#erikxoc

I. Have. Never written something as nasty as this. I’m so proud of myself, but at the same time, I gotta go say 10 Hail Marys. The reader is black.

Description:

N’jadaka gets a little fed up with your attitude and tbh bitch, your ass shoulda known better than to be a whole ass brat. Punishment ensues.

(So many warnings man, Filth, Impregnation kink, Choking, Slapping, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Lots of crying, Brat Taming tbh, Spanking if you squint, Humiliation, Punishment, Squirting, Daddy kink, MeanDaddy!N’jadaka, BrattySub!Reader, Black!reader, I’m going to hell, see y’all there.)

N’jadaka had been patient.

When he woke up this morning, you hadn’t been next to him. Matter fact, you weren’t even home. For some strange reason, without letting him know, you’d taken an early shift at work without letting him know before hand, leaving him worried as hell.

When you came home later on that afternoon, you hadn’t said a word of apology to him, but he made sure his body language showed that he was upset. Being the forgiving guy he was (yeah right), he gave up on the body language shit and started acting like normal.

The straw that broke the camels back though was when you were both watching a movie that evening. Your phone kept going off and whoever was texting you seemed to be funny as fuck cus they’d have you cheesing every time you picked up the device. Erik couldn’t help but be irritated, but once again, he decided not to say nothing. Instead, he slyly tried to get you to put the phone down.

“Baby, the light is bothering me every time you open that. You mind?” He asks sweetly, still watching the tv.

You glance at him at the corner of your eye and glare. “Um, yeah I mind. Close ya eyes if you’re bothered.” You reply then continue texting away.

N’jadaka goes silent. You don’t even see his hand come up till your phone is knocked outta your hand unto the couch. You turn you head to look at him, mouth agape.

“What the fuck?” You ask, picking up your phone.

“Put that shit down ‘fore I break it, Y/n.” He states, and you can see he’s not playing but you’re so irritated, you don’t care.

“Nigga no. It’s my fucking phone and guess what? You not my father.” You spit before getting up and stalking to the kitchen where you lean against the counter and text who you were texting.

Second later, N’jadaka is up and after you. You see him coming at the corner of your eye and move to get away, but you’re too late. Your phone is snatched out of your hand, and just as you open your mouth to protest, Erik’s other hand is at your throat, choking the hell outta you.

You sputter and your hand immediately goes to his arm, grabbing at it as you’re forced to go on your tiptoes to breathe. A wheezing gasp leaves you as he jerks you towards him, uncaring of how you struggle to breathe. His eyes are dark with anger and even though you know any girl in their right mind would be scared shitless, your body betrays that and you’re slightly turned on. Mostly angry, but slightly turned on.

“See, I don’t know what happened to make you such a bitch today, but I really don’t care no more. You been rude as fuck to me for no reason and I’ve been nothing but nice to your bratty ass.” He tells you as he slowly back you against the kitchen counter. His face is an inch away, so you not only hear every word, but he makes sure you feel it.

“You had me worried as hell this morning, and even after I called you at work a dozen fucking times, I didn’t get an apology or nothing. Now in the living room, you wanna be texting somebody and giggling and shit, knowing how I fucking get. Wanna be disrespectful when I nicely ask your ass to put the fucking phone down. Fuck that shit. You said I’m not your father, okay. But who the fuck am I?” He declares.

You choke helplessly around his palm on your throat, unshed tears swelling in your eyes. You smack at his arm, unable to answer. He loosens his grip and you inhale a gust of air so sharp, it’s like a razor against your senses. You blink as your finally able to breathe even though it’s through a constricted airway whistling oxygen into your deprived lungs.

“D-Daddy.” You gasp answering him, shuddering as his other hand that has now dropped your phone next to you on the counter slithers into your loose sweatpants and between your thighs.

A moan leaves you as his fingers start to move against your cloth covered mound, your legs shaking as pleasure courses through you. His head moves close and you whimper as his teeth sink into your plump bottom lip, then soothe the pain by suckling on it. His fingers move up then slip into your panties and a shuddering gasp leaves your lips when suddenly, two of his fingers sink into you.

“That’s right, I’m Daddy. Say it again. Who the fuck am I?” He growls, his fingers moving faster, every ridge and knuckle rubbing your sensitive insides.

Your legs shake and a broken sob leaves your lips. “Daddy! Daddy please, can I cum?” You start to beg, voice shaking in tune with your knees.

His lips are on your jaw now, kissing and biting on your skin, his fingers around your throat experimentally flexing tighter and looser, leaving you a mess as the lack of oxygen combines with the immense pleasure he’s causing down below.

He smirks against your skin. “Cum? Already?” He asks in a mocking tone.

Another sob leaves you as your hands that were around his arm on your neck move down to his other arm, gripping it as you grind down unto his fingers.

“Please Daddy! Feels so good! M’sorry for bef - fuck! - for before! Lemme cum Daddy, please!” You plead, moans leaving you as his palm grinds against your clit as he fingers you fast and hard.

“For before? Damn, I can’t remember. Remind me why you should be sorry.” He speaks against your skin, his fingers slowing when he senses that your about to cum.

You whimper and push your hips towards his palm, but his hand tightens around your throat in a warning and you listen, stilling your hips.

“I-I made you worry this morning, then I didn’t apologize. Then I was disrespectful on the couch. I-I’m sorry Daddy.” You whimper, panting as his palm grinds a little harder against you.

“Nah, you not done. Who the fuck was you texting?” He growls against your cheek, and his hand tightens again, making your breath hitch.

You whimper when he loosens his hand and when you open your eyes that you didn’t even know fell closed, his face is right in front of yours and he’s giving you the dirtiest glare you’ve ever seen on him. A shudder goes up your spine and you swallow before you answer.

“T-Tommie.” You whimper, practically begging him with your eyes to keep touching you.

His eyes go steel and his whole aura changes into someone that’s really gon choke ya ass to death if you don’t correct the little mistake it takes you a second to realize you made.

“Tommie the female! ‘IE’, not ‘Y’! The female, daddy.” You quickly correct, not in the mood to play with your life or the male Tommy’s life.

He stares at you for a moment, looking to see if your lying. When he’s satisfied, he gives you a slight smirk.

“You ain’t lying, are you?” He asks, his head cocking slightly to the side.

You shake your head vigorously, thrusting your hips towards his hand with a pleading look. He regards you for a moment, as if looking to see if your lying. He hums in satisfaction and you sob in relief when his fingers sink into you again.

You fingers tighten around his arm as you basically ride his fingers, the lewd sound of your sex squelching as his fingers sink into you over and over again, rubbing against your nerve sparked walls. You increasingly get louder and louder and your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but the look N’jadaka gives you lets you know there ain’t no way in hell your gonna stop him from hearing you.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you baby.” He growls against your jaw, then your yanked away from the counter.

Everything is hazy as your body is sent into this spiral of wanton lust and need, and you don’t even realize your thrown unto the bed until N’jadaka yanks your sweats and panties down in one yank. You hastily yank your shirt off, leaving you completely nude. N’jadaka stares down at you with a carnal gaze that has you creaming. He reaches forward and grabs your legs and suddenly you’re yanked to the bottom of the bed so your bottom is hanging off. He kneels down and your legs are over his shoulders.

A moan leaves you as he bites harshly into your inner thigh, reveling in the way his teeth sink into your plush brown skin. He releases your skin and looks at your dripping pussy, then he moves forward and takes a wide lick. Your whole body shudders at the sensation and your hands find their way to your breasts as your man suckles against your clit. You let out a wail when his teeth scrape against your sensitive nub, sending sparks of euphoria up your spine. Your legs shake as he holds them open, his tongue dipping into you then over your clit over and over again. Your hands swoop down and grab unto his locks as your hips grind into his face. You shudder as your orgasm builds.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You chant as you wail in pleasure.

N’jadaka’s grip on your thigh tightens painfully and you glance down at him, near blind from the tears pooling in your eyes. You see his sharp glare and a gasp of pain leaves you when one of his hands lifts and smacks your thigh.

“Hold that shit. You not cumming till I got this dick in you.” He says, muffled by your lower lips being sucked into his mouth.

Tears build in your eyes as his tongue rolls out and rubs against your clit in what feels like the alphabet, and before you know it, your hands are over your eyes as you sob and beg for mercy, knowing that if you cum without permission, which you’re about to, he’ll be merciless on you, either spanking you till you’re too weak to move away, or fucking you till you’re to weak to move away. Same result, both equally barbaric.

“P-please Daka! Shit! Daddy!” You beg, your hips moving on their own accord now, backing away from him. His head lifts up for a moment and you sigh in relief, but he glares at you.

“Y/n, shut up and let me eat. Try to run again and watch what I do to your ass.” He drops without remorse, then his head is back between your legs and he’s sucking on your clit like it’s a damn pacifier, ignoring the loud wailing above him and the way your legs are shaking like leaves.

Just as you’re sure your body is about to betray you and orgasm, he stops, but you’re loud angry sobbing doesn’t. Usually, when you cry like this, N’jadaka comforts you with a fiercity, pampering your spoiled ass till you forget why you were even crying. But at times like this however, you knew you only had a thin rope you were dangling on till his patience ran out and he really gave you something to cry about, like an ass you couldn’t sit on for a couple of days.

It only takes one dirty look and you control your sobs till you’re hiccuping like a grade schooler, and for a second, N’jadaka feels a little bad. He almost changes his mind and feels like maybe you deserve to cum. But then he remembers the shit your rude ass put him through today and he’s annoyed again and there ain’t no way in hell you’re escaping this punishment.

He leans up and you’re staring at him from between your legs, looking as aggrieved as ever, hands now clenching the sheets. His hand taps your hip as he talks.

“Move up on the bed. Then hold your legs up, against ya chest.” He commands and you obey without complaint, glorifying Bast when you realize he’s about to fuck the sanity out of you.

You feel slightly exposed when he stares down at your dripping folds for a moment too long, a whimper leaving you. His eyes look up and meet yours and he sees the embarrassment on your face as you look away from him. A fond smile slips unto his lips and he crawls unto the bed on his knees, hands bracing your legs up from behind your thighs where your own hands hold them up.

“Y/n, are you really acting shy right now?” He asks, and you can hear the slight humor in his voice.

You don’t answer him, looking anywhere but at him because this damn position, it always gets to you cus he can see everything. He knows what this does to you and you gotta say... you love him for it. You always liked a little humiliation in the bedroom, though you’d never really said it out loud. N’jadaka just knew. He knew you got soaking wet when he called you his bitch or his hoe. He saw the way your pupils would dilate when he told you to open your mouth so he could spit into it. He saw how it drove you crazy when he put you in really exposing positions and did filthy things to you.

A gasp leaves you along with an oh god when you feel the head of his cock nudge against your clit. You’re already so sensitive, so when he starts to rub just the head of his dick back and forth between your folds, in just a few minutes, you’re sweating and whining.

“Daddy, please fuck me. Please.” You plead, panting heavily when this time, the shaft of his cock slowly glides against your clit, every vein and throb being felt.

“Why? You wanna cum baby?” He asks, his own voice shaking slightly because all he wants to do is loose control and fuck you silly.

“Yes please daddy! Make me cum. I’m sorry about before so please lemme cum.” You beg, getting loud with the prospect of cumming looming over you.

“Fine. Soon as I put it in, you can cum. But that don’t mean I’m stopping for nothing. You wanna cum so bad, go ahead, but I’m not stopping till I get my nut.” He states, and then he’s pushing inside you.

Your mouth falls open as N’jadaka splits you open on his dick, every inch sliding into you with ease as your dripping walls accept him with glee, squeezing and pulsating around him. He feels it too by the look of utter bliss on his face. He looks like he’s gonna forget himself any moment and start moaning because damn, how are you so warm- no, hot. Like fucking melting chocolate and it takes a moment for him to not melt into you, but then he takes back control and he’s fucking you with sharp thrusts that leave you breathless.

The two of you maintain eye contact as he fuck you, his hips picking up in speed and force till he’s thrusting into you with jackhammering force that has your nails digging into the backs of your thighs as you make a visible effort not to scream. You know you’re not gonna last long until you cum.

Every thrust sends a filthy sound into the room, his dick forcing your juices out of you as it plunged in and out, pressing into your walls as they squeeze him. A wail leaves you and suddenly, one hand realeases your thigh and is gripping unto the sheets for dear life. Erik’s hand keeps it in place as he pounds into you, making you moan like a two cent whore.

He groans at the sight of you taking his dick so wonderfully, finally obeying him like you were fucking supposed to. One of his hands finds its way to your throat and now, not only is he murdering you with his dick, but now he’s choking you too and there’s no other way you’ve ever wanted to die but thisthisthis, this is why you were so bratty today.

You needed a brute fucking like this that you would feel for a couple of days, that you would feel every time you breathed and had a 99.9% chance of getting you pregnant. You cum so hard, you see stars.

Your mouth just falls open as you cum, and you wanna gasp, but N’jadaka’s hand is too tight around your throat. A wheezed yelp leaves you when his hand comes down and smacks your ass when your walls tighten around him so much, he’s barley able to move. Veins in his neck pop out as he nearly passes out with how fucking tight you are around him.

“Good girl. It’s not over though.” He pants, still fucking you with brute strength.

Tears fill your eyes and your hand comes up from the sheets and claws unto N’jadaka’s around your neck. He loosens his grip slightly so you can breathe and you inhale sharply, what sound like a broken sob leaving you. N’jadaka groans as he continues to fuck you through the throes of your orgasm and your legs have never shook this much. You’re not sure if you’ll ever walk again. Sounds that you’ve never made before leave you and he continues to slam into you.

“Daddyyyyy!” You cry when you feel another orgasm building and something unexpected makes you go over the cliff into another harrowing orgasm.

Erik has never smacked you in bed before, not on the face. If anyone would have asked you, you would have laughed at them and said even though you were a nasty vile creature of sin who wanted this man to do terrible things to you, smacking didn’t seem to be one of them. Well, you were wrong as hell. The sheer humiliation from him smacking you, the sting in your cheek, the sound of his skin hitting yours, that sends you over the ledge and you have the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. A loud, drawn out ‘fuck’ leaves you and you’re sobbing loudly again.

“Oh my God, Y/n.” N’jadaka hears himself whisper as he watches you squirt, his dick feeling the way you squeeze around him, dripping like ripe fruit as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands leave their stations and swoop down to his stomach where you start to attempt pushing him away.

“Can’t. Can’t. Please Daddy!” That’s all you can manage to say as he continues to thrust into you, and you mentally curse at this mans stamina.

“Hold on baby. Little more.” He answers, and from the way his voice is shaking and his hips are stuttering, he’s gonna cum any second now.

Thing is, you don’t have any second. If he doesn’t stop now, you’re gonna cum again, and you’re almost certain your heart will stop this time. You see it’s no use though. Your eyes flutter open again and then you see his face.

This man is the devil. He has a slight smirk on his lips and then you realize. This is it. This is your punishment. His plan is to make you cum again.

“N’jadaka, fuck! - hate you so much - oh goood!” You wail when his hand comes down and starts to rub hard circles into your engorged clit.

“You bouta be a good girl for a while after this. No more bratty shit.” He pants, using the last of his strength to pound into you, his dick pushing deeper than you’ve ever imagined, hitting that one spot that has your toes curling and your blood running hot.

It only takes half a dozen more thrusts like that and your screaming for god himself. Your hands fly up and are in his hair as you cry out over and over again. His head fits into the crook of your neck as he cums hard with a moan, hips stuttering as he fucks you both through your orgasm. The mess between your thighs is disgusting, just the way you both love it, and the kiss that follows it is equal in taste. All teeth and tongue, unholy in every aspect. He grinds his hips into you a few more times, enjoying your gasps and the way your hands tighten in his hair.

“M’sorry for everything baby.” You whisper as he kisses on your neck, suckling your salty skin.

“It’s okay baby girl. I love you.” He answers against your skin, the gentle-ish giant you know he is seeping into his voice.

His hips continue to undulate against yours and your thighs don’t even burn anymore, grown accustom to being spread for him to lay between. Your feet rest on the bed now.

“I love you too.” You reply, a smile sliding unto your face at everything he is. Your smile falters slightly when a moan leaves you as he grinds in a certain angle that catches against your clit.

“I need a second Daka.” You whine, going to pull away from him.

He smiles and nods and suddenly your flipped over and getting a massage. You roll your eyes and smile.

“I said a second. Not foreplay.” You say, voice muffled by the sheets.

He laughs and continues. “What ever do you mean?” He asks, playing dumb.

You giggle and relax into the massage as his fingers dig into every tense, wound up muscle. You know it’s just a matter of time before he gets off topic. His hands feels wonderful. They dig into your upper back, rubbing away all knots, then to your mid back, gently pressing and releasing, then lower again to your lower back where they rub and dig, banishing all tense muscles. Then they dip lower, rubbing, and lower, caressing, and lower, grabbing, and lower, gripping, and lower and oh... there we go.

~~~

Yaaaalllll, what is wrong with me? How will I ever have kids, knowing their birth was a product of my disgusting ass having an impregnation kink? Like “honey, I’m glad you were born and all, but that’s because your daddy and I like playing with cum.” IMAGINE. Whew chile, the thought of it.

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed this. Took me like three days. Oof.

Drop lots of comments if you liked it and share with me what some of your kinks are. I’m dying to know.

Description:

Jamilah is a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t know when to stop acting up. Her doting father who never knows when to stop her in her tracks is scared to realization when she nearly kills herself in a drunken episode. New body guards are needed on the double. Then walks in Erik Stevens. Read as their lives intertwine in ways that are good, and some that are not so great. Besides, Erik seems to be hiding something. What is it? Read to find out.

(Minor Spanking, Minor Fondling, Angst, Flirting.)

~~~

Chapter 4

1 2 3 4

You’re a more than a little disappointed when for the next few days, Erik straight up ignores you as best as he can. What really grinds your gears though is how he pretends he can’t see how pissed off you are, no matter how much you show it. You hate it. The feeling of not getting your way. You always got what you wanted, be it through your fathers money or through your charms. Hell, even threats worked in your favor. But Erik was immune to it all, and that was really frustrating. You wanted him to pay attention to you. Yeah, he’s your bodyguard and he kinda has no choice in that but you craved it in another way. You wanted him to want you like everyone else did. It was the first time in your life someone didn’t react to you as everyone else did and that was beyond annoying.

Your yellow acrylic nails tap rhythmically against the table in front of you. You pop your gum loudly, ignoring the way customers seated in the fancy restaurant you were in flinched, glancing at you occasionally, disgust in their eyes. You glare at a particular woman who whispers to her husband about you and she stiffens and turns quickly back to her meal. Unbeknownst to you, it’s Erik’s glare from behind you that spooks her. You uncross and cross your legs under the table, getting impatient. Your father and his ‘wife’ were supposed to be at the table with you, but they both had to mysteriously use the bathroom at the same time.

The two come back to the table giggling, your fathers usually pristine hair a mess and his ‘wife’s’ face flushed. You roll your eyes, irritation rising in you and slight embarrassment due to the fact that Erik was here to see all this.

“Jam, I hope we didn’t keep you waiting to long. The line was... absurd.” Your father says, a guilty smile slipping into his face.

You love your father, so to keep the peace, you smile back at him and nod. “It’s no problem, daddy.” You reply sweetly.

He smiles back in satisfaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek to which you beam at him. Your stepmother watches on with narrowed eyes.

“Ahem.” She clears her throat, bringing up a napkin to dab at her lips. You can’t help but roll your eyes and look at her.

Delores Manchester. At least, she used to be Manchester. You refused to acknowledge the fact that you both now shared the same last name. The woman was the devil in disguise. Your father had married her about two year ago and she would be another on his very, very long list of ex wives. Normally, you would never have bothered yourself in whatever new gold digger your father married, knowing they’d be around for a year at most, but Delores had lasted, and not only did that make you worry, but there was also something about her. She’d always sneak off to make phone calls, or disappear for days on end telling you father she had a business trip (obvious lie because what ex-model goes on business trips). Something about her was off, but in all honesty, you didn’t care enough to investigate. You just didn’t like the bitch, period.

“So, Jamilah honey-“

“Don’t call me honey.” You say interrupting her midsentence.

She falters and her eyes momentarily become cold but it’s just for a second, and then she’s beaming at you in that fake stepmother way stepmothers do when they’re trying to impress their husbands. Your father silently watches on, too pussy to say anything to his new wife.

“Ahem, Jamilah. How is everything with the business?” She asks, taking a sip of her wine.

You immediately get irritated. You had a side business running. A hair salon. The problem is that for some strange reason, it was like god didn’t wanna see you prosper, so there was always something wrong with the store. Mysterious fire. Robbery. Hell, y’all even had a lice outbreak once.

“It’s great. Business is booming.” You reply smugly.

A flash of amusement blooms in Delores’ eyes and you narrow yours at her for a second. It’s gone though. She nods with a plastic smile.

“That’s wonderful. About time really.” She says, a deeminging smirk on her face.

You feel your blood boil. “Excuse me?” You ask, finger digging into the table.

“I mean, some would say this idea of yours is the literal definition of insanity. All signs point to this... facility, of yours failing, and every time something heinous happens, you build it up from scrap again. I’m just worried as your mother, that’s all.” She states, all the while smiling and sipping.

You see red and you move to get up, but a hand on your shoulders sends you right back down to your seat and firmly holds you there. You turn around and see Erik looking at you with a cautious look, and you turn back around after taking a deep breath.

“Firstly, you’re not my mother. Second, don’t be worried about me and my business, we’re fine. Worry about how much longer your gonna keep your claws in my father cus from what I’ve seen over the years, your time is running out.” You reply, hate spewing into each word that comes from your mouth.

Your fathers hands slam the table. You jump and look at him. The whole restaurant has gone silent, and your father looks at you with anger in his eyes.

“That is enough. She’s asking because she cares Jamilah. Don’t you see that?” He asks, and it breaks your heart to see the pain in his eyes.

“But daddy, she-“

“I don’t wanna hear it, Jam.” He interrupts. You fall silent, and Erik’s hand on your shoulder softens, almost comforting you.

Tears well in your eyes and you get up from the chair, the sudden movement making Delores jump. You glare at her then at your dad before snatching up your purse and practically running out of there. You run to the main entrance and exit, then whip your phone out and call your limo driver. You wait for the limo not even noticing Erik behind you.

He clears his throat, not liking the awkward atmosphere. You turn around and see that its him, and a wave of anger comes over you. You dont mean to do it, but you immediatley take your anger out on him.

“What the hell makes you think you can touch me? What was that in there? You seem to forget that I’m the one who fucking pays you. I’m the one who lets you have food on your fucking table. Keep pissing me off and I will fire your ass faster than you can say ‘oops’.” You yell at him. At the end of your rant, your panting loudly.

Erik’s face is blank, and bored with the lack of reaction from him, you turn away from him with a huff. Behind you though, Erik silently seethes, and it takes the strength and patience of his ancestors not to each you the lesson you so deprately deserve. The limo pulls up and you step in, sitting far away from Erik. Erik enters and sits, still not speaking.

“Where to, Ma’am?” Your driver asks from the pane that seperates you from him. 

“Anubis. Step on it. I’m tryna get drunk tonight.” You reply with an eyeroll.

You hear a scoff next to you and turn your head just as Erik speaks.

“No you not. Straight home, Reggie. Thank you.” Erik says, then closes the pane.

You stare at him baffled. “Um, ex-fucking-scuse me? I said Anubis and I meant that shit.” You seethe, leaning forward to open the pane. 

Eriks hand stops you, yanking you back to your seat. You gasp when your butt makes impact with the chair and turn to look at Erik. 

“Sit down and shut up. You’re going home.” He says then looks away.

You’re reaction is instant. You hand collides with his cheek hard, a smacking sound resonating through the back seat. Your palm stings from the contact, so your sure Erik felt it. He doesn’t move for a second, just staring ahead, then his head turns towards you. His hand moves to the pane and opens it, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Reggie?” 

“Yes?”

“When I close this, this shit becomes sound proof, right?”

“Yes.”

“Aight, just checking.” The hand on the pane shuts it, then moves away.

In a sudden movement, Erik grabs you and you squeal as your sent sprawling over his lap. You bring your arms to brace yourself while asking what the hell he’s doing, but those arms are grabbed and yanked behind you, held securely against your back by one of Erik’s hands. You struggle and kick, but it’s useless.

“What the fuck? Let me up Erik!” You scream, feeling your face go hot from both the position your in and rage.

“Shut up.” He says, calm as can be.

You buck and fight, trying your hardest to get free from this man.

“You can’t talk to me like that you fucking bitch! Let me go right now! Erik, right no-“

Smack!

All thoughts in your head halt, as do the words leaving your mouth. It takes a second for you to register that the loud smack you heard and the stinging pain on your ass correlate. You look at the black leather car seat in shock.

“When I say something Jamilah, I mean that shit.” He grits, repharasing your words in a way that would usually leave you seething, but you’re in too much shock to react.

Seconds go by without you saying anything, but then common sense seeps back into you.

“Erik, let me up.” You say, and it borderline sounds like your begging because you didn’t mean for your voice to be that soft.

“No. Now shut up.” He repeats.

Your anger flares again and you put your head up to say something but another slap lands on your ass and all that leaves you is a gasp of pain.

You lay there silently for what seems like forever but is only a couple of seconds, and what brings you back to your senses again is the feeling of Erik pulling your skirt up.

“No wait!” You squeal, kicking your legs in an attempt to go free again.

He ignores you and pulls it up anyway, leaving your black lace panty covered ass on display. You whimper and struggle again, but it’s futile, so you give up, slumping against him.

Your breath hitches when his fingers are suddenly against your clit, your panties the only thing blocking him. You want to yell at him and ask him what he’s doing, but what leaves your mouth is a keen of need instead. His fingers don’t move much, just pressing slightly over and over again, and he’s so quiet, you don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

Erik watches as your thighs spread open more, as if inviting him. That, and the sound of his name slipping from your lips in an airy, hungry tone snap him back to reality. His hand moves and your skirt is pulled back down.

Your hands are realeased and your pushed back up. Your eyes try to meet his, but he’s doing everything to avoid yours. You stare at him for a moment, your hands fidgeting, and as you open your mouth to comment on what just happened, Reggie’s voice fills the back.

“We’ve arrived, Madam.” He says.

You glance out the window and see people walking in and out of the building you reside in. This is usually a normal sight, but what makes a frown of confusion and curiosity slip onto both yours and Erik’s face is the fact that some of these people are obvious law enforcement while others have the word ‘coroner’ in large yellow print on the back of their navy jackets.

Your door opens and you startle, then you notice Erik had exited and was opening up your door for you. Your eyes meet his. His deep brown pools capture you in their gaze and for a moment, you’re distracted by the havoc moving in and out of the building you live in. You distinctly see his lips move and your snapped back to reality.

“What?” You ask stupidly.

Erik holds back a smile and repeats himself. “I said come out the car Jamilah.”

You nod and step out unto the side walk, then turn towards your building where a line of freaking yellow tape is being drawn. Your eyes widen and you walk towards the doors, only to be stopped by a cop.

“Um, sorry, but you’re gonna have to take your... business, elsewhere Hon.” He says, his eyes on your cleavage the whole time.

You feel your blood boil at the assumption that your a prostitute. What made it all the more upsetting is that you weren’t even dressed like a working girl normally would. This was an expensive ass dress that met the top of your knees. The assumption was based clearly off the color of your skin and that made you wanna rip this pigs head off. You open your mouth to speak but your stopped when Erik takes a step next to you.

“She lives here.” He plainly explains, his eyes trained on the cop with a glare that would freeze hell.

The cop barely holds back his scoff, but his eye roll makes it clear that he doubts your residence. You stare at the cop, arms crossing ass you prepare to tear him a new one, but your interrupted.

“Madam! What is happening here? Officer, let her in right this instant!” Timothy, the manger of said establishment berates, ushering the cop away from the entrance in order to let you in.

The officers shock couldn’t be more apparent, and an ugly hue of pink rises to his face, further reddening his already flushed tone. Erik visibly holds back his words, his jaw working away as he grits his teeth in rage. His hand finds its way to the dip of your back as he turns to walk in but you stop. You turn to the officer who stares at you in distaste and you pull out a card from your purse. You hand it to him and with a sneer, you tell him to expect a call from that number. You turn and walk away heading for the front desk with Erik in tow, and behind you, you miss the blood drain from the officers face as he reads the number of the city’s mayor.

The desk worker smiles and immediately attends to you, walking back to bring you your mail. Meanwhile, you watch the chaos around you. At the bar, not so far from where you and Erik are standing, different people do different tasks, dusting for prints, bagging what appears to be eveidence of some sort, talking animatedly. You listen in on a conversation a waiter is giving to what seems to be a detective.

“- and he just starts convulsing. First, I thought he was having a fit or something, but then the foaming at the mouth turns red and soon he’s just choking on his own blood. Everyone that had run to help him panics thinking it was ebola or some shit like that. Fucking scared the hell out of me, that’s for sure. I ran to the kitchen like my ass was on fire.” He explains animatedly.

“And did you notice anything unusual?” The detective asks, jotting notes.

“Nah. Like I said, ass on fire.” He finishes with a shrug.

“Here’s your mail ma’am.”

You turn back to the desk clerk and collect your mail, sifting through it as you turn away from her. You walk towards the elevators and for a while on your way up, you forget that Erik is even there. That is of course until you get to your room.

You look up when you hear a throat clear. You glance at him and register that he’s been there the whole time. Then of course, flashes of what happened in the car come flooding your mind and if you were pigmented challenged, you’d be a bright red color.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.” He says.

“Um yeah.” You reply, and you mentally curse yourself for being so dry.

The silence following is slightly awkward. You break it.

“What was that in the car?” You ask, suddenly brave.

Erik balks, not expecting the question, but he quickly answers.

“Honestly, you pissed me off.” He says, nonchalant in a way that aggravates you.

“So that makes you think it’s okay to put your hands on me?” You hiss, frown forming on your face.

He scoffs and crosses his arms. He takes a step towards you and the effect is instant. You stiffen and basically break your neck to maintain eye contact. Erik gazed down at you with a look so intense, you can’t help the shuddered sigh that leaves you. His dimples come out to dazzle, a little smirk forming on his lips.

“Baby, if I was putting hands on you, you’d know.” He speaks deeply, and though there’s no reason for you to take this in a filthy way, that’s all that you hear and it’s sets you on fire.

You stutter as you attempt to answer but he takes a step back, still smirking. He presses in the button for the lobby.

“Goodnight Jamilah.”

Just as you were about to speak, the elevator door closes in your face, and you left in the silence of your apartment.

NEW FIC ALERT 🚨 CHAPTER 1 BELOW

Yeeeeer!

So I decided to start writing this cus I’ve always wanted to be a spoiled rich girl. Anywho, the OC has a name, but it’ll be written in 2nd POV ( the usual, ‘you cried’ and ‘you stare in shock’). The OC is Black. Fuck you thought this was? Anyways, this gon have some nasty sex in it, like, take your ass to church type shit. Like, kinky, legs wide open, uterus fucked to rib cage type shit. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

~~~~~~

Description:

Jamilah is a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t know when to stop acting up. Her doting father who never knows when to stop her in her tracks is scared to realization when she nearly kills herself in a drunken episode. New body guards are needed on the double. Then walks in Erik Stevens. Read as their lives intertwine in ways that are good, and some that are not so great. Besides, Erik seems to be hiding something. What is it? Read to find out.

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️

There will be smut, like, heavy shit. Not for everyone. I’m a filthy bastard. There might be some violent undertones. Scary shit will occur. Also, there might be need for a trigger warning. I’ll let y’all know.

Now.... begin!

~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

1 2 3

An irritated sigh leaves your mouth, an eye roll quick to follow. You glance at the time on your phone and frown at the fact that you’ve been sitting here for over an hour because your idiot of an assistant is unable to choose proper candidates for your body guard position.

You stare at the yellow wallpaper next to the double doors, ignoring the interview questions your assistant gives the obviously nervous man in front of you. Time passes as you stare blankly at the wall, thinking about how annoying it is that your father fired your other bodyguards.

The whole thing was ridiculous. So you went on a little joy ride while slightly intoxicated. Big whoop. Yeah, it was dangerous, but you did apologize for it. But then Daddy had to fire your guards for not taking good enough care of you. Cue the eye roll. Even worse, he took away not one, but two of your credit cards. The horror of it all.

“Ahem. Miss Jamilah.”

You brought back to reality by your assistant who stares at you nervously. You roll your eyes and turn back to the prospective bodyguard who at this point is shaking in his boots. You raise an eyebrow then speak.

“No.” You state, then look back down at your phone and continue surfing your Instagram feed.

You hear a frustrated sigh from your assistant followed by a small sob from the failed body guard in front of you as he’s ushered out by security.

“Next is Erik Stevens. Former Navy Seal, M.I-“

“Blah blah, shit, just send him in.” You say, waving her off.

She sighs quietly then nods at security to let him in. The door opens and you hear foot steps as someone’s approaches your table. You don’t bother to look up, typing away at your phone.

“Mister Stevens, this is Miss Jamilah.” She introduces.

You see a hand appear above your phone. You roll your eyes and look up to give this person the dirtiest look you can muster but you freeze.

Lord have mercy.

It’s pretty hard to get you speechless, but the sight of this man had your panties instantly wet. Strong jaw, thick ass lips, and skin that was just begging for you to run your fingers against it. You stare up at him, thanking good for your dark skin tone because if you were white, the heat in your cheeks would bloom into a scorching red.

“Um, Miss Jamilah?”

Your thrown out of your speechlessness at the slightly amused voice of your assistant. You clear your throat and meet his palm with yours, engaging in a firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you.” He says.

Jesus take the wheel. How his voice gon sound this good?

“Nice to meet you too.” You reply, thanking god your voice didn’t shake.

He lets go of your hand and takes a couple steps back to face your assistant and her questions. Their voices fade as you prop your head up on your palm. You stare at Erik as he answers her questions, his hands behind his back as he stood with his legs spread apart in a typical military position. Your eyes scan him from top to bottom, the tell tale moisture in your panties indicating that your body liked what you saw. You’re eyes are stuck on his abdomen, visualizing what he looks like underneath that black turtle neck.

“-lah. Miss Jamilah!”

You break out of your gaze, jumping slightly in your seat. You turn and face your assistant who is holding back a smirk. You clear your throat and roll your eyes.

“What?” You ask nonchalantly, looking down at your phone, typing at a blank screen.

“What’s your decision?” She asks, her fingers clicking against her clipboard.

You feel your heart thump in your chest for a moment, and you glance up to look at Erik. His eyes are on you, intense and he has a knowing look on his face. You clear your throat and look away, typing at nothingness again.

“Sure.” You reply, but your assistant knows it’s a yes.

She does a slight hop for joy, then turns to Erik smiling brightly, holding her hand out to him.

“Congratulations Mister Stevens, you got the job.” She says, shaking his hand.

He smirks and nods, thanking her, but at the corner of his eye as your assistant speaks to him, he stares at you as you type away at your phone. You tuck your hair behind your ear and continue typing, and he sees an average young woman. How can someone so sweet looking have a reputation like yours?

Well, he was about to find out.

We know a talented gut rearranger when we see one and we stan. Peace be with y’all.

Description:

Jamilah is a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t know when to stop acting up. Her doting father who never knows when to stop her in her tracks is scared to realization when she nearly kills herself in a drunken episode. New body guards are needed on the double. Then walks in Erik Stevens. Read as their lives intertwine in ways that are good, and some that are not so great. Besides, Erik seems to be hiding something. What is it? Read to find out.

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ :

Reckless drinking, Slight Dom!Erik, Vomit.

~~~

Chapter 2

1 2 3

Despite the slight crush you had on Erik, nothing would stop you from behaving however you wanted. So the guy made you swoon every time he spoke, big whoop. So far, he barely even blinked at the way you acted, so you felt an obligation to shock him a little.

You strut into one of your favorite nightclubs, Erik close in tow. You ignore the yells of anger from other patrons waiting on a line along side the building as the bouncer who’s very familiar with you lets you in. He stops Erik.

You turn around and see that Erik is irritated, looking at you for your word on the matter. You smirk and nod towards the bouncer who then lets an annoyed Erik through. The moment you walk into the club, the party begins.

Everyone that is someone greets you with fervor, feening for some clout. You greet them sweetly, but not too sweet, keeping your unapproachable facade. You make your way up to the VIP area, a large section up on the balcony’s where the lights are brighter and everything is louder. There’s a table where some of your ‘friends’ are seated.

“Oh my god, hey!” They scream, nearly in unison.

You smirk and greet them each with a faux kiss on the cheek, then you take a seat. You glance at Erik and see that he’s decided to watch you from the bar, sipping on what looks like a coke. You turn back to the people in your presence and give a fake smile.

First is Marc. A flamboyant gay boy who you absolutely could not stand. He’d smile in your face but talk the most shit behind your back. The only good thing about him is that he was amazing at make up. That’s basically all you kept him around for. That, and his constant knowledge of all the best gossip.

Next, you have Mona Lisa. Yeah, that’s her actual name. Her parents were art dealers and were some of the richest people in New York. She’s your oldest friend, the two of you first meeting in kindergarten. There wasn’t much to hate about her, except her constant judging. She called herself mature, while you called her a stick up bitch. Still, if anyone at this table would get spit on if they were on fire, it was her.

Next, you have the twins, Hellen and Harriet. There was a lot to hate about the twins. They were annoying, dumb beyond belief, and you suspected they were behind a lot of shit the paparazzi had on you. You never mentioned it, but your sure they could tell that their friendship with you was waning, which is why they jumped on anything you said with support and love. Fake ass bitches.

Finally, you have Noah. A cute white boy with a shitload of old money. He may have been cute, but god, this boy fetishized black women like no one you’d ever met. The only reason you kept him around was because he just couldn’t take a hint. Being rude to him however was not a good idea. Take his ex for example. She was the first person you’d ever seen go from ‘riches’ to ‘rags’. RIP to her career.

“So, we getting lit tonight, homie?” Noah asks excitedly. You hold back the cringe and the vomit rising in your throat at his attempt.

“Uh, yeah.” You reply, tight grin on your face.

Mona’s shoulders shake next to you as her head dips down to her chest. You glare at her as she laughs at your horror. She looks up and cracks a grin at you, rolling her eyes. You roll your back then glance towards the bar and a wave of irritation overcomes you at what you see.

Erik has a slight smirk on his face as some chick hangs all over him, flirting like crazy. You frown as her head dips towards his and her lips go to his ear. She whispers something to him, and jugding by how his smirk widens and his demeanor changes into a lustrous one, it was probably some dirty talk.

You look away from the two as a wave of annoyance swarms over you. Mona raises an eyebrow as you start downing shot after shot. Noah grins and claps his hands as he orders more.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” He yells, happy as can be as he joins you, downing a shot of his own.

The twins giggle and join you both, drinking without care as Mona and Marc continue to sip on their Martinis. You feel the alcohol hit you hard and sudden. With a grin, you grab one of the twins hands, knowing the other will follow and pull them unto the dance floor.

You grin seductively as the twins surround you, all three of you grinding to whatever sexy song was booming on the speakers. They giggle drunkenly and one of them takes to kissing up on your neck, the other running her hands over your waist. The lights flash wildly and you barely register the moment Noah comes up to the three of you. The girls take the hint from him and step away from you, dancing with each other as Noah slithers up behind you, his hips on your waist. You grind up on him, intoxication making you forget that you despise his very being. He just looked good at the moment.

“How bout we get out of here?” He whispers into your ear, the stench of alcohol on his breath strong.

You scoff and spin around to look at him, nearly loosing balance on your heels. Everything seems blurry and out of place, and your words soon follow suit.

“Me? With you, Noah? I don’t think so.” You slur, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you both continue to dance.

He laughs, ego intact. “Is that so?” He asks, his arms wrapping around your waist tighter. You nod, a drunken smile slipping unto your face.

“And why not?” He asks casually.

“Because, Noah, it would never work. You’re an asshole, and I’m a -hiccup- complete bitch.” You reply, falling into a fit of giggles.

He starts to answer but is interrupted by a ahand coming up and grabbing your arm that rests on his shoulder.

“Come on Miss Jamilah. It’s time to go.”

You spin around and see that it’s Erik who’s speaking to you and you grin widely.

“Miss Jamilah? Ew. Call me Mimi.” You reply, giggling as you tumble into his chest.

He catches you with a grunt, looking down at your face. You sigh and look up at him with hooded eyes.

“I’m tired Erik. Take me home.” You command, head falling back into his chest.

Noah watches this exchange with a furrowed eyebrow. He looks at this new body guard of yours with distaste. In the time he’s known you, you’ve never gotten this comfortable with anyone this fast. Erik’s eyes meet his and he raises a brow in challenge. Noah immediately backs down, raising his hands as he walks back to the table. He knows when to start shit and when not to.

You lean all your weight on Erik as he toes you back to the Limo. You giggle the entire time on the way, clinging unto him like a koala. He patiently loads you into the car, ignoring how you pout at the loss of contact. He gets in after you, scooting you towards the other side and knocks on the glass separating the back seat from the front, letting the driver know he could go.

The car starts to move and you stare at Erik unabashedly, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. He ignores the flame he feels you burning into his side, facing forward. You frown at the lack of attention and move towards him. His breath hitches slightly, but it doesn’t show.

“Did you have fun tonight?” You ask him, your cool breath wagging against the side of his face. You sit back down and giggle.

He answers you with a nod. You frown.

“Yeah, with that girl at the bar, right?” You ask, a little bitterness slipping into your tone.

He doesn’t answer, and that aggregates you, so you lash out the way you always have with other body guards. Your palm meets his face in more of a push than a slap, and the alcohol swimming through your system makes you forget to hold back, so you do it again.

A hand shoots up and grabs yours, and you’re yanked towards Erik. You’re eyes widen as your other palm goes out to support you and lands on his thigh. That’s how close you are. He glares at you in a way that makes you both fear for your life and wanna rip his clothes off.

“Don’t be touching on me like that.” He growls, throwing your hand back.

You gasp and glare at him.

“You can’t talk to me like that.” You slur, going to hit him again.

Your arm is grabbed again, but this time, his other hand flys up and grabs your face, your jaw firmly in his hand. He squeezes slightly in warning and a whimper leaves you as you shift towards him to reduce the pain.

“I’m gon say this shit once. Sit down, shut up, and if you even attempt hitting me again, you gon see different side of me.” He says lowly, his voice deep in anger. You whimper again, this time in want.

He lets go of you and you do as he says, sitting down silently. You cross your arms and glance at him at the corner of your eye, and you can’t help the pout that forms on your lip when you look away. Deep down though, you know your putting up another facade. Deep down, a fire has been lit inside you, and it looks like Erik threw the spark.

The car pulls up to the massive building you resides in for the while. Erik turns his head to speak to you, only to see that you’re fast asleep, leaning against the car door. He goes silent and stares at you for a second, marveling at how your state of unconscious has given your face a youthful innocent glow. You almost look like you aren’t the devil in female form. He grits his teeth in irritation, but even he knows it’s fleeting. He reaches over and cradles your head, laying it on his shoulder, then maneuvers and slips his arms around you, lifting you unto his lap. You lay limply against him as he holds tightly unto your sleeping frame, stepping out of the car. He lifts you with ease as he stands, then he walks towards the fancy doors of the building. The walk to the elevator is watched by everyone in the lobby. They marvel and whisper at the sight of a broad man in a dark colored outfit cradling a skimpily dressed girl in his arms. He enters the elevator and greets their eyes with a roll of his, and the doors close.

He grunts as he struggles to input the code for your penthouse apartment. He finally manages to do it and the elevator starts up. You mumble into his chest unintelligibly, then start to snore silently.

The elevator doors open and he sighs in relief as he immediately starts to walk towards your bedroom. He kicks the door open and immediately dumps you on your bed. You grunt and shift around, trying to get comfortable. He sighs and grabs your ankle, unlatching your heels. He slips them off and throws them to the floor, then does the same to your other foot. He glances at your dress and debates taking the ridiculously tight thing off you, but decides to just leave it on you, unzipping it instead.

He sighs and collapses into your couch next to your bed. You groan and roll around on the sheets. Erik decides against leaving you alone, worried you might do something stupid like choke to death on your vomit. You suddenly jump up and lean over your bed, gagging lightly. Erik is quick and grabs the trash can next to your mirror, placing it below your mouth just as your start to spew rancid chunks. His nose wrinkles at the stench of vomit and he rolls his eyes in irritation. He hurries to dump the fluids into the toilet then comes back and places the trash can next to your bed.

He sits on the couch again and lets his eyes fall closed as exhaustion takes over. You were a piece of work. The last thing he thinks about as he falls asleep is how to handle not getting unprofessional with you when all you did was tempt him. Little did he know that you had no plans of being... professional.

~~~

Authors note 📝:

Mona Lisa

Marc

Helen and Harriet

Noah

chapter 3

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