cries, eliciting a dark chuckle from Aaron who increases the pressure of his thumb. For an extra gift, he inserts 3 fingers inside of her, stretching her sweetly around them. The action pulls out one of the most pornographic noises he had ever heard from her. All it does push him further.

His fingers curl.

They scissor.

They retreat.

They plunge back in.

Orgasm number 4 was more of a splash into his hand. Wetter than the previous 3 that’s for sure. Maybe that explained the tears in her eyes. And suddenly her ignored attempts to grab his wrist make all the more sense.

“You alright over there?” he taunts. Her teary browns met his playful greens, struggling to grasp the audacity of this man. Then her eyes widen in what seems like fear as she detects a certain glint in his irises. His lips curve slightly as a silent response. “What did I say you should never forget?” he asks her, his tone deceptively sweet.

“That you lo-AH!” she cries, her answer being sharply cut off by his fingers plunging right back into her. Two curls against her warm walls is all it takes for a 5th orgasm. And in a way she didn’t even know was possible, it’s messier and wetter than the 4th.

Aaron retracts his soaked fingers with the ghost of a sinister smirk across his features. His dry hand grabs the loose ponytail and wraps it around his fist. As if she weighs nothing, Sam’s back is arched inwards, bringing her face to face with Aaron.

“Hey,” is all he says before shoving his pussy covered fingers into her mouth. His fingers dance over her tongue as he essentially uses it to wipe them off. Right as it seems like he’s about to remove them however, they slide further down her mouth right past her uvula. She gags and chokes mindlessly, catching him wink as fucks the back of her throat with his fingers.

Okay, maybe he is a little cruel.

“You know, I’ve always found it fascinating how you still manage to look this fucking beautiful while being the nastiest little whore I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering. Absolutely fucking amazing I tell you,” he muses. It’s at this point that Sam fully accepts her oncoming fate. However she still can’t tell you for the life of her what she did to earn it.

His fingers leave her mouth but not before using her spit to paint her lips. “What did I tell you not to forget just now?” Aaron asks again as his fingers run up and down the valley of her breasts.

“That you love me,” her reply comes out as a croak as a result of him treating her gag reflex like a toy.

“And I do, Sam. I really do,” he pauses to lean in and place a soft kiss on her cheek. “But now I’m going to ruin you.”

His hands are on her waist again as he takes a step forward, pressing her front against the sink. He pushes his pants and briefs to his thighs, releasing his impatient looking cock. A few quick strokes and a slight lift of her waist is all the prep she has before Aaron pushes roughly into her. A ragged moan is all Sam has to offer as her man bottoms out inside of her, stuffing her like a garage pie. With no hand holding her up, the pressure folds her right back over and has her hands inching for something to grab. Aaron isn’t having it though; he reaches for her ponytail again and yanks, only this time she’s flush against him. Holding her there is his meaty tattooed bicep, keeping her in what could be a headlock if she finds a way to test him.

With his other hand on her waist, he wastes no time with waiting for her to adjust and instead just rams into her torturingly slow. Each time he pulls out, her brain is tricked by his tongue and lips peppering kisses on her skin and it confuses itself with false relief. Until he slams right back into her, reaching her soul with his girthy tip. “Look at you…such a pretty little slut aren’t you? Mi deh fuck yuh foolish an’ yuh still look perfect, yuh si?” he groans. The pure eroticism in his tone mixed deliciously with the Patois he had taken to using as a weapon formed against her…

Samkelisiwe Pierre never stood a chance.

Aaron’s strokes, although measured and deep, are unrelenting. The precision at which he hits that sweet, sweet spot makes Sam feel like there’s a secret mission afoot. Like there are other forces at hand. If only she had the power to at the very least fight back against them. Never resist or stop them though. Not when they had her seeing stars like this. Not when they had her stomach doing cartwheels around the pressure building up.

“Fuck, daddy…feels so mmh…gonna cum,” she breathes out.

“Is that right? ‘Cause I don’t recall you asking me to.” To the untrained ear, it sounds like an observation, a comment, a note. But Sam’s ears are seasoned. She’s fluent in “Aaaronese” and to her, this is a veiled warning. He’s daring her to do it without asking.

Unfortunately for both of them, she spoke too late and is too close to turn back. There’s nothing she can do to stop the orgasmic freight train that’s coming at her at lightning speed. Nothing she can bite hard enough to quell the guttural scream that escapes her throat. And unfortunately, there’s no amount of clenching that could stop the 6th wave of pleasure pouring from her onto his dick.

All of it happens so fast; so hard, that she can’t even feel the subtle change in pace as she rides it out. He’s going slower, but only so little that she can’t tell the difference. He should be upset…in fact he should be livid at her blatant disregard. But damn, he couldn’t help but be softened by the way her features twisted and relaxed in euphoria. He also understands that there wasn’t much she could do to stop it. Not after a whole workout and…well.

His arm releases her neck, allowing her more breathing room. She places her hands on one of the sinks, using it to brace herself while she takes in their reflection in the mirror. Aaron is still knee-deep inside of her, letting her recover with a more gentle tempo.

“I’m sor-“ she’s quickly cut off by an even sharper stroke. Then another. Then another. All increasing in pace until all it is is just Aaron pounding into her like a mad man. He may have forgiven her last transgression; that doesn’t mean he’s in the mood to hear her lie about her remorse.

The soft grunts painted on his lips accompany her cries of wanton. He’s chasing his own release. He hadn’t originally planned to do it this soon, but Sam derailed his plans. Now he just wants to paint her walls then clean her off in the shower; take care of her for the rest of the night.

He continues to slam into her, pace completely unrelenting but tempo growing sloppy. He’s close, and judging by the way she’s clenching around him, she was too. He leans forward, kissing her along the jaw and her cheek. Her dazed eyes find him through the mirror. There’s drool on the corner of her lip, so he does what any good man would do. He licks it up and lets it mingle with his own saliva before using one of his hands to cup her chin and turn her face towards him.

Almost like she can hear his thoughts, her mouth is slightly open with her tongue sticking out. Little phantoms of his name trail out, waiting on the gift he’s about to give her.

And it comes in the form of a slow, long line of spit, directly on her tastebuds. And like that, the hard earned white ring around his dick grows. Sam’s grip on him warrants one last punishing thrust; one that shakes her to her core and drowns her in powerful tides of pleasure. Her walls hug him tightly and coax his own release out of him. Aaron has no choice but to comply. With a strained groan, his dick twitches, spasms then let’s go, making a complete mess inside of her to match the one outside.

Having emptied himself completely, he pulls out, still leaning on her back. “You know, other couples usually take showers after the gym,” she giggles, back vibrating against his head.

“Love that for them sweetheart. I generally prefer a snack and some cardio,” he teases hoarsely, planting a soft smack on the side of her ass. Sam glares playfully through their reflections, shaking her head at the innuendo. “I won’t hold you though, that shower does sound like a good time right now,” he adds.

“I hear you. But then knowing you, it could turn into you catching your third wind,” she jokes. His head snaps up, mischief shining in his eyes.

“I mean if you don’t mind-“

“Hayi hayi hayi! Mna, I’m tired. Actually, get off my back before you put that thing back inside me. In fact, ingathi I’m going to shower alone,” her tone is firm, but Aaron can hear the humour below. Besides, she hates showering alone so even if he couldn’t, he would know she’s bluffing.

Still, he listens, standing up straight and moving to lean against the sink himself with his back facing the mirror. He pulls her in for a soft kiss, their lips having a tender little slow dance. The taste of her still on his tongue mingles with the taste of litchi flavoured water and his spit.

Sam shifts a little, finding herself in between his legs with her hands against his chest. His hands travel down to her ass, offering a quick squeeze. A sharp gasp escapes her lips and is quickly stolen by Aaron. Her smooth fingers trace his skin, skating down his abs and stopping right where his happy trail starts. Suddenly, he feels her palm him, and it stops him in his tracks.

Surely they can wait 20 more minutes for that shower. He’d even cook for her right afterwards, whatever she wants too. Just one more round-

You knew you didn’t have it in you to stay. You knew how over time you’d become disgusted with yourself for staying with a man who didn’t put you first. A man who stepped out on you and inevitably chose another woman over you.

You had inherited your mother’s sweet and calm disposition. And he had clearly taken advantage of it. All the lies. Coming home late. The woman he jeopardized it all for—and he wasn’t sorry. He wanted you to forgive him and move past this; when he knew on the surface he’d never do it for you—the awful audacity of a man.

You were a good wife. You cooked, cleaned, supported him…wanted to raise children with him. And he went and spoiled it all. Let it rinse down the drain right along with your feelings like cheap wine. It all seemed so easy for him to make these decisions— to try and excuse his fucked yo actions. You questioned if he was going insane, ho he could ever look you in the face after his dog ways and beg you to stay. To beg you to look past his ‘accident’. How do you accidentally hurt the one you love? How do you cut her so deep on an accident?

You saw her. Searched her up online. Saw how drastically different she was from you and everything you put out into the world. Things he claimed he loved about you…didn’t show up on her. She didn’t look like you. She didn’t present as you did. And the betrayal became a sickening feeling. It crept up your spine and sputtered into your heart and mind. Poisoning your mental health.

The five stages of grief attacked you throughout the weeks. The denial. No not your man..not you sweet loving husband—tricks were being played. All his answers to your questions began to sound like lies. All the time spent together felt borrowed and rushed. So you looked into it. Let your womanly intuition lead you to a shocking heart wrenching discovery.

Your anger came quickly and swiftly. The red hot kind. The kind that filled you with so much energy that it needed to be expelled from your body. You confronted him with it, blood rushing under your skin like an angry river.

“You think I’m dumb don’t you? You think you cover your tracks so well..that I wouldn’t find out what the fuck you’ve been up to! All this time just fucking wasted because of you. I could’ve been living my life! Instead I’m tethered to a cheater. And don’t you deny it—don’t lie to me. You’ve done that enough..just be real with me you owe me that much.“

You hated it. That almost cold way he dismissed you at that moment. How his constant need to downplay the situation was the worst gaslighting ever.

“My love…you know I never meant to hurt you. No woman on this earth could ever equate to you..what you do for me. The way you love me..that’s why I came back to you. I know I fucked up, I know.”

Here he was now on his knees, face pressed into my stomach pressing kisses against it. I felt like I couldn’t move, and in a way I couldn’t. He had my arms pressed to my sides. His way of disarming me, but I was long past causing him physical harm. I had no more energy left.

“Don’t call me that. You made your choice. Made me a second thought when I could never put another man before you…never have an affair with another man. Because unlike you I actually gave a shit about this marriage. Unlike you I actually wanted this to last…wanted to grow old and die with you.”

“So now you saying I didn’t care? How the fuck can you say I didn’t care about this marriage…I fucking love you and I always will. No bitch I fucked is gonna change that. Baby she ain't you..she’ll never be you.”

Constant gaslighting. Constant lies. They were twisting your head up. And your brain couldn’t take it. That look in his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that I fell in love with when we were too young to understand the feelings we felt for each other. That choking feeling in her throat as he rose to his feet to lift her chin and wipe tears she hadn't felt coming down her face. Could she trust his affections? His vows? His ‘forever love’ for her? It was all uncertain and she couldn’t live with that. Right?

—

For about a month it felt promising. Him back in their shared home with her, that domesticity she missed was back like it never left. The way his arm would be thrown over your hip as the two of you rested in bed. Her waking up to breakfast in bed and having long talks after the two of them came home from their jobs. But she felt like a fraud. It felt like she was living a lie and everyone could see it. She might as well walk around in public with a sign on her back that read ‘I took back a cheater’. This was a shell of what they used to be and he was the only one who didn’t see any issue with that. Go figures.

She watched him from the kitchen as she swirled around the last bit of wine in her glass. The cool fabric of her satin robe rubbing lightly against her breast. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from him, and if she wanted him to quell the feeling she felt in her lower belly. Or maybe she should put her vibrator that sat lonely in her nightstand to use. Could she fuck him and try not to feel anything for him at the same time? Murmuring words of affection to a man she was slowly losing said affection for, she didn’t know.

Because beneath the surface she was nursing a different feeling for him. Beginning to despise him;hate him. Hated how it had come down to this. Hated how she had to bargain with him, her body, her mental. Hated how she had to juggle it all while he sat unmoved by it. Rinsing her glass in the sink she walked over to where he sat on the couch. His top half naked while the plaid sleep pants he wore hung low on his waist. And she knew she’d fuck him. One last time to cleanse her system of him. To satisfy herself before she threw him and everything else out of what used to be their home. A place they were supposed to raise future children. And perhaps home is where the heart is, but how did that fit when hers had shattered into so many pieces.

The sex was wild and unforgiving. The almost purposeful way her nails would dig into his back as he stroked her deeply. The bites she placed on his body as he winced in pain. Pain he deserved to feel. Her constant whispers into his ear over and over on a replay ‘I hate you’, ‘I hate you so much’. How he’d fuck her harder and more aggressively each time she’d say it. Placing his full plump lips over hers in an attempt to drown out what she had to say. But she was done being quiet about her growing disdain.

“You hate me so much but your pussy is squirting again! Look at this shit…look!”.

The almost forceful way he gripped the back of your head to make you look at the mess you made. And you would never deny his ability to own you into a mattress because he’d always been good at it, but you couldn’t help but love the bothered look on his face.

“You’ve always fucked me good…dick has always been good. But you’re no good..just fuck me.”

That determined look in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed as his hand slides up to grip your throat in his hand. A move that used to instantly place you into a deep submissive like state, now amps you up further. That girl was gone. Long gone. But the woman that was present now wrapped her hand around his and squeezed. A battle in the sheets. And she had no plans of losing as she forced him back onto his back, scratching up his chest as she bounced quicker on him. She wanted to get hers one last time so she could leave him hanging. He didn’t deserve one more ounce of pleasure at her expense.

And it was at that point when the last and maybe final orgasm she’d get to have with him ripped through her. All her emotions coming to the forefront and hitting her at once. The way he whispered to her softly ‘don’t cry’ as she slid off of him, their collective liquids running slowly down her legs as she rushed to the shower. The need to cleanse herself of him for once and all both internally and externally was at an all time high. The harsh way she rubbed at her skin in a rush to clean him off of her. So she could forget how he felt. Forget how he made her feel. Because she wasn’t so sure she wanted to feel anything else right now…or ever.

—

She lost something that night. Something that washed down the drain with the suds and tears. She had to be strong that night. Strong enough to hand over her ring and utter those words to him, words that at one point she’d rather die than say. And in a way maybe a part of her had died. The part of her that believed in true long lasting love and happiness. She wasn’t so sure she still believed that. Believed in it.

Terry put up a fight that night. Begging and pleading with her, using her own words against her. Words she had only spoken when things were good between them…before he went and fucked it all up.

“What about our future…you said you wanted kids with me. What about that huh? What about us raising kids together?”

“Terry please! That was before you betrayed me, before you did the one thing I could never forgive you for. Of course I wanted that with you…bu-but not anymore.”

The constant begging and pleading with you until you had to block him, it was so much on you. He was trying to wear you down. Trying to get you to expose that vulnerability that the two of you had shared, but it was no longer present. You had to put your foot down now or risk losing yourself in this shell of a marriage.

Meetings with a divorce attorney about the best routes to sever ties and split funds and assets right down the middle were exhausting. A plethora of emails and terms you had to get familiar with, but you were grateful to have your family to fall back on. The news crushed them because they had seen Terry as family. Accepted him into the family so long ago, and now this is where the two of you stood. Future fucking divorce pending.

Things ramped up with Terry quite fast after he received the papers. Him showing up at your now home as he’d already purchased himself a new one across town. Banging heavily at your door the night of a thunderstorm. You had been spooked and scared from your slumber as you hurried to slip into your robe and fluffy house shoes, but not before checking your Ring doorbell.

A fitted baseball cap covered his eyes as you swung open the door. The heavy black leather jacket you had gifted to him for his thirty-second birthday shielded him from the heavy downpour. His usually tame facial hair had grown out and he now sported a thick beard. His eyes though…they were red. Bloodshot even, and it scared you. It took away from the beauty of his eyes and he almost didn’t look like himself.

“Terry what..what are you doing here, it’s late?” You were puzzled to say the least. All recent communication between the two of you had been through your lawyers so seeing him was more than a little surprising. Without saying anything he pushed past you and headed to sit on the couch. And he reeked of liquor, it was so heavy on his breath.

“I’m fucked up baby. Without you..shit maybe in general. I don’t think I ever was a good man you know? Maybe you just made me look that way, made me want to be better than I was.”

You slinked away to your kitchen and kept a watchful eye on him. He was drunk. And Terry didn’t drink. You opened up your fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of water, anything that could sober him up right now. Handing it to him you sat a safe distance away from him on the couch.

“Terry what is this? You can’t just show up here, and have you been drinking? You don't even drink Terry, so what’s going on?”

A chuckle left his mouth, but his face showed he was not amused at the slightest. “Been drinking since I got those papers in the mail.”

You sprung up from the couch as you pointed at him. “No no, you don’t get to blame me for your fuck ups! You’re grown Terry, any decision you made was your own. Why don’t you see that? Why can’t you see how deeply I loved you?”

His head snapped up to look at you, and in a way you felt compelled to stop speaking. “Past tense…you loved me? So you no longer do? I-I can’t live with that…can’t sign those papers and watch you walk away from me.”

“Well you can thank you and your new bitch for that ok? I did my part and I’m sick of repeating myself over and over. Terry I’m not gonna go insane, I’m not gonna deal with this. Just sign the papers and get over it…like I had to.”

“Ah I see what this is. You must have another nigga already…that’s what it is. That’s why you just so quick to say fuck me and everything I stand for. Let me tell you something the day I see another man in or near this house…it’ll be his last day breathing.”

You were stunned. Did he just say he’d murder someone if you moved on? You couldn’t even focus on the audacity of it all because of what he had just let slip from his mouth. In all your years of knowing Terry, you never felt like he was capable of murder. But as time went on, how well did you actually know the man that sat in front of you?

“Terry what? You have to go. Now! I can’t believe you would go this fucking far to prove a point. You’re sick and you’re more fucked up in the head than I gave you credit for…I blame your parents.”

“Don’t mention my parents, they don’t have anything to do with this. This is about your ability to give it all up, and for what? Who you gotta prove something to hmm? Who you putting on a show for, we both know you like to let me break you down and feel things. Don’t fight me, my love.”

“Get. Out. Now. Before I call the police and don’t come back here or I swear-“

“You swear what hmm? What you gonna do to me? What more can you do..I’ll see you around.”

And with that he left. Back out into the night just as drunk as he had come in. The water left untouched by him. You were tired of this shit, all of it and you could only hope he had those papers signed for the meeting that was coming up.

—

The meeting was…odd. The papers had been signed, assets and finances had been split without so much as a fight out of Terry. He just stared at you from across the table. And though you were grateful that you could be a legally free woman in weeks, you couldn’t help but feel like this was just a little too easy.

Life carried on in the few months after you had divorced Terry. You had dyed your hair, started going back out with friends, and had been promoted at your job. Life was finally feeling sweet again, you had things to look forward to. And things were amazing until you got a visit at your job. The front end receptionist had buzzed to let you know you had a visitor and your curiosity led you down stairs not shortly after.

And there she was. The woman he cheated on you with. The woman at the forefront of the fucked up year you had. The sleepless nights. The depression and heartache. She had some nerve to come to you. But something else caught your eye, the subtle way she rubbed at her protruding belly. A belly you hadn’t noticed at first m. She was pregnant. You couldn’t do this, but as you turned to storm away she called out your name.

“Please…please hear me out. I know you don’t owe it to me but please, he lied to us both.”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to head outside with the young woman and allow her to sit in your car. But something was wrong. The way she nervously tucked her curly hair behind her ears as she surveyed her surroundings over and over again, the gripping and pulling at her fingers, the bruises on her forearms and neck. What the hell was going on?

“I just want to say I’m so so sorry for everything…all the pain I’ve caused you. He-he never told me he was married, never wore his ring around me. He’s never even mentioned you..until the divorce. But by then I was already pregnant, too far along to do anything about it…to-to get rid of it.” She pauses, as the sobs don’t allow her to continue. And you begin to feel bad because you know what comes out of her mouth next can’t be any better than what you’ve already heard.

“He hits me…hes so abusive. So so abusive…I’m afraid he’ll kill me and I don’t know where else to go. He’s a monster and if I go back I won’t survive this time. When I threatened to tell you everything about him he choked me and I could feel myself slipping away. I had to do it, I had to…and now I’m not sure if he’s even alive. I’m so sorry for bringing this to you.”

“This…this is sick. I’m so sorry, sorry for what he did to the both of us. You didn’t deserve it…any of it. But the police need to be involved now. If he’s dead, you defended yourself…but if he isn’t he deserves to rot for what he did to you.”

The ride to the police station provides you with more information about the man you once loved. The double life he lived when your eyes were no longer on him. The girl who you now knew as Mya was a student at the community college here in town. She was just twenty-two and working as a bottle girl at a club downtown, and that’s where she met Terry. So young with so much life and time in front of her, and he was just a dark boot that came in her life to snuff it out.

The two of you were able to give the police the long grueling rundown before they sent someone out to Mya’s apartment to check for Terry. And when they reported back the only thing they said was that the apartment was in disarray, which Mya confirmed was from the recent fight. But they found no blood, no bloody clothing, no trace of him. They recommended Mya to put a restraining order on him until they could get him to come in for questioning and to not come back home tonight.

You were tired and overstimulated. And after dropping Mya off to a relative's house you headed home yourself. After your shower you couldn’t even contain the tears, Terry was once again a thorn in your side for the millionth time that year. You questioned if you had ever truly known the man to begin with. Hated how much time you wasted in a dead end relationship with him.

—

Work was hard on you the next day and you barely slept that night. Tossing and turning beneath the sheets as nightmares played behind your eyelids. You hadn’t had one in years and you knew the stress of the situation was weighing heavy on your mental.

You were glad to clock out and practically ran to your car. But a piece of paper stuck in your windshield slowed you down. You pulled it out and began to unfold the paper to read it. ‘Till death do us part my love’ goosebumps littered your arms now as you looked around the parking lot. Terry had been here…could still be here. Lingering and watching. Hopping into your car you sped home with hopes of beating the rain heading your way. It seems like that's all the weather had to offer lately, and coincidentally it was a reflection of life currently for you.

Fresh and clean from the shower your robe and hair towel kept you warm as you moseyed around the house tidying up things. The news played lowly in the background as you headed back to your room to finally get some much needed sleep, but the sense of urgency in the news reporter's tone had you hurrying to turn up the volume.

“Police are in search of a man tied to a cult just outside of Rainier County here in Washington. They say the name came up recently after the man who goes by Terrence Richmond, better known as Terry, was involved in an alleged domestic violence case. The police chief of Rainier County says it wasn't until after he talked with colleagues that he realized they had a very dangerous man hidden right under their noses. Police chief Gary Williams urges the people of the community to be cautious and to not approach this man and if seen please call 911…” A picture of Terry flashed shortly after.

It was like your legs had given up on you, and you had to catch the corner of your bed just to slide onto the floor of your bedroom. Your mouth hung open in absolute horror. You were sick to your stomach and you dashed to your toilet to hurl into it. And it just kept coming like your body was rejecting something, and your head? It was so light, so so light. And when you grabbed onto the counter to regain your footing, a hand was at your waist…but you were home alone.

“You weren't supposed to find out this way my love…you were supposed to be the chosen one..”

That voice is so familiar. A voice that used to comfort you. But you were fading and your body was slipping more and more out of your control by the second. And when the person lifted you bridal style you could only see your room getting further away before you finally succumbed to the darkness.

—

The sleep was peaceful. Forgiving. But waking up was a nightmare. Your head pounded intensely, the pulsing of your temples a direct ode to just how intense you felt it. Your body felt like you had run up and down a flight of stairs a thousand times. You felt sluggish and barely alive. But your confusion didn't stop there. Your clothes had been changed. The eggshell white linen dress falling just below your knees. And you were being watched. Women clad in the same white linen dresses as you, surrounded you in a circle. Practised smalls positioned on their faces and a single yellow rose in each hand.

“Welcome sister. You are the one he has waited so patiently for. You will be the one they speak of for generations.” These kinds of things only happened in movies. You only got drugged and woke up in unfamiliar places in movies. But people in your position rarely survived in said movies, right?

The woman stared at you expectantly. Like you were supposed to jump with glee at her statement. Like you actually wanted this shit.

She cleared her throat and motioned the other women closer. “It's ok everyone here was shy and scared at one point, but he's saved us all. Opened up our eyes to the truths of this world. The same truths that now grow inside each of us.” Pregnant. They were all pregnant. You counted about fifteen women in front of you. Was Terry the father of all of these unborn children? Was he actually a cult leader? The answer was right in front of you, he was exactly who they were searching for on the news.

The woman motioned for the women around you to place the roses in a single circle around you. Your body finally gaining just enough energy to properly sit up on the cold floor. Your slow movements making the odd moment all the more better for the women as they all kneeled around you.

“These flowers represent rebirth and you're going to bring that to us. We women are sacred and we hold the power to both create and bring life into this world, you should be so gracious of your new position as our queen!”

Queen? You has to get the fuck out of here an fast. You had regained enough energy to stand to your feet, your head spinning a little as you held the wall to leave the room. And when you realized none of the women were coming after you, you quickened your steps. You didn't recognize anything about the house or building you were being held in, all you knew was that you needed to get away and call the police. You kept walking until you came upon a white down. A bright light that seemed like the sun shown through the small glass window, but when you opened the door and rushed through it there was nothing but bright lights and the walls were so white that it began to make your eyes hurt. It looked almost like a worship room, an altar in the far corner of the large room faced a few rows of pews, but as you walked further into the room, the door slammed behind you.

“Cult leader,murder, woman abuser…blah blah blah a bit dramatic dont we think? They don't understand the work I do here. The lives I've changed. But you…you always understood me and that's why I told the other chosen ones that your position here would be so much different from theirs…that you would assume the role of my queen.”

“Terry no..you drugged me and threw me in a room with a bunch of brainwashed women, and for what? You thought I would actually agree with anything I've seen you do so far? Did you ever truly know me while we were together or were you just so fucked up along the way that you couldnt tell real from fake?”

“I know you no more of a saint than I am…why do you think I chose you hmm? You got that grit that fire in you baby… you not afraid to kill.”

…not afraid to kill ...to kill..kill. How could he know? There was no actual way he actually knew about that right? You yourself had tried to scrub it from your brain. Had attended a million therapy sessions afterwards because your mental health was declining everyday until you did something about it. But you were barely twenty when it happened…barely old enough to understand the weight of taking a life. The way the soul was forever stained. Forever changed. And your life was forever changed. Shooting and killing your father to save your mother had indeed fucked you up, but to save her you’d do it all over again.

“Dont you dare go there… you don't know what we went through in that house. He-he would have killed her! You have no right…you don't know what it's been like to carry that with me all these years. To know when that date is coming up even when I want to forget it…I did what I had to so me and my family could survive and I'd do it again.”

He was walking closer to you now. His body clad in loose fitting linen pants and a loose linen top. The color standing against him is almost as bright as the room. He was dressed like a savior, someone who prided himself on the overall betterment of humanity. And yet instead he was a psycho, a false prophet, and a liar.

“Were not much different my love, you did what you had to for family and I've been doing the same. I'm building a legacy for my children. Something they'll have to be proud of when I'm gone…a physical manifestation of what it means to sacrifice for the greater good. Join us and p-”

Police stormed into the room just before he could spew more bullshit from his mouth. Circling in to surround him and allow you a safe exit. They read him his rights before you were guided from the room and into the safety of a police cruiser. You didn't know how they had found you or what would happen next, but you were relieved to say the least. At the police station you told them everything. Recounting what you could before the exhaustion you felt began to wear you down. And when you learned that it was Mya that notified police about your disappearance after you never returned her text about a meeting location to talk more. She said she had a gut feeling and you couldn't be more indebted to her. She had saved your life. You could never know the full extent of what Terry had planned for you , but it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess.

When they told you they'd be taking the case to trial you knew it was possible you'd have to testify. And it was rough on you, but you had Mya to lean on. You and the young girl had become closer in a way, you naturally assuming the role as big sister to her as you helped and supported her through her pregnancy. The two of you are getting through the grueling trial process together and ultimately seeing it through until the guilty verdict. You could never forget how he glared at you when you took the stand. That ice cold look through blue eyes sent chills up your spine, but you had to push through.

You felt like you got a second chance at life after everything blew over. You were more grateful and understanding now. More cautious. Its amazing what fucked up situations can do to the mental. And with a chance to live your life again you'd be foolish not to take it. For all the trials and mishaps of your life, you wouldn't change a thing. Life goes on with and without the traumas of the past.

———-

98.6 Shawn Hatosy

Morning Nudity Drabble One

Mutual Attraction Part One Part Two

Soft-Life Headcannons Part One

Hatosy's Productions

Duckie's Story Congrats Grad Mood board Slow Mornings

In my Pockets: Coming Soon Ring The Alarm: Coming Soon

MAYHEM

The Official Master List

City of Romance

3:00 a.m. the hours of the devil and true sinners. Terry didn’t want to leave Marina but the likeliness of Scotty had to be dealt with. Terry had left mouths open before and he wasn’t a fan of doubling back to shut them. Close their mouths for good right where they stand and zero problems arise for you in the future. Zero problems meant nothing in the way of him and Marina. Zero problems meant she stayed safe and away from this lifestyle…her safety his top priority. He would do anything to keep her safe and happy, out of the crossfires of his life. It was so obvious how high on her he was; his brain repeating her name over and over in his mind on a constant repeat. His eyes remembered every twitch her lips made before she smiled.His hands greedily itching to touch her skin.

He was on a high he had no plans on mentioning to anyone else. There weren’t very many people he did trust—would trust with knowing about her. His security detail was posted outside her job and home. They knew to immediately report everything to him. Even if a leaf blew in her face and made her sneeze, he wanted to know.Their lives depended on her being safe at all times. The message from Semaj proved his growing suspicions of Scotty. He knew a junkie couldn’t be trusted, they would sell you to the highest bidder and not think twice about it. He could’ve talked to anyone. Told them anything about him…no telling how many times he’d seen Terry and Marina out together. Just the thought of it made him grip his steering wheel tighter, the leather of the steering wheel burning into the palm of his hands.

He whipped into the front entrance of the warehouse before exiting his X6. His shoulders tight with pent up energy and his mind racing a mile a minute; walked right into the building. Semaj,Terry's cousin, was the first to greet him. Shaking his bloodied knuckles before wiping them off with a nearby towel. His usually goofy cousin had no smirk or smile anywhere near his face, instead a pronounced scowl was in its place. One of Terry's favorite things about him, he knew there was a time and place for games and right now was not the time for jokes.

“Man T…unless you got another way to get this nigga to crack, you wasting your time even coming here. We tried everything man.”

Terry looked at his cousin a little sideways at first before turning his attention to a spot on the wall. “Wasted time? Nothing is wasted time when my money and personal life is involved…oh he’ll talk or it’s his funeral. Which in his case was getting planned anyways..I look like I crawled out of bed for nothing or did I come here for answers? I could care less about his suddenly shut lips, I’ll pry them open if I have to.”

Semaj let air blow from his nose before nodding at his cousin. He knew there was no arguing or redirecting Terry when he was in this mode. He had complete tunnel vision and right now an opposition sat tied up only twenty feet ahead of him. He slid a small baggy from his pocket and walked forward, he had one trick up his sleeve he knew for sure they hadn’t pulled yet and he would do whatever. Blue and Prime acknowledged him with head nods before stepping out of his way and allowing him to step in front of Scotty.

“Scotty my man…got some new shit in for you to try. Guaranteed to blow your damn socks off man..but you know I never give shit without taking first. You know why they fuck you’re here, so we can skip the odd introductions.”

Terry sprinkled a small line of white powder onto the back of his closed fist and watched Scotty spring up eagerly in the seat like a starved dog to a bone. “Aht aht you heard me, you give then I’ll start doing the same. Start talking. Now!”

The older man spat a glob of saliva and blood a little too close to Terry's shoes and he couldn’t stop the slap that Prime placed on his face. It was out of turn and a distraction to Terry but he couldn’t be mad at him. They respected him as their boss and to step to him or disrespect him in any way was to do the same to them.

“You wanna get smacked the shit out of again? If your answer is no I’d get to talking..I ain’t got all night.”

—

Terry loosened the tie around his neck and poured another glass of the honey flavored brown liquor. His red eyes are an indication of how much alcohol floated in his system. The sun was beginning to rise in the sky and the time read six thirty a.m. He wanted to go back to her, to get back in bed next to her like everything was fine—but he couldn’t. He was so annoyed with himself; so embarrassed. So damn reckless with her life . And yet he knew he still couldn’t stay away from her…didn’t want to. He went back and forth in his mind as his finger twirled around the rim of the glass. Am I selfish? No i'm not selfish..but my actions say otherwise? On a loop it went

until his body was too warm from the liquor. His dizzy steps took him to a back room within the warehouse where he had a room and bed set up for times like these. A connecting bathroom and walk-in closet held enough items to get him together when he was in the right state of mind, but for now he wanted rest. A safe respite from Scotty’s words.

“Youu aren’t as secretive as you think you are boy… I watched you sneak around this city with that little news reporter bitch… ahh what’s her name Marie? No… no that’s not it ,Marina! Ahh ding ding ding, that look I gotcha…I gotcha real good. Ain’t got much to say now huh Richmond.”

“Ain’t a matter of who I told..it’s what they plan to do with the information.”

Final words before splattered blood painted his suit. Final words that would haunt him because it was so much worse then what he was expecting. He didn’t beg for his life. Just left this gaping hole of uncertainty around Marina’s life, shit was getting close. Too damn close to the woman he had intense growing feelings for. Security had gotten back to him and let him know that her house was secure, no odd cars. No weird neighbors—nothing. And that’s where they’d be posted until he told them otherwise.

The dark liquor hit him like melatonin and his rigid body sank into the plush mattress. Weary eyeballs dancing behind his lids, searching for that peace and warmth he had grown accustomed to on nights like these. Grown accustomed to her body chasing away all the sins and dark thoughts. The thought of her became just enough to send him off into a deep slumber. Peace be upon him.

—

Terry rose back up to the land of the dead around two thirty the next day. Only waking from a call from the pilot letting him know that the jet had been fueled and stocked for tomorrow's flight to New York. He massaged his temples feeling the onset signs of a hangover slipping through, the events that occurred only hours ago egging on a raging headache. He needed painkillers and food; pronto. After completing his hygiene routine he headed to his car. Marina had sent over a series of pictures of her packed suitcases that had put him to shame since he hadn’t started packing a damn thing. Her excitement for the trip was lighting a fire up under his ass that had him hightailing home doing a disrespectful 80 in a 60.

A FaceTime call with Marina with plans of her spending the night at his home tonight and eating in were made. Her input on his outfits were helpful and helped him speed through packing. “Bring that shirt. It brings out your eyes.” “Black shades are kind of your signature and we both know you like to have them when you’re fake paying attention.” He chuckled to himself before propping the phone up on his dresser. “I pay attention to you don’t I?” He watched her reposition the tortoiseshell frames on her face as she stirred her mug of tea.

“You do Smiley, and I appreciate that. Should I drive over orr..?”

“No stay, I’ll come to you. Give me about thirty minutes.”

“Gotcha…see you soon.” She blows a kiss before the call ends prompting him to get up and gather himself. He wanted a proper kiss from her.

—

Marina had double checked and triple checked to make sure that she wasn’t forgetting anything. He freshly pressed hair courtesy of her long time hair stylist. She planned to add flexi rods later and leave them in until they arrived in New York. She hadn’t felt this giddy about a man in a while. That fresh new feeling of wanting to genuinely hear from him and caring about his general well being. She had gone through her house the majority of the time after her hair appointment just cleaning and throwing out food she didn’t want in her fridge when she returned.

She pulled her tan cardigan closer over her black romper as she rolled her suitcase to the living room, tossing all her smaller essentials like lipgloss, chargers, and shades into her LV Speedy; a gift courtesy of Smiley. They’d only be looking at around a three hour flight and they were set to board the jet by seven am tomorrow morning. The loud shrill from her phone pulled her from her mental checklist. Her mother’s contact photo showed as she grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter. She hated how tense she’d gotten when she realized who was calling. Her mothers apprehension about the trip was what she didn’t want to hear right now. She was grown and she intended to do as she pleased.

She answered the phone, her mother Zen singing on the other end of the line. “Marina baby..I’m sorry. Baby I love you, you’re young, smart, and you’re established. You’re not a child, I know that..but you’re my child and I’ll always worry about you. I want you to be safe, have fun, and keep me updated. Call me for anything Mari. I mean it.”

Marina sighed to herself in relief. She didn’t want to fight with her mother, that wasn’t the type of relationship they had with each other. “Thanks mom. I promise I’ll be safe..and eventually maybe the two of you can meet? He’s smart, he’s a businessman..donates to charity. He’s sweet to me…I promise you don’t have to worry mommy.”

The conversation with her mother continued for a few more minutes before the two exchanged ‘I love you’s’ and hung up the phone with promises of catching up once Marina returned. The sound of a car door closing made her heart jump a little in her chest. He was here.

And a much needed vacation was something to look forward to. She had been unknowingly stressed from work and all its demands and if she didn’t have to see another newspaper article, she’d be fine with that too.

The sound of her doorbell has her quickly shuffling over to answer the door. Not complaining as Terry quickly pulled her into his embrace for a tight bear hug. Her sighs of content made his chest rumble with a hearty laugh as he walked them backwards into her home. “All packed?” He presses a kiss to her neck lightly, throwing her off her axis a little.

“Don’t you know who you’re talking to? I was packed hours ago, baby.”

He pulls her onto his lap as he sits on her plush cream couch, warm hands rubbing up and down her side. “You excited baby? I have some surprises set up for you on the jet too.”

“I still can’t believe we’re taking a private jet…commercial would’ve been fine with me. You’re spoiling me rotten.”

“You deserve private jet rides and so much more. It’s mine, the least I can do is use it and show you a good time. When you’re with me all you have to do is just be, let me take care of the rest. Give me a kiss.”

She leans forward and his lips meet hers halfway. Her short nails scratched the fine hair near the nape of his neck. The light smacking noises pushed her to get closer to Terry as his hands gripped the flesh of her thighs tightly. He was an excellent kisser, his ability to almost suck all the air from her mouth while simultaneously sucking her tongue into his was mind boggling and she couldn’t stop the grinding motion of her hips.

“Marina sweetheart…I’m not in the shape to deny you anything right now. If you want something from me, take it. We’re always on your time.”

She pulled back slightly and worked her hand into his sweats. Gasping and snatching her hand back but not before he placed it back over his growing bulge. A groan slipped from between his lips as she worked her hand up and down his shaft. He sat back deeper in the couch allowing her full and complete control over him, and it felt good. Such a powerful man at her beck and call and completely under her spell.

“I just wanna play a little…can I?“

“You can do whatever you want. As long as you know when it’s my turn you won’t be able to run. Ever.”

That true raw feeling of being and feeling sexy was running through her veins. It had been far too long since she’d last felt this good. Felt sexy enough to entertain a man the way she wanted to entertain Terry. And still she couldn’t shake the slight nerves that ran through her body. She wasn’t necessarily nervous, just anxious about where the two of them could take it. Though his constant reassurance that they were always on her time did help a lot. Sliding off his nap onto her knees, she watched him nod his head slowly. A quiet reassurance that whatever it was she wanted to do at this moment, he agreed with one hundred percent. Short manicured fingers pulled at the hem of his sweatpants until only his navy boxer briefs were shown.

He was so big. Bigger than anyone she had been with previously and she couldn’t help herself. Not when he stared at her the way he did, bold ever changing eyes boring into hers. Waiting on her next move. Waiting to see how she’d be able to move under his gaze. She had been looking for more with Terry since he devoured her on her couch the day before. His skilled mouth ignited a fire deep within her belly that raged. She wanted it in her mouth. On her tongue, so that her taste buds would remember it for next time.

“I never had plans on running from anything you gave me. Just continue to be your true self to me and nothing will be in our way.”

—

True self. She didn’t even know what that entailed and yet she wanted it from him. Yet the truth was he was a killer, a major drug trafficker, and a mafia boss. He could give her a fantasy. Sell her something so far from the truth that she’d never believe it if she heard it. His world killed and devoured the kind hearted, and didn’t think twice about it. But he was still gonna fight for that future with her. Still gonna fight to keep her protected and far from the realities of his lifestyle.

Her warm mouth calmed his racing thoughts. Plush lips welcoming his swollen dick into her hot mouth. The visual was something he wished he could capture and hang from every wall in his home. He would sign everything over to her if she kept sucking him like this. All his real estate, his vehicles, his bank accounts—the offshore ones too. She didn’t know how much he craved her. How he looked at engagement rings in the privacy of his office because he didn’t like the thought of someone else having her for life. Extravagant wedding destinations on beautiful islands and honeymoon villas decked out with their own maid and butler.

Marina Evans had him wrapped tightly around her finger and she was barely beginning to notice. Barely noticing just how much he’d do for her. How much he’d already done in her name. He sat up slightly, pushing her hair from her face. His tongue slithering out his mouth to lick the tears running slowly from the corner of her eyes. The visual of her forcing her mouth further and further down his shaft. The constricting feeling of her throat closing in on him before she spit trickled from the side of her mouth and she pushed away to catch her breath.

“Good girl Mari…always a good girl. That’s why I can’t leave you alone..that’s why I do what I do for you.” A shared kiss between the two made for a premature nut. One that he wasn’t ashamed about. Because she was the cause of it.

“I’m gonna fuck you up and down the state of New York..you hear me? Mm mm don’t shake your head, say it.”

He smeared the saliva around her swollen lips before allowing her a chance to speak, her voice coming out in low rasps. “Yes sir.”

—

There was nothing frantic about packing and riding to the Jet the next morning, Marina’s lazy smile, a sign of her sleepiness and eagerness to stay up and sleep throughout the flight. The two of them greeted Gary, the pilot and boarded the decked out jet. Squeals of excitement and good energy oozing from Marina as she threw her arms around Terry, thanking him gracefully for the arrangement of her favorite flowers and fruit.

After sharing fruit and citrusy mimosas Terry had whipped up, the two curled into each other on the king sized bed in the back room. Not long after soft snores were heard from her, the soft breaths fanned over his neck as she nestled closer to him. He eased from the bed slowly knowing that he probably wouldn’t sleep until after they left from the party later that day. His body naturally on edge at the thought of being surrounded by other men of power. Not intimidated, just alert and ready for anything.

The trip had possibilities of being fruitful in one way or another. A possible business partner and someone Terry could say he for sure was curious about meeting. Luca Russo or better known in his country as La Belva meaning The Beast in Italian. A man on top of his game in Sicily,Italy. An elusive barely seen figure so on top of the game that him reaching out to Terry had even shocked him. A connection in a country like Italy would lace his pockets enough for generations to come, easy access to ports and a combination of both men’s brains and brawn would knock out any competition barking from either side. It would be a suicude mission if they ever tried.

Stepping back into the front of the jet with his laptop in hand, he pulled up the cryptic email with instructions for the party. No weapons. No territory beef. No killing—at all whatsoever. These were neutral grounds and if one was to go against any of the listed rules…death would follow soon after. Terry had no plans of dying today or tomorrow by the hand of any man. He was simply better at it than them and his attitude showed it. So if Luca wanted a conversation with him, he’d entertain it. Learn what made him ticked,his weaknesses; because every man had one. An hour left into the flight he began to check in with the company he had booked to surprise Marina. Something lavish and well thought out for her, just before they left for the Black Party.

She deserved this more than anything and it was important to him to ask her to officially be his in this way. Because he had no plans on ever leaving her side and could only hope the fee;imgs were mutual with her. And deep down he felt like they were. Something real. Something peaceful. Something new.

_

Check in was quick and Terry held her bag as the concierge loaded their suitcases onto the baggage cart, her playful suspicious eyes watching his face for any clue of what was waiting for her in their suite. “ I can't really surprise you if i tell you what it is now can I?”.

“But you know how much I love surprises, you shouldn't have told me…what if I guess and get it right? Is that fair game?” Her relentless behavior entertained him on the elevator ride up to the top floor.

“If you got it right, I simply wouldn't tell you Mari. I'd rather see the look on your face… I promise it's something you’ll love, you trust me right?”

Her bold brown eyes peed up into his and for a moment nothing else really mattered. He would allow himself to feel this as deeply as possible. Allow himself to soak up everything she gave to him, because the feeling he felt inside of him finally had a name—love. He loved her and he was scared and so filled with insecurity that she didn't feel the same way. He didn't believe in putting a time frame on love, humans loved to complicate things so much when they did. He only knew what he felt for her, and that he would do everything to show her he did.

“I trust you more than you know Smiley…thank you so much for this trip. You don't know how much I needed it…how much I'm sure you yourself needed it. You know you can talk to me…if anything is bothering you I mean, I want to be here for you too.”

And he wished he could confide in her about what troubled him, but he'd never trouble his slice of heaven with the deeds of the devil. “I promise if I'm troubled, I'll come to you. But please don't worry about me, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Off the elevator now and wrapped in each other's embrace, Terry swiftly moves to place his hands over her eyes as they near their suite. Her giggles warmed him as he swiped the slim keycard to push the door open. Doing a onceover with jewel colored eyes one more time before he removed his hands from her eyes. A gasp came from her mouth as her eyes tried to take it all in. He stood off to the side allowing her to take it all in. Trembling fingers read the handwritten letters he had placed in a beautiful envelope, entailing all he felt for her. All the things he wanted to say on this perfect day to solidify them. A bouquet of lilies–one of the many that decorated the room, sat nestled gently in the crook of her arm as she approached him. Tears began to stream down her face as he revealed yet another gift, the velvet box making her choke up a little as he gingerly kissed her fingers softly. The ring in the box cost more than a down payment on a new home, but dollar amounts didn't matter to him when it came to her. The sentiment in itself is so intimate and heartfelt…everything being exactly as he had planned it to be. And this was no engagement ring–no wedding ring, it was something more.

A tether to the kind of love he wanted them to be tied to.

Something that could stand the test and trials of time.

Something he hoped would be enough.

Girlfriend now, Mrs.Richmond in the near future. He'd seen all he needed to when it came to her.

–

How the two made it out of their room was a wonder of the world. Once Marina had slipped her sinuous body into the champagne colored dress Terry couldn't control himself. Constantly rubbing and petting at her like a horny teenage boy, his large hands cuffing and gripping any exposed skin he could before placing his lips to her clavicle and lightly sucking. Igniting that fire she always had in her lower belly when he was present. And she was no better, falling ill to bulky muscles underneath his cream suit, rubbing her behind into his crotch on accident anytime she could. Her constant squeezes of his inner thigh and pecks to his jumping carotid artery, was creating a ticking bomb. God bless the housekeepers after they came back that night.

Terry had called for his driver while they were getting ready, the couple sliding into the back of the sleek Rolls Royce. The two share a bubbly glass of champagne before being whisked away to the party. The diamond necklace he'd gifted her recently, sat against her prominent clavicles shimmering and dazzling alongside her bronzy skin. They were amongst the many luxury vehicles pulling into the gated courtyard. Valet designated to each guest, stepping forward along with the drivers to park the expensive automobiles out of the way of the continuous flood of people. Marina gripped Terry’s arm tightly, halfway scared to lose him in the horde. His eyes flicked down towards hers before he gave her a peck on the lips. That reassurance and comfort that he always brought her soothing the light nerves in her belly. A room full of disgustingly rich people oddly made her palms too sweaty. Her energy was anxious…heart beat a little too fast. But she trusted him above all other things, so she grasped his hand and they stepped into a whole other world. His world. One she would learn to navigate.

Chandeliers made of hundreds of crystals hang from the ceiling. Long banquet tables held champagne towers and dishes filled with savory food. A million conversations went on at once

adding a natural buzz to the large room competing with the live classical music. Waiters carried around hors d’oeuvres and Terry made sure to grab a few for he and Marina. Fine dining for criminals was extra, over the top, and well hidden. He cared little for the people in attendance, most just pawns in the grand scheme of it all. Expansion was heavy on his mind. The possibility of billionaire status tasted like sweet pussy on his tongue, Luca was smart to bring up the idea of business together. Nobody else did business like Terry. Clean. Cut. Lethal.

“Buona sera Terry!” The heavy Italian accent pierced through the loud room as the two men joined together at the center of the room to shake hands.

“Not surprised you already knew who I was…pleasure to meet you Luca.”

“Aah I make it my business to know every man I plan to do business with, and you are no exception.“

Standing at six feet, even raven hair slicked back. Luca Russo had no one else to answer to in his country or the next. He was praised and treated like a king in Italy and showing up in America was rare for him. He had people running his operation here and yet…he was here to rub shoulders with Terry.

“Before we slip away to talk business, allow me to introduce you to my beautiful wife. My Tesoro Angel. Angel this is Terry Richmond… real estate, philanthropy, entrepreneurship. He’s a jack of all trades my love…we will make each other even more money.”

Angel Russo was gorgeous with rich mahogany skin and bright perceptive eyes. A knowing smirk gracing her face as she stepped forward, a slender hand reaching out to shake Terry’s outstretched hand. “The pleasure is all mine Terry i've heard so much about you…I had to meet the man my husband has been so eager to meet. And who is this beautiful lady at your side.. my god you're just so radiant.”

“The woman who makes me want to be a better man everyday..Angel this is Marina, Marina this is Angel.”

A look exchanged between the two men, it was brief but in the language they understood. They were not to discuss anything about that side of business around Marina. Angel was no stranger to that look and caught on immediately. Marina didn't know, and it wasn't her place to tell her. “Let's grab some food… I want to pick your brain about this necklace. It's to die for!”

–

With their women out of earshot and heading further away from them, the two powerful men began to speak about what Terry couldn't discuss in front of Marina. And Terry would be lying if he said Luca didn't talk a good game. All business in his world was dangerous, and a partnership with the Italians would add another target on his back. But deep down he was far past caring about targets. Far past caring about the nobodies he had long passed up.

“So you're offering me a fifty-fifty cut to ship and distribute my drugs in your country..why? You could have chosen anyone, your own people perhaps.”

“My own people do not possess the ability to push the type of weight I need pushed. When my ear was put to the American streets, it is your name that came up time and time again. Why would I settle when it comes to my money…and more importantly why would you?”

These deals were made with blood and forged under an alliance that would tie the two men together until death bid them both a goodbye. A blood pact. A tradition that would bind the two individuals. And to break one was forbidden. Bandaged hands and talks of Terry going overseas for a more in depth meeting kept them deeply emerged in conversation. Other distros circled around them like hungry vultures. Watching and waiting–some plotting. They knew who the alphas of this world truly were. The men who stood over corpses and toppled greater men than themselves because they were hungry for change–hungry for power. Luca and Terry spoke the same language in that sense and no other man in that room could speak it back to them.

From a distance he watched Marina. She had been so nervous to attend the party with him, but his reassurance had left her in a mood to lightly mingle with the filthy rich. She and Angel glided throughout the room and she had seemingly warmed up to the older woman. He couldn't help the protectiveness that came over him whenever someone would approach her, but that same radiant smile let him know that she was fine. But he would step in at any time…sacred ground be damned.

“I guess asking you about her would be wasting my time ehh? You love this woman, I can see it in your eyes…and perhaps I'm overstepping here but be better than I was to Angel. She's saved me in more ways than one…I owe her ten of my lives to make up for it, and even still that is not enough.”

Elephants in the room always had a way of revealing themselves. Ignoring them be damned. He tried constantly to swallow the feeling that washed over him when he would think about her ever knowing who he truly was. Women like her; good women… they didn't stick around and entertain murderers and drug traffickers. They married good men and lived in cookie cutter homes behind white picket fences, family gatherings where they could display the love they had for each other. All truths and not the lies he fed her.

“Love… what a small word to describe this feeling. I would become the best and worst parts of myself all for her. Whatever she needs from me.”

–

Marina could admit very vocally that she was actually enjoying herself. Alcohol buzzed lightly in her system as she forked another piece of the moist cake into her mouth. Angel had stepped away to go to the restroom leaving Marina sitting in her designated seat at the table for her and Terry. He had come over more times than she could count to check in on her, she had to remind him that building his business relationships were much more important, and he seemed to be pleased with those as well.

But she was beginning to become a bit uncomfortable. A couple that had arrived shortly after them, had turned their attention to her. The wide open ogling made her stomach turn. When she lifted her hand to wave they didn’t wave back, and when she politely smiled it was not returned. The man, tall and blonde with striking blue eyes, rings adorning his fingers that gripped the waist of the tall thin woman at his side. A neatly styled pixie cut accentuated prominent cheekbones and almond eyes. Her tawny skin is like warm sand on a beach but her eyes…they cut like daggers.

She pondered to herself on where they might know her from, anything to try to piece together the obvious disdain on their faces. But she didn’t recognize them. Just like most people in the room with her right now, they were complete strangers. And now she wanted that comfort from Terry and he was nowhere to be found. She looked left to right, straining her ears over the loud music and chatter to see if she could hear his hearty laugh, or even him walking in her direction. But he wasn’t, and she felt the need to seek him out.

She remembered where she last saw him and Luca speaking and was headed in that direction. Unfortunately she’d have to pass the odd couple on her way there, the same couple that still stared at her—unmoving and unwavering. And Marina was caring less and less about that and more about finding Terry and letting him know that she was feeling weirded out by the whole ordeal. She was nearing closer to where she last saw him before the voice of a woman halted her steps.

“He's a monster you know…dont expect this little honeymoon phase to last long. That's where I messed up, I'm sure you know exactly who I am, Marina.”

“Excuse me? And you are?” Monster? Confusion was setting in the longer she stood there in front of the woman.

The woman stepped forward, manicured hands crossed neatly in front of her. “Carmen Pushkin…went by a different last name at the time me and Terry dated. Please don’t play this naive new girlfriend role with me.. he still thinks of me I’m sure—too bad I’m a married woman now, if you love your little life you’d leave and do the same."

The woman who Marina now knew as Carmen strutted away from Marina before she could respond. Leaving her puzzled and ready to leave. She wasn’t mad at Terry but she could feel the annoyance from the situation creeping up her spine like cool fingers—taunting and laughing. Who was she to invade the personal space of someone she didn’t even know? To spread and plant seeds of fear. And like a beacon on a dark night, Terry rounded the corner. The large smile on his face dimmed when he finally got to Marina. And she hated that she couldn't even laugh with him right now.

“Who’s Carmen?”. She watched his face frown and he looked a little taken aback at the question.

“What?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to a more secluded area in the party. Away from watchful eyes and open ears.

“I was just approached by a woman claiming to be your ex. She had so much to say about you and how I should leave you.” Marina wasn’t technically accusing Terry of anything but she couldn’t help her tone either. She was annoyed.

“Baby, she is an ex..not a good one either. And for her to approach you like that and put you in this weird situation, I apologize. We can leave if you want, it’s up to you?”

“You know what fuck that, I’m not cutting our night short over a jealous bitch. Show me where she is. I’ll handle it.”

“She was with a guy, apparently she’s married to him? Terry I don’t want this to be a big thing, I came to support you. If you got everything you needed, we can go..I promise I’m okay.”

—

But to Terry, this was a big thing. Marina was disrespected, and no amount of downplaying it was going to calm him down. He knew he couldn’t kill here and he wanted to.A kiss to Marina's forehead and feet pointing in another direction quickly after left her calling quietly after him as he stalked away into the reeds like a hungry lion.

And then he saw them. Carmen was attached at the hip of some blonde bitch. Someone unfamiliar to him..for now. There was no hiding from Terry, if he wanted to know about you he would. But something told him that Carmen and her mystery husband weren’t necessarily trying to be hidden from him. He had barely made it within twenty feet of them before he had their attention. Like they had been waiting.

“This is the Richmond man you were telling me about?” It talked. A Russian accent, exactly the type of man a schemer like Carmen would end up with.

“Glad that you know me, because I’ve never seen you any place where money was being made. Anyways you know why I’m here, watch yourself with Marina. That’s not a line you want to ponder about crossing. We both know I can’t do what I want hear on this soil, but make no mistakes I’m still the same nigga burying people on my off days. Ask Carmen she knows.”

His face was stone, but under his skin his blood burned like a furnace. Hands itching to remove the two bodies in front of him. For good. But one look over his shoulder at Marina and he felt cool as ocean waves. She did that for him. Offered him something he didn’t know was possible in this world before he met her.

“You took someone from me Terry…now it’s only fair you feel what I feel. You act like nothing affects you, like you can walk around untouched. Well even gods have their day. You have humiliated me for the last time.”

“Took someone from you? Don’t include me in your bullshit, you live a fast life…you tend to lose people along the way. I wont say it again or repeat myself, stay away from Marina or you and Ken go bye bye for life.”

The sorry waste of space actually had the nerve to step closer to Terry. To invade his space. Terry gripped his own hip out of habit and realizing he had no gun in its place, he was beginning to forget where he was. And that was a problem.

“You Americans, so boastful and full of pride. You walk around making threats not knowing who you are making them to. You kill her family and then blame her for lashing out…no no Terry it doesnt work that way, and as her husband I’m inclined to fix whatever problems she has. And right now you and your mouthy little-“

Before he could hold himself back and question the man further Terry's hands were around the man's neck squeezing tightly. He was tired of the disrespect to his face, blatant and loud like a loud siren ringing in his ear drums. Fuck the party and fuck the consequences. Carmen’s nails dug into the skin of his wrist trying to get him off, but he could barely feel it as he peered into the man's eyes. He wanted him to know that he’d snap his neck right here in front of hundreds and wouldn’t bat an eye about it.

Seconds later he threw the man to the ground. His face is red as a tomato. Clothing slightly wrinkled and disheveled. His point had been made. Cross him and no one could stop the hell he would bring. One last look at carmen and her lapdog that was damn near in her lap and he left to turn and find Marina. It was time to leave. Now. The mess, if one at all was one he would gladly throw money at. Stopping him and getting him to explain his actions when he wasn’t a man that explained himself was a waste of anyone's time—his included.

Marina had already alerted the valet and had their driver and car pulled around to the front. Her face was wearing an expression he wasn’t able to read, but he hoped she wasn’t disappointed in his actions…yet again. Opening the door for her he watched her slide her body into the back of the car, her hand slowly easing into his as he got settled in next to her.

”Thank you for that. I’m not mad at you, and I understand that was something that you couldn’t ignore…they were insanely disrespectful and if i were you I would’ve reacted the same Smiley.”

He reached down to peck her lipgloss coated lips, her brown liner surely sticking to his lips as he pulled away. “Thank you for always understanding me. Nothing or no one can come to me and say a damn thing about you without consequences.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand glad they had finally pulled away from the party. He had fulfilled his reason for being there, now he could focus on who was more important.

” I appreciate you Terry.. and so does she. Very very much.” Her hand slowly brought his hand to rest at the seat of her damp panties. His fingers moving gently against her covered lips, collecting as much wetness as he could before placing them in his mouth.

”I don’t take much for me girl you know that, just as much as you're mine I’m yours. Anytime you want this dick I’m gonna give it to you. Constantly. Everyday. On a repeat. So I’m only gonna ask you this one time Mari…You asking me for dick?”

Seductive brown eyes captured him and he felt the temperature rise just slightly in the backseat. He couldn’t wait to show her how her eyes on him really made him feel. How she so easily slithered under his skin and had nestled herself into his heart like an arrow to the chest. How he would so easily and with every fiber in his being do whatever it took to keep her happy and here with him.

”You make me feel like no one ever has, some nights I get so beside myself I touch myself thinking of you. Fantasies of our first time together and how I’ll become absolutely addicted to it and the high we'll be on…so im not just asking for it im begging.”

—

Her heels in hand and thighs wrapped tightly around Terry's trim waist. The two exchanged sloppy rushed kisses as he hoisted her up against the wall of the elevator. His full lips sucking any exposed skin he could get his mouth on, their bodies slowly rocking into each other. The low classical elevator music mocking the tandem and flow of their bodies. The ding scared them from their stupors and sent them on the short track to their suite. Articles of clothing flying from their bodies the further they moved into the room.

Hot bodies and needy hands roaming in a frenzy as they finally connected with cool sheets. Terry's teeth nipping at her neck as she threw her head back, heavy thighs straddling him and connecting them at their centers. Just one push and they’d be connected. Riding that addictive high of pure unadulterated euphoria that no drug could replicate. Heavy brown breast bouncing and swaying as she came to eye level with him. And then, connection. That wave of electricity that flowed from the tip of their fingers all the way down to their toes. His grip at her waist, steadying her as she fell forward a little bit. Curtains of hair swept from her face so he could see it all. See everything he did to her. And those faces she made sent him to another universe, because he had never seen anything more precious and fulfilling being acted out in front of him this way before. The way her eyes rolled and twitched while she tried to maintain that eye contact with him. Her eyes were screaming out what her mouth couldn't properly get across. She loved this shit just as much as he did. Craved this sex just like he did.

“Im gonna fuck you so hard Mari…make me feel so damn good!” His voice was heavy with dripping desire as his arms reached around her waist to pull her closer to his chest. Feet planting into the mattress as he fucked up into her pussy. His pussy. Her short acrylics dug softly into his chest as her muffled screams grew in volume.

Marina was embarrassed by how much shit she would purposely miss out on to hop on Terry's dick. It thrilled her, and scared her all at the same time. How deep he felt and still she wanted him so much deeper inside her–staking his claim and marking her where no one could see. She was no victim to this feeling. She knew how consuming it was and she wanted more. And even as her first orgasm ripped through her like a tornado in a small town, she was ready for more.

Terry felt like he was in a trance as he moved and positioned Marina's body into yet another position. That almost scared look on her face as she allowed him to take her to new and daring heights. How she allowed him to work his tricks like a magician– making nine inches appear and disappear at record speeds inside of her. Sex so sacred and otherworldly he was afraid for himself when he couldn't have her this way. His brain coming up with solutions so that they'd never have to go without this feeling, because he'd pay anything and dismiss anyone when it came down to this feeling. When it came down to her. Her cries for him to drive into her faster as he pressed his hands behind her knees snapped him from his mind as his body pressed into hers as he kissed and licked away salty tears of pleasure. The light pulses and contractions of her pussy sucking him further into this dreamlike state of bliss.

“I love you Terry,soo much..so much”. And he'd say it back a million times in a million more positions just so he knew the message was getting through to her.

He said it once more as she squirmed and wiggled to run from his wagging hungry tongue. The warm pink muscle sending her body into a continuous fit, shaking and cumming.

He said it again as she laid with her back to his front. Thick fingers squishing around in her gooey mess, waiting for another explosion. Another reason for him to place her legs over his shoulders and drink from her very own garden of eden.

And for his last and final act he made sure to tell her once again as she bent over in the shower holding his ankles for support. Her once straight hair slowly reverting in his firm grip as he delivered slaps to her ass beneath the fog of the shower. His own release not far behind as her fifth?..sixth?.. Orgasm of her own ripped through her. Heavy groans and grunts being sucked into her mouth as she turned to help finish him off. The couple carefully taking turns washing each other before they hit clean fresh sheets, wrapped in each other.

–

Carmen seethed on her way to their New York home. Her body buzzed with anger and jealousy after the run in with Terry. Having to deal with Nicolai’s obvious bruised ego annoying her to no end. He was being a bitch about the whole situation, allowing himself to be snatched up and degraded by another man in front of some of the wealthiest people in the world. She never loved him, only the child the two of them now had together. The beautiful boy Isaak now two years old and keeping her very happily on her feet. She could admit her getting married was to piss Terry off but her baby boy was something she never took for granted. She loved him with everything in her and that’s why she needed his father to pull it together.

He needed to eliminate this very obvious threat to the both of them. The threat that would take food from their child’s mouth. Terry Richmond was a problem and she found it so interesting how easy he was making things for him. How easy it was to track his little Nancy Drew with all her podcasts, videos and vocal instagram posts about what their community needed. That fake poised little bitch. How she looked at Carmen like she was beneath her, the way she tried to calm down Terry before he stormed over to do what the fuck he wanted anyways. A beast she knew Marina couldn’t tame— a beast she herself had tangoed with.

Terry had killed her last and only source close to him. Her uncle Scotty took one last lick for the family. One last lick that gave her all the info she needed on Marina Evans, and the information she needed to plot. Nicolai would fund whatever she needed done, he didn't care as long as he gained access to territory left behind by Terry once he was killed. He wanted what she wanted—power and she wasn’t afraid of killing to get it.

—