"Baby, I'm a hot stepper none better
If you looking for a boss chick then come get her
Make a boy wait if he don't measure
I'll make a boy wait if he don't measure"
Shaybo – "No Pressure"
"Ah, Miss Destiny Keith! I am so pleased to see you again."
King T'Chaka Udaku held his hands out to Destiny as she greeted him inside the U.N. lobby. She had been waiting forty minutes. It was unusual for him to be late for anything. His Dora, General Okoye Munisi flanked his side with another Dora Milaje lieutenant. Okoye's eyes were keen and ever watchful. Destiny gave a slight bow to the king, but he waved a hand for her to stop being formal with him. They had worked together for over a year, and she still couldn't bring herself to be informal with him. The man had charisma and kind eyes that twinkled when he smiled.
"I want to apologize for my tardy arrival…"
Destiny's eyes slid behind the king, and she observed why he was late.
Prince T'Challa Udaku stepped next to his father with dark surly eyes and a sour demeanor about him. His personal head of security, Ayo, was a Dora that never smiled or gave a flying fuck about what anyone might have thought about her Prince. He could do no wrong.
"Say no more," Destiny said cutting her eyes at T'Challa.
The Prince rolled his eyes and then rolled his tongue across his top teeth that gleamed with a platinum grill shaped like panther teeth. He was dressed to impress in a tight custom winter green tweed jacket and vest with matching slacks. The soft curls in his small 'fro were moisturized to the hair Gods. Baby boy was clean. Fine as all get out. But an arrogant xenophobic bastard. She could smell the disdain he had for Americans wafting off his skin. Coming to the U.S. for any reason was a chore for him. His bored eyes didn't even register her anymore.
"My son had a bit of a rough night last night so he needed more time to prepare for today's gathering."
"Right this way, Your Highness," Destiny said.
She stood a clear two feet away from the King as his security detail kept him surrounded. The general meeting hall was noisy with the surge of delegates and interpreters finding their seats.
"How long will this be father? I would like to go back to the hotel as soon as possible."
Unlike his father who was fairly fluent, T'Challa rarely spoke English. He once told her it was a gutter language. He also told her that her Wakandan sounded like a whale breeching water before it died. Destiny suspected that he just wasn't well-versed at it and couldn't admit a personal flaw.
"Since this is a special session to elect a new President, plan on three hours minimum," she said sweetly in Wakandan.
He rolled his eyes and still didn't acknowledge her presence.
Asshole.
Destiny caught his eyes dusting over young, attractive, female U.N. staff scurrying about to escort men and women to their places. T'Challa never missed an opportunity to ogle Sandrine Oscar, a French interpreter for Senegal. Sis was stacked and packing heavy junk in the trunk. The Prince gave lascivious glances her way and Sandrine lobbed the stares right back at him. A hook up was imminent by the way they acted even in the slight passing. So uncouth.
Destiny tugged down on her short beige jacket that matched her pencil skirt. She wore her best four-inch black heels that made her ass toot out. Her neck-length lacefront had nice reddish-brown highlights she thought accentuated the cheekbones in her round face. The climate change made the weather in New York hotter in the fall, and she used more protective styles because she was tired of flat-ironing and styling her hair when her hairdos would fall or go back within minutes. She rotated three good wigs for the U.N.
Staring at the Dora Milaje, she wondered if maybe she should just shave off all her hair and rock a baldie. Glancing at Okoye, she slipped her hand inside her small handbag and pulled out a tiny wrapped bag. She tapped Okoye's arm and palmed the goods in her hand. Okoye winked at her. The new Fenty lip balm was about to drop later that winter, but Destiny had a hook-up at the company and was able to get the honey roast color Okoye wanted when she last came to New York and Fenty had run out of the product.
The meeting started and T'Challa pulled out his razor-thin cell and scrolled. Destiny cleared her throat at him and the Prince lifted his eyes and glared at her.
"No cell phones, Your Highness," she scolded.
"I hate the sound of your voice," he muttered.
Fuck you nigga, I hate your raggedy face, she thought to herself.
T'Challa's eyes ghosted over hers and Destiny froze thinking she had said the words out loud. The prince returned his focus onto his cell and she reached over and snatched it from his hand.
"With all due respect, I said, no cell phones, Your Highness."
Her English was blunt. Cold.
T'Challa reached over and slapped her hand, yanking his cell back.
"Don't ever touch me or my things," he spat out in perfect English.
Lucky for them they were seated next to one another behind his father and the Doras. She pinched the shit out of his wrist and the horror that came across his face made her almost giggle out loud. He shook his hand vigorously with great theatrics.
"You are lucky we are in public. I would spank your ass if you did this anywhere else," he hissed under his breath.
"Is that a threat?"
Destiny's voice didn't come out the way she intended it to. What was supposed to be boss bitch assertive in the "I-Wish-A-Nigga-Would" vocal motif came out limp and almost… needy.
"A promise. Now stop talking so I don't have to hear that dreadful American dialect."
T'Challa turned his head, and Destiny touched the back of her neck. The nape was damp. But another place on her body was too.
The Prince may have hated the English language, but the way he barked it with that Wakandan accent...
Destiny pressed her knees together and faced forward.
###
The vote had come to a close.
King T'Chaka missed locking down the Presidency of the U.N. general assemblies by three votes. He didn't seem upset about losing to the Slovakian rep, in fact, he was rather pleased at how close the vote had been. Destiny sensed he was making political moves, but keeping his aspirations close to the vest.
T'Challa grumbled the entire time, his hand fidgeting on his thighs as he endured the political maneuvering. This man was supposed to be the heir to the throne of Wakanda? Destiny followed behind the Dora Milaje as they tracked King T'Chaka as he made the rounds pressing the flesh and chatting with other global leaders.
"Miss Keith, how would you like to join us for dinner?" T'Chaka asked.
Destiny glanced at her watch.
"It's only one, don't you mean lunch?"
"We can have a light lunch on the plane, but dinner will be in Miami with Ambassador Marignan."
"Miami?"
"Yes. Please say you will join me as my special guest. I'll have you back here late tonight with a private car to take you home. I will not be in the States again until next year, and Ambassador Marignan has not been well for some time, but is keen on seeing me before I return to Wakanda."
"I'll need to get a change of clothes—"
"No, no, you are lovely as you are. We are leaving now. Please say yes."
She was due to file reports and debrief a colleague, but they could be put off until the next day. Spending leisure time with a King was more important. She texted her supervisor and gave King T'Chaka a toothy grin.
"I'm ready."
"Great," T'Challa grumbled walking past her with his Dora.
They were shuttled off in a private car to a secured runway at JFK International Airport. A private jet awaited them, and Destiny tried to act nonchalant about riding in a luxury plane without squealing and snapping photos for friends on her phone. She snagged a window seat right next to the King and T'Challa sat across the aisle from them. The large plush leather seats warmed up, and a Wakandan flight attendant handed them a fancy mixed drink.
"This is Wakandan punch," T'Chaka said sipping from his glass.
The pinkish-orange concoction was sweet and spicy, like peppery fruit punch, but the liquor…
"Oh, my!" she gasped clutching onto her chest.
The beverage packed a wallop, and the King chuckled.
"Strong, eh?" he said.
"Very, but it's delicious."
She sipped a little more and the warmth that seeped in her throat spread to her chest. It made her tongue loose and relaxed her limbs.
The flight attendant headed to the open door and shut it after the pilot was checked over by the King's security, and it didn't take long for them to be up in the air. Destiny enjoyed a lovely chat with the King while T'Challa kept his ears preoccupied with earbuds listening to music and ignoring them.
The three-hour flight had them snacking on tiny fried samosas and grilled veggies with more Wakandan punch. By the time they landed, Destiny was a little tipsy and starving for a full meal. A sleek black limo picked them up and whisked them to Star Island where the average home was over thirty million dollars. They were greeted by staff at a salmon and white villa with an enviable view of Biscayne Bay.
"King T'Chaka Udaku! You old rascal you!"
Samuel Marignan looked pale for his light skin, but he mustered the energy to greet his guests with his much younger Vietnamese and Black French wife. There were several other guests, and the King introduced Destiny to everyone. T'Challa turned on the charm then. It was like night and day from the U.N. general assembly. Wide toothy grin. Bright eyes. Sexy accent speaking French and Italian to some of the guests.
"We are starving," King T'Chaka said rubbing his stomach.
Destiny washed her hands in a guest bathroom the size of her entire studio apartment in Brooklyn. Fussing with her wig, she refreshed her lipstick and checked her teeth for food particles from her lunch on the jet.
With her heels clacking on the marble floor, she joined the other guests in a grand dining room with high ceilings and medieval-looking furniture that didn't quite match the Miami style of bright colors. Destiny learned the home was owned by a billionaire who loaned it to Marignan to recuperate.
"Do you ever get tired of translating and want to do something else?"
Marignan's wife, Seline stared at her with a thoughtful expression after her question.
"Oh no, it's an honor and I take pride in helping our government keep peace in the world."
It was a pat answer, but it sounded good. Seline's eyes twinkled.
"You have lovely hair," she said.
"Thank you."
T'Challa snickered as he sat to Seline's left.
Seline's eyes darted toward him with annoyance.
"What is so funny?" Seline asked.
Destiny glanced around. The King and the other men at the table were busy talking and ignoring them. She touched a strand of her hair, then fiddled with one of her danglin earrings before eating her food again.
T'Challa leaned in toward Seline.
"That's a wig."
He chuckled and gulped down a glass of red wine, his eyes snarky and hateful.
"You are an asshole," Seline hissed.
Her dark eyes latched onto Destiny's.
"The color is lovely for your skin tone."
"Thank you."
Seline tucked a loose lock of her glossy black hair behind her ear and pulled her cloth napkin from her lap. She wasn't even done with her stuffed shrimp.
"If you all will excuse me, I have a headache and will take my leave. It was lovely to see you all," she said.
She glared at T'Challa and sashayed her lithe body down a long hallway.
"She's right. The color is decent on you," T'Challa said.
Destiny ignored him and tucked into her fiesta rice as three different languages flew across the large dining table. T'Challa had his nose stuck back in his cell. His father gave him a stern look for being rude.
"Excuse me. I have to take this call," T'Challa said.
She was glad he left the room and tried to interject herself into the conversation. Yoked into a hearty discussion of climate change mandates and the U.S. government's refusal to take a hardline stance had her on the defensive, but King T'Chaka smoothed over her need to take up for a country that didn't believe in following global rules.
After a time, the King looked agitated. His eyes flicked to T'Challa's empty seat. He placed his hands on the table as if he were about to leave it, but Destiny jumped up for him.
"I'll get him," she whispered.
Relief flooded the King's face.
"Thank you. He spends all his time on his phone when he comes to this country."
"No problem, King T'Chaka."
Destiny took off in the direction she saw him go that led to a wrap-around porch. It was too hot outside, so she followed down an indoor hall where it was cooler and more private for a call.
"T'Challa?"
She popped into a vestibule and froze.
The grunts and groans should've made her leave, but she was glued to the marble floor.
T'Challa had Seline's legs thrown over his arms as he fucked her on a low mantle. A fat juicy dick sheathed in a condom dripped with Seline's juices. He drilled her hard and the married woman bit her own hand to stifle her cries. His long strokes allowed Destiny to see how much he stretched Seline. Each time he pulled all the way out, her opening stayed gaping wide , a big wet hole with swollen pussy lips.
Destiny pivoted back toward where she came from, the shock forcing her to move quickly. She tripped over her own feet and caught her heel in a porch drainage grate on the floor. Yanking it too hard, she broke the heel and one of her favorite earrings fell down the grate, lost to her forever. She began limping back toward the hall that would lead her to the dining room.
"Destiny."
King T'Chaka looked concerned. She saw the others behind him heading down to the private beach.
"He's finishing up his call and will be back soon," she lied.
"Your poor shoe," T'Chaka said reaching for her hand.
He helped her take it off.
"I wasn't watching where I stepped. Lost in the view I guess," she said hoping to distract the King from wandering after his son.
She took the broken heel from the King's hand.
"I'll live, Your Highness," she said clutching it in her hand, "go and enjoy time with your friends," she encouraged.
The Dora escorted the King to the beach, and she lingered on the porch. In her peripheral, she caught the silhouette of T'Challa slinking up next to her.
"I hope you will be discreet," he uttered with a soft tone.
Destiny couldn't even look at him. She allowed her hands to rest on the wooden guardrail of the porch. He did the same and moved closer to her so that his voice was for her ears only. The scent of his cologne drifted under her nose and she glanced at his face. The Prince watched his father slide off his shoes and socks and dip his feet in the water.
"I will pretend I didn't see you fucking a married woman and potentially causing a global scandal," she hissed.
"Our relationship is complicated."
"Open legs, insert dick is not hard to understand."
He chuckled and his dark dashing eyes ghosted over her face. His lips quirked into a sly grin and Destiny's face became flushed. He oozed sexual energy, and it startled her. She pushed back on it.
"That was real shitty making fun of my hair."
"It was a joke. Seline wears a wig too."
"Why bring it up if another woman is complimenting me?"
"I was bored. Tried to entertain myself."
That damn voice. That stupid accent. She turned her head to look back at the King.
"Your father would be so ashamed of you if he found out what you do behind his back. And poor Mr. Marignan. The man is recovering from an illness and you disrespect his home like that."
"Why are your panties in a bunch?"
"I broke my shoe and lost a special earring because of you."
He snuck a peek at her naked foot and then glanced at her ear. The King waved at her and T'Challa. Destiny waved back, and the Prince sauntered onto the sand. She spent the rest of her time watching the Wakandan men and wondering where Seline was hiding.
###
The King's publicist called her on a bright Saturday morning when she returned to her shoebox studio after a hearty jog around her neighborhood.
"How ill is he?" Destiny huffed into her cell phone.
"The pollution in this country has upset a serious sinus infection and he will be retiring to his hotel suite for the duration of his stay. Prince T'Challa will replace him on the book tour and the King requests that you accompany his son as his personal assistant and interpreter should the need arise."
Destiny ran her fingers across her cornrowed hair and thought of the best way to decline. The flight home on the jet with the King had her excited about their upcoming partnership on his book tour. Traveling coast to coast to tout his new four-hundred-page tome on the new Global responsibility of the West had cracked the New York Times best-seller list. She was shocked when she read the foreword to the book and saw that Prince T'Challa had written it while he attended Oxford. It was a brilliant piece of work that allowed her to see the brains behind the arrogant playboy behavior. It was one thing to spend two weeks with the King, but a whole 'nother kettle of fish to traipse all over the North American tour with his son.
There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the call, and then she heard the nasally and worn out voice of the King.
"My dear Miss Keith, I apologize for the last-minute change in plans. But I need your assistance in this matter. It will just be for the American tour. I will line up someone else for my European leg of the tour, but I know my son will work well with you. Your professionalism, intelligence, and understanding of political public relations is a rare gift. And if I may be frank with you, I would prefer a Black American woman working with him who would know the subtext of this country when it comes to its hidden hand in global affairs."
"Your Highness—"
"If you have some concerns, let me have Prince T'Challa take you to dinner tonight. You can discuss how you would handle his tour prep—"
"I appreciate your high regard for my abilities—"
"Destiny, I trust no one else but you."
She paused with fiddling in her hair. The King had never called her by her first name alone before. He sounded desperate.
"One dinner, and if you do not feel that you can handle my son, I will look for someone else or post-pone the tour."
"No! You can't do that."
She plopped down on her couch. King T'Chaka's book dragged the U.S. and she wanted the nation to hear the wisdom laden in the book. Especially since the tour was booked ahead of the American President's own book tour that was scheduled that Spring. She wanted the small country of Wakanda to spank the giant American bully with its self-centered ideas of Global change. It would be an honor to see David smack down Goliath in its own territory. Dinner with the Prince would mean high-priced fancy food, and that could make-up for the ruined high heel and lost jewelry. And she could get a full to-go dinner for the next day.
"I'll do it. Dinner. I'll see what happens after that."
"Thank you. I will have my son pick you up at your home."
She bid the King farewell before his handler took back the phone and requested her location. Showering and unbraiding her hair, she spent the rest of the day putting together an outfit fit for a fancy dinner. She had to downgrade her shoe game with an older pair of sling backs.
When the time came for the Prince to pick her up, Destiny stood in her bathroom mirror and fussed with her hair. The one wig she thought would look best with her dress needed time to hold a curl and it wouldn't hold with the late notice. Fluffing her natural hair, she liked what she saw. The cornrows taken out made her tresses silky and carefree. She dropped her head down and shook it back making the waves look like sexy bed hair. It fell past her shoulders and she decided to wear it as is. Giving herself a smokey eye and bronze-stained lips, she twirled around in front of the mirror. The low-cut black dress was a Neiman-Marcus knock-off, but it looked fancy boutique.
Her doorbell rang, and she took a deep breath grabbing her small black cocktail purse. She opened the door and Ayo stood at the entrance in a tight burgundy dress and burgundy heels. She stepped past Destiny into her home and looked around before walking out of the studio and posting up near the door.
Prince T'Challa appeared wearing a silver and black suit with an overcoat. He held a large decorated blue box in his hand. His eyes danced up and down her frame and a smile curled his lips. The small gap in his front teeth made him look mischievous.
"You look lovely Miss Keith."
"Just call me Destiny."
He nodded then handed the box to her.
"For you."
She took the box and went to her couch. He followed her after closing the front door.
"Wow," she gasped.
Inside the box were a pair of Miu Miu black velvet-trimmed crystal embellished six-inch heels.
"This is… my goodness…"
"Hopefully, these will replace the ones I ruined with my little indiscretion."
He stood before her as she slipped off her old as hell Jimmy Choo pumps and pulled on the chic and budget-busting ultra-designer heels. They fit perfectly.
"My father made me get these for you."
"Oh," she mumbled.
She rolled her eyes at him once she knew he was ordered to replace them.
"But these are from me," he said.
He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a red satin jewelry box. She opened it carefully and the most exquisite earrings she ever saw in her life sparkled in her hand. Long, jangly, with an opal finish streaked with a luminescent electric blue coloring, Destiny nearly lost her breath looking at them.
T'Challa reached for her left ear and took out the earring there before doing the same to her other ear. He placed her cheap jewelry on the shoe box then took out each earring he brought her and placed them in her ears. His touch made her tingle. The second earring insertion gave him a bit of trouble when her hair became entangled with the backing.
"This is my real hair by the way," she said with satisfaction.
His breath on her cheek smelled like cinnamon and the fresh cologne he wore made her close her eyes. She felt his thick fingers brush back her hair and stroke her earlobe. When she opened her eyes, his pitch-black orbs hypnotized her.
"How do they look?" she asked.
He simply nodded, then tilted her chin with his warm hand.
"Perfect."
###
He took delight in watching her slip on the high heels.
The curve of her ankle and the shapely legs attached to them made him stare at her bottom half longer than he intended to.
Prince T'Challa Udaku had come across enough beautiful women in his life to know this woman, Destiny Keith was a stunner. Americans tended to overlook the darker-hued women in their population, but T'Challa recognized her worth the moment he laid eyes on her. He grew suspicious of her motives to be so treacly sweet to his father. Women did that a lot with world dignitaries. Power was the ultimate aphrodisiac. Every time he traveled to America with the King, his father requested Destiny. He was suspicious of her for a long time. In the past, his father had been a scoundrel, but his step-mother Ramonda had set him straight early in their marriage. Destiny had his father acting like a smitten paramour. She wore expensive wigs, but cheap shoes and middle of the road clothing. She had the educational pedigree, but living in New York was expensive and she made concessions to keep up appearances. Beauty was her greatest commodity next to her brain, and the King adored her and that made T'Challa suspicious that he was having an affair. Many world leaders had mistresses tucked away around the globe. Queen Ramonda insisted that T'Challa accompany his father for years as he came of age.
It wasn't until the trip to Miami that he was able to see her outside of work. Her interest in his father was genuine and pure. It irritated him. Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Even when he sent Ayo to track her and make sure she was on the up and up, the only seedy thing he found out about her was that she loved eating greasy pizza with pineapples.
It embarrassed him when she caught him with Seline. In the middle of spilling a hot load into his lover, he turned his head to the left as he grunted out his orgasm and caught sight of Destiny tumbling out of the vestibule. He had warned Seline that they should've waited, but her hand went under the dining table and fondled his dick through his pants while her husband chatted with his father. She made up the ruse about being interested in Destiny's hair so she could leave the room, giving him time to follow her without raising suspicion.
Destiny pranced around in the new heels and flicked her fingernails against the Wakandan earrings. Her broad smile at receiving the gifts shifted something inside of him. The items were mere trinkets to him, but to her, they were rare luxuries. He took a moment to take in her living space. Humble. Modest furniture. A stationary bike sat near a wide-open window where a cool fall breeze ruffled Destiny's hair. A small stove and tiny refrigerator showed him how small her kitchen area was. A maple dinette table with two chairs rounded out the couch and low-set mahogany coffee table that looked second hand but durable.
"Shall we leave for dinner?" he suggested feeling like he was invading her simple living arrangement.
She grabbed her small clutch and reached for a light copper jacket that came to her knees. He helped her with it and they were led to an old elevator by Ayo.
His personal driver opened the back door of a private car, and T'Challa assisted her getting inside. He caught a flash of her thighs as she scooted in. Trying to ignore the slight arousal that her naked legs gave him, he followed in after her and Ayo took a position in the front passenger seat.
"Before I forget," he said pulling out Metropolitan Opera House tickets from his outer coat pocket.
"Aida?" she said with wide eyes.
She fingered the tickets and her eyes grew even wider when she saw the seating. Center Orchestra.
"If dinner goes well, my father thought you deserved a treat. I am told this is a popular opera."
"I've been wanting to see it for years. Could never snag tickets like this. And I don't like the cheap nose-bleed seats. It's not worth going if you can't really see anything."
"But isn't it about the music? The voices?"
"I want the whole package. Hear the voices and see the expressions on their faces. The full experience. This is… your father is doing a lot."
"He is fond of you and your work ethic."
She seemed giddy in her seat. The driver whisked them along busy New York streets and she remained quiet next to him until she noticed the streets they turned down after a time. They were in Manhattan. The driver pulled them in front of Thirteen, an exclusive restaurant that needed reservations months in advance.
Ayo opened the car door for them, and he escorted her inside the establishment. The Maître D nearly creamed in his pants when he saw T'Challa, gushing all over them and leading their party to private seating in the back. An attendant took their coats and Ayo positioned herself at a smaller table near the kitchen, keeping her eyes on all who moved about.
Candlelight on the table made Destiny's skin glow, and the earrings he bought her glinted like magical fireflies on her ears. Her real hair was thick and luxurious and he wondered why she covered it up all the time. It softened her face and made her look sensual and relaxed. Not so uptight like she had a stick up her ass.
He ordered them white wine without looking at the cocktail menu, and when she was handed the one night only menu, her lips pursed. There were no prices on the menu.
"What do you have a taste for?" she asked.
"What I will eat is not on the menu."
Her big expressive eyes latched onto his.
"They fix me whatever I want."
"Oh… you're fancy fancy," she joked.
He reached out and stroked the dangling earring that gleamed in the light. His eyes drifted to her naked throat. He switched over into Wakandan.
"I chose well. Perhaps I should have chosen a necklace to go with them," he said.
Her eyes darted away from his and re-focused on the menu.
Their drinks arrived with a small plate of grilled finger foods he enjoyed.
"I'll have the Kobe steak medallions and truffles with the caramelized garlic fritters," she said to their server.
T'Challa ordered Sea Bass and Lamb chops and it didn't take long for their four-course meal to begin. Destiny kept patting her stomach every time a new plate was brought to them and he grinned. They discussed his intro to his father's book, and she had a reporter's list of questions about his inclusion in the book. He razzle dazzled her and for the first time, he felt a tension loosen between them. Her questions were insightful and pulled a lot of complex answers from him.
"I guess I misjudged you," she said sipping her second glass of wine.
"And I you," he said.
"Well, you haven't always been kind to me, so you never gave me a chance to show you how delightful I can be."
"I do not come to this country to find delight in its citizens."
"Your English is impeccable when you speak it. Why do you pretend to be less fluent than you really are?"
"You would be amazed at the things Americans say when they think you cannot understand them."
"Oh, so a political tactic?"
"Precisely. More wine?"
"Hmmm."
"Can I tell you something?" he said.
"Sure."
It had been bugging him the entire meal as she spoke to him in Wakandan. Her glottal stop was atrocious in his language.
"You block the air flow too soon when you say certain words in Wakandan."
He gave her some examples, and she copied. He squinted when she messed up some words.
"Here, relax," he said reaching up to her throat and holding her there, "your chords are coming together when they shouldn't. I don't know who taught you, but you must change it. I can no longer take the disrespect."
She giggled instead of being offended and spoke several words with his guidance.
"Ah, Bast has been kind to you… now that is how you speak Wakandan," he said.
"T'Challa," she said, and he stared at her suddenly.
"Say that again, just like that," he encouraged.
"T'Challa."
Sexy.
Her tongue rolled his name like she was trying to seduce him.
"Very good," he said switching back to English quickly.
He poured himself another glass of wine from a decanter and asked her questions about her life. She was very forthcoming. Destiny worked hard to help out her elderly parents back in Virginia. Her father had early onset dementia and her mother cared for him while working part-time. The money that she made from her U.N. job went to supplement the fees of hiring a private day nurse to assist her mother in looking after her father. Instead of living in a larger apartment and spoiling herself with material goods, she shared home-healthcare expenses with a brother in Maryland and lived frugally. Wigs instead of expensive weekly hair salon visits. Sensible shoes and the modest wardrobe. The tiny one room space with a shoebox-sized bathroom.
His cell vibrated. Checking it he saw the name and smiled. Sandrine. It was time to line up a late-night hook up.
"Excuse me," he said standing up, "order some dessert for us, we have time before the opera starts."
He sauntered over to an empty table across the room near Ayo, but kept his eyes on Destiny. She had a satisfied grin on her face and scrutinized the dessert menu before choosing something that made her clap her hands with delight when the server chatted with her. She was like a kid at Disneyland. Her eyes danced around checking the décor as he spoke to Sandrine softly, apologizing for not being able to spend more time with her at that moment.
A well-dressed Black man with a beautiful date strolled past their table and Destiny looked like she saw a ghost. The man sent his date to another table as he stood near T'Challa's table speaking to Destiny who appeared to close in on herself. T'Challa hung up the phone and strode back to his table.
"Destiny, is everything okay?"
T'Challa's eyes became daggers as he watched the man's smug face.
"Is this your date?" the man asked.
All joy seemed to have disappeared from Destiny's face.
"I don't want any dessert now," she whispered sliding from her seat.
"What is going on here?" Ayo hissed.
She positioned herself in front of T'Challa and glared at the intruder.
"Whoa, hold up, wait a minute, what is all this? I'm just greeting an old friend."
Destiny closed her eyes, and her body trembled. T'Challa reached for her hand and pulled her in close to his side.
"Who is this man?" he asked.
"My ex-fiance—"
"Destiny…"
The woman who walked into Thirteen with the man wandered over. Destiny's lips became a thin tight line.
"Your Highness?" Ayo asked.
"Oh my God, you're Prince T'Challa Udaku!" the strange woman yelped.
The man's eyes zeroed in on T'Challa then, observing his expensive clothes and the personal security.
"You leveled up, Destiny. Sorry for disturbing your night out."
The man grabbed for his woman's hand and left abruptly to their seats. Their server arrived with a gigantic seven-layer chocolate ganache cake.
"We'll have that to go, please," T'Challa said, "and please bring us our coats."
T'Challa gently held Destiny's elbow and led her to the front of the restaurant.
"I am sorry you are so upset," he whispered to her.
She nodded her head but couldn't make eye contact with him. Ayo handed them their coats, and he helped Destiny put on the copper jacket and she followed him out to the car with Ayo leading them.
"I'm sorry I froze up like that. I haven't seen Derrick in over eight years and it was a shock," she finally said.
"You were going to marry that man?"
"Yes. Until he got my best friend pregnant and married her instead."
T'Challa sat back with that information.
"That is horrible," he offered, "that woman was the friend?"
"Yep. Gina. A traitor whore. She was supposed to be my maid of honor. She hopped on his dick after my bachelorette party and the rest is as they say… history."
She wept. He handed her a handkerchief he carried in his suit pocket. Wiping her eyes carefully, she tried to smile through her tears.
"Didn't mean to become a Debbie Downer tonight. I loved the meal and the conversation."
Her lip trembled, and he threw an arm around her.
"Don't cry for that rhino turd. He lost a good woman and gained a future headache. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she is only out for a rich man to use. And his suit was cheap as hell. So was her dress."
"My dress is cheap as hell."
"But you're not."
He took his handkerchief from her fingers and pocketed it. Tilting her chin up to his face, he felt weak seeing pools of water sitting on her lids, threatening to cascade down her cheeks.
"No more crying for trash."
"He was trash. And his suit was cheap," she giggled, "a bum," she ended in Wakandan.
T'Challa sucked on his teeth, "What happened to the perfect Wakandan I just taught you earlier? Eh, eh? That grated my royal ears. I am greatly disappointed that you have not mastered your lessons from me, Destiny."
She laughed, and the sound of her voice was pleasant.
"Forgive me, Your Highness. I shall do better in the future."
Her Wakandan was perfect then. It even made Ayo smile in the front seat.
"I wish I was smarter than I was back then. If Derrick were to approach me now, I could smell the dog on him a mile away. I was… I was so young and stupid. He was from a well-connected family. Good-looking… said all the right things to me. I don't know why I started crying. I hate his guts. I'm just sad for her… me… the me I used to be eight years ago. I was twenty-two. I wish I could go back in time and tell her that it all worked out for her own good."
"Tell her now," he said.
"What do you mean?"
"Close your eyes and imagine that you are standing in front of your younger self. Tell her this truth. She will know and you will heal."
She rolled her eyes and pulled away from his arm.
"That's silly. It won't help."
"Just try it."
She closed her eyes and her face relaxed. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled.
"Young Destiny, don't waste another moment crying over that fuck nigga—"
"I do not think that language is necessary—"
"The young me would totally get that," she said sneaking one eye open.
"Very well."
"You don't need him to make you happy. I promise, you grow up to win the international internship to Kenya. You master Wakandan and get an amazing job translating and interpreting for important people at the U.N. You make enough money to help Mommy and Daddy, and you get to hang out with an amazing King, and his so-so son… a real life Prince. You get to be Cinderella for a night, but hopefully you won't fall inside a rotten pumpkin and some New York street rats. You get to go see Aida, finally, in the front row. With fancy shoes and beautiful earrings. You have a wonderful life baby girl. You really do. I promise…."
She gasped and covered her eyes for a second, before bubbly laughter fell from her lips. She gazed at him with glittery eyes.
"I think that might've worked!"
He smiled wide and patted her hand.
"We have arrived, Your Highness," Ayo said.
They were easing into the private entrance.
"No, let's go to the front. I would like to escort Miss Keith through the main entrance."
Ayo glanced back at him with a shocked face. The driver took them around the block and he helped Destiny out of the car, clasping her hand in his.
"Let's give that ex of yours something to fume about when he sees you in the papers tomorrow."
###
T'Challa watched her throughout the Aida performance.
Destiny had her back against the seat for the first half of the performance, but after the intermission, she was on the edge of the seat with her elbows on her thighs and her hands cradling her chin. The passion of the music and the performers moved her and tears fell from her eyes. A hand went over her mouth at the dramatic ending as the two lovers were buried alive forver.
He reached out and held her left hand reassuring her that it was just a fictional story. Ayo moved them through the crowd and he held onto her hand as she gushed on about the show.
"To have love like that… oh, I don't think my heart could take it!"
A few celebrities clogged up the lobby, and paparazzi snapped pictures. Ayo maneuvered them to a side door and called for his driver. Destiny clung to his hand, their fingers threaded together tight. He led her with purposeful strides, throwing up his hand to push away the rich patrons who tried to step to him. Once the paps knew royalty was among the glitterati crowd, they were bumrushed. Ayo took on a defensive stance and Destiny pressed herself into his side trying to hide her face. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"Stop hiding. You look beautiful. Remember, your ex-fiance will see this and regret he lost you."
She shook her head, and he untangled his hand from hers and threw his arm around her waist. The action startled her and her eyes dropped to the ground.
"Prince T'Challa! Prince T'Challa! Over here! Over here!"
Several paps shouted for his attention and he took on the flashy poses he was known for. He stroked his beard and quirked his lips when Destiny raised her eyes and observed all the fuss made over him. Her body relaxed, and he walked with her through the throngs and onto the street.
"I know a place near here. A jazz club. Would you join me for a nightcap?"
"It's so late."
"One hour. One drink. One song. Join me."
His driver scooped them up and dropped them off at a hole in the wall. Destiny knew about the place but had never been there herself. T'Challa insisted that Ayo leave them alone, and they squeezed inside a smokey room with sweltering heat, and hot music.
"Sup, Prince!"
A bartender gave T'Challa dap, and he ordered two Balvenie Doublewoods. He handed Destiny a tumbler, and they walked to the back of the room and found seats near an older couple. After the first drink, Destiny sucked down another with him, and the hour became two as they chatted and laughed.
"What shall I tell my father tomorrow? Will you accompany me on the book tour?" he asked.
Her eyes sparkled and her soft lips parted. The pink tip of her tongue licked a drop of whiskey from her top lip.
"I will do the tour. Even though you don't really need me."
"You must help me carry on the façade of being the helpless Prince."
"You will never be helpless."
"This is true," he said chuckling.
He tossed back the last of his whiskey and studied her face.
"Let's go for a walk. You look like you could use some fresh air."
"That would be nice."
He helped her with her jacket and her face took on a curious expression as he led her to the back exit.
"Where are-?"
"Don't worry. We're ditching Ayo and my driver."
"But they have to protect you."
"We'll walk to my hotel. It's not far and then they can take you home."
"I thought you…"
She stopped talking.
"You thought what?"
"Nothing," she said with a smile on her face.
Pushing the back exit door open, they bypassed a bouncer, and he held out his arm for her. She linked her arm in his and they strolled away from the jazz club.
"How long have you been seeing Seline?"
He chuckled.
"You will not let me live that down, eh?"
"Hmmph, well you do seem to like women with the letter 'S' in their name."
"What do you mean?"
"Sandrine?"
He smirked.
"I am single, but, you are incorrect. I don't just like women with an 'S' in their name."
"Oh, yeah?"
"I like the letter 'D' too."
Her eyes fluttered away from his sincere gaze.
"That's the whiskey talking," she said.
He stopped walking and pulled her in close.
"I speak for myself," he said.
He caressed her cheek, and her body became stiff in his arms.
"Prince T'Challa, I don't think you should do anything that will compromise a good working relationship."
"We are not working right now."
Her eyes darted around the alleyway they stood near. He brought his face closer to hers and she stared at his lips.
"Could I kiss you?" he asked.
She squirmed a bit.
"Destiny, may I kiss you?"
She raised her hands up to his chest and pressed them against the center. Her breath was laced with the top shelf whiskey. Her hesitation gave him pause.
"It is okay. You do not want me to—"
Her lips pushed into his so fast that he tumbled back a little. He opened his mouth to taste her tongue, and she gave in to his probing. Slipping his fingers inside her jacket, he pulled her warmth hard against him. The new heels gave her just enough height to not need to be on tiptoes, but he lifted her up anyway and she threw her arms around his neck.
"Will you come back with me to my hotel suite?" he whispered in her ear.
She nipped at his earlobe and snaked her tongue along the shell of his ear.
"Another nightcap?" she said with a breathy moan.
His lips skimmed up her neck, and he suckled the tender skin under her ear.
"I'll give you the royal treatment," he huffed feeling his arousal strain against his zipper.
He palmed her ass cheeks and squeezed them. The loose flair at the bottom of her dress allowed him to jiggle the soft mounds of her ass. He wondered how she would feel riding him as he played with ass naked. She pressed into him more and he hissed when she created friction on his dick.
"You have me standing at attention."
He groaned out loud when she rubbed on his erection. She gripped her bottom lip between her teeth as she fingered the head of his dick. Her other hand dropped, and he heard his zipper go down. She fished inside his briefs until she gripped the girth there.
"You're even bigger than what I saw," she quipped.
His head dropped onto her forehead as she beat his meat on the street. Anyone passing by would think they were lovers kissing and cooing. His overcoat and her jacket made things look innocent. She glanced down at what she had in her hand and a throaty growl came out of her mouth. Pre-cum slickened her hand and she tugged harder drawing out grunts from him.
"I have a large bed for this, Destiny," he panted in her ear.
"Promise me you won't act weird tomorrow," she said.
Her eyes became cautious.
"I promise that I will give you what Cinderella should've gotten from a real Prince," he choked out.
He gripped her shoulders. She had him swollen and ready to burst.
"T'Challa, take me to your bed…"
In a flash, he tucked his erection behind his zipper once more and clasped her hand. The sound of her heels on the pavement excited him. He wanted her naked and wearing those shoes when he threw her legs over his shoulders.
The hotel loomed in sight. He pulled out his cell and let Ayo know he was safe and sound. In the elevator ride up to his suite, he could barely look at Destiny. His kisses had bruised up the flesh on her lips and he wanted that mouth on his dick sucking him dry. T'Challa did his best not to drag her down the hallway to his room, but her wanton looks and carefree hair drove him mad. He had to admit to himself that he would not have been upset if his father had started an affair with her. He would understand why. The longer he stayed around her, the more attracted he was to her himself.
They crashed into his room pulling off coats, clothes and underwear. When she reached for those heels, he nearly had a fit.
"Keep those on!" he snapped.
Her body was more than what he imagined. She took care of herself. There was an athletic softness to her. Her breasts were perfect summer peaches with dark nipples that sat perky and ready for his mouth. She turned around to look at his king-sized bed and her ass had him stumbling toward her. He reached for the dresser and pulled out a box of condoms from a drawer. She tossed back her hair and stared at his length. He tugged on it for her, allowing his natural lubricant to fall to the floor. Her eyes looked the way they did when she caught him with Seline.
Hungry.
She wanted his dick then like she wanted it at that moment.
"Put this on me," he said, handing her the protection.
She sauntered over to him and plucked the condom from his hand. He ran his fingers across her hair.
"I will treat you like a princess… my princess."
She kissed his hand and carefully opened the wrapper.
###
It had to be a dream.
There was no way she was on her knees sucking the dick of Prince T'Challa. She gluck-glucked the hell out of his meat. The man had big wood, and she only had so much mouth to take care of it. When she first wrapped her lips around the thick ebony head, she grew self-conscious. She had made such a big deal about him fucking a married woman, but here she was slobbing down his dick as his PR handler and translator.
Her pussy was so wet by the time they made it to the hotel. Her panties were already soaked when she kissed him in the alley and jerked him off, but to have that fat juicy erection in her mouth was heaven. Her walls throbbed as he spoke to her in Wakandan. He ordered her to watch his face while she sucked, and his eyes became hooded. His balls jumped, and she fondled them as she fucked his dick with her mouth. He pushed in deeper and stretched her throat. She pulled his dick out and spit on it several times and he shouted to her in Wakandan. He was so turned on by her wetting him up that way.
"-being a good little slut with that mouth…"
Her clit jumped at his English.
"Destiny… I didn't know you were such a nasty little slut with this mouth. You know how to use that tongue… oh fucking Bast!"
He yanked his dick away from her greedy throat and fisted himself.
"Condom! Now!"
She rolled it on him, and he lifted her up to her feet.
"You shall ride my face until I make you cum."
He licked his fingers until his saliva covered them and snaked them down to her clit where he pinched it, then buried his digits inside her pussy.
"Fucking drenched, Destiny," he gasped.
Curling his fingers, he tapped along her walls until he found her spot.
"Why is your pussy so loud to my ears? Are you ready for me?"
Her knees buckled, and he caught her, dragging his fingers from her core and licking every drop.
"Sweet pussy. Come my love, let me please you."
He crawled onto the bed and gestured for her to crawl over his face. She obliged, wiggling her way up his lean muscular body and sitting her fat kitty on that big mouth. Bouncing on his lips, she allowed the intense sensations of his fastidious tongue to eat her like the queen she really was. He spread her inner lips with his fingers sat his mouth over it, milking out every bit of arousal she had in her. His tongue went stiff, and she sat on it begging him to make her cum. She reached the precipice and he held back making her scream in frustration.
Laughing at her anguish, he pushed her onto her back.
"You will cum on my dick," he commanded.
His lips were twisted in a playful smirk, but his eyes were heated and deadly. He lifted his heavy dick and tapped it on her clit. Her juices coated the condom until it glistened like his lips still dripping with her slick. Sitting up on his knees, he held her ankles and pushed her legs back. His dick was so fat, he didn't need to guide it with his hand. It parted her folds and arched her back off the bed.
"Oh my Gawd!" she cried.
She was full of him. Destiny felt the deep pressure, and it made her stomach push up where they could see the movement each time he pushed into her. The back of her scalp dug into the blanket and her neck curved, lifted her head up. She couldn't take it. It was too much, too fast.
Destiny pushed on his stomach and tried to get him to hold back. He spit on his dick and watched his saliva coat the condom as it dipped back into her, rearranging her guts and knocking the air out of her body.
"Prince T'Challa! Baby… please, stop!"
Her skin was on fire and the nerves tingling in her back and the bottom of her legs had her shaking uncontrollably. He put in work, twisting his hips and holding her legs up to leverage his balance. His beautiful chest muscles dripped with sweat. She gasped and shook her head from side to side and he finally eased up.
"Am I too much for you? Hurting you? Tell me Destiny."
His voice dripped with seductive tones, and her pussy clenched around the head of his dick. His accent had her toes bunching up in her heels.
"I know this sounds wrong, but it feels too good. My body is not dealing with all that is happening. I'm overstimulated."
His eyes looked so sad. He lowered her legs back onto the bed and stayed hunched over her.
"Do you need me to pull out?"
"No… just… just don't move for a little bit. Let me hold you inside."
"Okay."
He laid his face against hers, and their lips couldn't stay apart. He tongued her down and the electrical pulse he ignited there shot down to her clit and she throbbed around his shaft.
"I can feel you squeezing me, Destiny. You are so tight around me… fuck… I don't think I can be still for much longer."
He licked all over her chest and sucked her nipples until they were rock hard and pointy like succulent candy treats. He shifted his weight and his dick moved inside of her and she bit into his shoulder.
"Go slow," she coaxed.
He wiggled his hips before pulling out partially. She exhaled at the feeling down there. Her clit was swollen beyond what it could normally handle. Widening her thighs and legs, T'Challa sank in deeper and hit her bottom. She yelped and clawed his back before her fingernails buried deep into the curls on his scalp. His face pressed into her neck as he pumped in and out, striking that bottom with precision. Her legs trembled and her eyes welled up with grateful tears. Lord, this was what fucking was supposed to be like!
"Destiny… I am trying not to move to fast for you… but… your pussy is too perfect and I can't control myself," he stammered.
He jammed his fists into the mattress and pounded the side of her wall. Her eyes rolled back, and she held onto him. Deep shallow pants kept her afloat.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I can't help myself…." he said.
"Don't stop! Please! Keep going!"
"You keep squeezing my dick… your pussy is so good… so good…."
"Hitting my spot!"
"That's your spot?"
"Yes!"
She didn't know what Daddy long strokes were until he showed her.
"Fuck… fuck… oohhh… T'Challa… right there… right there… I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I keep cumming… shit….!"
She spasmed and lost control of her limbs. They flipped and flopped under him and her release throbbed on and on all over his dick. Whatever gibberish she said to him had him grinning like a trickster until the tremors in her body eased and she was finally able to stay still.
T'Challa stroked her damp hair and kissed her nose.
"That was the most beautiful thing I have ever saw," he whispered.
"I looked like a wild woman," she said covering her face.
He pulled her hands away.
"No, you looked like you belong under me all the time."
She pressed her lips together unsure of what to say.
"I have never seen a woman… lose herself like that. Your eyes… my holy Bast, your eyes were… sacred."
He slid a finger down her cheek. Her heart rate lowered and her breathing evened out.
"Destiny…"
He pushed her thighs back, and they fell open all loose and limber. Pumping in and out of her folds, T'Challa's eyes stayed glued to hers.
"I'm so glad I had this night with you…"
His eyes shut, and he pursed his thick lips. Pleasure coursed through him and he laced his fingers with hers. When his eyes opened, Destiny nearly lost her senses again. His entire aura was seductive, hungry… so in tune with her flesh.
"You have my dick so hard… harder than it's ever been… look how you receive my love, Destiny. Look at what you are doing to me!"
T'Challa threw his head back and roared his orgasm into her ears. His dick jumped inside her pussy. His balls contracted and his length kept throbbing, pushing his cum out. His eyes bore down into her and she caught a glimpse of the divine. It frightened her and she kissed him to block out the intensity. He moaned into her mouth and his muscular frame became rigid in her arms. His ejaculation incapacitated him and he fell on top of her exhausted and totally drained.
After ten minutes passed, she went to his bathroom to relieve herself. She washed her face and hands and wished she had brought a few make-up wipes in her purse. Her skin would be raggedy the next morning. She crept out and watched T'Challa take his turn in the bathroom.
They crawled under the covers and cuddled. His gentle touches on her face and back were matched by the kisses he painted all over her face. He couldn't stop kissing her. An hour later he fell asleep, and she gathered up her underwear and clothes and quickly dressed. Slipping on her heels, she felt her ears to make sure her earrings were still in place. They were. Purse in hand, she sneaked out of his hotel room. She was halfway down the hallway when she realized she had left her jacket on the floor. It would have to stay. She didn't have a passkey to get back into the suite. Plus, she didn't want to wake him up.
Jabbing her index finger on the elevator button, she thought of what she would say to King T'Chaka… and also how she would face T'Challa in the bright reality of daylight.
"Where do you think you are going?"
T'Challa's voice was loud in the hall. And he was buck naked.
"I'm going home. I have some work to catch up on—"
"Get back in my bed."
He stood before her adamant that she leave with him.
"T'Challa—"
"Prince T'Challa."
She cocked her head surprised at the need for formality. Especially with his dick swinging in front of her.
"Prince T'Challa, you should not be running down halls naked, you could be thrown out of this hotel."
He waved his hand.
"All of the rooms on this floor are taken by me so I can have privacy. No one will see me. Now get back to my room You are not leaving me in the middle of the night."
"It's four in the morning—"
T'Challa lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder.
"Don't ever question me. Our time together is not over."
He stalked back to his suite with her bouncing on his shoulder. He spanked her ass once, and she didn't question him again.
"We shall rest and then I will order room service for a full breakfast. You will call my father and tell him we shall travel together as a team."
His foot kicked his suite door open, and he placed her back on her feet. He reached for her shoulders and slipped her dress down again.