Page 4 of Craving a King

I pause and place my mouth close to her ear. “What do you want from me, Comfort?”

She opens her eyes and faces me with full confidence. “I want you to fuck me until I’m a member of your thirty-day club.” So, she knows the rules. Her forwardness turns my entire body into a raging hard-on. I cradle her head in my hand and grab a handful of ass with the other. Taking a fistful of hair, I pull her into a rough kiss. I devour, lick, bite, and suck until I hear moans of pleasure come from the back of her throat. Then I take a soft bite of her neck before pulling away. She giggles and adjusts her dress.

“Are we going to make it to the hotel?” She asks with a smirk that says she has no plans to do so. Her eyes are inky pools of lust. Her coppery skin is perspiring. I say nothing and walk her back around the building to the front of the club. The Maybach pulls up and I extend my hand; inviting her to enter the car. Suddenly Senya pops out of the shadows with two women in tow. He stops Comfort in her tracks before she can enter the car and shoves an electronic NDA in her face. My man is always on duty. As she signs the iPad, he reminds her she can never speak of tonight. She shrugs and giddily enters the car.

Once inside, she takes two obligatory selfies. I ensure I’m nowhere near her camera and after three clicks; I tell her to put the phone away. She complies. Senya knocks on the window and I roll it down. He talks in hushed tones.

“I’m driving the Range and my guests to the hotel. You have a royal fleet driver. Roll the partition up before you play around and turn on music loud enough to muffle your new friend. She looks like a screamer.”

I smirk and nod before rolling up the window,

I turn to my right, and my guest is staring at me with crossed legs. “Come here,” I command. She quickly crosses the massive back seat to climb on top of me. Her dress rides all the way up her ass. Now I see she has on a little black thong. My weakness. My fingers grab the thin piece of fabric between her full cheeks and pull it up against her pussy and ass with one strong jerk.

“Your majesty” She moans from the sensation. I continue, and do it twice more, before moving my fingers forward to sample the moisture, I know is waiting for me. I insert two fingers into her soaking wet center and confirm she’s hot and ready for whatever. But I don’t shag in cars. That’s just disrespectful. A blowjob is another matter entirely.

“On your knees.” I rasp. I unbuckle my black jeans and pull out my dick. Her eyes go wide as she drops to her knees. Her wet mouth devours my dick in one swift motion. She comes up slowly, dragging her tongue over my rod. Then she uses her spit to slide her hands over my shaft while her mouth moves in the opposite direction. The drive to my hotel is fifteen minutes. She requested a Maybach. Now let’s see if she can maneuver inside one.

She takes me back into her mouth and pushes me to the back of her throat. I put my hand on the back of her head and thrust into her face. As I zone out my thoughts drift away from this vixen who only wants to say she had sex with a king. They settle on Ella, the woman that will help me build a kingdom.

Chapter Three

Arrival

Ella

Against my better judgment, I am on the flight Kofi booked for me.

Shockingly, the flight to Ghana is better than I expected. I was nervous about traveling alone, but everything is running impeccably smooth. A friendly flight attendant greeted me as I boarded the plane. Her name is Grace and she helped calm my nerves. Then she showed me to a seat more comfortable than any chair I have at home. Grace brought me wine, silk pajamas, crisp linens, and a full gourmet menu for my direct flight into Accra. The flight has been in progress for an hour now and I feel good.

Now that I’m comfortable I take a moment to observe the luxury around me. I notice everything about this trip is over the top, causing my mind to wander to Kofi. While I’ve found myself annoyed with his overall pushy behavior, he spared no expense for my travels. My manners overruled any annoyance while I was in a cab on my way to the airport. That’s when I looked at my ticket reservation and noticed I had first class accommodations. I immediately sent a thank-you email.

All I really want to do is sleep, but the amenities keep me awake for most of the trip. Even though it is early in the morning, I sample at least four bottles of wine and get ahead on some of the work I will miss while in Ghana. For lunch, I choose filet mignon served with roasted fennel and potatoes that are to die for, and after I eat, I catch up onInsecureepisodes. When I finally drift off to sleep, there are less than two hours left in the flight and I wake to the voice of our captain.

“We are approaching Accra and will land in 20 minutes. The current time in Accra is 9:51 p.m., and the weather is partly cloudy with a temperature of 28 degrees Celsius, 82 degrees Fahrenheit. Please stay seated and buckled until the seat belt sign is turned off. All electronics should be placed in airplane mode. Thank you, and welcome to Accra.”

Shit. I’m here.What am I doing?I have no idea how to interact with this man, but I refuse to blow this contract. From our two phone calls and dozen emails, I’ve deduced he’s an arrogant ass. If what the tabloids say is true, he’s with a different woman every month. I have no patience for a man like that, so I am not worried about falling for this arrogant, yet gorgeous, ass. I spent eight years of my life trying to build something with a man like that, and it was a disaster. I won’t be pushed around, and Kofi doesn’t strike me as a man who is used to not getting his way. I just hope these next thirty days go smoother than I expect them to go.

Once we land, I quickly head to the restroom to freshen up my face and hair. I’m wearing my softest pair of skinny jeans and a blue linen off-the-shoulder blouse that billows when I walk. Once in the restroom, I swap my sneakers for a pair of Louboutin espadrilles and take my hair down from the silk scarf it’s wrapped in. My afro full of curls tumbles down and frames my face, free-falling to the bottom of my neck. One quick facewash and lip-gloss swipe later, and I am ready to meet a king.

I quickly get through customs. Kofi has arranged for me to have a private screening generally reserved for diplomats. Once my passport is stamped, I head to baggage claim and wait for my six bags to arrive on the conveyer belt. Twenty minutes later, I realize my Louis Vuitton duffle bag containing all of my underwear, hair products, and toiletries is missing from the belt. Luckily, I have two backup pairs of panties in my carry-on luggage. Now my annoyance is at full capacity. I need to file a claim, but I don’t want to keep whoever is here to pick me up waiting. I decide to meet my escort first and then circle back to customer service.

As I head to ground transportation, I look for someone holding a sign with my name, and sure enough, there he is. He is impossible to miss. The man is head and tails above every other person I see and with an American NFL linebacker build. He’s holding a sign with my name printed under the official Ghanaian government seal and looks rather imposing.

As I approach, I notice his skin is the color of the free trade coffee beans I brew every morning. His muscles are clad in an all-white linen suit. As I reach him, he unleashes a kilowatt smile made of pearly white teeth that somewhat relaxes me. I smile back and try not to stare at the mountain in front of me. He extends a hand I’m sure could snap me in two, and I oblige him a handshake. If this is what all the men in Ghana look like, I should have moved here long ago.

“Hello, Ms. Jenkins. Welcome to Accra; I am Senya.” I stumble at his accent. It’s part British and part West African. I wonder if he spent a significant amount of time in the U.K. He grabs my bags and waits a second, expecting a command. I clear my throat and stop staring long enough to answer.

“Umm no, I’m good; the bags will be all. Well, unless you can make the airline find my lost luggage. That reminds me…I need to go to customer service and file a claim. That bag is pretty expensive, and it contains vital items.”

He relaxes a bit and nods, instantly sharing my frustration. “That is unacceptable for first-class travel. I will be sure to properly file a complaint from our office on your behalf. I assure you anything that is missing, we can replace.”

He promises a lot to be a transportation company representative. “You can replace it?” I tilt my head to one side and give him an inquisitive look. “Hotel transportation has come a long way if you can find or replace lost luggage.”

He laughs at my statement and gestures for me to follow him as we walk toward the airport exit doors. “No Ms. Jenkins, I am his majesty’s chief of staff, or what our culture calls ‘the right hand of the king.’ We are here to escort you to your lodgings. We will be glad to take you wherever you need to go and replace your belongings. We want you to have everything you need to be comfortable.”

“OH!” I pause. I remember that title fromGame of Thrones. Somehow, I think what he is talking about goes deeper than that. He does not notice my pause and keeps walking. I skip a bit faster to catch back up with him and I half shout at his back. “Did you just say we? Who else is here?”

He half turns to me, never breaking a step. “His majesty is also with me, but he is waiting at the car. He did not want to draw attention in the airport; otherwise, I’m sure he would come in to fetch you himself. Please do not think him rude.”

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