Page 5

Chapter five

I’d been sitting on this conversation for a while now, holding it at arm’s length, waiting for the right time.

But the truth was, there would never be an exact right time.

There was only now. Only the slow, simmering heat between us.

Only the potential for mindblowing pleasure, and my desire to give her everything.

She looked powerful behind her desk in her heather gray dress. Hair down, makeup expertly applied, her dark eyes tracing over me with quiet curiosity. She could sense something was coming .

I sat across from her, unbuttoning my suit jacket as I settled in. This was the hard part right here—telling the woman you want more than anything in the world that you aren’t what she’s used to. That you’re…wired differently.

“Storm,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “Spit it out. You’re thinking too much.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Are you new?”

She smiled. “You're making me nervous.”

I stared at her, admiring, of course, appreciating the way the sunlight hit her soft features.

Those were a nice contrast from the direct way she met my gaze.

Head-on, no fear, no hesitation. She was a strong woman, and I liked that about her.

The question was, would she wield that strength over me?

Please, God, let it be yes.

I licked my lips, choosing my words carefully. “I wanna be honest with you about me.”

Her eyebrows went up.

“You know I’m a pretty controlled person,” I said as I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “Here at work. At my…other wo rk. It’s who I am. I have to have control.”

She nodded. “I’ve noticed.”

“But with you?” I met her gaze. “It’s different.”

A frown bloomed across her gorgeous face. “Different how?”

I shifted, exhaling through my nose. I needed to say this right. I needed her to understand that this wasn’t a game for me. It wasn’t about kinks or fleeting thrills. This was just who I am.

“I don’t want control with you,” I said. “I want you to have it.”

Her face went blank, her lips pressing into a straight line. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t confusion. If anything, she looked intrigued, and that was a good sign.

“Why?”

I took a slow breath. “I happen to think women are the most beautiful, powerful creatures on this earth. And black women?” I shook my head. “If God created anything more perfect than y’all, he surely kept it for himself.”

A smile played at the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t speak .

“I find it…extremely arousing to watch y’all wield your power," I continued. "It’s an honor to worship the right woman. And I think, for me, you are the right woman.”

Her lips parted slightly, but still, no words.

“I don’t mean worship in the poetic, Hotep, my queen kinda way, San. I mean literally . I wanna serve you. I wanna kneel for you. I wanna belong to you, and give you everything you want in this world. And not just in the bedroom. When I say everything, that’s exactly what I mean.”

She swallowed hard, finally finding her voice. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t even…” she trailed off. “So you wanna be submissive to me? I’ve never met a man—“

“Lemme stop you right there,” I said roughly. “I ain’t like most men. See, most men are scared of women. They beat their chests on all that rah rah shit, because deep down, they know the deal. How can anything that gives life be less than us? It makes no fucking sense.”

She inclined her head in agreement .

“I’m secure in myself, San. Ain’t no weakness over here. This is what I like. It’s what gives me pleasure.”

She shuddered at the word, making me sit up and take notice.

“What…what does that look like in practice?” she asked softly.

“It looks like me putting myself in your hands. Emotionally. Financially. Sexually. And me trusting that you’ll use that power to please me, not to destroy me.”

“But what pleases you, specifically?”

“You want specific?” I asked, watching her nod slowly. “When you see how hard my dick gets while I’m washing your feet or carrying your shopping bags, I’m sure that’ll give you a more specific idea of how I’m wired.”

Her eyes dropped to my lips, her chest rising and falling slowly. “Why me?”

I chuckled, leaning back, taking a relaxed posture. I was in the zone, now. Exposed, but comfortable. “You’re the kind of woman men go to war for,” I answered. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it. I'll do it. I'll say it. I belong to you. "

Her chest rose high and fell deep as her breathing changed. “And that turns you on?”

I let out a low, rough laugh. “San, you have no idea.”

“I might have some idea,” she purred, flashing me a knowing smile.

Fuck.

That look.

That change in her voice.

Her curiosity.

All of it sent heat shooting down my spine, never mind the way my dick twitched in my pants.

I shifted in my seat again, ready to show her some specifics, but I had to pace myself. Ease her in.

“Tonight,” I said. “My room. Seven o’clock.”

The room was perfect.

The faint smells of warm honey, sandalwood, and roses lingered in the air.

Candles sat on every surface, flickering in the dim light, their glow reflecting off the surface of the water.

Shadows danced along the walls, flickering over the red bedding and towering bookshelves filled with everything from classic philosophy to Black nationalist political theory.

This was my sanctuary, and Santari was about to be the object of my worship.

The basin at my feet was filled with milk and warm water, swirling with rose petals that bobbed along the surface. I added a few drops of vanilla and jasmine essential oils to the water.

This was a ritual.

Just as I stood, I heard a soft, tender voice behind me say, “Can I come in?”

I turned to her and inclined my head, my eyes roaming her body as I wondered why she walked up in here half naked. I wasn’t complaining, but it was clear to me she didn’t understand what she was dealing with yet.

She was fine as hell, though. No complaints from me about them little ass shorts and cut off tank top.

After hesitating for a moment, her eyes dropped to the basin and the ribbons of steam curling into the air. She was intrigued. Cautious. A little nervous.

Good.

That meant she was invested.

I approached her slowly, wrapping her in a hug, kissing her cheek. “How was your day, Princess?”

She gave a shy smile. “Long and boring.” Her eyes darted around the room again. “What is all this?”

I took a step back, leading her over to the chair I’d set up in the middle of the room. “This is…the beginning.”

She shivered. Just the faintest little quiver in her shoulders. Then her eyes dropped to my bare chest, hungrily sweeping across my muscles, down to my abs, finally coming to rest on the gray sweatpants that hung low on my hips. Her attention sent a pulse of satisfaction straight through me.

I smirked as I went to my knees in front of her, reaching for her ankle.

I slipped off one fuzzy house slipper, then the other, taking my time to savor the silky softness of her skin and memorize the sexy shape of her feet. Beautiful, tempting arch. Black toenail polish—a nice departure from white, and very enticing.

My mouth watered as I eyed those toes, but there would be time for that later.

I ran my fingers down her arch, loving the way she tensed, the way she sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away from me.

Slowly, I guided her feet into the basin, watching as the hot, creamy water lapped around her ankle. Her body relaxed immediately, shoulders dropping, fingers unclenching.

She liked it.

And I liked watching her like this, like something precious and special, something that was mine to care for.

Her eyes fluttered shut as I used my hands to drizzle water down her calves. Every satisfied breath she exhaled made my body tense, my groin growing tighter and tighter until my dick was on brick.

My hands went to her skin, tracing slow, reverent paths along her calves, her ankles, letting her feel every inch of my devotion.

I lost myself in it, working my fingers rhythmically, massaging her tension out, kneading my reverence in.

A soft hum vibrated in her throat, sending desire coursing through my veins.

She had no idea how much this shit excited me.

“Do you like the name ‘Princess’, or should I call you something else?” I asked.

Her eyes slowly opened, focusing on my face as she puzzled through that. “I—don’t know. Do you like it?”

I stilled my hands. “I like what you like. But yeah, I do.”

“Why not ‘Queen?’”

I smirked. “Queens have power, but they also have responsibilities. Princesses get to do whatever the fuck they want.”

She smiled. “That’s how you see me?”

“That’s how I see you.”

She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly. “Then I like that, too.”

I nodded slowly, dropping a cotton cloth into the water.

“So you’re enjoying this?” she said softly.

I gestured downward. Her eyes followed, glinting with mischief when they landed on my erection.

“You still don’t understand it,” I said. “But you will. ”

I wrung out the cloth before dragging it along the arch of her foot, up over her ankle, my movements slow and unhurried. Her breathing turned shallow. Her hooded gaze locked on me. I studied every reaction, making mental notes, becoming a star student at what my princess liked.

“It’s not just about touching you,” I continued, dragging the cloth higher, following the curve of her calf. “It’s about giving you something you need.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. The question showed in her eyes before she asked it.

“What do I need?”

“For a nigga to treat you like your worth,” I said roughly.

Because I knew she’d been fucking with niggas who damaged her.

Not necessarily with trauma or infidelity, which happens way too much.

The other kind of damage may be even worse, because it’s benign and insidious.

It’s what happens when niggas who mean well act nice to a woman, treating her like an equal.

Wanting reciprocity. Matched energy. Pressure.

Fuck outta here .

Ain’t shit equal about romancing a woman. They don’t need us. We need them . Weak ass, I’m-the-prize-too ass niggas out here have no idea how much easier life would be for all of us if they just surrendered to the truth.

Women are a prize worth winning.

Why else do we spend our whole lives trying to impress them?

Even the most misogynistic, red-pilled motherfuckers out here know life is pretty fucking boring when women ain’t paying you no attention.

That’s why they get online talking shit.

One comment from a woman, one response, positive or negative, is like a hit of crack to these losers.

That’s power.

Soft power, maybe, but power nonetheless. I just wished more women used it, because that shit is sexy as fuck.

“I have a persistent, aching need to please you, Ms. Lake.” My eyes locked on her pretty face. “And I need you in your full power. I need you to demand what you want. Use me. Put me in my fucking place.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes flashing with something wicked. “I can do that. ”

My favorite song.

Satisfied, I resumed the ritual, using the cloth to wash her from heel to knee.

I reached for a small glass bottle sitting beside the basin, uncorking it and pouring a few drops of oil into my palm.

The smell of jasmine filled the air as I ran my slick fingers along her foot, her ankle, and up her calf.

She shivered beneath my touch, gripping the sides of her chair.

“Tell me what you want, Princess.”

Her chest rose on the inhale. Lips parted on the exhale. She stared at me, and I stared back. Waiting. And I enjoyed that shit.

I would wait forever.

She seemed to be getting the hang of it now.

Our standoff lasted a few moments before she finally gave me my orders.

“Suck my toes.”

The words sent heat rushing through me, dick throbbing angrily, mind whirling.

Yes, ma’am.

I let her words hang between us for a beat, savoring them, letting them settle into my skin. Then I exhaled, long and slow, like I’d been waiting for this moment my whole fucking life.

“Whatever you want, Princess.”

I pulled a towel from my portable warmer, using it to dry her off.

After I moved the basin, I sat at her feet, staring up at her.

I gripped her ankle gently, reverently, keeping my eyes on hers as I dipped my head.

My lips brushed the top of her foot first, teasing, dragging along the soft, delicate skin.

A slow lingering kiss. Then another. A light kiss to her ankle.

Her skin flushed with heat beneath my mouth.

I let my tongue flick out, tasting traces of the oil and milk on her skin, then kissed my way down, dragging my tongue along the arch of her foot before reaching my final destination.

The head of my dick slammed against my stomach as I parted my lips and took her first toe into my mouth, sucking slow and deliberate.

She gasped.

My other favorite song.

I did it again, my tongue swirling around the soft pad before moving to the next, worshiping every inch with my mouth, my tongue, my lips. I kissed between them, tracing every curve. I sucked until I saw her stomach tighten.

The ache intensified.

“Storm,” she exhaled, breathless.

I looked up at her, and the expression on her face brought the ache to a painful peak.

Pupils dilated. Bottom lip between her teeth. Brows knitted together.

Fuck.

“You like that, Princess?” I murmured, voice low and husky, lips dragging against her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Good.”

I brought her other foot to my mouth, lavishing her with the same pleasure, watching her every reaction, committing each one to memory.

When she pressed her thighs together, I almost grabbed my dick, but I restrained myself.

That was part of the experience for me, keeping myself chained until she was ready to release me.

“How your pussy feel?” I asked.

“Soaked,” she slurred with a smile.

“Mmm,” I hummed against her. “What do you want me to do with that? ”

“We both know you know exactly what to do with it.”

I chuckled at that, low and wicked. “I wanna hear you say it, Princess.”

Her hooded gaze intensified. “Eat it. Make me cum.”

I set her feet on the floor, grabbed her hips, and pulled her to the edge of the chair.

“Whatever Princess wants.”