Page 3 of Craving a King

Chapter Two

Distraction

Kofi

Accra nightclubs are not what they used to be.

The music is uninspiring, the VIP service is deficient, and most of all, the women are way too eager to jump in my bed. Senya is mad as a hatter for wanting to spend his birthday here, and impetuous for insisting I accompany him. I am king of the Ashanti. It is unbecoming for me to take shots surrounded by half-clothed temptresses to the rhythms of the most generic brand of Afrobeat music.

There is sure to be some unflattering picture of me in the press if I make even the slightest misstep. My reputation as an international playboy is finally starting to die down. My last tryst ended disastrously. At one point I had to increase palace security and increase my security detail by three men besides my head of royal affairs. The same Senya who I somehow allowed to cajole me into this morass.

I look down at my phone and see it is 2:00 am. Time to go. I check my email and see a name that makes my heart skip a beat. Ella Jenkins. The beautiful CEO that will spearhead the construction and operation of public schools in my village. Half the reason I gave in so easily to Senya tonight was to distract myself from thoughts of her. I am not sure if she will arrive tonight as planned. I demanded her visit from Atlanta weeks ago, and she balked. I sent the tickets anyway, but she did not respond. Finally, I sent a harmless threat to call the UN about her negotiating practices and she responded with a simple OK. However, she has sent no further communication. I open the email hoping she is not telling me to go to hell and build my own damn schools.

Dear Your Majesty,

Thank you for the first-class accommodations, though I still find this trip unnecessary and your insistence upon it high-handed. I am determined to make the best of it and provide you with an unparalleled proposal for public schooling in Kumasi.

Yours in the Work,

Ella Jenkins

CEO, Revolution Academies

Thank God.Judging by her email, she is enjoying first-class, which means she is on the plane. It is apparent my request still irritates her. However, irritations can be easily overcome. Now more than ever, I am ready to go to my hotel and prepare for her arrival.

I look to my right and notice the woman sitting next to me sipping the 5th drink I ordered for her tonight. I slip my phone in my pocket and stand… too quickly. I’ve had way too much to drink. I quickly sit back down, and my booth mate places her hand on my thigh. I implore my body not to react. This is ridiculous. Senya should know better than to place me in this situation. However, as my best friend, he would never come into this situation without me. He’s nowhere to be found, and I am trapped in VIP with a relentless woman. All night she comes and goes. She has found more creative ways to push her pleasant rump into my face than a stripper giving a lap dance. It is exasperating. She is pretty, but unappealing.

Comfort-I believe that’s her name- has done everything but flat-out beg me to take her home. She uses what I call bottom barrel lines- I’ve never been inside the palace. What’s it like? I have heard them all before. I bite my tongue and nod like an idiot. I dare not tell her I do not live there. I do not tell her that women who see the inside of the palace have an expiration period of thirty days. It is really my royal fuck pad. No woman goes there to live happily ever after. I live at my private residence in the forest, hidden from royal groupies. My home is my haven and only those who truly know me have the privilege of visiting. This woman does not care to know me or the cause I live for. No, she wants prestige, title, and money. Little does she know, a night with me will not guarantee her any of those things.

Comfort scoots closer to me on the velvet couch. She is sitting so close she could dry hump my thigh in this darkness and no one would notice. I glance over and finally spot Senya getting friendly with two women I’m sure he’s taking back to his room tonight. No one is coming back with me. I need to leave Accra without a woman I will only have to ghost within a month.

Determined to break away, I turn and smile at Comfort before scooting a few inches away. She stares at me, never blinking, and grabs my dick. She could have slapped me across my face, and I would be less shocked. I go still. My jaw clenches and I inhale deeply as she massages the growing bulge between my legs. After a weak campaign of resistance, my dick wakes up. I resign myself to how this evening is likely to play out. The sooner we start, the sooner I can send her on her way and go to bed.

I remove her hand and stand. She looks up at me with a frantic glare. Apparently, the dick-grab is her go-to move. She set a goal to fuck the king tonight, and now she has no back-up plan. I discreetly adjust myself and exhale. She will do. She’s worked hard to get this shot. Her little pouty mouth will do well wrapped around my dick.

“Comfort gather your things. I’m taking you to my suite.”

She doesn’t move. “A hotel? Why not the palace? Do I look like a whore?”

I should turn around and leave right now. Not only is she thirsty. She’s stupid. I bet Ella is not stupid. Ella will be here tonight.

I take another look at her incredible body and give Comfort one more chance. Through gritted teeth, I respond. “The seat of the Ashanti kingdom is in Kumasi. It is not here in Accra. So, I am a visitor to your town. I am staying in a suite on Labadi Beach, you are welcome to join me… or not… it is up to you.”

Her eyes shine bright and the corner of her lips turn up into a sly smile. Licking her lips, she tosses a long weave behind her back before standing. I inspect her and realize she’s wearing the equivalent to a napkin. I can almost see what makes her a woman from the front of her little gold dress. She turns as I guide her out of the VIP area, and I notice her dress does a worse job covering her ass. The four-inch heels she is wearing don’t help my restraint. She definitely came to play.

Once we get outside, my Range Rover pulls up and she frowns. “I thought you rode in a Maybach?”

Here we go again. She should just not speak at this point. I roll my eyes. “Why would you think that?”

She ignores my exasperation. “Whenever the Tattler or bloggers cover you in London, you are always stepping out of a Black Maybach.” Her eyes take on a greedy gleam. “I was hoping to ride in it. I wanted a picture for the gram.” She comes closer to rub her hand up and down my arm. She pokes out her bottom lip, resembling a spoiled child. “Is there any way you can switch cars? They will bring you whatever you ask for, right? You’re the king.”

I shake my head. She can walk for all I care. This woman is crazy if she thinks I’m texting Senya to call for a Benz from the royal fleet. I should tell her I do not want to fuck her that badly. But I refrain, because that would be harsh. According to the palace public relations team; I need to be less harsh in public. I squeeze the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath before I address her.

“Yes, I could do that. But that would be impractical. You are free to take any vehicle you like home. I am sure Uber has quite the variety. You can use the royal account.” I am proud of myself. I said how I feel without saying how I really feel. The communication coaching is paying off.

Undeterred, she rubs up against me. The motion reminds me of a cat mewling for its milk. I have some milk she can drink. Her voice purrs against my ear. “Men who do whatever I want…” She takes my hand and places it on her juicy ass. Fuck! “Get me to do whatever they want.” I shake my head and pull out my phone to text Senya.

This is dumb, but between the alcohol in my system and amount of ass in my hands, my dick has reached the point of no return. This will only take a few minutes. I walk Comfort around the corner into the mouth of an alley. I look around, ensuring no paparazzi are slinking in the shadows before pulling her into me. I grind my now full-blown erection into her soft body. She closes her eyes and whimpers.

---