16: NOT A MAN OF LOVE

When the loud metal door slid open by five a.m Monday morning, all the girls jumped awake.

Two things were wrong with it.

One, no one opened their door in the mornings.

Everyone just went out whenever it was time to resume at their duty post.

Two, it was still too early for anyone to be opening their door.

The door was pushed wide open and a dark, wide figure silhouetted the doorway, casting a shadow of doom into the room.

The girls screamed, at the same time the lights came on and the screams died in their throats.

It was Iroko, looking dark and sullen; with a bandage wrapped around his head.

"Abike Kolawole," the guard rumbled, his voice echoing in the silent room.

Everyone held their breaths and turned their heads, trying to see who the unfortunate girl was

Abike sat up on the bed, stunned.

Why was Iroko calling her at this hour?

Why was Iroko even calling her at all?

The clock in the room said it was just a few minutes to five a.m., so what was the problem?

She had laundry duty today and it didn't start till ten a.m when the laundry room would be open.

She had hoped she could sleep in today.

"Abike Kolawole," the guard called again and Abike cowered.

This was Mrs. Jamila's thug! And Mrs. Jamila hated her.

"Abike Kolawole!" the guard growled this time, his face harsh and unfriendly.

Abike climbed off her bed and stumbled forward, feeling the gazes of the other girls burning into her back.

The guard sighted her and waited for her to approach before walking back out the door.

Abike followed him.

The door slammed shut and she was in the hallway with the guard, utterly alone.

Iroko held her gaze for a minute and then wobbled forward, his large frame looking more daunting in the low lights of the hallway and as they walked Abike made sure to maintain a sizable distance between the both of them; incase the surly looking guard swerved around all of a sudden to pounce on her.

They moved down the hallway and Abike noticed they were going towards the kitchen.

This was the first time she was seeing the usually busy kitchen empty and it was because it was still so early.

No one was in there except Mrs. Jamila who was leaning on the counter holding a glass of milk and the woman glared at her as she approached with the guard.

Iroko stopped in front of the woman and stepped to stand beside her. The both of them glared down at Abike.

"Good morning, mistress." Abike greeted her.

"The Prince says he wants his glass of milk everyday at exactly five a.m before he leaves for training. Tomorrow you will be pouring the milk yourself. I did it for you today because I didn't tell you prior to this time." The woman pushed the glass of milk into her hands and Abike reflexively curled her fingers around it, even though she was shocked to the point of dumbness.

What in the name of the gods was going on?

"This is where we usually keep the milk." Mrs Jamila threw open one of the kitchen cabinets and Abike saw several cartons of milk lined together in a neat row.

"You have two minutes to get the glass of milk to him," Mrs. Jamila said and turned away from her to walk further into the large kitchen.

Iroko shuffled behind her.

"I think you are mistaken, mistress."

As soon as the two people broke their glare, Abike snapped out of her daze.

"I have laundry duty this week; you said it yourself at the arena yesterday. You gave the Prince's room duty to a girl named Tope."

Mrs. Jamila turned to her again, her face a mask of impatience.

"Did Iroko mince words when he came to your room to call you? Are you not Abike Kolawole? You have been given back that duty as of now. The Tope girl would get something else. It's a minute past five, only God can help you now." The woman turned away again and this time Abike let her go.

She wasn't even fully awake yet and now she had to face the Prince again.

So soon?

She traced her way out of the kitchen and down the empty halls towards the Prince's room.

She heard shuffling from behind the door when she arrived and knocked once. The shuffling stopped and she pushed the door open.

Their gazes clashed from across the breadth of the wide room and for a moment, Abike forgot she was supposed to hate him.

He didn't waste any time in reminding her.

"What does the time say, servant?"

He was standing beside his bed in his full workout wear, stuffing ropes and other equipments into his camo bag.

"Five o three," she said calmly and his eyes narrowed in response.

Abike watched as he zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder, his walk slow and lazy as he approached her.

She forced herself to hold still.

What was the worse he could do?

He stopped in front of her, towering like a giant and she was forced to tilt her head back to look at him.

"I would pardon your tardiness this morning, but let it be the last time it would happen." His eyes looked cold and lifeless as he took the glass of milk from her hand and knocked it down his throat.

"A glass of milk every morning by five. My breakfast by eleven, my lunch by three and a plate of fruit by five before I go to bed."

He pushed the glass back into her hands, pushed past her and slammed the door shut behind him as he left.

xXx

"He is so good," Jamal whispered to Murewa from the corner of his mouth as they stood in the training ground.

They had been teaching the recruits how to shoot arrows since six a.m. and no one had been getting the hang of it except Muyiwa.

The other recruits were huddled around him, watching as he kept shooting arrows and hitting the bullseye every time without missing.

When the arrows finished in his quiver, he dropped the bow and looked towards his instructors, his eyes lowered.

Murewa watched the boy silently for a while. The way his fingers tapped the bow methodically and how he sneaked glances up at them.

He liked the boy.

Jamal was the first to speak up.

"That was an adequate performance, boy. What's your name?" He walked towards the group.

"Olumuyiwa," the boy answered, raising his head to meet Jamal's gaze; while the other boys cowered, lowering their heads instinctively.

"Did you have a previous knowledge of this?" Jamal took the bow from the boy. "Or you were able to do this from what we taught you this morning?"

"This morning," the boy answered shortly.

"Hmmmm," Jamal hummed and turned to the other boys.

"Who is feeling challenged enough to go next?" He questioned and the boys shuffled back.

Murewa watched from his position as Jamal went through the lessons again and another boy was given a chance to try his hand.

The boy tried with half a dozen arrows and only one hit the bullseye.

Two other boys also tried and their performances wasn't better.

Jamal rounded up the training with a frustrated threat and then sent them on their way.

Each boy dropped their bows and arrows in a crate as they left.

"Man, I don't even get as exhausted as this whenever I work out five hours straight. These boys are a handful." Jamal flung his own bow and arrow into the crate.

"Hmmm," Murewa hummed his response.

"Yes, let's go." Jamal bounced on his feet.

"There is a certain someone waiting for me to take out this stress on her." He wiggled his brows.

"Tinu?" Murewa raised one brow and Jamal nodded with a grin.

"Hmmm. You like her?"

"She gets the job done, so yes." Jamal's grin grew wider.

"Does she...uhm...?" Murewa faltered and Jamal stopped bouncing and held still.

In all their time together, he had never seen the Prince look so flustered.

"Does she make you feel some type of way?" He asked finally.

"Oh, she makes me feel many ways, alright." Jamal gyrated his hips to simulate someone having sex.

"Not like that; well that too, but..." Murewa shook his head and looked longingly towards the Palace.

"Not in a sexual manner. Like you see her and you feel so protective and possessive. Like you want to touch her."

"You mean love?" Jamal's eyes narrowed.

"Because that's how you feel when you love someone. Come on man." Jamal scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"I don't love Tinu, I just want to fuck."

Murewa's mouth tightened angrily and Jamal wondered what he said that was so wrong.

"Why do...?"

"Let's go." Murewa picked up their workout bag and started for the Palace.

Jamal watched him go in confusion.

                                       xXx

After taking his bath and feeling very refreshed after the morning training, Murewa decided it was time to revisit what he had been pushing to the back of his mind.

He was letting a twenty three years old servant girl get under his skin and it was beginning to irritate him whenever he found himself thinking about her in sudden moments.

He realised it was probably because he hadn't really figured out what he wanted to do with her.

He wanted her.

That much was certain. Very, very certain.

And he intended to have her.

The only thing that confused him now was the other feelings that came attached to the want and lust he felt.

He had felt lust before. He had wanted a lot of beautiful girls before; but the feelings never came attached with anything else.

He just had his way and moved forward.

But with Abike, he felt peace, he felt happy, he felt calmness whenever she was with him.

He felt everything all at once.

He wanted to touch her and have her touch him too.

Was that doom?

Or did it just mean he wanted her on a whole different level?

He heard someone knock and knew instinctively that it was her.

The door slipped open and in she came with his tray of food.

Her gaze met his as she walked and to Murewa's annoyance, she didn't look at him with the wonder and adoration he was accustomed to seeing in her eyes.

She looked sad and it frustrated him.

She had said she wanted him and he knew he wanted her.

Maybe he was simply overthinking things.

Even if he couldn't make sense of all his other feelings, he could make sense of the lust.

Anytime she walked into the room, he just wanted to fuck her till all she knew was him.

That still stood. And that was what he would play on.

He wasn't going to deny himself of her any longer.

"What does the time say?" He barked at her.

"Eleven twenty," she answered without apologies.

Murewa forced himself to remain calm. There was plenty of time.

He took the tray she stretched out to him and she turned to leave.

"Did I ask you to leave?"

He put the tray beside him and looked up at her.

She turned to him defiantly.

"I only brought your food." Her eyes narrowed in anger.

"I am not staying any second longer."

He watched the emotions play on her face.

The fact that she talked back at him like she had any say infuriated and amused him at the same time.

Any other person who even dared to talk back at him like this would have been reeling from a well placed hit, but not Abike.

He couldn't even bring himself to hurt her.

"You had better watch your tongue." He warned in a low voice and she snapped her mouth shut.

"Just stand there and be obedient like a fucking good servant and await orders from your Master."

Like a flash, her hand shot out to strike his face.

He caught her wrist just before her palm flattened across his cheek and he raised his own hand instinctively to strike back.

She slung as far back as his hold on her would allow and crouched to the floor, one elbow raised to protect herself from his blow.

Murewa caught himself just before he hit her back; jerked her up from the floor with the slim wrist he was holding and pushed her back until she was pressed against the opposite wall.

"You got mad I called you servant? What the fuck are you? You think so highly of yourself, hmm? You think you are a fucking Queen. What would you have me call you? Baby? Princess?" He barked down on her angrily, as he pinned her wrist to the wall above her head.

"Look at me when I am talking to you," he growled and Abike lifted her head immediately, her eyes shiny with unshed tears as she looked into his cold, hard eyes.

He stared at her soundlessly for a while, thinking how close he had come to hitting her. It was instinctive for him to always attack whenever he felt threatened and for a moment there, he almost forgot himself.

Abike was too fragile, too weak.

If he had hit her, he would have broken her.

"Don't ever raise your hand against me, Abike. I am not an easy man. I don't want to hurt you."

His voice was so gentle, barely a whisper and Abike's eyes drifted close, trying to steel herself against him.

He was doing it again, being soft and gentle with her.

And then when she finally fell for it, he would turn on her and act like he hadn't been the one stringing her along.

She felt his two palms flatten on either side of her head and her eyes flew open again.

She was shocked by how warm and gentle his touch was, compared to the granite she could still see in his eyes.

She felt tears slip from her eyes and he brushed them away with his thumbs.

"Don't cry, mama," she heard him murmur softly and Abike began to shake her head; wanting desperately to be free of him, but he wouldn't budge.

"No," Abike found herself saying.

"Please, let me go," she cried. "I am tired of you pushing me wherever you want. You told me you don't want me, just let me go." She pushed against his chest, but he didn't even move an inch.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere," he said softly. "I am not done with you just yet." He smoothed his hand down her face.

"You still want me?"

She remained quiet.

"Do you still want me, mama?"

"Yes," she said, totally exhausted.

"I am not a man of love, ma. I do want you too, but I am afraid our definitions of want are not the same." One hand left her face to grip her left thigh, pulling her against him so she wrapped one leg around his powerful calf.

The hand on her thigh flattened and began to travel upward, pushing her dress up as it went.

Abike moaned, writhing against him.

She bit her lips when his eyes darkened.

"You make my dick hard all the time, and in a way no woman has ever done. Anytime I see you, I want to hold you in my arms and bury myself deep inside you till you can think of nothing else but me."

He bent his head and nipped at her jaw.

Abike tipped back her head to grant him more access.

He trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck and then bit the spot her neck merged into her shoulder.

She pressed against him.

"That's how much I want you."

He licked at her ear, breathing down hotly and she felt the hand on her thigh suddenly swing up to curve her ass, pressing her even closer against him.

"I have never thought about holding anyone in my arms before, ma. And I have never touched anyone like this before." He licked the shell of her ear and then traced a path of fire down her neck again.

Abike moaned louder.

Suddenly, she was alone and she when she looked up, he was standing few feet away from her; his arms hanging by his sides but a fire she had never seen before burning in his eyes.

"That is the extent of what I can offer you, Abike. I cannot love you. And I don't want you to love me." He shook his head.

"Do you still want me?"

Abike's heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't the best of terms, but if this was the only way she could have him, she was not going to turn it down.

"You just want us to be having sex?" She outlined the harshest part of the entire conversation for clarity, she didn't want to misunderstand his intentions.

"Yes." His reply was short and direct.

Yes, their definitions of want were entirely different.

But if this was how he wanted to give himself, she would take it.

It wasn't fair, as she was giving more than just her body.

But this was the card she was dealt and she couldn't afford to lose him entirely.

"Will you let me touch you?" She asked and his mouth pursed.

Abike shook her head.

That was the only way she could ever agree to this.

She couldn't do this if he wouldn't let her touch him.

"Yes," he said.

"Anytime I want? I don't want to have to ask your permission before I touch you."

"You can touch me anytime," he answered smoothly and she nodded.

They stood silently for a moment, regarding each other silently.

"Come, mama." He motioned for her to come closer and she pushed away from the wall and walked towards him.

As soon as she reached his side, she put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.

He stood still for a moment before putting his own arms around her.

"Is this to seal our agreement?" He chuckled and she quickly raised her head up to see it.

He was so miserly with his smiles and laughs, she was like a dog to bone whenever he blessed her with one.

Someone knocked and Abike began to draw away from him, he held her back, tightening his arms around her.

"The person is going to come in and see us like this," she said.

"You are the only one that barges into my room without waiting for my order, mama. Everyone other person just waits by the door," he said as the knock came again.

Abike noticed he had not said he didn't care if anyone finds them together and she laughed silently at herself as her heart contracted in pain.

What did she think?

That he would climb the palace towers and shout to everyone that he was in an only sex relationship with a servant girl from Amu?

When he already had fifty girls on stand by?

"... training soon."

Abike caught the last part of his statement and looked up at him.

"What did you say?"

He sighed greatly.

"I am not in the habit of repeating myself, Abike." He paused and let her move away from him.

"I said that was probably Jamal and I would be leaving for training soon."

He turned away from her and moved to the bed.

She stood awkwardly in the center of the room as he picked up his bag and started to fill it with his workout essentials.

"How often do you feed in a day?" He suddenly asked, pausing in his task to look up at her.

Abike fiddled with the hem of her dress, suddenly embarrassed.

It was things like this that reminded her of the great difference between them.

This man was a Prince.

What was she doing?

"Abike don't make me repeat myself." He shook his head at her, his icy gaze drilling into her.

"Once. Sometimes twice, if I work in the kitchen."

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he finished loading the bag and zipping it up.

"Would you like to work for me fully now?" he asked.

Abike folded her arms across her chest.

"You mean like a full time sex worker?" She questioned and she saw his eyes flash before he silently turned away from her.

She bit the insides of her cheeks in regret.

That was a very low blow.

First day and she was already messing things up.

He made fast work of dressing up, pulling his shirt and pants on before sitting down to pull on his boots.

He looked formidable and unapproachable with his shuttered eyes and his jerky, angry movements that Abike thought it wise to just stay where she was.

He stood, fully dressed and picked up the bag; letting it hang to the floor as he walked to the door.

As if on second thought, he turned with his hand on the knob and jerked his head at the forgotten tray of food on the bed.

"Eat that. That's an order."

And then he was gone.

xXx

Abike went to find Mariam and the other girls in their room downstairs some minutes later.

She had tried to read in the Prince's room but she couldn't concentrate.

After leaving the room, she went to her own room to find Fatima but still couldn't find her.

The girl had gone absent for days now, only showing up whenever she wanted to.

No one else could find her on their own.

She met Modupe and Yetunde by the door immediately she alighted the stairs and their eyes lit up on seeing her.

"Abi!" They bounced to her excitedly and Abike laughed.

"I was coming to find you guys. What about Mariam?"

"Uhh..." Modupe looked around and bent forward to whisper conspiratorially.

"We have laundry duty in two hours, so in our free time we thought we would just go to the camp site. The soldiers there are usually generous with their money."

Abike had never been outside the Palace since she came in.

She wondered how the girls seem to be more informed than her about these things since they arrived at this Palace together almost a month ago.

"How do you do all these things? I thought Amu servants are not allowed outside the Palace."

"Yes," Yetunde whispered.

"But when you live down here with the Ore servants, no one can tell the difference. There are more than a hundred servants crawling around this Palace, do you think anyone can tell who is from Amu or not?"

"Iroko can. And Mrs. Jamila." Abike shook her head.

"Hmph." Modupe shrugged impatiently.

"They don't ever come down here. And even if they did, how would they know we are at the camp site? They never go there!"

She held Yetunde's arm and waved at Abike.

"Come visit us later, Abi. Time is money."

They moved quickly towards the large open doors.

In a moment of impulsiveness, Abike dashed forward too.

"I would come with you."

The girls laughed as they made their way out of the bright entry way towards the back of the Palace.

Abike's mouth fell open in awe at the greatness of the building.

When she first arrived, she had been looking with the myopic view of someone whose kingdom had just been vanquished.

But now, almost a month later and she couldn't deny the beauty of the burnt brick walls, the arched glass windows and the beautiful flowers that was scattered all around.

She tensed as they approached the back gates that was crawling with armed guards and Modupe took her arm, bustling her along.

The guards didn't even glance their way as they went past and Abike finally breathed in relief when they were several feet away.

They snaked their way down the bush path until she could see a large building sitting afar off.

"That's the place. It's like an apartment for level fours. They are the only ones who are so generous with their money. The level threes are so...bleh!" Yetunde waved her hand and made a funny face.

The girls laughed as they walked briskly towards the building.

Abike felt her curiousity mounting as every step took her closer.

"But what do you girls use the money for? It's not like you are allowed outside the palace or you can go get stuff at the market?"

The girls burst into another fit of laughter again.

"When you stay downstairs in the general room, you will find that there is really nothing impossible. You would almost enjoy your stay as a servant here because there is almost total freedom to do whatever you want."

Abike opened her mouth to ask a question, but was drowned out by the noise and chatter floating out of the building as they finally arrived.

The large doors were open and soldiers were everywhere.

Some were dressed in their full regalia, others just wore the army cap or the shirt, but all the men were wearing one piece of clothing that showed their army status.

Abike noticed with shock that the servant girls walking about —talking and laughing in their midst— were as much as the soldiers themselves.

Clearly, Modupe and Yetunde weren't they only one out to make money.

"I think we are late." Modupe groaned.

"There is nothing to be done."

There was a large sprawling stairs that led upstairs and Yetunde pulled them towards the steps.

"Let's go check on the boys." She pulled Abike towards the stairs and Modupe followed, leaving the down floor behind.

When they arrived at the top, Abike noticed it was like a T junction and there was an hallway leading either to the left or right and she could hear male voices talking and laughing everywhere, filling her ears.

Unlike her own part of the Palace where they were only females up the stairs.

It didn't seem to bother her friends.

Yetunde dragged her to the left and they raced down the hallway until they stopped at a slightly open door.

Yetunde kicked it fully open and they went in.

The voices inside stopped for a split second but resumed when the occupants of the room saw Yetunde and Modupe.

Abike noticed the room was very large and wide, it contained four large beds and still had enough room for four wardrobes, a large bookshelf and other pieces of furniture.

Three out of the four beds were currently occupied by fully dressed men who were pulling on their boots when the girls came in.

"You came really late, Yetunde. Hi Modupe."

"Who is this pretty friend of yours?"

Yetunde pulled Abike closer and she finally got a chance to look at the three men.

"This is my friend Abike. Abike, meet Khalid, Sadiq and Bola."

Abike liked Bola instantly.

He had bright, friendly eyes and was quite handsome.

The other two looked really friendly too, but Abike could tell they were loud.

"Abike, how come we have never seen you before?" Khalid asked as he shook her head.

Sadiq took her hand too and kissed it with a flourish.

"A beautiful girl like you is not supposed to even show her face here at all." He guffawed, while Bola just smiled.

"What do you mean? So we are ugly?" Yetunde frowned at Sadiq and began to laugh when he pulled her close and patted her behind.

"You are pretty."

The girls engaged Sadiq and Khalid in a hearty conversation, trying to drag Bola into it, but the guy didn't seem the least bit interested and he was just smiling as he got dressed.

Abike sat on the only couch in the room, watching the exchange with a smile.

Suddenly, Bola stood from the bed and was walking in her direction.

He bent towards her and she scooted back as his face came closer.

He straightened again, carrying a camo bag with him.

"I'm sorry, my bag was right there." He pointed to a spot near the couch and Abike smiled up at him in understanding.

"I have training." Bola told her awkwardly, hefting the bag onto his slender shoulders.

"I'd see you around?"

Abike nodded soundlessly and he flashed her another private smile before turning back to the other guys.

As if on cue, they stood too and from the corner of her eyes, Abike saw Sadiq press some money into Yetunde's open hands.

She looked away, lowering her eyes as the guys picked up their own bags and they all walked out towards the door.

"What about Ahmed? Where is he?" She heard Modupe asked as the six of them left the room.

"I don't know." Sadiq bellowed in his loud voice.

"Ever since he got a girlfriend, we hardly see him anymore." 

They made small talks again as they walked down the hallway and clambered down the stairs.

Abike noticed the building was almost empty and the other guys loitering around were also preparing to leave for training.

They all exited the building and the girls waved and took the same path they arrived in.

When they looked back, the guys had disappeared from sight and other armed guys were leaving the building towards the direction the guys went in.

Yetunde flashed the money Sadiq pressed in her hands and danced as they walked back towards the gate.

"Three thousand naira."

Modupe exclaimed softly and tried to take the money from her friend.

Yetunde ran up the path with Modupe hot on her trail, begging for part of the money.

Abike held her breath as they ran past the guards and decided to just walk through with the same confidence her friends had shown.

She could only breathe properly when she was way past the guards and inside the hallway.

She decided to let Yetunde and Modupe be and instead, made her way back up the stairs towards the kitchen.

She had enjoyed the little outing with her friends and knew deep down this wouldn't be the last time.

The Palace walls were not as crude as the camp site and there were hardly any guys moving about up here but she was tired of walking these same halls every time and was grateful her friends has shown her there was another life. She was definitely going back there soon.

                                      xXx

It was already past five in the evening and Abike hurried towards the Prince with the plate of fruits in her hands.

She had not meant to be late, but it was the Prince's laundry that delayed her.

It took her some hours to wash and dry.

She pushed the door open and walked in to see the Prince standing by the bookshelf, looking at some books.

He turned when he heard the door slip open and narrowed his eyes when he saw her.

She should be used to the sight of him in his casual attire of sweatpants and a round necked shirt but she wasn't.

The pants hugging his long legs and the shirt plastered against his muscular chest was a sight that would forever slap hard.

"I brought your fruits."

She stretched the plate out even though he was too far to take it from her.

She didn't know what mood he was in now.

They had made an agreement this afternoon, but he had left in anger and she didn't know if he was still the same man she had spoken hours ago. 

It wouldn't be the first time he would be switching up on her and she couldn't tell anything from his expression, it remained the same unreadable mask.

"Bring it here, mama," he said softly and she felt fingers of joy lick through her as she rushed towards him, a wide smile on her face.

His face was still a cold mask but she wasn't going to let it deter her.

She stood very close to him, closer than she had ever dared and she felt his gaze on her.

Once again, he was assessing her.

And like always, she didn't know what the results were because his expression never changed. His mask never slipped.

He might be closed off and immovable, but one thing she knew was that he never said anything he didn't mean.

Everything that came out of his mouth was true. And he had said he wanted her; so she believed he wanted her.

"You make my dick hard all the time and in a way no woman as ever done. Anytime I see you, I want to hold you in my arms and bury myself inside you till you can think of nothing else but me."

He had said those words.

It was time to prove it.

It was time to see if she could really affect him that much; the way he had said it.

He stretched out his hand for the plate and instead of handing it over, Abike put her hand in his; curling her fingers around his own, holding tight.

His first instinct was to pull away and she felt it in the tensing of his fingers, but she didn't let go. She held tighter.

"What are you doing?"

He looked down at their entwined hands and Abike smiled.

"Holding you."

He turned their hands over, capturing her slim wrist in one fluid movement and pulling her to him.

She yelped as the plate fell to the floor and was thankful it didn't break or spill.

He wasn't even looking at the plate.

He was looking at her, his eyes dark as it roamed over her body.

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her even closer, her arms lifted and circled his neck and she felt him tense again.

She pushed off him and he let her go.

"You said I could touch you," she yelled at him and he scrunched his face up.

"Don't shout at me, Abike. Stop it." His voice rumbled low in warning and Abike huffed in annoyance.

He was so difficult.

She turned away from him and bent to pick up the plate of fruit.

As she made to stand, she felt his hand firmly on her waist; his other hand on the small of her back, pressing her back down.

"Your dress is short," he said, pushing the gown up over her ass.

She moaned, bent forward as his palms caressed the soft skin of her ass.

"You are so responsive, dammit. I just want to fuck you bent over like this." He pressed his groin against her naked butt and felt pleasure shoot up his spine.

This girl was going to be the death of him.

He had never felt so out of control like this.

His fingers flattened over her ass and moved upwards, pushing the gown up further. In one sweep, he touched her stomach lightly and glided down, touching a finger to her sensitive clit before gripping her thigh.

She rocked back against him, grinding against his rock hard dick and in one crazed moment, he let his dick out of his sweat-pant and rubbed it against her already lubricated hole.

She moaned again.

"It's so hard to not slam into you like this."

He touched her clit again and Abike moaned at the touch.

"Come on, mama." He pulled her up and she turned around.

"Why didn't you?" She asked as she saw him tucking his penis back into his pants.

"I don't want to do you like that." He bent to pick up the plate and moved towards the bed.

Abike stayed by the bookshelf.

He sat on the edge of the bed and uncovered the plate.

"I told Jamila I don't eat cucumbers. Why is it here?" He complained as he looked at the salad of fruits inside the plates.

"Then eat the ones you like. There are many fruits in there," she said before she could think and it earned her a glare.

"Would you control your mouth or you would have me do it for you?" He asked, his eyes shooting daggers at her.

She kept mute, lowering her eyes.

"Come eat, mama," he said softly and Abike bit back her moan.

Why wouldn't he just touch her already?

She was already so sensitive, his voice was like a caress.

She walked to him on legs that felt like lead.

He was holding a slice of apple in between his fingers, stretched out towards her.

Abike stretched out her hand to take it from him, but he shook his head.

She bent her head and took the slice in her mouth, sucking his finger into her mouth before releasing him.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and coughed slightly to hide her smirk.

He wasn't as infallible as he was trying to make her believe.

Even though it was a mere kink in his armour, she was going to pry on it.

She sat on the bed beside him, noting the way he inched back slightly so there would be no contact.

It didn't hurt like it used to. She was going to find her way around it.

"What do you want, mama?" He looked into her eyes as he popped a slice of pineapple into his mouth.

It was hard to confess, not with his hard eyes boring into hers.

How could she tell this slab of muscle and ice that she wanted him to touch her? To hold her and make her his?

So she just shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

She thought she saw his lips curl up a little before falling back into place, but the movement was so quick; she couldn't be so sure.

She nodded.

"Use your words."

"I am sure." Her voice sounded groggy.

He handed her the half empty plate of fruits and nodded.

"Eat up."

She started to shake her head.

"I wasn't asking. Eat up."

He inched back and laid down on the bed, his arms folded beneath his head.

The movement accentuated every chunk of muscle and pecs in his body and she bit her lips before turning away.

One by one, she finished off the fruits inside the plate; sighing in pleasure as the sweetness dissolved on her tongue.

"Tomorrow, mama. Five a.m."

She turned to him.

"You want me to leave now?"

She knew she sounded like a whiny child, but she didn't care.

He nodded, his unreadable mask back on.

What kind of stupid agreement was this?

He had said he wanted sex.

Why wouldn't he take it? Why wouldn't he touch her?

She marched to the door and flung it open.

As she turned to close it behind her, she saw his eyes were lit with amusement for the first time, such that the sides crinkled.

Their gazes clashed through the slightly open door and just like that, his mask came on again.

"Close the door behind you," he ordered and she turned away finally, slamming the door shut behind her.

                                       xXx

Yayyyyy!

Two updates in one night!

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