#killmonger imagine

Erik sucked his teeth, sat up a little more, thighs tensing beneath her hands. He looked down at her with her messy hair, and need all over her face and reached out to grab her jaw with one hand, thumb sliding across her lips. 

“You wanna ride me?” 

Sanaa nodded, lips parting around his thumb. She sucked it slow with her eyes locked on his. 

Erik let out a low breath, nostrils flaring. His dick twitched hard in her hand. “Aight then,” he said. “Get up here.” 

The way he said it wasn’t a request. Sanaa didn’t hesitate. She threw her leg over and straddled him, hands planted on his chest for balance. Erik leaned back on his elbows, watching her like a man possessed, eyes dragging from the sway of her hips to the heavy breath in her chest. He reached down, wrapped that big hand around his dick, and held it steady, thick and gleaming, the tip pulsing. 

“Come get it.” He said with a low rasp.

Sanaa lifted just right, body knowing what to do like this wasn’t her first time begging for it. She lined herself up with the head, hips hovering, teasing his tip with slick little circles. Just working it in slowly, letting that first stretch send a shiver through both of them. Sanaa moaned airy and breathless, rolling her hips while Erik was only halfway inside. Erik’s head tipped back, jaw tight, watching her get herself ready for the full thing. 

Then, she sank. 

Her breath caught as she sank down, thighs trembling while his dick pushed up through that tight, sloppy grip. Sanaa couldn’t help the way her mouth fell open, tongue peeking out against her top lip, eyes half-closed like she was somewhere between begging and backing out. She lifted, rolled her hips again, and slipped out with a slick sound that made her flinch. 

“Come on, ma,” Erik whispered, voice low and gritty, his hips flexing up. “Put that shit back in. Don’t play.” 

Sanaa reached behind her, fingers wet as she guided him back. His tip slipped past her folds, thick and glistening, dragging slick through her creamy pussy before sliding home again. Her back bowed, belly tensed, she took it inch by inch, breathing sharp through her nose like she was bracing for a stretch that hit deep every single time. Sanaa’s body paused like it was stunned by the depth, a little tremble shaking through her frame. But then, she started moving. 

“There you go,” Erik said, voice like gravel on velvet. “Keep that arch for me. Just like that. Let me open this lil’ pussy up.” 

She rode him like she was made for it. 

Slow motion. Rolling her hips, arching her back, catching that stroke right where it made her eyes flutter and her breath skip. Her ass popped on the up stroke, then clapped softly when she dropped back down, thick and perfect against his thighs. Every grind pulled a sound out of Erik, deep in his throat. Low curses. Grunts. Praise. 

Sanaa leaned forward, hands planted on his chest, his keloid scars slick beneath her palms. His pecs flexed under her touch like he was holding back from grabbing her and flipping the whole thing. 

Sanaa whimpered sweet and buried like she was tryna swallow it down. Her knees dug into the mattress, feet braced over his thighs, ass lifting just enough to let him drive up harder. Erik didn’t even need to thrust far. He had her right where he wanted her. Just enough space for that big dick to pull back, then stroke up slow, deep, and firm. No air between them. Just desire. A vice grip. The sound of his dick stirring through slick like a slow churn. 

Sanaa rocked and rode and lost herself in it, pausing only to lean down and kiss him slow and nasty, tongue sliding deep, lips parted like she needed his mouth to survive the high she was chasing. Then, she sat back up, arching again, going back to the motion. Deeper. 

The way she stared down at him? It was like she owned him. Sanaa bit down on her bottom lip harder, breathing ragged. Her body twitched when he spread her ass wider, one hand gripping a cheek, thumb resting where her back curved into the dip of her spine. The other hand slid between her thighs and tugged her folds open on one side, just enough to feel how fucking tight of a squeeze it is to fit his dick in her. Just enough to feel the way she swallowed him each time he came back in. The flesh of her tight hole gliding smooth over veins and a thick pole. 

Erik…loved it. That thick dick throbbed inside her. The hand on her back slid up and down, gripping her waist, helping her pace. 

“Good girllll,” Erik praised, his voice deep and ragged. “Just like that pretty girl. This why you been actin’ up?” Erik whispered. “This what you needed? You needed daddy to fuck you quiet like this?” 

Sanaa’s head dropped, her breath catching in her throat. She nodded, still rocking soft but getting fucked harder than she meant to. Each time Erik asked her ‘this what you needed?’ The tempo increased. That dick curved up right into her, hitting that spot that made her legs shake and her face twist up. She didn’t mean to roll her hips like that or let the creamy mess between them get louder. It was as if her body didn’t belong to her anymore. An object to be fucked by Killmonger like it asked for.

And this wasn’t even his final form. 

Erik’s palms slid over her ass and held her open while he kept stroking. Sanaa’s body jolted every time his tip kissed the back of her pussy. It felt like pressure and a tickle all at once. Slipping out, sliding back in. Circling on the up stroke, sliding out slowly on the down stroke. Cream clinging to him. Her walls tightening to keep him in. But Erik’s dick is so thick. Long. And her pussy couldn’t help but give him room. 

It shocked her. Sanaa was a brilliant girl but it never crossed her mind that a dick that’s equal parts thick and long could open her pussy up like this. Penetrate her and make her pussy cream and flutter like it had its own heartbeat. 

“I should keep you up all night doin’ this shit. Fuckin’ you ‘til that walk change.” 

“Daddy—”

“Shhh. Shut the fuck up. The only talkin’ I wanna hear is this pussy.” 

Erik pressed his lips to her temple. His hands made its way to her waist, holding her still. Steady. On that dick. His hips drove up with a slow torture, punishing strokes and heavy weight like he was tryna leave the shape of his dick in her forever. 

“You tryna wake her up?” Erik warned with a threatening whisper. “You tryna let her know how nasty you been behind her back?” 

“No—no, I’m not—”

“Then Shut that shit up and ride this dick like you supposed to.” Erik spoke rough in her ear. So low it sent shivers down her spine. 

And she gave it to him. All of it. 

Sanaa bit the corner of her lip again, trembling, eyes almost rolling up. His dick stroked through the grip of her pussy with steady weight, gliding smooth and tight, dragging against her walls. The sound was slick and wet, sticky and clinging, layered with the subtle knock of his heavy balls brushing her ass when he dropped her down just right. Sanaa’s toes curled against his thighs. Her belly fluttered. She could feel him in her gut. Sanaa dragged her nails down his pecs and tried to lift her hips a little but Erik is stronger. 

“Feel all that up in you, huh?” Erik said. “That’s what you was fiendin’ for, baby? Fat dick pressin’ your stomach? Stretchin’ your shit out. Don’t you move, now.” His tone was taunting; teasing.

Erik’s hands slid down her waist, wide palms smoothing over the curve of her hips before gripping the underside of her ass. He let her work. Let her grind slow like she had all day. But he couldn’t stop himself from giving her something extra. After all, he’s extra. 

Pop. 

A gentle slap to her right cheek made her gasp and bounce a little harder. Then, he rubbed it, smoothed his hand over the sting. 

“Yeah,” Erik said low, looking up at her like she was art. “That’s it, baby. Ride that shit.” 

Sanaa was in another dimension. Dick drunk. Eyes low. Mouth slick and almost drooling, whispering nonsense that didn’t make full sense but still sounded sexy as hell. Sanaa’s hands went to fist the sheets. Her thighs spread over him. The stroke was making her dizzy. Erik slid both hands around her waist and pulled her flush against him, holding her in place while he started fucking up into her with slow, mean precision. Each thrust was full. The bed barely moved but the air between them thickened with sweat and secret moans and groans swallowing into the backs of throats. 

Erik bent his knees, driving up from the base, hips angled just right so his whole length stroked through the grip of her pussy like he was molding her insides with every pass. Sanaa’s breath stuttered. Her mouth hung open. She tried to hold it in. Tried to be good. But that shit felt so fucking good. 

“I—mmh—this dick feel so good,” she breathed, grinding with slow, wet rolls. “Might start crying on it…I’m not even playin’…”

Erik laughed but dropped off into a groan when she clenched on him mid-roll. Erik gave her left cheek a light slap, then grabbed it, pulling her down harder. 

“Don’t play then.” Erik warned. “Go head and cry.” 

Sanaa was in the zone. One hand drifted up his chest again, Palm gliding over his scars, fingertips teasing his nipple just to make him twitch. The other hand braced on his thigh behind her for balance. 

“I could live on this dick.” She whispered with a shaky laugh, voice floaty. 

“You already do.” Erik shot back. 

But Sanaa didn’t hear him. Or maybe she did and ignored it. Sanaa’s eyes fluttered shut. Her hips paused at the base of his stroke. Then…

She started bucking. 

No warning. No ease into it. She just popped her hips and that bubbly ass back and up, then dropped down on him with force. That wet clap echoed between them. 

“Shhhit—” Erik grunted, jaw locked. He sat up fast, his hand flying to her waist to ground her, but she was already in the zone. 

“Uh uh,” Sanaa panted, riding that dick like she had a point to prove. “Don’t stop me now, I’m on a mission, daddy.” 

Erik’s hands tried to slow her, but every time he gripped her waist, Sanaa twisted and bounced harder. Her ass smacked against his thighs, wild and filthy, her head thrown back as she whimpered with a bite of her lip softly and moaned out his name with an airy breath like it was her favorite song. 

“Sanaa—”

She reached up, palmed the back of his neck, and pulled his forehead to hers. “Loose control, daddy.” She breathed, voice wrecked but still taunting. “Come on. I want it.” 

That was her plan the whole time. To ride him until he couldn’t think straight. To fuck him until his voice broke and he forgot every rule he made about control. And judging by the way his fingers dug into her flesh and those muscles flexed…

It was working. 

Sanaa leaned her weight forward, kept that nasty dance, and added something new to it. Her hand—small, delicate, manicured fingers with her name on her gold necklace glinting between her tits—wrapped right around Erik’s throat. Just enough pressure to make his head tilt back and his eyes lock onto hers like she had him pinned in place. Like he belonged to her now. 

And then she rode him. 

From tip to base. Working every inch of that thick ass dick like it was hers to break in. Her body rolled in perfect time, ass popping up, then dropping back down to the back with a wet clap again and again. Sanaa stayed eye to eye with him the whole time. 

Erik’s mouth fell open. A low, guttural sound came from his chest, his hands gripping her thighs like he was hanging on for dear life. His nostrils flared, his gold canines flashed as his top lip curled to fight the urge to groan so loud he wakes the whole building up. His whole body tensed underneath her like he was fighting the urge to flip her over and wreck her. But he didn’t. He let her have it. Let her take that power. 

His expression was war. Tight jaw. Eyes dark and ablaze. Clenched abs. Fists flexing on her skin. Eyes damn near desperate. Breathing hard. 

“Sanaa…” Erik grunted, voice all gravel and restraint. “Fuck, baby.” 

Sanaa smiled. A slow, wicked, bratty smile. She rolled her hips in a circle while still sitting in him full. She was gon’ milk him good. Then, she leaned in close, mouth at his ear, whispering low, breathy, slick. 

“What’s wrong, Killmonger?” 

Erik twitched. His grip on her thighs got tighter. That name hit different coming from her mouth. Especially with her sitting on his fucking dick like that. Dripping and talking her shit. 

“You supped to be the big bad soldier, huh?” She panted, riding again, faster now, breath hitching between words. “Don’t tell me I got you foldin’…”

Erik growled low in his throat. His eyes snapped to hers, wide, wild, hungry. “You wanna play like that?” He said, voice hoarse. 

Sanaa kept bouncing. Let her hand tighten just a little more on his throat, thumb pressing under his jaw while her pussy clamped down and stroked him from base to tip like a goddamn vice. Like he was her personal toy. Her toy soldier. 

“Mmhm,” she whispered. “Killmonger can’t take it…”

And that was it.

Erik’s hand shot up, yanked her wrist off his neck, and pinned it to the bed beside him. His other arm wrapped around her back, locking her down. 

But Sanaa was still grinding. Still riding that big thing. Erik’s arms caged her in—thick, strong, immovable. Erik shifted under her, sitting up in one powerful motion, his chest pressed to hers, their breaths tangled. Sanaa barely had time to blink before his hands slid beneath her thighs, hooking her knees over his forearms, palming the underside of her ass with a grip that meant business.

Then he stood up. Taking back his power. Ain’t no way some lil’ girl was gonna grab him by the neck and ride his dick and talk shit in his ear like she in charge. Fuck that. 

That big dick never slipped out once. Erik rose with her still fully seated on him, buried to the base, his muscles flexing all down his back and arms. Sanaa gasped, arm’s flailing for his shoulders before clutching tight. He made that shit look so effortless. Erik adjusted his hold, tightening his grip on her thighs, locking her in against his chest. 

And then, he bounced her. 

Not wild. Not frantic. But deep. Firm.

Erik dropped her down on that dick, letting the full weight of his body take him. His grip under her ass controlled every motion like she was a workout, a blessing, and a punishment all rolled into one. Her pussy opened for him every time, swallowing that big dick whole, her walls fluttering with every single drop like that pussy was talking to him, begging Killmonger to murder her shit. 

Sanaa couldn’t catch a breath. Her body tensed and softened all at once—overwhelmed, overstimulated, taken. He was using her like she belonged in his arms getting fucked like this. She was made to be lifted and held and fucked. Her pretty head dropped back, those glossy lips parted, that tiny breath hitching. She had never been handled like this before. Ever. Then here comes this big, strong, soldier with scars and a lethal dick to rewrite everything the thought she knew about getting fucked. 

“Erik—”

Sanaa moaned his name once, sweet and quiet. But it turned to something else. Something filthier. More desperate. Like her body knew what she needed before her mind caught up. 

“…Monger…K-Kill…Killmonger…Kill…Killmonger, fuck…mm, Monnie…”

It spilled out of her in waves, soft, breathy, cracked around the edges. Her thighs trembled against his arms, her nails clawing at his back, and her pussy was dripping. Soaked and sucking him back in with every controlled thrust. When Sanaa caught their reflection, her eyes went round. Her small frame folded in the air around his big, muscled, scarred, tall body. She looked helpless, caged, locked. 

She just raised his number to 2,208. 

Pick yourself up Bri—oh, wait—you’re stuck in the air bitch how you gonna flip it on him again? 

Damn, he all up in this pussy.

Why he fucking me like this? 

Erik looked up at her face, lips swollen, hair clinging to her cheek, eyes fluttering with every drop. “You wanted it,” he said, low and steady, sweat beading on his neck. “Now take it.”

Then, he bounced her again, slow and punishing, that big thing pushing her to the brink.

All Sanaa could do was hang on. Fall apart. Moan his name. Her toes curled right in the air, ankles flexing with every drop. She was about to tap out. But that would make her look like a weak bitch. Her whole body tensed like a struck cord, arms wrapped tighter around Erik’s shoulders as she dropped her head to his neck. She pressed her nose into his skin, right where the warmth gathered, where his clean scent lived. Masculine mix of sweat, lotion, and something earthy that was just him. It made her dizzy. 

Erik was in it. He was bouncing her just right on that thick dick. He switched it up. Started feeding her. Rolling his hips upward as she came down. Rocking into her slow and deep, hitting that spot every single time. The control he had over his body was insane. Like he had power running through his veins. Inhuman. He adjusted mid-thrust, tilting her hips, locking her tighter against him so her clit dragged across his pelvis just right. 

She was unraveling from the inside out. 

“…Killmonger…yes…baby…”

The name barely left her lips before Erik’s jaw clenched. He adjusted his stance, braced one foot back to keep his balance, then slammed her down deeper, held her there, let her feel all of it.

“You wanted Killmonger?” he breathed against her ear, voice low and gritty, laced with dark amusement, “Huh?” He bounced her again, the sound of her moaning his name fed something carnal in him, “Say it again, Princess.” 

Sanaa shook her head, biting her lip, but her pussy clenched hard around him, giving her away.

“Nah,” Erik growled. “You been talkin’ all that shit now you gettin’ it.” Another thrust. Deep. He rocked up into her and held, “Say. That. Shit.”

Her breath caught, “…Killmonger…” Sanaa’s voice barely made it past her lips. “Don’t stop fucking your pussy, Killmonger…”

That was all Erik needed.

His arms flexed tighter beneath her knees, locking Sanaa in. Her back was flat against the wall now but her hips were tipped—cocked up perfect and wide. That pussy sat right on his dick like it was made to fit him and only him. Swallowing all that thick pressure with every pump of his hips. Erik didn’t slam into her, he stroked. Sanaa looked down and her breath hitched with surprise at how her hips jerked involuntarily every time he pushed in and how her hips chased the sensation again when he slides back out. 

“Mmm. There she go,” Erikk growled low against her throat, breathing in her scent, teeth grazing her skin, “You feel that? That stretch right there?” 

Sanaa nodded fast, lower lip trembling but the only sound she could make was a tight little gasp. Her acrylics dug onto his shoulders and her thighs quaked over his arms. 

Erik held her there and made her feel it. 

“Yeah.” he said, that voice low and deep, “That’s what I thought. Pussy talkin’ now.” 

And it was. 

Every time he rolled his hips forward, that slick, soaking grip of hers let out a wet little squelch. A pop as air got trapped and pushed back out. That tight little pussy started queefing loud and messy between them. Sanaa’s whole body tensed in embarrassment. She’d NEVER done that before. She shut her eyes and tilted her face away, trying to stop herself from doing it again but nope. It kept happening.

What the fuck? 

But Erik loved it.

“Nah, don’t hide,” he grunted, dragging his dick out slow until just the tip sat at her entrance, then pushed right back in with a deep, thick stroke that made her head knock against the wall with a soft thud, “Let it talk. Let me hear how tight that shit is.” 

“E—”

Sanaa was trying to hold it in, but Erik didn’t give her the chance. Erik snatched it from her chest with the next thrust. Smooth and deep again. Long strokes. Pussy gripped him so snug it felt like it was sucking him back in. Her arousal was dripping down his ball now. Every time he pulled out, his dick glistened with it, creamy at the base. Wet and shiny all the way up to the head. 

Then it happened. That change. That little flutter deep inside her. 

Sanaa’s walls started twitching like they were confused. Like her pussy didn’t know if it wanted to clench him or release. It pulsed around him, and she gasped again, harder this time. 

“Fuck—”

“Yeah…” Erik grunted, “she feelin’ it now.” 

Erik adjusted his stance. He took one small step forward so her back pressed tighter to the wall, and then he angled his hips downwards. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was chasing her spot now. And when he found it? Sanaa had to bite down on her bottom lip to stifle a loud moan. Her whole body jerked in his arms. Her mouth dropped open, closed in a pout, eyes crossing, breath catching. Her pussy squeezed so hard around his dick it made his knees buckle. 

“Damn, there she go. That’s what I wanted from that pussy.” 

Sanaa didn’t even know if she could ever speak again after that. But a sound came out of her. A mix of a cry and a moan and a choked little please. All the things he watched from her, every thrust hit that spot. She started having the most intense orgasm she’d ever had and she couldn’t run. She could feel it. A warm, milky wave gushing out of her, coating his dick, her thighs, dripping to the floor of. It made everything wetter. Nastier. Louder. Pussy slipping and gripping around him. Erik licked his lips as he watched her face twist up. 

“Creamin’ on this dick, baby?” Erik spoke soft, biting her earlobe, “That’s what happen when you fuck wit’ a grown ass man.”

Sanaa whimpered. Bit her lip.

His dick dragged through her like he was reminding her who owned that pussy. Like he knew it better than she did. Rubbing her walls raw in the best way. Grinding into that tender, aching spot inside her that had her leaking again.

Do that again, Daddy that feels so good, she thought. 

His voice was a low growl now, filthy, dark, right in her ear.

“You gon’ take this dick. Just like that. That’s what you wanted, ain’t it? That what you beggin’ for?”

Erik snapped his hips into her so deep her eyes rolled. 

She was cumming again. Not from clit play. Not from fingers.

From dick.

Thick, deep, grown man dick.

Sanaa moaned—low-pitched, pretty, almost sobbing—and Erik smiled against her neck. 

“Uh huh…that’s right,” he said, “Let me hear it.”

He rolled his hips again, just right. And again. Stroking deep and smooth. Not stopping. Her walls squeezed so tight around him he could barely move. 

“Damn, baby…this pussy tryna keep me in…” His voice dropped even lower. “You want me to cum in it, don’t you?”

Her body jumped.

Sanaa shook her head weakly, but he saw the way her pussy clenched again. She couldn’t even lie. 

Erik laughed under his breath, “You came beggin’ for this dick again I don’t know, Bri. Might not get this nut tonight.”

Then he did something that wrecked her.

He leaned back just enough to look at her.

Held her up, eyes locked to hers, and gave her one… slow…deep grind.

His dick dragged against every inch of her walls. Pressed to her spot. Stretched her from the inside until her whole body arched and her face twisted in pure pleasure. 

“Ain’t nobody ever fucked you like this…made you cream like this…” He kissed her jaw, “Nah…they was playin’ wit’ it, wasn’t they baby? Huh? Daddy got you…”

Another thrust. Another cry. Sanaa’s head hit the wall again. Her nails scratched down his back. She was shaking so bad he had to grip her tighter. 

He groaned through gritted teeth, “Keep moaning like that and I’ma fuck around and nut in this tight little pussy…just might give you your present.” 

She just nodded, moaned, and melted around him—completely fucked. Her walls fluttered again, and he knew…

She was about to cum AGAIN. 

Erik rolled his hips again, one long, smooth stroke that had her gasping into his neck. Her body arched. Her pussy clenched. Her thighs twitched where they were locked over his arms.  Erik could feel how open she was now. How she’d molded to him. Wrapped around him so tight and juicy and so fucking wet, it sounded like syrup every time he sank back in.

Slrp…squelch…slrp…

“Shhhhit,” he groaned, dragging his lips across her cheek, breath hot. “That sound makin’ me crazy…”

He shifted just slightly, angled deeper. Lower. Found that spot again.

Sanaa opened her mouth but no sound came out. Then, her head dropped back and her face…

So damn pretty.

Lips parted. Brows pinched. Skin flushed and glistening. She looked like she didn’t know whether to moan or cry.

Erik watched her, mesmerized, “Look at you…” he muttered, eyes dropping to her mouth. “So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

She bit her lip, hard. Her fingers clawed into his back. Erik pulled her away from the wall. He grunted, bounced her again, then rolled his hips so perfect her eyes damn near crossed. Sanaa pressed her lips to the curve of his neck, panting softly, her nose buried in his scent. Her body was wrung out, pussy soaked and fluttering around him, but she gave him what he wanted. 

His grip on her thighs tightened, “Yeah,” he said, rocking up into her again, slow and deliberate, “you wanted Killmonger…”

Erik fed it to her just like that. Deep strokes that made her press her forehead to his jaw, made her toes curl again in the air. Erik backed towards the bed, still holding her while deep inside, until the backs of his legs hit the edge. Then, he eased down, his arms guiding her down with him like she was something precious. He settled back against the pillows, legs spread wide, hands gripping beneath her thighs while she adjusted. 

Sanaa didn’t waste time.

She rose up into a squat, planted her feet firm on either side of his thighs, and lifted herself until just the tip of that thick dick stayed inside. Then, she dropped. The sound it made—the wetness, the weight of her ass clapping down, the deep breath Erik took through his nose—fills the room. 

Sanaa did it again and again. Her curls fell into her face, sticking to her cheeks and neck, sweat rolling down her chest as her body took over. She was on a mission now. Squatting low, bouncing on him with that juicy grip, swallowing every inch. Her thighs flexed, that ass jiggled with each drop, and her moans came out like breathy spells. 

“Mm…fuck, it’s too deep…I can’t even breathe right…you feel that? You feel that, daddy?” 

Erik didn’t answer. He leaned in, mouth hungry, and caught her nipple between his lips, sucked it, tongue circling the tip before letting it pop free. Then, he moved to the other, licking and teasing until her back arched and her pussy pulsed hard around him. 

Sanaa’s hand went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, grounding herself against the flood of pleasure. She didn’t wanna stop riding. She didn’t wanna stop grinding. She started rolling her hips, slow figure eights while still deep in that squat, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted around a soft moan, chest heaving. 

It was a sight.

Her curls framed her face wild and damp. Nipples hard and pointed. Mouth glossy with spit. That slim-thick body was glistening everywhere—down her neck, across her stomach, where Erik’s hands slid to grab her waist. Every bounce, every grind, made her gasp. Made her sigh. Made her shine. 

Erik breathed heavy, eyes locked on the way she moved, “Fuckin’ beautiful…”

His thighs were tight, muscles straining as he held himself back, eyes locked on the sight above him. Sanaa’s hips were working overtime, slow then fast, smooth then nasty. She was riding him like it meant something. Like she needed that dick to breathe. Her palms braced against his chest as she worked her body over his big dick, up and down, clenching him so tight he could barely think. Erik’s hands had nowhere to go but up—one locked around her waist, the other scrubbed up her stomach, over the curve of her breast, and finally up to her face. His thumb traced along her jaw before sliding to her cheek. He was stuck. Couldn’t stop looking at her. That lil’ face twisted in ecstasy, mouth open, eyes fluttering every time she sank down on him and took it all like a good girl. 

“Give it to me…” she begged, voice sugar-slick and whimpering, “Give it to me, please.”

Erik grunted low, chest heaving, lips parted like the air got caught in his throat. He could feel it rising, the rush, the heat in his spine, the clench in his gut. Her pussy was too tight. Too wet. She gripped him and made a mess on him every time she bounced. 

“I’m bein’ good,” she said through breathy moans, her ass slapping against his thighs. “I’m riding daddy’s dick good.”

He could barely hold on. His head dropped back against the pillow, jaw tight, sweat slicking the cut of his collarbones. “Fuck, lil’ mama…”

Her lips curled into a wicked little smile. She wanted all of him. And she was gonna get it. Sanaa dropped her hips faster, harder, like she knew he was right on the edge. 

“Fill me up.”

Erik looked up at her like she was unreal. A fantasy he accidentally pulled out of his dreams. Her titties bouncing with every move. The roll of her hips was deadly. The wet sounds between them only made it filthier. She arched her back, leaned forward, and started grinding instead of bouncing. That roll she did with her hips? That shit broke him. 

“Unh…yes,” she panted, nails digging into his chest. “Give me that Killmonger dick.”

Erik growled, deep and guttural, reaching ip and grabbing the back of her neck, dragging her face close to his. His eyes were heavy, bloodshot, lost in her, “You gon’ make me bust up in this pussy, girl…”

“That’s what I want,” she said, breath all over his lips. “I want it. I want you to nut in this pussy. I been so good. Look how I take it. Look at me…”

Erik looked. Couldn’t not look. Her pussy was swallowing him. Gripping every inch like it was molded for him. 

Taking every inch of his daddy dick like her little pussy was made to do it. The way her body arched, the curve of her back, the wet slap of her ass meeting his lap—it was obscene, nasty, and perfect. And every time she rode down, her breasts bounced like they were cheering her on. 

She put her hands on his chest, leaned forward just enough to whisper in his ear, “Look how I ride it, Daddy,” she panted, voice low and slick, “Look how I take it in my little pussy like a big girl supposed to.”

Erik’s eyes snapped open. That shit hit him like a shot to the chest. His nostrils flared. It was the kind of reaction a man had when he was trying not to bust too soon. Erik frowned hard at her, like her words had personally disrespected him. 

Sanaa smirked, proud of herself. She swiveled her hips slow, teasing him with it, making sure he could feel every slick roll of her walls dragging over him.

“Oh yeah…mmm…” she moaned, drawing out the sound like it was syrup on her tongue. Her hands slid up his shoulders, “Such a big dick. You handsome and your thing big. So disrespectful.”

Erik’s hands flew to her ass, palms spread wide as he cupped her cheeks and started bouncing her harder. Sanaa gasped, lost her groove for a second as he took over. Her hands gripped his shoulders tight, nails pressing into his skin. Sanaa looked down at him and the way he stared up at her—eyes dark, lips parted, sweat on his temples—she knew. 

He was about to lose it.

That’s right Bri. Bury that nigga. 

“Shit,” Erik growled low, his voice breaking apart from how deep it hit. His hands dragged her down and lifted her up, over and over, using her body like it was his personal addiction. His grip got tighter, more demanding, like he needed her to keep going, to stay right there.

Their eyes locked. Sanaa’s mouth parted. She could see it in his face, all over it. That look. That edge. He was right there. Right on the fucking edge of letting go.

His chest rose quick, muscles flexing. His brows pulled in tight and his gold slugs flashed beneath clenched teeth. His hips stuttered, bucking up into her, and he let out this low, primal sound like he was trying to hold back a flood.

Sanaa was taking that dick like she owned it—slow and deep, then fast and filthy, grinding into Erik’s lap with that little arch in her back that always made him twitch. His hands were locked on her ass, pulling her down, forcing her to take all of him. His mouth hung open as he breathed through it, face twisted up like he was trying not to explode.

But Sanaa wasn’t done.

“Say my name,” she whispered.

Erik grunted, trying to hold himself back, but his body was betraying him. Thighs flexing. Chest rising. That big dick of his twitching so deep inside her, begging for release.

“Whose big dick is this?” she asked, breath sweet and soft but commanding as hell, “Who’s big dick this belong to?”

He almost choked on his own spit. His grip on her ass tightened, fingers digging into the flesh like he was trying to keep her there. “It’s yours,” he rasped. “Fuck, it’s yours—”

She tilted her head.

“It’s mine? Huh, Killmonger?”

His whole body jerked. He stilled. He was about to fill her up. He wanted to. Needed to. He was locked in, ready to drown in her.

“Shit—” he breathed, jaw locked, legs tense as hell, “Take this nut, daddy’s girl—”

And that’s when she did it.

Sanaa hopped off. Quick and clean.

Erik let out a deep, wrecked growl as his big dick bounced up, angry and wet, pulsing without a home. His eyes went wide, stunned, and before he could get his bearings, it was already happening. That first thick spurt shot up and landed hot on his lower abs. Another followed, streaking his thighs. His hips bucked helplessly as more of his nut spilled out, messy and hot, painting his skin. He looked down at himself, then back up at her, brows drawn in deep like did you really just hop off my dick?

Sanaa stood at the edge of the bed like a goddess fresh off her throne. Her body glistened in the dim light, skin warm, inner thighs shiny with her own climax. She took her time picking up her T-shirt from the floor, slipping it back over her head like nothing happened. Just tits swaying soft beneath cotton. Then she stepped in front of his full-length mirror and fluffed her curls, satisfied.

Erik watched, still leaking, dick twitching on his stomach, mind blank.

Sanaa giggled to herself, caught his reflection behind her in the mirror, then turned and faced him.

“Now lay in it.”

She blew him a kiss, walked to the door, and slipped out without another word.

And Erik—naked, breathless, covered in his own nut—could only lay there. Speechless. Destroyed. Worshipping her with his eyes while she took all the power with her.

______

Erik stayed frozen. His chest heaved and his lungs burned as he fought for air. The silence that followed Sanaa’s exit was deafening, leaving him stranded in the wreckage of a ruined orgasm. He was vibrating, every muscle in his large, scarred frame coiled tight, trapped in that agonizing limbo between peak pleasure and a sudden, jarring stop. 

He looked down at himself, his gaze heavy and dark. His abs were slick, coated in a sheen of chaotic mess that consisted of her juices and the cum he’d leaked while she’d been grinding her pussy on his dick. It was a smeared, translucent map of her greed and her cruelty. Erik reached down, his thick fingers dragging through the wetness on his stomach, swirling her cream into his skin. Erik didn’t wipe it away. He smeared it, feeling the tacky mess against his keloid scars, the scent of her pussy filling his nostrils and fueling the fire in his gut. 

Erik’s mind was a loop of the last twenty minutes. He could still feel the exact pressure of her thighs gripping his waist, the way her soft curves collided with his hard muscle. He replayed every bratty, teasing thing she’d whispered in his ear, the way she’d looked down at him with that confident, challenging smirk while she rode him. Like he didn’t fold her little ass in half against the wall. She had known exactly what she was doing. Pushing him to the very edge, making him ache, making him crave the release that only she could trigger, and then simply sliding off right before the explosion. 

Erik looked at his dick. It was half-hard, a thick, vein-riven, pole that refused to fully go soft. It was twitching. Pulsing with a frustrated dance. A thick, pearly bead of cum leaked from the tip, dripping onto his thigh. It was the seed that should have been buried deep inside her. The load he had been ready to pump into her until she was overflowing. Right up against the posterior fornix. Seeing it waste away on his own skin made his jaw clench so hard his teeth groaned. 

The frustration wasn’t a clean anger. It was a dark, suffocating obsession. He felt a possessive hunger clawing at his insides, a need to reclaim the control she’d snatched away. He stared at the door she’d walked through, his eyes narrowing. The fact that she could leave him like this—wrecked, leaking—didn’t make him want to pull away. It made him want to hunt her down, pin her to the nearest surface, and fuck the bratty attitude right out of her. 

Erik touched the leaking tip of his dick, smearing the wasted cum across his thigh, breath hitching. He wasn’t just horny. He was consumed. He wanted to feel her clench around him again. To feel her shake as he finally took what was his. Leave her just as ruined as he was right now.

His mind was a storm. Racing with a volatility that usually only surface in the heat of a kill zone. He was Erik N’Jadaka Stevens. He was a mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. He was a ghost. A weapon. A man who had navigated the darkest corners of the globe as a Navy SEAL and a Black Operative. HALO jumped from war planes. Witnessed the unthinkable. Looked death in the eye and didn’t blink. He had a tally of 2,207 lives extinguished by his own hand. Each one a testament to his precision, his ruthlessness, and his absolute control over every environment he entered. 

Erik almost dismantled an entire empire, fought his way through his bloodline and walked away from it all because he was the only one strong enough to do so. He was a man who commanded respect through fear and dominance. He wasn’t someone to be played with, let alone fucked with. 

And yet, here he was.

He stared at the ceiling, jaw locked, feeling the phantom weight of Sanaa pressing into him. The sheer audacity of it burned in his chest. This little brat—this slim-thick, espresso brown, teasing woman—had just flipped the script on him. She had ridden him with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, pushing him to the absolute precipice of his sanity, and then she simply vanished. She had left him stranded in the wreckage of his own desire, lying in the ruins of a ruined orgasm. 

How? The question echoed in his head, fueling a dark possessive fire. How was it possible that Sanaa held this much power over him? He was the one with the muscle, the experience, the sheer physical presence that could crush her. He was the one who should be dictating the terms of their surrender. But in her absence, he felt the weight of her influence like a collar around his neck. She didn’t need a weapon to disarm him. She just needed to know exactly where his breaking point was and then step away from it. 

Her thighs. Thick, soft, warm…grown-woman thighs. That’s the part that hits him in the chest. She sits on the sofa with them pressed together and he can’t stop looking. She walks around the apartment in those tiny shorts and his mouth goes dry. She crosses her legs slow and he feels that twitch in his sweats every damn time. 

Her taste. Erik knew she’d be sweet. He knew it. But he didn’t expect that. That flavor. That warmth. That addictive, met-on-his-tongue sweetness that ruins men. She tastes like warm skin, slick heat, something naturally sweet, something that coats his tongue and stays there. Something he wants more of every second. He became obsessed with it. So much so that it started haunting him. He’ll be sitting in the kitchen with a glass of water, thinking about the taste between her thighs. He’ll be trying to sleep but he keeps remembering the way his mouth got messy on her. He’ll be in the shower, jaw clenched, palm on the tile, replaying the sound she made when he spread her open with his thumbs and dragged his tongue across all that wetness. Her taste is the reason he stops pretending she don’t got a hold on him. Because once he found out what that pussy tasted like…

He can’t not want it again. And again. And again. He’s calling her greedy but ain’t no way her greed matches his. Erik is hungry for that pussy. Possessive over that pussy. 

Sweetest pussy I ever had. You know I’m comin’ back for that. Don’t give that flavor to nobody else….

How tight her pussy is. When he slid in the first time? Erik damn near forgot his own name. She’s so goddamn right he gotta breathe through it. Gotta hold still. Gotta grip her hips and talk her through opening up because if he move too fast, too soon, he gon’ bust right there. That warm clench around him…the way she hugs every inch…how her pussy tries to pull him deeper…how her walls flutter when she moans…how she get tighter when she says his name. That’s why he gotta fuck her lil’ ass slow sometimes. 

The breathy moans. Oh my god. The softness…the shaky ‘mmm’ when he moves just right. The whisper of ‘Erik” when she’s tryna hold on but can’t. Erik could write whole chapters about that sound. Soft. Breathy. Pretty. Innocent but filthy underneath. The sound of a good girl losing her mind for a grown man. That’s what makes him nuts. That innocence melting. And every time she let out one of those little whimpers? He feels it in his spine. In his chest. In his dick. Her moans are what make him emotional about the sex. The thing he didn’t plan on. The part that binds him to her. That’s why he keeps coming back. Why he can’t leave it alone. Because her body talks to him. Her thighs…her taste…her tightness…her voice. And every part says the same thing.

It’s yours.

Erik’s gaze dropped back down to his lap. His dick was a thick, pulsing column again. Just the thought of her got him standing at attention again. He reached down, his massive, calloused hand wrapping around the girth. He could feel a pulse against the pad of his fingers as he pumped the veiny, rock-hard muscle. He watched the way the skin stretched over the thick veins. With every squeeze, more of that wasted seed spilled out. Thick, pearly ropes of cum leaking from the tip, coating his fingers and smearing across his palm. It was a lot of cum. A heavy load that had been built up through minutes of agonizing torture. 

Erik gripped himself tighter, a low growl vibrating in his throat. This shit should have been buried inside her. He should have pinned her legs back and sat this dick right against the bottom of her pussy, pumping every single drop of this wasted nut with a pulse of his groin until she was overflowing. Hear those pretty little whimpers as he stuffed her full. 

Instead, he was cleaning himself up. 

Erik didn’t just want her back. He wanted to reclaim the dominance she had stolen. He pumped his dick one last time, smearing the excess cum over his tip in. Rough, frustrated motion. He wasn’t just horny. He was hunting. 

The soldier in him had taken over, and Sanaa had just become the most high-priority target of his life. 

5:18 A.M.

The gym lived in a different world before sunrise. No conversations. No crowds. Just steel, rubber flooring, and the steady percussion of plates crashing against barbells. Fluorescent lights reflected off rows of mirrors while the smell of chalk and disinfectant lingered beneath the sharper bite of sweat. 

Erik preferred it this way. 

Nobody asked questions. Nobody recognized him. Nobody expecting anything except another man putting in work. 

He stood at the squat rack rolling his shoulders beneath a fitted black compression shirt that clung to every line across his chest and arms. Dark charcoal shorts stopped just above his knees, revealing powerful quadriceps crisscrossed with veins before the workout had even begun. Black crew socks disappeared into worn training shoes that had seen enough miles to mold themselves around his feet. His locs were pulled back into a low ponytail, thick ropes hanging between his shoulder blades with a few shorter pieces escaping near his temples. Sweat had begun to gather along his hairline despite the hour. 

Erik’s headphones sealed the world away. 

Mona Lisa.

Lil Wayne’s voice filled his ears. 

Erik ducked beneath the loaded barbell and settled it across his back. Four plates. The weight felt familiar. Comfortable. He stepped back, braced, then dropped. The squat was deep enough that his hips disappeared below parallel before he exploded upward again. One. Again. Two. Again. Three. Every rep clean. Every rep angry. Every rep supposed to empty his head. Instead…

Sanaa. 

The first time she says his name. Her scent after a shower. Her laugh. Her eyes rolling whenever he said something she ain’t like. The way she’d glance at him before pretending she hadn’t. Those glasses. The bow-legged walk she does with the little switch in her hips.This the same girl that used to sleep over in Aaliyah’s room? The one that would eat cereal cross-legged in the living room? The shy girl that could barely look at him? 

“Damn.” 

Erik racked the weight harder than necessary. 

She had Jim tripping. Actually tripping. 

Erik pulled one side of his headphones back long enough to catch his own breathing before shoving it into place again. His thumb pressed the volume buttons. 

Louder. Wayne. Kendrick. 

The bass vibrated against his skull. 

It didn’t matter. She was still there. 

Erik walked toward the leg press, loading plate after plate until most people would’ve needed help moving the sled. But Erik was a different breed. His knees folded toward his chest. 

Push. 

The sled climbed. 

Lower. Push. Again. Again. Again. 

His thighs burned. 

Good. 

Maybe pain would do what music couldn’t. Maybe exhaustion would finally knock her loose.

Nope. 

Because there she was again. In her oversized t-shirts she’d somehow managed to make look better than anything designed by a fashion house. With those glossy lips looking at him because she knew the effect she had. Staring at him like she wasn’t scared of him. That sas the dangerous part. Most people kept a healthy distance, but Sanaa kept getting closer. 

Erik finished the set until his legs trembled, then sat forward with his forearms resting on his thighs, breathing through his nose. 

You gotta get it together, he thought. 

Erik stood before he could think too hard about the words. 

Walking lunges came next. Heavy dumbbells. Eighty pounds in each hand. 

Step. Lower. Drive through the heel. Step. Lower. Drive. 

His forearms tightened around the knurled handles while every muscle below his waist demanded mercy. Erik welcomed it. The mirror caught him halfway across the turf. Broad shoulders. Compression shift darkened by sweat, revealing the raised scars along his torso and arms. Gold chain tucked beneath the collar. Locs swinging lightly with every stride. A man who looked completely in control. 

Only he knew better. Because everytime his mind cleared…there she was. Her voice. Her smile. The little crease beside her nose whenever she tried not to laugh. 

This don’t make no damn sense. 

Romanian deadlifts. Hamstring curls. Bulgarian split squats. Calf raises until his calves cramped beneath his own bodyweight. An hour became an hour and a half. Then two hours. His legs felt like concrete. His shirt clung to him like a second layer of skin. Sweat traced the tattooed landscape of his arms before disappearing beneath the compression fabric. 

His phone vibrated inside his gym bag as he reached for his towel. 

One notification. 

Aaliyah: Can you be our designated driver tomorrow night big bro? The girlies wanna hit these D.C streets and drinks will be in rotation so I’m tryna be responsible. Please and thank youuuuuuu ☺️ 

His heartbeat had betrayed him before he looked and realized it was his little sister. For one ridiculous second, he hoped it was her. 

Erik shook his head at himself, grabbed the phone. And laughed under his breath. 

Damn, lil’ mama. What you doin’ to me? 

Erik slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the locker room. 

Erik: Aight 🙄

______

Sanaa stirred in her bed, sheets twisted around her legs, body aching deep, thighs trembling as she moved. A whimper slipped out before she could catch it. She blinked awake, the soreness hitting her all at once. Her hips. Her ass. The tender spots between her legs that pulsed from the night before. She lifted the hem of her oversized tee with shaky fingers, marks blooming across the curve of her waist, dark little reminders pressed into her skin. She traced one with her thumb, biting her lip when the pressure made her thighs twitch again. 

Killmonger had her going stupid on the dick last night. 

Flashes of memory shown behind her closed lids. 

Her bouncing. Him picking her up in the air to drop her down in his dick. The slow grind-thrust he did that made her dizzy. How she came more than three times and still had the drive to ride him. Not once. Twice. The look of defeat in his eyes. The way he said her name all weak and pussy-drunk. How his big, strong hands gripped, pinned, caressed, and stilled her body. It was addictive fucking Erik. 

Sanaa rolled over until her feet dangled over the side of her bed. She braced herself before pushing off, knees weak. She needed to stretch. There was no was she would be going out tonight in heels and twerking if she couldn’t even stand on two feet. She walked over to her walk-in closet and grabbed her yoga mat. She got into her first position. Her elbows pressed gently against the insides of her knees, easing them apart while she rocked from side to side, loosening joints that still carried last night’s workout.

She flowed into a ninety-ninety hip stretch next, one leg folded in front of her, the other tucked behind. Her fingertips rested lightly on the mat as she leaned forward until she felt the stretch bloom through her glutes and hips. She lingered there, breathing evenly before switching sides. Cat-cows followed, her spine rolling one vertebra at a time, then slow world’s greatest stretches that opened her hip flexors, hamstrings, and thoracic spine all at once.

By the time she finished with a few kneeling ankle rocks and controlled knee-over-toe lunges, warmth had replaced stiffness. Her hips felt lighter. Her knees tracked smoothly. She rose from the mat with an easy smile, bouncing once on the balls of her feet feeling stronger than she had fifteen minutes before. 

Sanaa could almost see him. The massive, scarred warrior reduced to a shaking mess. The memory of it sent a fresh throb between her thighs.  She had ridden him. Every inch of that thick, veiny dick stretching her open, pushing her to the brink. She had felt his control slipping, heard the way his breath hitched and his voice grew ragged. Begging to fill her pussy up. And then, at the absolute peak, when he was practically sobbing for it, she had simply slid off him. 

Sanaa remembered the look of sheer, stunned betrayal on his face as she stood up, leaving him stranded. He had cum so hard just from the sudden loss of her gushy pussy, his nut erupting in thick, wasted ropes that coated his own stomach and thighs. He had been left to drown in his own cum, a ruined man, while Sanaa fluffed her hair and walked away without a backward glance. And she was glad she didn’t. Because she may have caved. 

In that moment, Sanaa had felt an intoxicating surge of power. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was the psychological victory. She was a petite woman. A slim-thick frame that he could practically snap in half if he wanted to, yet she had brought him to his knees without lifting a finger—well she did lift that pussy up and down his dick. She had made a man of his stature, a ruthless killer and a dominant force of nature crumble. It made her feel like a goddess. A true woman who knew exactly how to wield her sexuality as a weapon. The contrast—his raw, masculine aggression versus her soft, bratty rigor—had been the ultimate aphrodisiac. 

The triumph began to morph into a delectable, trembling anticipation. 

Sanaa knew Erik. She knew that a man like him didn’t just take a loss. He planned a counter-attack. By leaving him like that, she hadn’t just won a round. She had issued a challenge. She could almost feel his possessive rage simmering. The dark, hungry fire that would be waiting for her the next time they were in the same room. 

Her thoughts went from ‘that dick is the reason I keep playing with myself’ to ‘that dick is the reason I’m scared to let him fuck me’ to ‘that dick is the reason I keep letting him fuck me.’ 

A shiver ran down her spine, her pussy quivering instinctively. Sanaa was practically craving the moment he would decide he’d had enough of her games. She imagined his massive hand wrapping around her throat, pinning her down with a full weight of his muscular body, his voice a low, dangerous growl in her ear telling her exactly how he was going to punish her for her audacity. She wanted him to tame her. She wanted to feel that dominance return with a vengeance. To be stuffed full of his cum. To be gagged by his dick. A physical reminder that while she could play with fire, he was the one who owned the flame. The thought of being completely overwhelmed by him, of having her bratty confidence crushed under all that muscle, those scars, those tattoos, made her ache. 

She was just about to go and take a shower when a knock hit the door. Before she could answer, Aaliyah pushed it open and stepped inside. 

“Gurl. You still sleep? It’s almost twelve in the afternoon, sis.” 

“I could have been in here flicking my bean.” Sanaa throws back, rolling her eyes. 

Aaliyah flopped down at the foot of the bed, phone in her hand. 

“Jordan been blowing me up all morning talkin’ ‘bout he sorry. I got his ass blocked so fast he prolly still typing. I ain’t got time for that nigga and his weak-ass bars or that dusty podcast he keep pushin’. He can keep that energy over there.” 

“For how long before you end up taking him back, Liyah?” Sanaa replied with amusement. 

“I swear I’m not this time. Plus, I’m leaving for my fellowship in three days. I wanna turn up and forget his ass. Maybe I’ll run into a new man and have a little fun. Who knows.” 

Aliyah poked her tongue out. Sanaa laughed. 

“Naima coming over to stay the night. The other girlies will be here tomorrow. And I texted Erik to ask if he can be our bodyguard for the night. He said aight.” 

Sanaa had a visceral reaction to the sound of his name. She played it off with a chuckle and a shoulder shrug.

“That was sweet of him. Maybe he can have some fun instead of staying cooped up in here.” 

“Gurl, I can say the same for you.”

“What?” Sanaa looked over at Aaliyah. 

“Nothing.” 

Aaliyah stretched out, back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Sanaa pretended to scroll through her planner on her iPad, but every slight movement of her weight sent a fresh ache rolling through her pussy. She pressed her knees together under the desk, trying to breath steady. 

Aaliyah’s silence made Sanaa glance over to her best friend. She had this look on her face. Her usual chattiness halted.

“You good, Liyah?” 

“Yeah,” Aaliyah said, but her voice dragged a little. She looked like she had more sitting on her tongue, something heavy, but she just sat up instead. “I gotta get ready anyway.” 

She stood, crossing the room, and reached out to squeeze Sanaa’s shoulder—hard. The way she always did when she was feeling playful. Sanaa shoved her in return. 

“Don’t be all day in here, bitch. I ordered us breakfast from that corner bakery we like. And some macha!” 

11:08 A.M. 

Washington, D.C. 

Maple syrup. Butter. And fresh matcha. 

Aaliyah had ordered breakfast from the little bakery around the corner that everyone on campus swore by. Empty brown paper bags sat folded on the kitchen island beside two half-finished iced matches, their cups beaded with condensation. Flaky crumbs from croissant breakfast sandwiches littered white napkins, evidence that neither woman had been particularly concerned with eating neatly. Sanaa leaned against the island, one hip resting against the quartz countertop while she absently stirred the last bit of ice in her drink. 

Fresh out of the shower, she looked nothing like the woman she’d become once makeup and a dress entered the equation. Her dark curls were piled into a messy bun high on her head, loose ringlets escaping around her temples and the back of her neck. Gold hoops decorated her ears. A pair of turquoise tortoise shell glasses rested low on her nose while she scrolled through her phone. She wore charcoal yoga leggings that hugged her hips down to her calves, igniting her curves, a matching sports bra, and soft cream house slippers. Her lips glistened with caramel gloss and her skin still carried that fresh-out-the-shower glow because of the shower oil she’d used. Saltwater Vanilla. Comfort looked dangerously good on her.

Across from her, Aaliyah looked equally at home. She’d pulled on an oversized Howard University T-shirt that swallowed her frame and. Pair of black biker shorts. White crew socks disappeared into fuzzy tan slippers, and her hair had been gathered into a sleek puff. Her face was completely bare except for mascara and lip balm, making her look younger than twenty-two. She took another sip of her macha and sighed dramatically. 

“I don’t even wanna get dressed.” 

Sanaa laughed without looking up. “You literally planned this.” 

“I know.” Aaliyah frowned into her cup. “Planning it and participating are two different things.” 

“You got a whole fellowship to celebrate, sis. Then, you graduate. Be happy.” 

“I know.” Aaliyah said. 

“You begged us to come.” 

“I know, bitch.” Aaliyah said.

“So…”

“I still don’t wanna put on lashes.” 

Sanaa shook her head. “You don’t wanna sit and get your lashes done. And you don’t wanna put on the strip. Lazy.” 

“I’m preserving my energy.”

Sanaa scuffed. “You sound eighty.” 

“I feel eighty.” 

A knock sounded through the apartment. Three quick raps. Before either woman could move, Erik stepped into the hallway. 

He’d already showered too, but it seems he forgot to put on a shirt. And why are his athletic shorts dangerously low on his waist like that? The locs gathered up into a messy bun? A silver cross sitting between his pecs? 

What the fuck? 

“I got it.” He said. 

He started toward the front door. Then, he looked up. 

His eyes landed on Sanaa. 

Everything inside him stalled for half a heartbeat. She wasn’t dressed up. She wasn’t even trying. She was standing there with messy hair, glasses, slippers, and gloss, lazily drinking matcha while sunlight poured across her skin. 

Cute. Comfy. Entirely too familiar. 

His gaze lingered just long enough for her to notice. She looked up over the rim of her glasses. Their eyes met. The corner of her mouth threatened to lift. Just a little. 

He recovered first. 

“I’ll get the door.” 

His voice sounded perfectly normal. 

Erik turned the handle. A delivery driver stood outside holding an oversized edible arrangement. 

“Delivery for…Sanaa Carter?” 

“Yeah. Thanks homie.” 

The driver handed it over, offered a quick you’re welcome, and disappeared down the hallway. Erik nudged the door shut with his foot while balancing the arrangement in one hand. Chocolate covered strawberries. Pineapple flowers. Melon. Grapes. The whole thing sat in a decorative brown container wrapped with a bright green bow. As he walked toward the dining table, he spotted the small white envelope tucked between the fruit. 

He pulled it free. Read it. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. 

“Hm.” 

He set the arrangement down. 

Both women immediately wandered over. 

“Oooo,” Aaliyah sang. “Who got an Edible Arrangement?!” 

Sanaa laughed. “Jordan with his sympathy gift.” 

Erik looked at her. Then at the card. Then back at her. He held the card out. A slight curl of his plush top lip. 

“It’s for you, Bri.” 

Sanaa accepted it. Her brow lifted as she read it allowed.

“A sweet bouquet for a sweet girl. I hope this brightens your day, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Signed…Nathan.” 

She smiled. Just a little. “Oh.” 

Aaliyah gasped so dramatically she nearly dropped her drink. “Oooooooooooh!!!”

Sanaa rolled her eyes. “Girl.” 

“No.” Aaliyah pointed at the arrangement. “Not him sending you and Edible Arrangement, bitch!” 

Sanaa laughed. “He’s thoughtful.” 

“He tryna say you edible, sis.” 

Sanaa burst into laughter, nudging Aaliyah out of the way with her hip. “Aaliyah!”

“I’m serious! What he tryna say you taste like pineapples?” 

She leaned closer to inspect one of the chocolate-covered strawberries. “Mhmmmm. You left your mark on him, Bri.” 

Wanna shook her head, unable to stop smiling. “It is kinda sweet.” 

“It is sweet. Thoughtful.” Aaliyah said. 

She carefully lifted one of the pineapple flowers by the stem, admiring how it had been carved. “This is actually really pretty.” 

Across the table, Erik stared at the arrangement like it had personally offended him. There was silence. Long silence. Then…

“…Fruit look old.” 

The women turned toward him. Sanaa blinked. Aaliyah fought back a laugh. 

“What?” Sanaa said.

Erik pointed. “That grape wrinkled.” 

“It is not.” 

“It definitely is. You got glasses in you can’t see that?” 

Aaliyah squinted. “It kinda…” 

Sanaa immediately defended the fruit. “It is not wrinkled.” 

“It look tired.” Erik said. 

Aaliyah giggled, staring between them. 

Sanaa had to laugh herself. “Fruit get tired, E?” 

Erik put his hands up, biceps flexing in a way that almost broke Sanaa’s composure. 

“I’m just tellin’ you what I’m seein’.” He leaned slightly closer. “And then flowers…”

“What flowers?” 

“The pineapple.”

Sanaa looked. “They’re cute.” 

“They look like they wiltin’.” 

Aaliyah turned away laughing quietly to herself. 

“It’s carved fruit.”

“Mm.” Erik nodded once. “Cheap-ass edible plant.” 

Sanaa folded her arms. “You a haterrr.”

“I ain’t hatin’.”

“You absolutely hatin’. On fruit though? If you wanted some all you had to do was ask, E.” 

Aaliyah laughed so hard she grabbed the counter. “Oh my God.” She dabbed her eyes. “Whew! Ya’ll funny!”

Erik continued studying it with the same expression someone might reserve for a suspicious car engine. 

“I’ve seen better strawberries.”

“You are ridiculous.” 

“I’m honest.” 

Sanaa picked up a chocolate-covered strawberry and held it toward him. “You want one, meany?” 

“Nah.” 

“You sure?” 

“I’m positive, B–” he caught himself. “Bri.” 

“You don’t even know if it’s good and you judging.” 

“I know enough.” 

Sanaa took a bite instead. The chocolate cracked softly. Her eyes widened. 

“Mmmm.” 

Aaliyah immediately reached for one too. She took a bite, eyes widening. “Oh, that’s good! Fruit taste fresh to me.” 

Erik watched both of them eating. Still unimpressed. 

“…chocolate doin’ all the work—”

Sanaa laughed so hard she nearly choked. “You are a professional hater.” 

“I call shit like I see it.” Erik fired back. 

“You jealous of fruit, big bro?” Aaliyah teased.

“I ain’t jealous of shit. Give me a reason to be.” 

“You sound jealous, E.” Sanaa said.

Erik looked at the arrangement one last time before shaking his head. “Hope the nigga kept the receipt.” 

With that, he turned and walked into the living room as if the conversation had exhausted him. Behind him, the girls dissolved into another fit of laughter. From the sofa, Erik could see Sanaa on her phone. She brought it to her ear, and the minute she spoke Nathan’s name Erik’s jaw ticked.

He leaned back, picked up the TV remote, and stared at the blank screen without turning it on. 

An Edible Arrangement? Out of everything that man could’ve sent…fruit. 

Erik rubbed a hand over his beard.

Ain’t even send her flowers. 

His eyes drifted toward the dining room where Sanaa was still smiling with the phone pressed to her ear while Aaliyah teased her. 

His mouth flattened. 

Cheap-ass fruit.

Another knock echoed through the apartment. Aaliyah looked up from the edible arrangement and grinned.

“That gotta be Naima.”

She hurried to the front door and pulled it open. Naima stepped inside with an overnight bag slung over one shoulder, dressed in an oversized white linen button-down over black slim-fit jeans and clean white sneakers. Her twist-out framed her face perfectly, her large almond eyes immediately finding the people gathered around the dining table.

“There she is,” Aaliyah said, wrapping her in a quick hug.

“Congratulations again, Fellowship Girl.”

“You gon’ make me cry.”

Naima smiled before making her rounds. She hugged Sanaa tightly.

“Hey, pretty.”

“Hey, Nai.”

She lifted a hand toward Erik. “Hey, Erik.”

He nodded once. “Naima.”

Her attention drifted to the centerpiece on the table.

“…Hold on.” She leaned in. “Who sent that?”

Aaliyah didn’t even give Sanaa a chance to answer. “Nathan.”

Naima’s eyebrows climbed. “Oh, he trying.”

Sanaa laughed, turning the little card over in her fingers. “I told you he’s sweet.”

“Mmm.” Naima examined one of the chocolate-covered strawberries. “He definitely scored some points.”

Aaliyah sighed dramatically, the smile slipping from her face.

“Meanwhile…” She folded her arms. “I’m officially done with Jordan.”

Naima’s expression softened immediately. Without saying a word, she rubbed slow circles across Aaliyah’s back.

“I know.”

Aaliyah let out a long breath. “I’m over it.”

“You keep saying that.”

“This time I mean it.”

Naima studied her for a second before hooking an arm through hers. “C’mon.”

“Where we going?”

“I need details.”

Aaliyah groaned. “I knew you was gon’ interrogate me.”

“Damn right.”

The two disappeared down the hallway toward Aaliyah’s bedroom, their voices fading behind a closing door. Sanaa watched them go with an amused smile before reaching for another chocolate-covered strawberry. From the living room, Erik glanced toward the edible arrangement again.

He still looked unconvinced.

______

Sanaa was sitting at the dining table, talking to Nathan on the phone. She had it on speaker, completely aware of Erik sitting in the living room. This felt like déjà vu. The last time she was talking on the phone with Nathan, she had a mouth full of Erik’s dick.

“Mhm. I wanted to tell you thank you. It was really sweet.”

“I’m glad it made it.”

“It definitely did.” Sanaa walked over and plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry from the arrangement. “Aaliyah and I have already been picking at it.”

“So it passed inspection?”

“It passed with flying colors.”

She bit into the chocolate strawberry, eyes flicking over to Erik. He sat back, legs wide and swinging, eyeing her with an unblinking stare that did the opposite of what he intended it to do. It only made her pussy wet. When will he realize that those looks don’t get the reaction he’s looking for? 

“I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I do. I really do.” Her voice softened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Ya’ll going out tomorrow night right? For Aaliyah?”

Erik isn’t saying a word to her, but his eyes are locked on her, dark and tracking the way she smiles. The way she makes her voice all sweet. He grabs his phone beside him quick. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Erik: Come here Miss Carter. 

Sanaa glances at him, a bratty smirk playing on her lips. She doesn’t move an inch, keeping her gaze fixed forward as she responds to Nathan. Sanaa smiled to herself before taking a bite of the strawberry.

“That’s dangerous.”

“What?”

“You getting thoughtful this early.”

Nathan laughed. “I didn’t realize kindness came with a waiting period.”

“I’m just saying…now you’re setting expectations.”

“I can live with that.”

She shook her head, smiling wider.

Buzz.

Erik: I ain’t gon ask you again. Get over here.

Sanaa bites her lip, feeling the heat radiating off him. She types back quickly, her thumb flying across the screen while Nathan continues to ramble. 

Sanaa: Sorry daddy. Aaliyah and Naima. We can’t do nothing 😔 

Erik’s expression doesn’t change, but his jaw tightens. He don’t give a fuck who in the apartment. The only thought running through his mind is her disobeying him. 

Erik: I don’t give a fuck about that, Bri. If you don’t move that ass over here right now, I’m a come get you. And I won’t be gentle about it.

Sanaa shivers, her pussy giving a sudden, wet throb. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her chest, imagining those huge, calloused hands gripping her waist and tossing her over his shoulder. 

Sanaa: You so damn dramatic lol. All because he sent me fruit 😂. Mad you got competition? 

Erik lets out a low, silent huff of a laugh. He shifts his weight, the fabric of his shorts straining against the thick, heavy length of his dick. He remembers last night clearly. The way she’d taken him, the raw, desperate energy of it. The bounce of that ass. The creamy mess. Nathan ain’t got shit on him. 

Erik: Since you wanna play...tell me something. Why you ride my dick like that last night? Huh? 

Sanaa’s breath hitches. She almost forgets to answer Nathan. 

“You know,” he continued, “I remembered you saying you liked fruit more than candy, so it seemed like an easy decision.”

“You remembered that?”

“Course I did.”

“See…” she teased. “Now you showing off.”

“Nah. I just pay attention.”

Sanaa: I don’t know what you’re talking about 😇 I’m innocent. 

Erik: Stop fucking playing. You was shaking. Taking every inch of this dick like you was starving for it. You rode me until I was seeing stars, then you just...left.

Sanaa: I didn't leave. I just finished.

Erik: Finished? You left me leaking all over myself. My chest, my stomach...just a fucking mess of cum cuz you decided you was done. 

Sanaa feels a surge of power, remembering the look on his face—the ruthless soldier reduced to a shaking, overstimulated mess because of her. She types back, her voice sounding breathy as she tells Nathan, “Well…thank you. Seriously. It made my day.”

Sanaa: You liked it. you loved how much of a mess I made of you. Let’s not play pretend Killmonger. 

Erik:Thing is I ain’t gotta pretend. I loved it. Now I wanna do it back. I wanna see you dripping. 

He watches her, his eyes dropping to her legs. He knows exactly what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t. Them yoga pants and got no panties underneath. 

Erik: Stand up.

Sanaa: what? Nathan is still talking 😒

Erik: Fuck that nigga. Stand up and put some shorts on. 

Sanaa looked back at Erik. The risk of Aaliyah walking in is high, but the look in Erik’s eyes tells her that if she don’t obey, he’s going to stop texting and start taking.

Sanaa: you a menace. 😩

Erik: And that pussy wet. Now move.

Sanaa slipped into her room, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took off her yoga pants and grabbed a pair of thin, grey cotton shorts. Exactly what Erik wanted. Way too small, the fabric stretched tight over her curves and designed to ride up the second she moved. She slid them on, completely bottomless underneath. Waxed pussy lips against the crotch of the shorts. They clung to her hips and barely covered the swell of her bubble booty. 

On her way out of the room, she could have sworn she’d heard a sharp intake of breath coming from Aaliyah’s room. 

Sanaa brushed it off as she walked back out into the living area, her walk nothing but bow legs and cheeks swaying, knowing exactly how the fabric was hiking up. Erik was waiting, his massive frame lounging back, but his eyes were like lasers, tracking the way her cheeks peeked out from under the hem.

On the speakerphone, Nathan’s voice was smooth, oblivious. 

“So,” he asked, “does this mean I earned another date?”

She laughed. “You asking or assuming?”

“I’m asking. Confidently.”

“You coming out tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

The moment the words “see you tonight” left Nathan’s mouth, Erik’s expression darkened. A flicker of pure, possessive rage crossed his face. His jaw tightened, the muscles in his neck cording. He didn’t like the idea of Nathan touching what belonged to him, especially not when he had her dripping and desperate right here. Wearing the shorts he told her to put on. Looking down at him like she knew who lap she was sitting in. 

Without a word, Erik reached out and gripped her hip, yanking her forward with a strength that left no room for argument. He guided her to straddle his right thigh. He was wearing loose athletic shorts, the fabric thin enough that she could feel the radiating heat of his skin and the rock-hard density of the muscle beneath. As she settled onto him, Erik ain’t waste a second. He brought both of his massive hands up, cupping the cheeks of her ass and squeezing the flesh with a bruising grip. He started to rub, his palms kneading her curves, pushing the thin fabric of her shorts deep into her crack. He was marking her, claiming every inch of her skin while another man’s voice filled the room.

"Sanaa? You still with me?" Nathan asked.

Sanaa gasped, her voice hitching. “Yeah...yeah, I–I’m here, Nathan.”

Erik leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear, then his tongue darted out to flick her earlobe, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that only she could feel. “Don’t let him hear you shake, you just might hurt his feelings, baby,” he whispered, the command cutting through her.

He shifted his grip. He took one large hand and pressed it firmly against the small of her lower back, pinning her against him. With the other hand, he kept a tight, controlling grip on her hip. He didn’t just want her to move, he wanted her to work for it.

“Roll your spine,” he breathed into her ear, his voice thick with authority. “Grind it. I wanna feel every bit of that wet pussy rubbing against me. Right fuckin’ now. Before I let your little nigga know his crush gettin’ slutted out by her best friend brother.” 

Chills.

Sanaa obeyed, her body trembling. She began to arch her back, rolling her hips in a slow, circular motion. Because he was wearing shorts, there was almost no barrier. The hard, ridged muscle of his quad pressed directly into her clit and the opening of her pussy. It felt like rubbing herself against a warm, living pillar of granite. Every time she rolled her hips, the friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, making her internal muscles clench violently.

Erik watched her face with a sly smirk. The one with the single dimple peeking. The one that drove Sanaa crazy. He loved the way her eyes fluttered, the way she bit her lip to keep from moaning. But even in the height of the grind, the soldier in him remained vigilant. His eyes flicked toward the hallway, scanning for any sign of Aaliyah or Naima, his instincts honed for stealth and surveillance. The risk of being caught only added to the filth of it.

“Sanaa, you sound...distracted. Everything aight?” Nathan asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“I’m—I’m good. What were you saying?” 

“Nothing important, just saying shit. Hahaha…so uh…what you doin’?” 

Mm—uh, reading. Reading—uhhh, sorry the words are like bluring together right now I think I might need a nap.”

Erik quietly laughed, then whispered. “Nasty ass Edible Arrangement.” 

Sanaa’s giggle was muffled against Erik’s neck. 

“I don’t want you falling asleep on the phone, Sanaa. Get your beauty rest, baby girl.” 

Erik presses his lips to her ear. “Listen to him...talkin’ all that sweet shit. Does he know you shakin’ for me right now? Does he know how wet you are for a real man?” Erik kissed along her jaw. “Answer him, Sanaa. Tell him you’re ‘just relaxin’ While you grindin’ on my thigh...tell him how relaxed you are.”

“I’m just really relaxed right now.” Sanaa watched Erik’s hands smooth up her thighs to cup her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples through her sports bra. “Really…I…mmm.”

“Mmm? What type of relaxin’ you doin’, girl?”  Nathan chuckled. 

Erik’s hand on her back pressed harder, forcing her to grind deeper, more aggressively. He flexed his thigh muscle, the hard mass pulsing upward, driving directly into her sensitive spot. But right there. Beside his thigh. His dick that’s equal parts long and thick, pulsed and jumped. This lil’ freaky bitch get him so fired up. He flared his nostrils, eyes fixed on her with that low, hazy look, high off her body working his thigh. 

Sanaa looked down at his dick. Her breath hitched.

“Woah…Sanaa?”

“Mhm.” Sanaa buried her face in Erik’s neck. 

“Are you…I don’t wanna assume shit but uh…are you…touching yourself?” 

“Go ‘head, baby. Tell him you’re thinkin’ about him. Tell him while you feel my dick twitch against your leg...tell him he’s the only thing on your mind.”

He was really playing right now. Sanaa wasn’t about to back down. She licked her lips, her gaze locked with Erik’s while she spoke. 

 Sanaa bites her bottom lip. “You’re the only thing on my mind, Nathan…” her fingers crept down until they settled on the stiff pole sitting between his legs. He was hot to the touch. “I’m thinking about you…”

“Damn…really? And what are you doin’ that got you thinkin’ about me?” 

“You shakin’, lil’ mama. Is that for him? Or is it ‘cause you know I’m about to make you leak all over these floors the second you hang up?”

“Sanaa?” 

“Ride it for real,” Erik whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Put your weight into it. Show me how much you want this. Who you think you is teasing me? Huh? Nah…you teasing him. Got him thinkin’ you touching yourself to thoughts of him…ttsk…such a bad girl, Sanaa…”

Sanaa let out a muffled whimper, her hips jumping in a desperate effort. She was riding his thigh like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, her pussy soaking the thin fabric of her shorts and moistening his thigh. The feeling was overwhelming. The combination of his commanding presence, the rough texture of the shorts, and the sheer power of his leg beneath her. She felt small, fragile, and completely dominated.

Sanaa tried to lean away for a second, her bratty instinct wanting to tease him, but Erik’s grip tightened, snapping her back against him. He placed both hands on her waist and repositioned her on his thigh. 

“I ain’t tell you to stop,” Erik growled softly, his voice a warning. “Keep grindin’. Every time he speaks, you move faster. You my little toy right now, and you gon’ do exactly what the fuck I say.”

“I’m thinkin’ about what I’d let you do to m–me when I see you.” Sanaa managed to stammer out to Nathan, her voice trembling.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Erik accelerated the pace, his thigh flexing upward in a punishing motion that forced her to bounce. She was jumping on his thigh now, her pussy slamming against the hard muscle with every movement. The friction was intense, bordering on too much pressure, but it was the kind of ache that made her crave him more.

She was right on the edge, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. She looked into Erik’s eyes and saw the absolute control he held over her. He wasn’t just fucking her with his leg. He was breaking her will, reminding her that no matter who she talked to or where she went, she belonged to the soldier.

Sanaa’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, bratty spark. She didn’t just want to be dominated. She wanted to push Erik until he snapped, to see that disciplined soldier persona crumble into raw, possessive rage. With a sudden, fluid movement, Sanaa lifted off his thigh and straddled his lap completely. She sat down heavy on him, her pussy pressing directly against the massive, rock-hard bulge stretching the fabric of his shorts. She leaned back slightly, her chest heaving, the phone pressed to her ear. Her voice changed. It became honeyed, dripping with a fake, innocent sweetness that was designed to drive Erik insane. 

“I can’t wait to get you back to my room. I really want to see what you’re working with…see if you can handle me.” 

As the words left her lips, Sanaa began to move. She didn’t just move, she started pressing her weight down, rotating her hips so that her clit rubbed directly against the thick, veined lengths of his dick through the cloth. She was grinding her pussy over his fat bulge, seeking every inch of that hard pipe, her eyes locked onto Erik’s. 

Erik went completely still. His body became a statue of coiled muscle, his hands gripping the edges of the seat so hard his knuckles bulged like they were trying to break skin. He didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes—dark, hooded, and burning—were fixed on her face. He watched her lips move, heard her offer herself to another man, all while she used his own dick as a rubbing post. The mixture of rage and arousal in Erik’s gaze was suffocating. He looked like he wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her into a fucked-out coma right there. 

On the other end of the line, Nathan’s voice came through, sounding warm, eager, and completely oblivious to the filth happening on the other side. 

“You killin’ me, Sanaa,” Nathan chuckled, his tone respectful but clearly aroused. “Trust me, I can handle you. I’m gonna take my time with you…make sure you’re completely taken care of. I wanna make you feel everything.”

Sanaa let out a soft, shaky moan, one that sounded like it was for Nathan, but was actually a reaction to the way Erik’s dick twitched beneath her. She increased the pace, grinding harder, her hips snapping forward to rock her pussy against the tip of his dick. She was practically begging for him to break, her eyes challenging him, daring him to drop her or take her. 

“Mmm, you sound so confident,” Sanaa whispered into the phone, her voice breaking as she felt Erik’s hardness pulse against her. “I hope you can keep that same energy when I’m under you. I’m a lot to handle, Nathan…I don’t know if you’re ready for me.” 

Nathan let out a low, breathy laugh. “Try me. I’ll show you exactly what I’m capable of. I’m counting down the hours until I can get my hands on you.” 

Erik’s jaw clenched so tight a vein popped in his temple. He could smell that wet ass pussy leaking through her thin shorts and soaking into his own. The fact that she was using his dick to get herself off while promising herself to that little nigga was a level of disrespect that made his blood boil.

She was selling him a false story because ain’t no fucking way Nathan getting his hands on Sanaa. 

Erik’s hand suddenly shot up, his thick fingers wrapping firmly around the back of her neck. His grip was a silent command. He pulled her head back slightly, forcing her to look down at him while she continued to grind on his bulge. His eyes told her everything: you think this a game? You think you’re in control? Just wait until I get this phone out of your hand.

“I’m gon’ fuck the memory of that nigga right out your head. You won’t even remember how to spell his name by the time I’m done wit’ you.” Erik whispered.

On the other end of the line, Nathan was completely caught in her web, his voice thick with a hunger he didn’t realize was being fueled by another man’s dick. 

“Sanaa…damn, I can practically feel you, baby,” Nathan groaned, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m literally counting down the seconds. I’m gonna make you scream my name tomorrow night.” 

Sanaa let out a shaky, breathy laugh, her hips rolling in a slow, agonizing circle over Erik’s bulge. The sheer size of him stretching the material of his shorts. She looked Erik dead in the eyes, her expression a mix of bratty defiance and raw lust. 

“Mmm, I wish I could stay on the phone, Nathan,” she whispered, her voice dripping with a fake regret that made Erik’s grip on her neck tighten. “But I gotta hang up now. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Already?” Nathan sounded genuinely bummed, his disappointment palpable. He was clearly hard as a rock on the other end, left hanging by the very woman who was currently using a soldier’s dick as a rubbing post for her kitty. “You’re killing me, Sanaa. Seriously.” He paused, his tone transitioning to something more possessive. “You owe me for this. Big time.” 

“I know I do,” Sanaa cooed, and then she clicked the phone off. 

Sanaa tossed her phone quick fast and with a renewed hunger she crushed her pussy against the thick ridge of his dick, tilting her pelvis so that her clit could get most of the friction. 

Erik’s voice came out as a low, dangerous growl, vibrating against her chest. “You a little liar, ain’t you?” He hissed. “Lying to that lil’ nigga, telling him you gin’ give him some pussy…knowing damn well you ain’t giving him a fucking drop of what belongs to me.” 

“Oh, so this pussy belongs to you now? Since when?” 

Erik brought his hand around to the front of her neck now. Sanaa gasped, her back arching as she rolled her hips, feeling the head of his dick press firmly against her clit each time she drew her hips back. The sensation was electric. 

“Tell me the truth, you fuckin’ brat,” Erik commanded, his other hand gripping her waist with a bruising force. He dug his fingers into her hip, anchoring her. “Who…” Erik rolled his hips up. “Pussy…” he did it again, his dick sliding between her pussy lips through her shorts. “Is…” when he did it again, Sanaa’s breath caught. “This…”

Sanaa bit her lip, eyes fluttering as she ground down harder, pussy clenching in a desperate need to be filled. “Yours,” she whimpered, the word barely a whisper. “It’s yours, Killmonger…”

His nervous system shifted to DEFCON without asking his permission. The sensation hit him the way a snapped tripwire hits a man who’s survived enough war to know the explosion always comes a heartbeat later. 

“That’s right,” he grunted, his voice getting nastier. “Grinding that lil’ pussy on this dick so good like that. Fuck…you ridin’ my lap like you need me to nut just like this…”

“You tryna stop me or you tryna fuck me, Mr. Killmonger?”

His dick was so hard. So hard. Erik couldn’t even remember being dry humped. But the way she was doing it…

“You talk tough but this pussy got you holdin’ your breath.” She leans in, tongue darting out to lick the side of his face, “This the part where you grip me, bend me, and fuck the brat outta me, right? You don’t gotta pull it out yet…let me tease it a little first…”

“You know what you doin’. That’s the part that fuck me up.” Erik whispered. 

Sanaa didn’t answer with words, she answered with a deep roll of her pelvis, sliding her wetness across the length of him. She could feel the way his dick jumped against her clit. 

Erik stared at her, his eyes a dark mixture of lust and genuine disbelief. “I don’t even know how the fuck you this fine.” He muttered, his voice raw. “It don’t make no fucking sense how you look this good while being this nasty.” 

Sanaa leaned in closer to his face, her lips almost brushing his, tilting her head with a slow blink and a bite of her lip. 

“I know I’m special…you remember how it sounded the first time I creamed on your dick, daddy?” 

Erik’s jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. “I laid your little ass out. That was supposed to be the only time you get this dick…” 

“If it was only supposed to be one time…why your dick tryna talk to me again?” 

Inside his own body, the pressure was building to a breaking point. Erik could feel the blood gorging his dick, making it feel oversized and tight, the skin stretched to its absolute limit. Every time she dipped her hips, pressing her weight down on him, he felt the blunt force of her pelvic bone hitting his pubic bone, a heavy thud that vibrated through his entire body. The stiffness was an ache, a demanding, throbbing need to burst through the barrier and bury himself deep in her little pussy. He felt pre-cum leaking from his tip, lubricating the friction, making the slide of her pussy against him feel smoother, filthier, and more urgent. 

Erik watched her face—the bratty, confident look she wore—and it only made his dick twitch harder. He could feel the pulsing of his own heartbeat in his dick, a heavy, thumping cadence that matched the pace of her grinding. The sensation of her radiating through the cloth, the way she seemed to mold herself perfectly to the curve of his dick, made him feel like he was being consumed.

“You feel that, daddy?” Sanaa whispered, her lips grazing his earlobe. “You feel how fucking wet I am for you? I want you to stretch me out again…say the word and I’ll slide this pussy on, daddy…real slow. Or you scared of it now?”

Erik’s eyes flicked toward the hall when he heard faint laughter coming from Aaliyah’s room. 

“Sanaa…you don’t want this smoke. Say one more thing, I swear to God—”

Sanaa spread her legs wider to get a deeper, more direct friction, her pussy gripping the bulge of his dick through the barrier of her shorts and his. She let out a soft, shaky moan, her eyes locking onto his with a bratty glint.

“Nathan thinks he’s getting this pussy tomorrow night,” she breathed, a cruel, sexy little smile playing on her lips. “He’s probably sitting there right now, thinking about my pussy… not knowing that it’s been stretched out by your dick. Not knowing that I’m grinding on you so hard I can feel your heart beating in your balls…” She rolled her hips in a tight circle, making sure he felt every inch of her soaking heat. She leaned back, her spine curving, her glossy lips parted as she looked down at him, her voice becoming a provocative command. “Tell me you love it. Tell me you love knowing that I’m lying to that nigga just so I can feel you inside me. You like knowing that I’d rather have this big, mean dick than anything he could ever give me, don’t you?”

Erik’s grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, but Sanaa didn’t flinch. She leaned back in, her voice dropping even lower, becoming a seductive poison.

“I can feel you shaking, Killmonger. You’re so fucking hard for me. Does it drive you crazy? Knowing that I’m your little slut, but right now…right now I’m the one ruining you? I’m the one making you lose your fucking mind while I just… slide…right…here.”

Erik grunts deep in his throat. She whispered against his skin, her voice thick with lust.

“You scared of gettin’ caught or you scared you’ll nut in your shorts? Don’t front, daddy. You need this more than I do.” She nipped at his earlobe, her breath erratic. “I’m such a little slut for you, aren’t I? Just a little wet, needy slut who needs her Daddy to take control and fuck the lie right out of her. Do it, Erik. Tell me how much you hate that I’m this fine. Tell me how much you want to punish me for teasing you. How much you wanna break this young pussy open—”

He couldn’t bring himself to lift her ass off his lap. He could have her on her back in seconds. Folded. Pinned. But he couldn’t move. Erik couldn’t. 

“Aw…Killmonger don’t talk now? This all that death name come with?”

Erik’s eyes were like missiles aimed at her. Dark pools of primal energy. But the way his brows pinched. The way his lips poked out. The shaky exhale. He was close. 

He stopped letting her do all the work. Erik moved, his powerful thighs flexing as he began to thrust upward, meeting her downward grinds with a punishing force. Now they were humping each other, a frantic collision of cloth and flesh. The friction was intense, the desire between them building into a fever pitch. 

Sanaa leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and erratic. She let out a muffled moan, trying to stay quiet but failing as the pressure on her clit became unbearable. 

“Oh god, daddy…that big dick feel so fucking good against me,” she whimpered into his ear, her voice a seductive poison designed to ruin him. “I’m so happy…I finally have the dick I’ve always dreamed of. I don’t want that other shit. I want this…I want your big, thick dick stretching me out until I can’t walk.”

Erik let out a guttural grunt, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He was shaking, his muscles coiled like a spring, the sheer audacity of her words pushing him to the absolute edge. He gripped her waist even tighter, lifting her slightly so he could slam his bulge upward into her pussy with a heavy, calculated impact that made her vision blur. His face contorted into a mask of pure, unfiltered need. A look Sanaa began to crave ever since she rode his dick. Those lips parted. His eyes tracking every flicker of pleasure on her face. His locs framing his jaw, giving him a rugged look. Then he sank his teeth into his lower lip. 

The friction between them is pushed them both to the edge. Their mouths locked in a filthy, wet collision, tongues tangling and fighting for dominance as they kiss like freaks, swapping saliva and breath in a frantic battle. Every slide of their bodies, every press of cloth against cloth, only heightens the agony of the barrier between them.

Sanaa breaks the kiss just a fraction, her lips still brushing against his, her breath hitching. “Please...Killmonger," she whispers, her voice a broken, needy wreck. “Make me cum. Please make my pussy cum.”

Erik answers with force. His large, calloused hands snap shut around her hips, fingers digging into her skin to still her frantic movements. He takes total control, repositioning his weight to align his thick, stiff dick perfectly against her clit. He gives one heavy, punishing grind, the sheer size of his dick pressing through the fabric and crushing into her sensitive nub. The way his biceps flexed and his thick forearms corded with veins maneuvered and controlled Sanaa’s little frame over his dick made her feel small and fragile. She had no choice but to give in, bracing herself on his shoulders. 

Sanaa lets out a muffled cry, her face buried against his neck while he palms her ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh tight and forcing her to grind down hard against him. He’s not letting her just ride the wave, he’s driving her into it. He forces her hips to rotate, ensuring every inch of his length rubs against her, the friction creating a searing heat that makes her vision blur.

“That's it, lil’ freak bitch.” Erik groans, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as she buries her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. “I’m a drag this pussy all on my dick…give you what you need…spread your legs…nah…spread ‘em…”

As he continues to grind her into him, Erik feels the pressure building in his gut, that familiar, lethal tension that signals the end. He’s too far gone, his own pleasure spiking into something aggressive and overwhelming. He leans in, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against her ear, telling her exactly what's happening.

“I’m ‘bout to bust, Sanaa. I’m right there,” he pants, his breath hot and ragged. “You makin’ me lose it. I’m ‘bout to nut all in these shorts...soak through everything just for you.” 

The verbal confirmation is the final trigger. Sanaa’s walls tighten, her pussy clenching violently as a massive, shaking orgasm rips through her. She collapses against him, her body vibrating in his lap, her moans turning into breathless whimpers as she peaks.

“Damn, girl—fuuck—”

The sight and feel of her cumming sends Erik over the cliff. He erupts. The orgasm is a violent, pulsing explosion that rocks his entire frame. As the first thick jet of cum slams into the fabric of his shorts, the intensity is so sharp, so overwhelming, that he instinctively snaps his jaw shut, biting down on the meat of her shoulder to stifle the guttural roar that threatens to tear from his throat.

He holds her there, pinned and shaking, his dick twitching against her as he pumps load after load of hot, sticky cum into his shorts, the fabric becoming heavy and soaked between them. He stays buried in her neck, teeth still grazing her skin, breathing like a wounded animal while the aftershocks of the nut leave them both completely wrecked.

The friction had been relentless, a grinding war of hips and heat that left them both breathless. For a few seconds, they just breathed, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Then, with a playful, feline smirk, Sanaa slid off him. She didn’t longer, she simply stepped back, the wetness between her legs clinging to her shorts, and started walking away down the hallway. 

Erik blinked, his chest heaving and his eyes tracking the sway of her hips. The sudden lack of her warm, wet pussy left him wired and agitated. 

“Where the fu k you going?” He called out, his voice commanding and laced with a hint of disbelief. 

Sanaa stopped and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes hooded and teasing, a bratty glint in her gaze. “To my room, Erik.” She answered simply, her voice a soft, provocative slur.

Erik stood and walked up on her in that hall. The tension snapped back into place instantly. 

“You got me doing risky shit. I don’t move like this.” Erik whispered, looming over her like the JSOC Ghost he is. 

“I’m a rare soul, Erik. You don’t just enter my life the same. That’s the kinda effect I have.” Sanaa cooed. 

Sanaa leaned against the wall, her gaze dropping to the front of his shorts.

“Let me see,” she whispered, her voice dripping with curiosity. 

Erik reached down, grabbing the waistband of his shorts and pulling them forward. The athletic fabric was drenched, a heavy stain of cum spreading across the inside crotch and clinging to the shape of his dick and the buzz cut of his pubic hair. Despite having just finished, he was still brick hard. A thick, veiny pipe straining against the wet fabric, twitching with a life of its own. 

Sanaa’s breath hitched. The sight of his masculine power, even in the aftermath, sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to her pussy. 

“You do things to my body I can’t even shake,” Sanaa whispered with a soft sigh. 

Erik stepped into her space, his large frame looming over her, erasing the distance. He reached down, his hand sliding firmly down the front of her loose shorts. He didn’t tease, he pressed his palm flat against her pussy, rubbing her soaked folds and teasing her clit. He withdrew his hand, fingers glistening and dripping with her cream. Without breaking eye contact, Erik brought his fingers to his lips, slowly sucking the mess off them, his tongue swirling around his fingers so filthy. 

Sanaa whimpered, her legs turning to jelly. 

Erik leaned in, crashing his lips onto hers in a kiss that tasted like her pussy. His tongue invaded her mouth with the same aggression he used in every other part of their dynamic. 

Suddenly, the sound of loud laughter at the door to Aaliyah’s room broke them apart instantly, the spell shattered by the threat of discovery. Erik’s eyes darkened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, but his instincts kicked in. He stepped back, glancing toward the bathroom. 

Go in your room.” He commanded in a low, urgent whisper. 

Sanaa slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her. Erik vanished into the bathroom, leaving the hallway empty just as the door to Aaliyah’s room swung open.

______

Aaliyah’s room was a scene of girly chaos. They’d set up a makeshift hairdresser. Hair serum, edge control, moose, brushes, and Bobby pins. It also gave the cluttered energy of a college dorm. Aaliyah was draped in an oversized Howard University sweatshirt that swallows her frame, paired with tiny sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks that keep her toes warm. She’s sitting on the floor between Naima’s legs, watching Dream Girls on her iPad while played in the background. Naima was focused and meticulous, wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and a tight baby tee. Her fingers are nimble, weaving and Styling Aaliyah’s hair into a sleek low bun for their night out tomorrow. 

The door creaks open and Sanaa slips in, radiating a fresh, clean scent. She needed another shower after cumming all in her shorts. Her skin is glowy and damp. She’s swallowed up by an oversized Mindless Behavior T-shirt that hits mid-thigh, her wilds curls gathered and held in place by a bright, hot pink claw clip. Her turquoise tortoise shell glasses are perched on the bridge of her nose, and her bare feet pad softly across the floor. She drops in the center of the room, crossing her arms and tilting her head with a look of playful suspicion. 

“What ya’ll plotting in here?” She asks, her voice teasing as if she knows there’s some secret being kept. 

Aaliyah laughs, glancing back at her in the mirror. “Girl, please. Naima is just trying to make sure I don’t look like a mess tomorrow. Come sit your ass down.”

Sanaa chuckles and drops onto the edge of the bed, kicking her feet back. The three of them settle into comfortable conversation, drifting through the usual chaos of campus drama—who was seen with who at the library, which professor is failing half the class, and the latest tea from the sorority row. The vibe is relaxed. That only comes with close friends.

Suddenly, the playlist on the speaker goes from soulful to ratchet. The heavy, distorted bass of “WAP” by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion kicks in, filling the room with its aggressive, explicit energy. Aaliyah doesn’t miss a beat. She starts rapping along, her voice getting louder and more confident as the lyrics get filthier. She’s leaning into it, using her hands to emphasize the lines about wet ass pussy and doing kegels while it’s inside, her energy matching the song’s unapologetic sexuality. Then a dance breaks out. And it’s nothing but ass shaking. Aaliyah on her knees popping booty while Naima stands with a brush in her hand and her tongue poked out, bending over to shake her little cheeks. 

Sanaa, seeing the opportunity for future blackmail, quietly pulls out her phone. She keeps it low, angled just right to capture Aaliyah’s passionate performance, a smirk playing on her lips as she records the whole thing.

As the song fades out, Naima looks over, noticing the phone in Sanaa's hand. “Wait, did you get that? Let me see!”

Sanaa, still riding the high of the song and not thinking twice, hands it over to Naima. Naima starts scrolling through the camera roll to find the video, but her thumb freezes. Her eyes widen, and she stops dead in her tracks. She ain’t looking at a video of Aaliyah rapping. 

On the screen is a crystal-clear, explicit video of Sanaa on her knees, her eyes staring up into the camera as she greedily sucks a thick, hard dick, her cheeks hollowing as she takes as much of the shaft as she can handle. Then there’s the voice of the man that carries all that dick coaching her in the back. 

Naima’s jaw drops, and she snaps her head up to look at Sanaa, her voice exploding in a mix of shock and hilarity.

“BITCH!” Naima screams, holding the phone up like a piece of evidence. “You got a video of you sucking dick in your phone?! You nasty bitch!”

 “WAP” suddenly didn’t matter anymore.

Naima is frozen, her eyes glued to the screen of Sanaa’s phone. On the display, the image is raw and unmistakable. Sanaa, her head tilted back, her eyes blinking in a trance of pure pleasure, her mouth stretched wide as she greedily takes a massive, vein-riven dick into her throat. The video captures the wet, sucking sound of her lips gliding over a spit-covered dick and the way her cheeks hollow out as she sucks the thick beast. 

Sanaa’s heart hammers against her ribs like a trapped bird. A cold spike of adrenaline shoots through her veins, turning her blood to ice. For a split second, she forgets where she is, her mind flashing back to the way Erik stretched her mouth for the first time. The panic hits her instantly—a visceral, choking wave. If Aaliyah sees this, it’s not just about the act; it’s about who it is. 

Sanaa lunges. It’s a blur of motion, the oversized Mindless Behavior shirt fluttering around her thighs as she dives across the bed. Her fingers scramble, clawing at Naima’s grip, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. 

“Give it back! Naima, give me my damn phone!” Sanaa hisses, her voice strained and bordering on a plea. She isn’t playing anymore; the playful suspicion from earlier is replaced by a genuine, wide-eyed terror. She can’t let Aaliyah see.  

Naima, caught up in the shock and the thrill of the find, holds the phone just out of reach, gawking at the screen one last time. She’s mesmerized by the filth of it, the raw sexuality of her friend being completely undone by a man’s dick. 

But Sanaa is faster. With a desperate swipe, she manages to snatch the device from Naima’s hand, clutching it to her chest as if it were a lifeline. She pulls back, her chest heaving, her turquoise glasses sliding slightly down her nose.

Aaliyah is sitting still on the floor, her expression unreadable. She didn’t seen the video, but she saw the reaction. She saw the panic in Sanaa’s eyes. A look that didn’t match the confidence Sanaa usually wore like armor. Aaliyah slowly turns her head, her gaze locking onto Sanaa.

“So…” Aaliyah starts, her voice low and calculating. “Nathan was over here then?”

There is a suspicion in Aaliyah’s eyes, a silent realization that there is a side to Sanaa’s life that is far more secretive and intense than a fintech worker from Bowie could ever provide. Sanaa doesn’t respond. She can’t. Her throat feels tight, her mind racing. She just stands there, the phone still pressed against her heart, the secret of Erik Killmonger burning a hole through the screen.

Naima, sensing the tension shifting from hilarity to something more serious, rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively. She leans back, trying to break the spell.

“Girl, please,”Naima says, glancing at Aaliyah. “It’s just a little dick sucking. Since when did we become the morality police? How many times have we exchanged photos asking if our nudes were sexy enough to send? We all get it in. Sanaa just happened to record the evidence.”

Naima laughs, trying to bring the vibe back to the casual, sisterly bond they shared minutes ago. Sanaa slowly exhales, but she doesn’t let go of the phone. 

Aaliyah giggles, the tension from a moment ago dissolving back into the easy, chaotic energy. She shakes her head, a playful smirk dancing on her lips as she watches Sanaa clutch the device. “You hanging on to that phone for dear life, girl,” Aaliyah jokes, her voice light but still carrying a hint of curiosity. “Is Nathan’s dick that big, sis?”

Naima bursts out laughing, the sound loud and unfiltered, and Aaliyah joins in, the two of them sharing a moment of sisterly mockery. 

Sanaa feels the adrenaline finally begin to recede, though her heart is still drumming a frantic beat against her ribs. She knows she’s walked a razor's edge, but she’s a master of the pivot. She lets out a forced but convincing laugh, leaning back and finally loosening her grip on the phone, though she keeps it firmly tucked away.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Sanaa quips, her voice regaining that bratty, confident edge.

Aaliyah’s eyes widen, her jaw nearly dropping. “SINCE WHEN?” she exclaims, leaning forward. “Since when did you become the vault? Give us the tea!”

Naima, ever the instigator and still buzzing from the visual she just witnessed on the screen, clears her throat loudly. She looks at Aaliyah with a look of pure revelation. “Well, if you must know, Liyah...the dick Sanaa was sucking is fucking HUGE—”

“Girl, hush!” Sanaa cuts her off sharply, her voice a mix of a laugh and a command. She can’t let Naima describe the sheer, vein-riven scale of Erik’s dick to his sister! No. No, no, no, no way. Quick as a flash, Sanaa scans the room for a distraction, her eyes landing on the nightstand. A mischievous glint enters her eyes as she spots a familiar shape and the crisp, fresh look of the bedding.

“Can we change the subject?” Sanaa asks, her tone shifting to one of playful accusation. “Like, why is your rose vibrator just sitting out in the open? And why the hell do I see brand new bed sheets?”

The room goes dead silent. The laughter vanishes instantly, replaced by a heavy, awkward stillness. Naima and Aaliyah freeze, exchanging a wide-eyed, look that speaks volumes. They don’t say a word, their silence acting as a loud, vibrating confession.

Sanaa looks between the two of them, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. She lets out a loud, knowing laugh, leaning in with a smirk. “It’s no secret y’all been bumping coochies—”

“SHUT UP, BRI!” Naima and Aaliyah scream in perfect unison, their faces flushing a deep shade of red.

The absurdity of the moment breaks the dam, and all three girls collapse into a fit of hysterical laughter, the secret of the video momentarily buried under the weight of the new, scandalous revelation. Sanaa laughs the hardest, feeling the thrill of the diversion, though in the back of her mind, she can still feel the ghost of Erik’s dominance, knowing that while she’s laughing with her friends, she belongs to a man who would ruin her for even thinking about sharing him.

The thoughts that ran through her mind…

“Just let him hit it once…just once…” “I bet he’d talk me through it…say all that nasty shit while I cum on him…” “He probably strokes slow, deep…makes you say thank you when he nut…” “That dick would make me cry…and I’d say thank you for it.” “Please, Erik…please fuck me…”

To actually live in that reality now was an understatement. 

The only thing missing…is “I wonder if he can make me squirt?” 

The sound of footsteps through the hallway immediately made Sanaa’s pulse spike.

Erik stepped into the doorway, filling the frame with his massive presence. He looked effortless but lethal, dressed in a matching grey hoodie and sweats that left the hard, expansive lines of his muscles to your imagination. His locs were tucked neatly beneath the hood, framing a face that looked tired but remained intensely focused. A black duffle bag was slung carelessly over one shoulder, his weight shifted onto one leg, sporting a fresh pair of Jordans.

“Ya’ll eat yet?” he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in Sanaa's chest. “Cuz I was thinkin’ ‘bout orderin’ in.”

“Yes! We got food already. Some pizza.” Aaliyah said. 

“I just ate that leftover chicken and rice we made earlier in the week.” Sanaa replied. 

“Bet,” Erik’s eyes scanned the room. “You don’t clean up in here at all, do you?” 

Sanaa was frozen, her turquoise glasses sliding slightly down her nose as her eyes dragged over him with hunger. She traced the breadth of his shoulders, the way the grey fabric stretched across his chest, and the sheer size of him compared to the room. She felt a familiar, hot ache bloom between her thighs, her pussy clenching just at the sight of him.

Naima, always the curious one, leaned forward, her eyes scanning the glimpses of rugged skin peeking from his collar. “Erik, what do those scars actually mean? Like, where’d they come from?”

Aaliyah let out a short, knowing laugh, leaning back against her pillows. “Don't bother, Nai. He won’t tell you. He’s too mysterious for his own good.”

Erik’s lips quirked into a sharp, knowing smirk. He didn’t even look at Naima, his gaze was locked onto Sanaa, pinning her in place. “What she said,” he spoke, his voice dripping with a playful, dangerous confidence.

He turned to leave, but he didn’t just walk away. He began backing down the hall, keeping his eyes locked on Sanaa’s. The moment he was far enough that the other girls weren’t focused on him, the energy changed from familial to filthy. 

Erik slowed his pace, his expression darkening. He slowly flicked his tongue over his top lip, a wet motion that told Sanaa exactly what he wanted to do to her. Then, with a slow, calculated movement, he reached down and gripped the hem of his grey hoodie.

He lifted the fabric, pulling it up high enough to reveal the sculpted, rock-hard terrain of his stomach and the deep, V-taper of his hips. The sight of his scarred skin and the power of his core made Sanaa gasp silently. Tucked firmly into the waistband of his sweats was the matte black grip of a pistol, the weapon adding a raw, dangerous edge to his sexuality that sent a shiver of pure arousal straight to her clit.

He held the pose for a heartbeat, letting her soak in the image of his strength and his lethality, before letting the hoodie drop. As he reached the corner of the hall, he didn't say a word. He simply mouthed two words, his eyes burning into hers:

“C’mere.”

Sanaa felt her heart hammering against her ribs. She wanted to bolt from the room, to throw herself onto him and feel that heavy weight pinning her down, but she was trapped between Naima and Aaliyah. 

Trembling, she grabbed her phone and shot him a quick text. 

Sanaa: why you always doing this to me 😩

A second later, she saw him stop. Erik looked at his phone, then looked back at her. He let out a sharp “tsk,” kissing his teeth in a gesture of pure, exaggerated annoyance. He gave her a look—one part disappointed daddy, one part ruthless conqueror—that was so intensely focused on her defiance that it almost made her laugh out loud.

Her phone buzzes.

Erik: Don’t think I ain’t see you come out that shower earlier without a bra. You do that shit on purpose, huh?

She bites her lip.

Sanaa: I’m cold. Maybe you should come warm me up.

Erik: I’d fuck the warmth back into you right now. Two fingers in while I suck on that pretty mouth. You’d try to keep quiet, wouldn’t you?

She exhales slow, adjusts her position.

Sanaa: Wouldn’t last a minute. I get loud for you. You know that.

Erik: That pussy get loud too. Keep talking and I’m a take my phone to the bathroom and beat this dick thinking about how you creamed on me earlier.

Her thighs press together. Her phone buzzes again.

Erik: You dripping right now? Tell me the truth.

Sanaa: Ruined my panties twenty minutes ago. Wanna see?

He shifts in the hallway. Back against the wall. Adjusts his joggers. Keeps a straight face. He didn’t argue. He just gave her one last, lingering look that promised a very heavy price for her disobedience before he disappeared into her room, leaving Sanaa drenched and anxious for the retaliation she knew was coming.

Sanaa lingered in Aaliyah’s room for a while longer. Every time she glanced down the hall, she could still feel the ghost of Erik’s gaze on her, the mental image of that matte black pistol against his skin and the way he’d flicked his tongue over his lip burned into her mind. Her pussy was throbbing, a heavy, insistent ache that made it hard to focus on whatever Naima was saying.

Eventually, the heat became too much to ignore. With a playful excuse about needing to wind down, Sanaa finally slid out of the room. As she walked down the hall, she passed the spot where Erik had stood, imagining the scent of him still clinging to the walls. Oud, clove, and something woodsy. Expensive and dark. He doesn’t spray it heavy but it lingers. On pillows. On shirts. 

Once inside her own room, she shut the door and leaned against it for a second, letting out a shaky breath. She stripped off her T-shirt  with hurried movements, her skin tingling. She slid into her bed, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the feverish warmth of her body. She pulled on her silk bonnet, tucking her curls away, and sprawled out across the mattress.

She lay there in the silence, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing. She could still feel the phantom pressure of his dominance, the way he’d mouthed “C’mere” with that look of absolute ownership. She rolled her hips, rubbing her thighs together, the friction sending a jolt of electricity straight to her clit. She was trapped in a state of agonizing anticipation, knowing that Erik was just a few walls away, likely thinking about exactly how he was going to punish her for saying I can’t.

There was a distinct click of a door closing. It was Aaliyah’s door. 

Sanaa froze, her breath hitching in her throat. The sound signaled that the coast was clear. The barrier between her and Erik had just vanished, and the sudden silence of the apartment felt like a countdown. 

Buzz buzz

Erik: You in your room?

She didn’t reply. Just smirked. Another buzz.

Erik: I’ma slide over

Then a soft knock. Real soft. 

Sanaa tiptoed to the door and cracked it, whispering, “Aaliyah still awake.”

“I know,” Erik said, already stepping in.

He didn’t push the door open hard, just eased through it like a shadow, shutting it with barely a click. The room was dark, save for the TV glow across her bed.

“Why you lookin’ like that?” he asked, eyes dragging over her titties and the peaks of her nipples. Then lower, to those cheeky, red panties that didn’t even pretend to cover her ass.

Sanaa curled her lip. “Like what?”

“Like you wanted me to see all that.”

She walked backward to the bed, slow. “Where you been at with a gun?” she teased.

He followed. “Out.”

“Why you can’t tell me?” Sanaa said with a pout. 

Erik exhaled, “Gun range. This…hidden spot I go to when I’m in town to get a few rounds in.” 

Sanaa smirks. “Can you take me next time?” 

Erik gives her a stern look. “No.” 

Sanaa rolls her eyes. “I been here thinking about how you made me cum in my shorts earlier.” 

“I see that,” he whispered, eyes dropping to her thighs. “You take that big ass T-shirt off ‘cause you knew I was coming over.”

She smirked, pulled one leg onto the bed. “So?”

Erik  just stared at her for a long moment. Then he crossed the room and leaned over her, both palms pressing into the mattress, caging her in. That scent hit her—cologne, leather, and a little sweat. His lips brushed hers. Then deeper. Tongue and spit. His kiss stole the air right out her lungs. A kiss that tasted like he missed her even if he just saw her minutes ago.

Erik pulled back just enough to whisper, “I came to taste somethin’ sweeter than attitude.”

Sanaa bit her lip, thighs squeezing together out of reflex.

“Get up,” he said low.

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Sit on the edge. Bring them knees up.”

The tone in his voice? Left no room for play.

Sanaa did what he said, backing up and sitting on the edge of her bed. She brought her feet up beside her, knees wide open. Those panties pulled tight, then gave way, pussy peeking through and sitting fat.

Erik sucked in a breath. “Damn, mama…”

He dropped to his knees like it was second nature. Big hands gripping her thighs, thumbs spreading her open like he’d done it a hundred times. He curled his fingers into the side of her panties and pulled them to the side. Her pussy lips slipped out with a jiggle. The amount of wet slick that clung to her fat lips and the crotch of her panties? 

Erik didn’t waste a fucking second. 

Sanaa gasped the second his mouth met her. Tongue warm. Wet. Slipping between those folds like he knew exactly where she needed it. Those lips?! 

Oh my Goddddddddddddd

“Oh—shit. Erik…” she whispered, hands gripping her sheets.

He groaned against her, licking deep, slow. Then fast. Then back slow again. That slurp and the smack of his lips filled the room, nasty beneath the TV noise. His hands hooked behind her thighs, holding them wide as he buried his mouth in her. Sucked on her clit until her whole body bucked.

“You hear me?” he growled against her pussy, lips wet with her. “Don’t make a fuckin’ sound.”

Her hand flew up, covering her mouth. She was shaking. Moaning behind her palm. Eyes rolling. Erik was sucking on her pussy like a hungry fucking beast. Sanaa didn’t know what felt so different this time around. But the sucking and licking had her feeling like she was gonna burst. Her stomach fluttered. 

But then it hit.

A tightness that started at the base of her spine. Crawled through her belly. Her thighs trembled.

“Erik—baby—wait—wait.”

“Nope,” he grunted, licking harder, faster. Sucking. 

She tried to close her legs. He shoved them back open.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, voice deep and ragged. “Let it go.”

Her stomach seized. Eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth opened in a silent cry behind her fingers as it happened. 

A rush. Warm and wet. A sudden gush that poured out of her, all over his mouth. Her thighs. The edge of the bed.

“Oh my God—” she gasped, embarrassed, stunned.

Erik didn’t stop. He licked her through it, eyes locked on her, tongue curling and dragging and sucking up everything she gave him. He loved that shit. Loved how she fell apart.

Loved how she tried to hold it in.

Sanaa was shaking when he finally slowed down, licking her clean with long, slow strokes. Her panties were ruined. Her bonnet was crooked. Her chest was heaving.

He kissed up the inside of her thigh and looked up, smirking. “Next time, don’t wait up for me,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Just lay here and get ready.”

Her eyes were glassy. Her legs still open.

“And Sanaa?”

“Yeah…?”

“You taste even better when you squirt.”

Erik left her sitting on the edge of the bed stunned.

1:35 A.M.

She couldn’t sleep.

The sheets were still damp at the edge. Her thighs sticky. Her pussy pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. Every time she moved, she felt the aftershock of its that warm gush, that thick wet mess Erik pulled out of her like it was nothing. Like her body had always been capable of that, but nobody ever took the time to find it. Nobody ever made her feel that good. That open. Now? She wanted it again. Her pussy ached for it. Throbbed hot and twitching like it remembered his tongue and missed it bad. She pressed her hand between her legs, trying to soothe it, but it wasn’t the same. Her fingers weren’t wide enough, strong enough, dirty enough. Her mouth went dry thinking about how Erik looked after. Wet beard, greedy tongue, hands keeping her wide like she belonged to him.

Sanaa bit her lip and grabbed her phone.

Sanaa: You up?

She barely had time to blink before her door eased open.

Erik stepped in shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Heavy-shouldered. Locs loose and swinging with the motion of his body. 

“You text me like that,” he said, voice low and scratchy. “You already know what I’m comin’ in here for.”

She pulled the covers back, heart in her throat. Fresh pair of panties on but still no T-shirt. 

“I been thinkin’ about it,” she admitted, cheeks warm. “What you did to me.”

His eyes dropped between her legs. “You want it again.”

She nodded.

He stepped close, leaned down, lips grazing hers without kissing. “You gon’ stop runnin’ from it this time?”

“I ain’t run.”

He smirked, dimple peeking. “You tried.”

And before she could sass him again, he was pulling her new panties off—slick with fresh arousal—and crawling onto the bed like a man starved. She didn’t even have time to get nervous. To prepare for that feeling as if a pipe was set to burst behind her navel. He laid her flat, bent her knees, and pulled her thighs apart like pages in a book he already knew how to read. Then he started like he never stopped. 

Again.

Tongue warm. Mouth wide. Slurping. Sucking. Spelling his damn name in cursive across her pussy. Sanaa gasped, back arching, fingers smoothing down his keloid-laden arms, eyes focused on the top of his head. His cross chain was cold and tickling her ass from how low he was between her legs. 

Her pussy was soaked. Dripping. He loved that. Erik fucking loved it. 

“Yeah,” he groaned, lapping her up. “You already close, huh?”

She whined. “Erik, please—”

“You don’t need to beg,” he said, voice thick and sweet between licks. “Just don’t run from it this time.”

She tried to breathe. She tried to brace. But the pressure built faster now. Her body recognized it. Started chasing it before she even meant to.

“Ohmygod—Erik—I’m—wait—wait—”

He didn’t wait.

He locked his arms under her thighs, anchored her to his face and ate her like a goddamn meal. His mouth sealed around her clit and sucked. The way he sucked, it felt like he was drawing the liquid from her through a straw.

H-H-How is he d-d-doing that?

That was it.

Her stomach tightened. Her toes curled. And then—

Splash.

Another rush.

Thicker this time. Wetter. Her thighs shook hard as the gush poured out of her, soaking his face, the sheets, everything. She gasped, stunned. Whimpering. But Erik didn’t come up for air. He licked through it, drank it, then started again. And when he started again, he sank two thick fingers in her pussy and curled his finger tips upward. 

Squelchsquelchsquelchsquelch—

Sanaa tried to squirm.

“Stay still.”

“Erik—it’s too much—”

“You gon’ take it ‘til your body stop bein’ scared of how good this feel.”

And he kept going.

She whimpered—biting her pillow this time—pussy throbbing like it was addicted now. That orgasm came quicker, stronger. Another messy release that made her whimper and twitch.

He made her do it.

Again.

And again.

By the time he finally pulled back, Sanaa was breathless. Legs trembling. Sheets drenched. Her mouth open but no words coming out.

Erik kissed her thigh. Smirked. “You mine,” he said, voice hoarse, chin hair and mustache soaked. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna eat this pussy like I do. Especially not that lil’ nigga.” 

She nodded slow, dazed.

And in the back of her mind, she already knew. She’d be texting him tomorrow night.

And the night after that.

Because now she needed it.

That tongue. That grip. That splash.

Erik had turned her out.

Turned her into a squirter.

With nothing but his mouth.

Horny was an understatement. Erik took you anywhere and everywhere; once in sacred waters, with your back against stone walls and one leg around his waist as he held you up, dew from the waterfall tracing the patterns on his back. Another time he had you on his lap, thighs spread as you rode him on the throne, right into the morning sun. 

And now you were face down gripping the sheets, fully nude except for the antique wedding ring on your finger.  With a sharp smack, you lurched forward, losing your balance. 

“You runnin’ from me?” He leered, baring his teeth as he smirked. “You ain’t never had no dick like this, huh?” 

Between moans, you shook your head, throat dry as you tried to find the words. 

“N-No—“ 

“Nuh-uh, none of that mumbling shit,” he cut you off. “Lemme hear it. Tell me who owns this.” 

Clamping down on your lip, your chest constricted as the weight of his words weighed on you. The sex was good – painfully good – and Erik was undoubtedly hot, but your submission hadn’t come easy. Though you had no ties to Wakanda, you were one of Xavier’s mutants and had heard of the destruction he’d caused to those of the nation, simply for disagreeing with him.  

That was why he’d sought you out; a mutant and a mercenary-turned-King would make a powerful baby…essentially ensuring the country’s status for generations. 

Protection was one thing, yes, but your freedom was far more important, especially when it came to a man like Erik. You’d resisted him at first, to which he’d replied with a strong hand around your throat and a dagger pressed against your back as he held you against him. 

“You might be all high n’ mighty now, but those people ain’t your friends. You belong here with the rest of us. I ain’t gonna let you forget where your real family is, princess. Never.” 

You hated giving him the satisfaction, but you inevitably ended up eating your words. 

“Shit…” you groaned, torso heavy as you felt Erik raise one leg, thrusting into you harder. His balls were heavy on your soppy wet cunt as he grunted profanities of his own, a thumb lingering dangerously close to your star of your ass. “ ‘S good…So good…Nobody could fuck me like you can—“ 

“That’s right,” he hummed, voice smooth. Sneakily, he pressed his thumb against your hole, the pressure sending a tingle through your loins. “Say it again. Say my name this time.” 

“E-Erik—“ you breathed, the lower half of your body seemingly on fire. “T-This fucking dick is so good, Erik…” 

“You just eatin me up…This ass’ so perfect—“ he sneered, brown eyes ravenous as he spread the fat of your cheeks, admiring the way your tight cunt swallowed all six-something inches of his cock.  

He was balls deep now, but he could see his cock glistening with your juices at his base, vein throbbing as he felt himself beginning to lose control. His thick black locs blurred his sight as they fell in his face, unruly, forcing him to sit back and let your ass envelop him once more. 

Each of his bulging muscled seemed to twitch, and you could’ve sworn that you felt your pussy quiver with anticipation as he called out the words: 

“Fuck, babygirl. You drivin’ me crazy. ‘M gonna fill this pussy up, hm? You gon’ give me a baby?” 

“Yes, w-whatever you want — ugh!”  

You garbled, unable to comprehend the words that were leaving your mouth. Your walls clenched as his fat tip hit that sensitive spot, sending you crashing down almost instantly as he came with you with a loud groan.  

Hot and heavy, he shot ropes of white ribbons into your sensitive cunt, languid strokes making pornographic squelching sounds as he fucked it into you, ensuring that you didn’t waste a drop. Erik’s grip on your skin was certainly enough to leave a bruise on you tomorrow, combined with the soreness of your ass cheeks. 

Somewhat uncharacteristically, Erik leant down to place a chaste kiss along the small of your back and up your spine; chest dense and heaving as he practically collapsed on you, cock still inside. 

“You doin’ so good for me, mama…” he cooed, briefly glancing at the sunset in-front of him, now casting brilliant shadows within the bedroom. You couldn’t see it, but there was a smug gleam in his deep brown eyes that would’ve told you instantly that he probably wasn’t done for the night.  

the halls of the golden city no longer sounded like home. they echoed now. not with the ancient rhythms passed down by your foremothers. not with the low, ancestral chants that once settled over the palace like fog at dawn. no — they echoed with the weight of new boots on sacred stone. boots that did not belong to a king.

they belonged to a conqueror.

erik stevens — no, he called himself n’jadaka now — had taken the throne barely two weeks ago. the blood from the ritual combat had not yet fully dried in the sacred pool, and yet the council already bowed their heads to him, lips tight with fear. there had been no second trial. no challenge. the mountain tribe stood down. t’challa’s body had vanished with the river.

you’d known t’challa since you were children. you used to spar with him beneath the shade of the elder tree, both of you too proud to admit when you’d bruised. he trusted you to hold the long-view strategy for wakanda in your hands — one of the few civilians allowed in the high council chambers. strategist. advisor. loyalist. and now… traitor, by some mouths. prisoner, by others.

but erik hadn’t thrown you to the dungeons.

instead, he kept you close.

“a mind like yours shouldn’t rot in a cell,” he’d said, the day after the coronation. he’d spoken it low in your ear, like a secret only you were worthy of. “nah… i want you right where i can see you.”

and now here you were — standing in the war room, your thick frame wrapped in deep blue and gold robes, tension stiff across your shoulders. the rich fabric clung to the slope of your hips, accentuating the body that no uniform could hide. you could feel his gaze on you before you even turned around.

“what you think, strategist?” erik’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade. deep, deliberate, heavy with that oakland-born bite. “we hit london first? or new york?”

you didn’t look at him right away. instead, you traced the holographic map glowing across the table with your fingers, watching the borders pulse with potential violence. cities were marked in red. colonizer capitals. your jaw tensed.

“wakanda does not conquer,” you said, carefully. not too soft. not too sharp. “that is not our way.”

“yeah,” he muttered, stepping closer. “and where that get y’all? watchin’ while your brothers and sisters got they necks stepped on. wakanda been hiding.”

he circled behind you like a panther. not quite touching. but close enough that your skin prickled where his heat brushed you. you refused to flinch. he wanted to see you rattle. it was the game, now. every day — the game.

“this ain’t about revenge,” he said, lowering his voice. “this about balance. and power.”

“power built on blood doesn’t last,” you replied, turning finally to face him. your eyes locked. his were molten — dark and unreadable, but sparking with something cruel and magnetic. “and what you’re building… it’s made of bones.”

he didn’t blink. just smiled slow, head tilting.

“so?” he asked, tongue dragging across the edge of his teeth. “that bother you?”

he was too close now. tall, broad, shirt open at the chest. gold fangs flashing beneath full lips. skin dusted in the faintest sheen of sweat and sun, each raised kill mark down his chest a monument to pain — and victory. you hated how magnetic he was. how his presence filled the air so fully it pushed everything else out. his scent was warm metal and cedar. his voice was gravity.

“you loyal to t’challa,” he said, voice dipped low again. “i know that. but you still here. still breathin’. still dressin’ like you got somewhere to be.”

his eyes dragged down your figure — from the tight fold of your waist wrap, across the swell of your hips, to where your thighs brushed under soft fabric. you shifted. not out of discomfort — but because you could feel how intently he watched you.

“you tryna prove somethin’?” he murmured. “or you just don’t know where else you fit now?”

you straightened, spine like steel.

“i serve wakanda,” you said. “not the man who sits on the throne.”

his laugh was soft, almost amused. but there was no kindness in it.

“sound like you tryna convince yourself.”

each day after that followed a pattern. you studied maps, advised on diplomatic approaches you didn’t believe in, and fed him half-truths through clenched teeth. still, he kept you near. always asking for your perspective, always testing your loyalty. his soldiers looked at you with suspicion, but they didn’t touch you. not without his permission.

he was possessive like that. even when he didn’t say it out loud.

and slowly — sickeningly — you started to understand him.

not agree. never that. but understand.

how anger had carved itself into him, root-deep. how power was the only language he’d ever been taught. he wielded it like a weapon, sharp and beautiful. and when he wasn’t using it to dominate a room, he used it on you — with whispers, glances, and challenges he knew you’d rise to.

he never tried to force you. he didn’t need to. erik killmonger was more dangerous than that — because he made you want to play his game.

he’d lean close during briefings, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured critiques. he’d stand at the top of the royal steps while you debated councilmen, watching your every word like a test. and when you succeeded — when your voice swayed the elders just enough — he’d nod, slow and proud, like he was claiming you for it.

“look at you,” he’d say, later, while passing you alone in the garden corridors. “still tryna save people who would’ve let you die with the old king.”

you hated how deep those words burrowed. hated how you still walked the halls after dark, pulse racing at the sound of his voice in the distance.

one night, weeks in, you found yourself summoned.

not by a guard. not by a formal scroll.

just a voice in the corridor. soft. direct. one word.

“come.”

when you stepped into the throne room, it was empty but for him. torchlight flickered along the walls, casting long shadows across the black stone floor. the panther statue loomed silent behind the throne.

erik sat on it like he was born there. legs spread. arms relaxed. gaze dark and direct.

you didn’t bow.

you didn’t speak.

he studied you in silence for a long moment, then motioned you forward with two fingers.

“you believe i don’t deserve this,” he said, voice level. “say it.”

your throat tightened. but you forced yourself steady.

“i believe your rule is built on a lie,” you said. “wakanda’s legacy is not yours to twist.”

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. but his voice dropped, slow and rough.

“and yet here you stand.”

your lips parted — to argue, maybe. or to defend yourself. but no words came.

“i ain’t stupid,” he said, rising from the throne. “i know what this is.”

he stepped toward you again, each stride deliberate.

“you hate me,” he said, stopping just inches away. “but you watch me. every time. you listen. you fight back.”

his hand didn’t touch you. but it hovered just near your jaw. his heat was a weight. your breath quickened.

“ain’t no loyalty in that,” he said, eyes burning into yours. “that’s desire.”

you said nothing.

but you didn’t step back.

he smiled. slow. teeth sharp.

“loyal little queen’s dog,” he said, voice dripping heat. “you ever wonder how it’d feel to break?”

your pulse thudded between your thighs.

but your voice stayed even.

“never,” you whispered.

his eyes dropped — from your lips, to your chest, to the curve of your hips.

“we’ll see.”

his fingers ghosted along your jawline, calloused and hot, but still not touching. erik didn’t rush. no — he never did. dominance for him was earned in slow, suffocating inches. he wanted to watch you squirm under your own restraint. test the shape of your resistance until it shattered on him.

“ain’t gotta say yes,” he murmured, voice low and thick like honey-drenched smoke. “but you ain’t leavin’ either. so what that tell me, hm?”

his thumb dragged — barely — across the curve of your lower lip. your breath hitched. he felt it.

you hated him.

but you wanted him more.

you turned your head just enough to break the spell, stepping back one pace. but that inch was his permission — and he followed, advancing like he owned the ground beneath your feet. your back met the edge of the throne before you realized he’d corralled you there. trapped between carved stone and muscle-thick heat, your body buzzed like war drums. your thighs clenched without command.

“mm,” he laughed, low in his chest. “there she go. wakanda’s finest. thick as the land itself, still actin’ like she ain’t dyin’ to break for me.”

you didn’t respond.

not with words.

you reached for him instead — finally, with fingers curling into the front of his open vest. not a surrender. not exactly. just… the beginning of something too old for language.

his mouth met yours like fire. brutal, claiming. teeth clashing, lips hot. it wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t sweet. it was a fight dressed in heat, breath on breath, until you moaned into his mouth and he groaned against your teeth. the taste of him was sweat, blood, and something darker — control.

his hand came down on your ass with a sharp, open slap.

you gasped, clinging harder.

“yeah,” he growled, sliding one thick thigh between yours, forcing them open. “you like that, huh? all that royal pride, but this fat lil pussy tryna talk to me different.”

you rocked against his leg before you even realized it — heat pooling deep between your thighs, clit desperate for friction. the throne room was silent but for your breath and the echo of his voice wrapping around your moans.

“what would t’challa say, huh?” he teased, hand curling around your hip as he pulled you harder against his leg. “his loyal strategist grindin’ on a nigga she swore to kill.”

you bit your lip, tried to turn your face — but he caught your chin in one hand and held you there.

“nah,” he said, low. “you look at me.”

his eyes pinned you in place, molten and unmoving. you couldn’t look away if you tried. not now. not when his fingers slipped beneath your wrap and found your bare skin, dragging slow up the inside of your thigh.

“this what you been hidin’ under all them robes?” he whispered, voice almost reverent. “this fat-ass pussy been waitin’ on me, huh?”

you whined — not in surrender, but need.

he chuckled deep.

“bend over.”

you hesitated.

his gaze sharpened. darkened.

“ngenze njalo.”

the words hit your core like a flame. do as i say.

you obeyed.

hands braced against the throne, you bent for him — thick ass high, legs wide. you heard the hitch in his breath as he stepped back to take in the sight.

then—

smack.

his palm cracked across your cheek again. not too hard. but enough.

“keep that arch,” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your folds from behind. “mm… this shit wet as fuck. and i ain’t even fucked you yet.”

you moaned, low and shivering.

he knelt behind you, breathing hot over your inner thigh. his mouth pressed to your pussy — not kissing, tasting. tongue flat and deliberate, slapping your clit before sucking it with slow precision.

“fuck—!” you gasped, knuckles white on stone.

he didn’t rush. took his time. tongue moving like he owned the rhythm of your body. your thighs trembled, fat and soft against his jaw. he moaned into you like the taste alone was divine.

“you ridin’ me tonight,” he said, rising behind you again, voice thick with hunger. “on my throne. i want them pretty titties bouncin’ while i watch you fall apart.”

you turned as he shed the rest of his vest — then his pants.

his dick hung heavy, thick, the kind of size that made you pause. covered in veins, head dark and already leaking. he stroked it slow while he stared you down.

“come on, queen,” he murmured. “show me what loyalty look like now.”

you climbed onto the throne — his throne — hands braced on his chest, thick thighs spreading over him as you straddled his lap. his hands found your hips, pulling you down so the head of his cock teased your entrance. you both breathed ragged.

then — you sank down.

inch by inch.

his mouth dropped open, teeth grit.

“god damn,” he hissed. “this pussy heavy as fuck.”

you rode him slow at first — adjusting to his size, your walls clenching tight. his eyes never left your face. not once. his hands guided you, rhythm building with every bounce of your thick ass. you bounced harder. louder.

smack.

his palm slapped your ass again. then again. red prints bloomed.

“take that dick,” he growled. “look at you — thick lil loyalist, takin’ a real king’s cock.”

you whimpered, rolling your hips faster, sweat sliding down your throat. your tits bounced, full and heavy, catching his eyes with every thrust.

“say who this pussy belong to,” he demanded.

you moaned, too far gone to think, riding him like salvation. like war. like you hated him — and loved the way he destroyed you.

he grabbed your throat.

“say it.”

you whispered it.

“…you.”

his eyes lit with fire.

he flipped you in one swift motion — your back now against the cold stone of the throne, legs spread as he pounded into you, harder, deeper, cock hitting every spot like he knew you already.

you were nothing now. just gasps. heat. slick. sweat.

he grunted, one hand pressing on your lower belly as he fucked you deeper.

“you feel that?” he rasped. “i’m in there. ain’t no goin’ back now, mama.”

you clawed at him, body coiling tight.

your climax ripped through you like thunder — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry.

he followed seconds later, spilling deep inside you with a growl, hands fisting in your waist like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.

you laid there afterward — still on the throne, legs sprawled, his breath heavy on your neck.

he kissed your shoulder once.

then again.

not gentle. not soft.

just… his.

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐕𝐘𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀.

While in the stores, she would first search for the books on her must-haves. Then, she would look for the maybes. She would scan over the synopsis and maybe the first page before deciding. She did this same routine in every store she went into.

After such a strenuous morning, Amelia was exhausted but excited upon returning home. She knew exactly the book she wanted to read first. She had showered and changed back into her nightgown. She climbed onto the bed and searched through the hoard of books. Amelia had tried her best to keep the books separated by genre to help her sort them.

There it was— a book she had wanted since its release five months ago. Amelia was back in her happy place as she lay on her tummy across Erik's bed, facing the headboard. She held the book and began kicking her feet in bliss. She opened the book and began to read the prologue before remembering that she didn't want any distractions. She grabbed her phone and placed it on DND. Tossing her phone somewhere behind her, she began to read again.

4 hours later

Unbeknownst to Amelia, hours had passed. Many hours. Her phone was still on DND, so she was unaware of Erik's 13 missed calls and 8 unread text messages. Unfortunately, she also didn't know he was on his way home.

As Amelia lay reading, Erik arrived at his home. He was pissed. Amelia had ignored him all day. He was a little paranoid about these kinds of situations considering the life he lived before meeting her.

Erik unlocked the door quietly checking for any signs of forced entry. He slowly crept through the house. As he approached the back rooms, the only light visible was coming from under his bedroom door. He could hear what sounded like Amelia laughing, but he was too unsure. He unsheathed his Glock and held it in his hands. As he inched closer to the door, he quieted his steps. Putting his stealth skills to use, he leaned against the door using the weight of his body to stop it from creaking as he opened it.

Awaiting him was an exhausted Amelia. She was facing away from him still completely unaware of his presence. He had always told her she had the self-awareness of a toddler.

He slowly placed his gun into his waistband. Trying his hardest not to startle or alert her to his presence, he crept up to the foot of the bed. He grabbed Amelia's left foot and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “Princess!” Erik says flipping Amelia over onto her back causing the book to slip from her hands. “Erik!” she screamed. She was still unsure how this man could toss her around so easily.

“Busy?” he asked folding his arms across his chest. “Umm…,” Amelia said sitting on her knees at the edge of the bed. She leaned up to give Erik an apologetic kiss. “Where's your phone?” he asked uncrossing his arms.

Amelia turned around and began searching for the phone in the bed. Piles of books were everywhere— an assortment of thrillers, romance, erotica, mystery, fantasy, and more. She knew it was there somewhere. She found it and looked at the screen. 13 missed calls and 8 unread text messages from “Daddy😈”. She turned back around to see Erik cracking his knuckles.

Uh oh

“So, you were reading all day? Is that why you were ignoring me, baby girl?” Erik said caressing her cheek. “Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just really…” she said putting her hands on his shoulders. “That's unacceptable, and you know that,” he said putting his right hand on the side of her neck. He used his thumb to stroke over the front of her throat., teasing her. Amelia swallowed because she knew what was coming— a punishment fit for his princess.

Erik stood there staring at Amelia's throat. “Where's the book you were just reading?” Erik asked stilling his movements. She pointed behind her to the only opened book on the bed. She was growing anxious by the second. Amelia began to whimper in desperation, trying to craft a scheme to escape this.

Erik's eyes shot up to meet Amelia's now brimming with tears. “Amelia, baby?” Erik lulled. “Yes, Daddy?” she asked hoping this would absolve her of her discretions. Considering that it was an honest mistake, she hoped he would be lenient. “Shut that shit up,” he said in the most level tone. He didn't raise his voice a decibel, but Amelia knew.

“Since you wanna read so much, read to me. I wanna see what's got you so distracted,” Erik said leaning over grabbing the book and handing it to Amelia.

4 orgasms denials later

Amelia was fighting for her life. Erik was eating her out from the back and forcing her to read the book aloud simultaneously. Every time she slipped up or stopped he lit her ass up like a Christmas tree.

His tongue sliding up and down her folds over and over again was driving her insane. She continued to read while breathing out ragged breaths. He was positioned right behind her on the bed. His tongue was warm and slick from her juices.

Erik leaned up and sat directly between her legs. He used his arms to flip Amelia over onto her back in one swift move. She yelled out in shock. Amelia looked down pleading to Erik with her eyes. He scoffed at her attempt to use her puppy dog eyes against him. He sat back and looked at Amelia's sloppy pussy and swollen clit. He took his hand and slid it up and down her slit, coating his fingers in her cum.

He brought his hand to his mouth and began to suck on his fingers. Amelia stopped to stare at Erik in awe. Without even losing focus on his task at hand, he used his other hand to smack Amelia's already swollen clit. “I didn't tell you to stop!” he barked while removing his fingers from his mouth. Amelia tried to continue reading but could feel Erik shifting between her legs.

Amelia turned the page and peeked under the book. She could see Erik's hand lining up with her pussy again. She felt his middle and index fingers slide into her wet pussy with a squelch. She moaned out and clenched her pussy around his fingers. He began to drive his fingers upward against her g-spot. He was merciless while fingerfucking her.

She started stuttering and closed her eyes too caught up in bliss. Erik used his free hand to smack the outside of her thigh. The sound echoed through the room. The thickness of her thighs provided no cushion for the blows he was dishing out. If anything, it was giving him more to work with. Her ass was already obliterated— red, swollen, and covered in welts.

They had been at this for almost an hour because of how well he was dragging out his teasing. She was tired of being denied but knew she held no power in this situation. All she could do was take it.

He leaned over Amelia's body pushing her knees up to her chest. How did he expect her to read like this?

His fingers were still punishing her pussy. He looked at Amelia and began to speak, “I don't hear you!” Amelia tried to read, but she felt like her voice was strained. The way he had her folded in half with his body holding her legs and thighs in place was making it hard to breathe. “Daddy, please. I can't…,” she whined out. “You can, and you fuckin' will. Do you hear me?” Erik said slowing his fingers down inside of her. He knew Amelia's weakness— slow strokes and deep pokes. He was using his fingers to massage her insides. He was kneading her pussy like dough.

Erik's heavy breathing was overshadowed by the sounds of Amelia's moans and her pussy squelching. It sounded like someone was flicking their fingers under a running faucet. Amelia dropped the book on her stomach, and Erik's hand instantly smacked her thigh twice. “Pick…it…the…fuck…up!!!” Erik growled through gritted teeth.

Amelia reached for the book. She tried her best to continue to read as Erik's fingers drove her insane. Erik lifted her left leg and pushed it back against her chest. He angled his body so that he was slightly to the side of Amelia's body. He leaned over and began to suck her clit while continuing to finger her pussy.

The words were leaving her mouth, but she wasn't attempting to comprehend or remember what she read. Erik removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. He moved so that his face was right between Amelia's legs. His tongue thrust inside her pussy. “Fuck. I'm… I'm gonna… Oh, I'm ‘bout to cum!” Amelia screamed. “Oh, really? I don't…remember you…askin’ me..for shit!” Erik said in between licks. “May I please cum? I can't take it anymore!” Amelia said her eyes filled with tears. “You betta!” Erik said slapping her clit with his free hand.

That was all it took to push Amelia over the edge. Her legs locked onto Erik as her belly seized. Her juices flooded Erik's fingers as he pushed them back in, leaking all over his hand and down his arm. He opened his mouth and covered her pussy so that he could catch everything. Amelia's moans turned to pained grunts. She was done.

Erik released his mouth from her pussy. He let go of her thick thighs causing them to fall like dead weights onto the bed. Amelia pulled her legs away from Erik and rolled over onto her side. He smacked her ass cheek while grabbing it roughly. “Good girl. You gone ignore Daddy again?” He asked leaning over to kiss Amelia's shoulder. “No, sir,” Amelia mumbled. “That's what the fuck I thought!” Erik replied standing from the bed.

“Get some rest, princess. Daddy's not done with you yet,” Erik said removing his shirt and heading towards the bathroom. “What?” Amelia said, jolting up from the bed. “Dafuck did you just say to me?” Erik snapped spinning around to meet Amelia's weak and apologetic eyes. “Nothing,” Amelia said as she let her head hit the bed again. “Since you got so much mouth, you got an hour. I know exactly what the next punishment is,” Erik said grinning.