"There's a sparkle in your eyes
I feel the warmth of your skin
Just the touch of your hand
Makes me tremble within
Love the smell of your hair
Lying here in our bed, oh
Never gonna be alone
'Cause with you I'm finally coming home"
"Better Place" – Spring Gang
The first major book tour interview was a rousing success.
Destiny watched T'Challa speak to Whoopi Goldberg and Sunny Hostin on "The View" standing next to the segment producer. She had an earpiece on where she could speak to the Prince in case he became confused about a question or some AAVE slang. All the women on the panel were impressed with him. He had them eating out of his palm as he discussed Wakanda's new role as a facilitator of peace around the world.
Destiny suggested that he wear a Persian blue dress shirt and slacks with a smartly cut azure jacket that made the rich melanin of his beautiful skin sit like midnight velvet on the TV screen. He was so charming and flirty with all the women, and even the hardball questions lobbed at him from Sunny concerning his country's border skirmishes were skated over with ease.
The man had it. Star power.
The segment ended with Joy Behar asking about his love life as an heir and how women dealt with him wearing platinum grills with sharp teeth. T'Challa wisely kept his personal information off-limits, but he elaborated on his collection of priceless fronts and slugs as part of his style.
As the show went to commercial break, Destiny gave him a thumbs up and she texted King T'Chaka that they were on their way to the next interview at Good Morning America. Three days of interviews on the East Coast had been a flurry of conference calls, media training on the fly, and reigning in T'Challa's arrogance. Brilliant men were often trouble to contain with humility, and the Prince was no exception. It was hard for him to hide scorn on his face when he felt the person near his person was beneath him in intelligence and taste. She kept reminding him that he was standing in for his father and to take on the countenance of the diplomatic King.
The negro was hard-headed. He got on her nerves every day.
Despite the fact they were fucking each other comatose every night in his bed, despite the brand new wardrobe he bought for her, despite the personal hairstylist, make-up artist, and her own personal assistant as part of their ten-person entourage, Destiny and T'Challa were at each other's throats while they worked together.
After The View, they stopped at the hotel for him to shower, change and prep for Good Morning America.
"The NPR interview will happen before lunch and Pacifica radio is ready for you at nine tomorrow with Amy Goodman before we fly to Chicago," she called to him from the opposite side of his shower door.
"Can we skip CNN tonight?"
"No. Anderson Cooper is chomping at the bit to talk to you before Oprah gets her hooks into you out in L.A."
T'Challa burst out from the bathroom rubbing a plush towel across his chest. He was dripping wet and naked in front of his entire crew. They were used to him being like this. Destiny thought it was too intimate to watch his dick flop around in front of other women. Especially the young make-up artist that flirted with him every chance she got.
A female masseuse rubbed his shoulders while a female manicurist worked on his cuticles as he sat on a hotel chair. Destiny grabbed the towel from his hand and laid it across his lap. That was her big dick and heavy balls sitting out in the open. She wasn't having it. He sucked his teeth.
"Such a child about nudity," he hissed. The glint of his grill annoyed her.
His people were all Wakandan, so Destiny assumed this was the norm for them. But not to her. The masseuse was a little too handsy on his shoulders.
"Would you all excuse us?" she demanded.
Everyone stopped moving and glanced at T'Challa. He rolled his eyes, then flicked his wrist signaling for them to go through the adjoining suite door that led to her personal suite. Ayo followed behind them and shut the door.
"I don't like this."
"Like what?" he said standing up and checking his hair in the mirror. The taut glutes of his ass distracted her. So did his back muscles as they moved while he ran his fingers through his glossy curls.
"There should be some distance from you and your staff when you are getting dressed and we need to talk business. I prefer it when it's just you, me, and Ayo."
"What's your real issue?" he asked.
The gleam in his eye told her he wasn't taking her seriously.
"They are too familiar, and I don't think your father would like it. He knows how to separate himself."
"Well, it is a good thing I am nothing like my father. So rigid."
He stroked his left pec and ogled her from the mirror.
"You're jealous."
"Tuh."
He wagged his finger at her.
"I see how you get uncomfortable when other women touch me in front of you. You are feeling territorial over me, and it is conflicting with your rigid need to control my interactions."
She chewed on her lip.
He grabbed on his dick.
"Your name is on this, eh?" he teased.
She walked away from him and picked up her computer tablet from a desk.
"Get dressed. We need to leave in ten minutes."
He padded over to her and curled his body around her back.
"You are really upset about this?"
"You are dismissive and I find it disrespectful."
"This is just a difference in cultural expectations. Nothing more. Leave it be."
"Nigga, women are staring at your dick while we are discussing an important book that could have revolutionary implications to other world leaders. If I am feeding you sections that you should cover for each interview and your balls are out and getting other women hot and bothered, I think you should follow my directions and put on clothes."
"Okay… okay… damn… I'll put on clothes. Uptight woman."
She shoved him away.
"See. That's what I'm talking about. Dismissive. I'm an uptight woman for asking you to show me some respect and a little professionalism."
"I don't have time for this shit."
He stomped over to one side of his bed and began putting on his boxer briefs and traditional black tunic and trousers. He grumbled in Wakandan, cursing her out as he moved.
"Come back in here!" he shouted
The staff returned, and he made a big scene about her being embarrassed by his nudity and that from now on he would get dressed, alone, and they would have to wait in another room until she was done talking to him to attend to his needs. Two people sucked their teeth and cut eyes at her. Ayo snapped her fingers at them and shut that shit down.
Destiny's chest became tight with tension.
"I'll be down in the car," she snapped.
Grabbing her purse and clutching her tablet, she walked out with her dignity crushed.
###
The Good Morning America segment was a disaster. Instead of T'Challa being alone to banter and talk up his father's book, the show invited a political expert from Niganda to challenge Wakanda's rebranding as a global expert on peaceful negotiations on climate change, immigration, and border issues. T'Challa looked so regal in his black clothing, and he handled the Nigandan plant with political finesse, but he went in on American democracy, moving the conversation away from positive world peace, to asserting the right to challenge American imperialism under the guise of democracy.
It didn't get any better over on CNN where he roasted Anderson Cooper, neoliberalism, and cannibalistic American politics. Destiny tried to reason with him through her earpiece and hidden mic, but the Prince went in and would not let up. He became a pit bull and made Anderson Cooper sweat. That white man wilted under T'Challa's grilling, and no amount of pleading from her made him quit.
Her cell phone lit up. King T'Chaka's handler.
"Fuck."
She texted that she was in the middle of talking to a producer and would get back to him as soon as possible.
T'Challa snatched the CNN mic off of his tunic and stormed past her. Ayo trailed behind him and Destiny could only shake her head. On their way to dinner in the car, his anger didn't let up.
"I have to tell your father what just happened. What would you like me to say?"
"Tell him nothing."
Over a plate of seared scallops and pasta, she spoke to the King of Wakanda and promised to spin the aggressive nature of the Prince's words in their favor. Destiny reached out to a few influencer friends who jumped on the task by posting flashy pictures of him. The interview with The View was played up and Destiny shared behind-the-scenes photos of T'Challa that got him trending for being fine and smart and not a loud-mouth instigator. A recent ex-boyfriend became clutch when he helped her land a quick radio spot on a popular Black radio morning show as an exclusive. She would squeeze him in after the Pacifica interview. They were flying by private jet, so she had to adjust only one bookstore promo in Chicago to occur an hour later than scheduled.
Picking at her cheesecake, she listened to King T'Chaka's book agent speak to the Prince with awe in his voice. He didn't seem to mind T'Challa's fiery personality on the air. Book sales had spiked after his rift with Anderson Cooper. Everyone wanted to know about the opinionated firebrand son.
She was silent on the ride back to their hotel and didn't wait for him when she jumped out of the private car and rushed up to her room. A hot bubble bath soothed her mood, and she wrapped herself in the fluffy white hotel bathrobe. Throwing herself on her bed she ignored the soft taps on the adjoining room door.
"Destiny, I know you can hear me. Open this door. Now."
"Go away, T'Challa. I'm tired and I need my rest for tomorrow."
"Open the door so I may speak to you face to face."
"No. Goodnight. I'll see you at breakfast in the morning."
He banged on the door.
"I want to speak to you. Right now!"
"Fuck you."
His fists hammered on the door, and she continued to ignore him. Snatching up clean underwear from her suitcase in the closet, she found a slinky blouse and tight jeans and threw them on. A light coating of lip gloss and eyeliner perked up her face. Tying her silk press up into a neat bun on top of her head, she slipped on T'Challa's earrings and knee-high boots and slipped out of her room. Ayo stood guard across from their rooms sitting on a leather hallway chair.
"Going out for a bit. I'll be back."
"Shall I summon the driver for you?"
Her voice was crisp and her eyes on alert.
"No… I'm not going far. Just taking a walk."
Once she was downstairs, she called her friends Connie and Mayse and met them at their favorite bar in Brooklyn. She wanted time and distance away from all the Wakandans.
Connie and Mayse admired her new clothes and pampered hair and peppered her with questions about T'Challa. From their viewpoint, the Prince was sexy as hell on TV.
"Girl! He is so forceful, and that accent does things to my coochie!" Mayse shouted over the music as they knocked back shots.
Checking the social media feeds, they averted the crisis. The liquor had her rethinking how she reacted toward T'Challa. Maybe she was a prude for worrying about how his people handled nudity. It made her uncomfortable. Maybe she should have approached it as a personal discomfort and not about professionalism. T'Challa had an edge to him. He wasn't a seemingly sweet Prince like England's Prince Harry, or Sweden's good-natured playboy bachelor Prince Gabriel. No, Wakanda's prince was a hellcat with a mind of his own. It stirred up an undeniable desire in her.
Her cell phone vibrated several times during the night. T'Challa. Asking if she was coming back to the hotel soon. He needed to see her. By midnight, the calls from him ceased. She would just pretend to have fallen asleep and reset her entire field of vision for a better day in the morning. Her personal feelings for him were bleeding into her work duties. There had to be a separation and breaks from him physically.
The ride back to the hotel by subway had her feeling frisky. Mayse and Connie paired off with suiters and the male attention prompted her to hot tail it back to T'Challa's bed. No matter how much work turmoil he put her through, that man knew how to lay pipe. She wanted her pussy stretched and sticky all over his dick. Her clit thumped in her jeans thinking about him bending her over and cussing her out for being a bad girl by ignoring him. She was ready to lick her juices off of his lips. His salty-sweet semen would taste delicious on the tip of her tongue. He liked for her to flick the tip in and out of his slit while he leaked clear fluid all over her mouth giving her glossy lips.
She thought of the night before when she was on her hands and knees holding her inner pussy lips open so he could nut all over her folds. He never entered her raw, but he pushed it by spurting semen all on the outside of her pink slit. T'Challa liked the clipped hairs on her vulva, and covering them all with his ejaculate was a kink for him. Especially rubbing his fingers all in the mess he would make with her slick fingers prying her folds open wide for him. He called it frosting the cake before spanking her with his palms.
Destiny squirmed on her subway seat. Her pussy was throbbing and swollen with arousal. She'd been away from him for eight hours and it felt like a week. Frustration and arousal went hand in hand with that man.
She ambled down to her hotel room floor. Ayo was gone for the night, probably snatching a bit of sleep before she was back on watch. Slipping out her passkey, she unlocked T'Challa's door and let herself in. They would make love and then work out a better way to communicate—
What in the fuck?
Three naked women were sprawled out all over his king-sized bed.
"Who are you?" One of them asked with her thick ass poked out.
Another woman had her legs wide open and her pussy glistened. Her skin was drenched in sweat and her fair-skinned cheeks were flushed. She was a big titty bitch with braids and pouty red lips. The third woman had tats all up and down her ass and thighs with a Dominican flag on her left shoulder.
T'Challa swaggered out of his bathroom rolling another condom onto his erect dick.
"Destiny," he said in a hushed tone.
His diamond-encrusted fronts were on his teeth and he used that particular set to bite and mark flesh. She still had marks on her inner thigh and her left ass cheek.
Putting a hand on her hip, she curled her tongue against the inside of her cheek.
"You don't get your way with me and you do this?"
"Papi, bring that dick over here, it's my turn to ride on top," Tats said. The woman flopped onto her back and smacked her waxed vulva several times. Her shit sounded gushy and T'Challa's dick bounced at the sound.
"Fuck this," Destiny said.
She yanked open the adjoining door and slammed it.
"Fucker!" she screamed throwing her purse on the bed.
Next door she heard Tats getting her pussy pounded.
Destiny's stomach twisted into a sick knot and she fought the idea of crying even as tears fell down her face in anger. She was no different than those women. Just a fuck toy for him to play with. It shouldn't have stunned her, but it cut her deep. Sticking earbuds into her ear, she tried listening to music to block out the sound of three women getting royal dick. It crushed her even more knowing they would be dickmatized like her.
###
Chicago was a home run for him.
T'Challa enjoyed the city. The vibe was so different from New York. Not as pretentious.
Destiny only spoke to him for work and after her day was done, she cut loose from their entourage and explored the city on her own. They added an extra week to the tour for him to hit Atlanta and New Orleans after his appearance at a Barnes and Noble. Lines were wrapped around the building to get his father's book signed by him.
Even when he followed Destiny's dictates, she had not forgiven him about his foursome. He tried to blame her in his mind. She had him riled up all day, and when she ignored him… actually had the audacity to go away all night without informing him of her whereabouts, he lost his shit. He needed her bouncing on his dick, needed to put his cum in her mouth… needed her energy to satisfy his cravings for her. Mouthy women always got him heated, but when she wouldn't bend to his will… he was ready to blow that back out to smithereens to teach her a lesson.
He fucked his standby side chicks, nutted on their faces, and sent them home while he fumed at Destiny until he fell asleep. Expecting histrionics and her sharp tongue the next day, his lover ghosted him in plain sight. Courteous, professional, pleasant, and helpful, she reverted to their original relationship before he fucked her. It drove him nuts. Even when he provoked her to get her to confront what he had done, she didn't bite. He became a frustrated fisherman watching a fish ignore his dangly hook. T'Challa stayed out late to make her think he was unbothered by her behavior. Two could play that game. But he didn't want to play games with her. He cursed himself for not getting another hotel with his side pieces. The assumption was she went home to her own studio to cool off or get her mind right with him. The fact that she came back to his room meant that she wanted him. Wanted to talk it out at least, and he fucked it up by being horny and accustomed to his dick being waited on.
Destiny finally approached him at a mixer at the Peninsula Hotel where he was a special guest of the new Chicago mayor along with other political luminaries from around the world. Photo ops were taking up too much of his energy, so he slipped over to an open bar and requested a non-alcoholic beverage.
"Hello there, Prince T'Challa."
Sandrine put a smile on his face. They hugged.
"Who are you here with?" he asked sipping his carbonated mineral water.
"Some West African delegates passing through. I missed you in New York. The book tour is all anyone can talk about. You are on fire. The King must be so pleased."
"He is."
"I see you have on some new diamond teeth. Sexy."
He grinned flashing her his favorite set.
"Sandrine."
Destiny joined them slick as a whisper. The women hugged.
"My success is all due to, Destiny," he said trying to butter her up.
She patted his shoulder playfully, and it surprised him. She hadn't touched him in so long. He ached to have her back in his arms. Sandrine glanced around before grabbing a glass of Chardonnay from a server.
"Time to get back to translating and interpreting what these men want," Sandrine huffed.
They watched her slip away into the throng of elites.
"You're never without company," she said.
"Sandrine? I didn't know she was here until just now."
"If you say so."
"I say so."
She picked up a martini glass from a bartender.
"How long will you keep this ridiculous cold shoulder?" he asked.
"It's not a cold shoulder, T'Challa. It's my reality check. I made a mistake getting involved with you. Went against my better judgment and I learned my lesson. I'm good."
"I'm not good. I know you are only pretending to be unaffected by what I did—"
"I just want to finish up this tour for your father and get the fuck back to New York and my regular life. Listen. I won't lie. I enjoyed fucking you and being with you and I can't sustain a genuine connection with you. We are way too different. You'll be leaving for Europe soon with your father and I can forget being humiliated. We didn't have boundaries, and we really didn't talk about where this would go. The sex was everything, but that's all it will ever be. I'm not your girlfriend. You're not my boyfriend. I forgot that."
He heard her say the words. Listened to them come out of her mouth. But her eyes were snitching on her. She was still hurt. And she still wanted to be with him. The slight tremor in her voice gave her away. Along with the extra shine in her eyes. He could see the liquid layer building up tears.
"We should talk later in private. I'm sorry I hurt you. I am selfish and greedy. I know this. I can't change that overnight."
His throat felt strained as he rushed out the words trying to keep her next to him. He didn't want her to flounce away acting like she didn't care about them anymore. His keen senses from his years of being the Black Panther and having the purple herb in his bloodstream helped him hone in on her deeper feelings. Reaching out, he stroked her face, and she leaned into his touch with a soft sigh and a closing of her eyes. A single tear drizzled down her right cheek and he brushed it away.
"Men are shit, aren't we?" he whispered.
The corner of her mouth lifted in a coy smile.
"Just the ones I choose," she said.
He clasped her hand, and she laced her fingers in his. Pressing his forehead into hers he let out a shuddery breath.
"I have not been kind to you or your feelings. My father would choke me with one hand if he knew I made you cry over something I did. Can we please talk after this event? We can speak privately in a neutral place, maybe a late meal?"
She pushed back from him.
"Let me think about it, okay?"
The grin on her face made him feel better.
"I'll be here. Or wherever you want to talk. I mean that, Destiny."
"I think you do."
She pointed over her shoulder.
"I'm going to the restroom and then I'll meet you back here in a few minutes?"
He nodded and watched her weave in and out through the crowd toward the public restrooms. Ayo made her rounds and came over to him with a smug look on her face.
"Your Highness. Miss Keith is talking with you outside of work once more."
"Do not start," he warned holding up a finger.
Ayo held up her hands and grinned.
"I was a dog, eh?"
"Well—"
"Do not answer that. And do not inform General Okoye of my personal affairs. I know yu two are great friends and she will rub it in for the rest of my days. She has finally stopped ribbing me about Nakia and I cannot take her sly looks in front of Father."
"One day you will learn self-discipline. She is a lovely woman. Hurting her feelings was a crass move on your part. But I hazard a guess that she has forgiven you."
"You know this?"
"She hasn't slapped you like they usually do, so that is a favorable sign, Prince T'Challa."
He checked his kimoyo beads discreetly.
"She is taking a long time. Is the line long at the Ladies' Room?"
"I shall go check on her for you."
"Thank you… eh, eh… wipe that smug look off your face, Lieutenant."
He waited for Ayo to get word back to him. He was antsy wanting to talk with Destiny.
Moments later, Ayo was back at his side holding Destiny's purse in her hand.
"Your Highness, I found her purse on the restroom counter. There were a few things scattered about and a broken compact on the floor!"
T'Challa lunged past her, shoving his way through bodies. He ran into the women's restroom. It was empty near the sinks. He saw the broken face powder crumbled on the cold beige floor. A blonde woman with big bouncy hair stepped out from a toilet stall with the loud sound of the toilet flushing. She washed her hands with a startled expression on her face at seeing a man in the room.
"Excuse me, did you see a Black woman with long black hair, and a bronze shimmery dress on when you walked in here?"
"There was a woman in here like that with long jangly earrings with blue streaks in them talking to another tall Black woman with auburn hair when I went into the stall."
"Something is not right, Your Highness."
T'Challa stormed out of the restroom with Ayo at his heels. He tapped his kimoyo beads and swiped a tracking device that picked up traces of vibranium. The earrings he gave Destiny contained traceable amounts.
"Got her!" he shouted.
He threw the imaging to Ayo's kimoyo beads as they raced out of the hotel. Summoning his driver Yando, he indicated for the man to set up emergency tracking.
"She's not far," Ayo huffed as they jumped into the car.
"Shields up, Yando!" he shouted.
The car became illuminated on the outside with vibranium technology. A tracker floated on the dashboard. T'Challa stripped and quickly shifted into his Black Panther suit.
"White luxury BMW… five miles ahead of us… she's in the trunk!" Ayo shouted.
"Yando!" T'Challa shouted.
"On it, Your Highness!"
Gravity shifted and the private car's wheels disappeared as the vehicle glided up into the air, shifting its shape and appearance.
"It's the Nigandans," Ayo said looking back at him.
T'Challa flicked both of his gloved fingers and panther claws sprung out like razors.
"They will pay for taking her from me," he hissed before he climbed out of the window and stood on the roof of the flying craft.
His eyes shifted from regular human to sleek enhanced vision. He crouched on the roof and concentrated on bringing his woman back alive.
###
"Destiny, that dress is divine."
Sandrine pranced next to her at the restroom sink as Destiny powdered her nose. T'Challa had her nerves sparked with anticipation. He was remorseful, apologetic, and sought reconciliation with her. She could do that. It didn't mean she would jump back into bed with him, but it meant he was willing to work something out to get them back on track to finish the tour amicably.
"Just something new I picked up in New York before I left. He perks of working for King T'Chaka Udaku."
"I see. You two are really close, yeah?"
"As close as one can be as a professional."
"I bet Prince T'Challa is a handful."
"You ain't said but a word, Sis. Keeps me on my toes."
A white woman with super teased hair stepped past them, and Sandrine moved in closer to her.
"You have something on your neck," Sandrine said staring at her throat with an odd expression.
"Yeah?"
Destiny leaned in toward the mirror to check for whatever was there and Sandrine's hand swooped around her nose and mouth with a soft cloth. She tried to drop her body down on the floor like she had been taught in her self-defense class to create dead weight, but the fumes of the cloth knocked her out. She tumbled into darkness.
The thumping, bumping, and shaking of her body woke her up. She was stuffed inside the trunk of a car. Her arms were tied behind her back, but they hadn't secured her legs well with the rope they used and she kicked the hell out of the trunk's hood and sides. Wiggling her arms, she loosened the rope enough to get out of them and felt around for the car's backlight. She tried punching it out so she could stick her arm out and flag down help, but the driver of the car sped up with crazy turns. They were being chased. Voices in front of the car sounded foreign. She recognized one voice.
Fucking Sandrine.
Destiny rubbed her head as nausea came over her. Covering her mouth, she waited for the queasy feeling to pass over her before she tried to grope around for something to help her escape. Her purse wasn't there, so she couldn't use her pocket flashlight or cell phone. The screeching of the tires scared her, and so did their excited voices. Whatever was chasing them—
BLAM! BLAM!
Gunshots erupted, and Destiny screamed. She curled into a ball hoping that any return fire wouldn't strike and kill her—
Jesus fucking Christ!
She felt the car lift on two wheels and she rolled over with the shift, hitting her head against the side. A bright neon blue glow seeped through the trunk and surrounded her frame. The engine revved, and the car plopped back down on all four tires. It accelerated, and she prayed that the crash that was sure to occur would be merciful and take her out quickly. She braced herself and tried to let go of fear and allow God to fill her heathen non-church-going ass. Before she could exalt in her come to Jesus moment, the trunk of the car was ripped away and cold air shook her loose hair around her face blocking her vision for a few seconds.
A Black Panther stared down at her as the bright cityscape sped past above him. She shivered as he reached down for her hand. The car took a hard swerve, and she screamed. The Black Panther… the man… the hybrid… whatever it was… snatched her up by her waist and held her tight. The car gave another dangerous swerve and the Black Panther took three long hops and leaped from the car straight up into the air. All Destiny saw was the ground disappear below them and they were swinging in an arc. Not flying exactly, but close to it. She dared to look up, and the man gripped a silvery metal rope attached to a flying machine.
"Oh, shit!" she squealed when the flying vehicle arced away from the forward motion and reversed on a dime.
She gripped the Black Panther as her eyes zeroed in on the kidnapper's car as it clipped a parked van and flew headfirst into an industrial building's wall. It exploded on impact and Destiny jammed her eyes shut as her stomach couldn't handle the swinging around in the air.
Her stomach dropped again as they fell back to earth.
It was a soft landing, and the Black Panther released her. They weren't too far from the burning wreckage on an isolated street.
"T-t-thank you. I don't know what the hell happened… or why I was snatched up…"
She blabbered on and the strange creature before her had no mouth or even real eyes. But she knew without a doubt that he understood and saw her completely. Well, at least she guessed it was a 'him' with the way the pecs and abs were shaped and the body was definitely a masculine-shaped one. Especially with those thighs, calves… package.
She shivered, and fear overtook her. The madness she found herself ensnared in would ruin King T'Chaka and Prince T'Challa's tour.
"I have to go! I can't be here!"
She jerked her hands around and her feet propelled her into a circle. She didn't know where she was or what direction to head to. T'Challa was waiting for her back at the mixer. He'd be worried.
"I have to get back to Prince T'Challa. I'm responsible for a lot of shit, and if I get caught up, it will ruin his—"
Strong arms surrounded her.
"Help me get back to the Peninsula Hotel," she pleaded.
Firetrucks and the wailing of police cars erupted in the distance. His body molded itself against her and she felt woozy holding onto him. The slick casing of his face mask nuzzled her cheek, and she tilted her neck.
'"Thank you—"
She stumbled back. He vanished. The shadow of his form skimmed the side of the building and disappeared into the night.
"Miss Keith!"
Destiny blinked rapidly several times and turned her head to the sound of Ayo's voice.
"Quick! Get in!" the woman yelled.
She ran to the car and jumped into the back seat. They tore past the smoldering heap filled with charred bodies.
"How did you find me?"
"Security footage. We will keep this under wraps. Do you understand?"
"Yes. But I know the woman who kidnapped me."
"You will not speak to anyone about this. It is of utmost importance that this does not get out."
"What if they try to kidnap me again? What do they want with me?"
"It is Prince T'Challa they want. You were just a pawn to get his attention."
"T'Challa! Is he still at the hotel? Is he safe?"
"He is fine. I will take you to him."
"Did you see the man who saved me? He had on this all-black suit. He had claws and he ripped the trunk open like it was a toy and we flew in the air…"
Two cold stern eyes glared at her from the front seat.
"I sound disturbed right?"
"You may have a concussion. There was no man that we saw."
"He ran on the side of the building, he was…he saved me from burning up too…"
She zipped her lip. The adrenaline rush had her amped, but when she made it back to the hotel, she became a drained lump of tired muscles. Escorted to her room alone, she waited for a time to collect her thoughts. A knock at the front hotel room door had her heart in her throat.
"Come in," she called out.
T'Challa rushed in with concern and hugged her tight.
"When Ayo told me what happened I nearly lost my mind."
"She said they were after you."
"Don't worry, they won't bother you or me again."
"Sandrine was part of it."
"This I was told."
She paced the floor.
"This man came out of nowhere and he saved me, T'Challa. He was so strong… he picked me up and this plane… or… giant drone… I don't even know what it was, he had me flying in the air… you don't believe me."
"I think the night has been stressful for you and you should rest."
"A man in a black catsuit snatched me from exploding in a car with Sandrine! I know what happened to me. There were at least three of them in that vehicle and if he hadn't come to my rescue, I wouldn't be here. He was so quick and virile, and he didn't speak a word, but when he hugged me tight after I thanked him… I just… he was everything."
T'Challa rolled his eyes. Bored.
"Really? Rolling your eyes at me?"
"I don't want to hear about some other man. I'm glad you are safe and sound. I'm happy that nothing happened to me either, but for right now, can we just talk about us?"
"You aren't serious. You can't be fucking serious. I'm trying to tell you the most incredible, scary, thrilling moment in my life, and your spoiled, self-centered dick-hole jerk face can only think about your needs?"
"Before you were taken, we were planning to talk. So now that the drama is over, I think we can talk about us and not this mystery flying kitty cat."
T'Challa waved his hand dismissing her dreadful adventure.
"Get out."
She went to their adjoining room door and flung it open.
"Go, T'Challa!"
"Destiny," His teeth gleamed with those flashy diamond fronts.
"I'm so done with you right now."
He held up an index finger.
"Perhaps a good night's sleep will do you well, and we can have a breakfast chat. We are free until three, so you can sleep in, feel refreshed—"
"I swear to Gawd almighty, if you don't leave, I will."
He shrugged, and she balled up her fists.
"I'm leaving."
He ambled into his room and she slammed the door shut.
Turning on the TV, she tried to calm her frayed nerves, but all she could do was pace around the room in her Miu Miu heels and slinky dress and think about the Black Panther. She glanced around her room.
"My purse."
She cracked her hotel room door open to the hallway. Ayo was posted up on the watch for trouble.
"Miss Keith?"
"My purse? I left it in the restroom downstairs."
"Prince T'Challa has it. I gave it to him when we found it."
Destiny nodded and closed the door. The shower went on in T'Challa's room and she took advantage of him being preoccupied to retrieve her belongings. Slipping through the adjoining door, she passed by the bathroom and searched the main living quarters. Slinking into the separate master bedroom of the suite, she looked high and low again. Reaching for the closet double doors, she pulled them open and saw her purse on the shelf, right above a hanging black mask and matching black panther suit.
She lifted the mask with the pointy ears from the hook it perched on and her breath became shallow.
"You're Welcome."
His voice brought a shiver to the back of her neck and it raced along the sensitive places in her back. The hair on her nape raised. Her clit breathed life on its own.
Holy shit.
She turned around on a shaky heel and he stood in front of her with a towel wrapped around his damp body.
"You're… him? How?"
T'Challa leaned in and kissed her.
"It's a secret. Top security clearance. The Dora Milaje will take you out if you tell."
His words joked, but he wasn't playing. He pressed close to her body and her heart thumped so fast that it made her left breast jump under her dress. His lips found hers and she melted. Their tongues discovered new tricks to tease one another in delightful ways. The energy between them was dynamic, and she hummed in her throat until he pulled away.
"Oh, so now I am your favorite person again?" he teased.
Destiny stared deep into his eyes. He rescued her, but didn't speak so he wouldn't give himself away. A prince chased down treacherous kidnappers to save her little interpreter life when they were after him.
"Your secret is safe with me," she whispered.
She stroked the mask.
"Be careful," he said lifting it away from her hands.
"Put it back on."
"The mask?"
"The entire suit. I need to see you in it so I can process everything."
He smirked and reached for the suit still hanging in the closet. Removing the towel from around his waist, he stroked one side of the suit and it became stiff. He stepped into it from the back easily and it molded around his sleek form instantly. Lifting the mask to his face, it became a second skin.
"Does this help?"
She fingered the texture along his arms and his chest, then gripped his arms with both of her hands. Her face crumbled and her lips trembled as the fear came rushing back.
"Oh… my love… I am so sorry this happened to you."
The seductive growl in his voice from behind the mask breathed life into her body. Throwing her arms around his neck she shoved her face under his chin, bawling like a ridiculous giant baby.
"Have no fear. We have known about Sandrine for a long time. I expected her to try a stunt on me and not you. And as you now know, there was no way that she and that crew could harm me. My father and I needed her to show us her hand so we could know for sure that the Nigandans are behind this subterfuge. I'm sorry it caught you in the crossfire. She probably thought you had some information they could suss out to trap me. My father is becoming a big deal in the world and there will be more attempts on his life and mine in the future. This book tour is laying the groundwork for many more changes to come for us. Don't cry, Destiny."
T'Challa pulled the mask off and placed it back on the hook. His hands ran up and down her back making small circles along her shoulder blades.
"I was touched when the first thing you worried about was me."
"Why didn't you tell me then?"
"Needed to keep that part of my life hidden. I wasn't expecting you to bust up in here looking for your purse. I thought I locked the middle door."
"You were willing to let me hate you?"
"Sacrifices happen."
"Is that why you don't treat relationships that serious?"
"I've treated some relationships with respect. I've had girlfriends. Now… the things I have to do… I am in service of my father and my country."
"None of your people are who they pretend to be, huh?"
"You saw what I can do. You know what I have at my disposal."
"Flying machines and claws that can shred metal and lift cars from the ground."
She closed her eyes and trembled.
"I would like to spend the rest of my time with you, Destiny. I am stubborn. Bossy. Shameless. I may not see eye to eye with you, and I will make you angry in some form or fashion again. I guarantee it. However, I will work on seeing things your way."
"And no more foursomes while I'm in the picture."
"As you wish."
She took two tiny steps away from him and slipped out of her dress. It fell to the floor, and she kicked it away. Her panties slipped down smooth and she tossed them too.
"Keep those heels on," he said.
"Keep those grills in," she countered.
He grinned and the glint of the sharp points on the canines made her moan out her desire for his mouth and teeth all over her. His hand went around her neck and he turned her in the opposite direction and traced his teeth down her spine until found a favorite spot on her right side. Her muscles and skin became pliant under his caresses. He nipped at her ass cheeks, snagging a nice chunk of flesh, biting hard until he stood up and pulled off his Black Panther suit.
His dick pointed straight at her, the head pearling sticky drops of pre-cum. She squatted on her heels and licked him clean, but more lubricant seeped out, spilling on her chin. Her mind kept flashing to him ripping the trunk off of the car and reaching down to pluck her from danger. Her pussy fell apart, clenching and creaming just from thoughts of him running up the side of buildings using his claws to defy gravity.
He lifted her, and she reached down for his dick and positioned the head at her opening. She slid down his shaft three inches and he grit his teeth. The fronts giving him a fearsome beauty. The feeling of his raw flesh inside of her was intoxicating.
"Condom," he huffed, unable to control the pleasure he received feeling her walls unsheathed.
"Just this once," she whispered, allowing him to lower her further, stretching her in a way that she would never feel from anyone else.
She should've known he was something special. He held her with a strength that was unnatural, and strength that she ignored because the dick was too good to think about bothersome things. Like his stamina. The amount of cum he could release. How fast he could recover.
"Fuck me," she begged.
He lifted her up and down and that thick Panther dick did her in. Her first orgasm had her clinging to him, her throbbing dripping folds soaking his groin. T'Challa pulled out and helped her to her feet. She spun around, bent over and gripped her ankles for him. He plowed back into her. Her back ached and she shuffled over to the bed beckoning him to follow her.
He scooted into the center and she sat before him, lifting her legs and using the sides of her heels to tease his girth. The texture of the crystals embedded in the velvet material pleasured the ridge of his glans. T'Challa sat up on his elbows to watch her heels play on his tip. She twisted the outsole of both heels on that sensitive ridge and he groaned as she kept it propped up. More pre-cum spilled on the crystals. He rubbed her ankles until his head fell forward from all the sensations teasing his dick. Soft velvet, cool hard crystals. The slight twisty friction.
"Should I let you cum in my pussy, Your Highness?"
"Whatever you want."
"Hmmm, maybe I don't want a prince anymore. I think I want to be fucked by the Black Panther. I want his big fat dick. I want him to make a mess in my wet pink pussy."
"Fuck… ohhhh… you want the Black Panther in your pussy?"
"Yes."
"You want me to cum in your pussy?"
"Deep in my pussy."
"Make a big mess?"
"Yes… beat it up like you always do."
"I'll nut so hard…"
"I know you will. Fill me up… make that cum spill out—"
"All over your pussy lips…"
"The way you like it, T'Challa."
She pressed harder on his dick, twisting, talking, teasing…
"Baby, I can't hold back…"
Destiny kept working her heels on his meat until it started spitting cum all over the crystals.
###
T'Challa clutched his fingers around the back of her heels.
Destiny rode his dick in reverse cowgirl, bending forward far enough so that he could watch his girth stretch and stuff her full of Black Panther dick. Her back muscles were tension-free, sweaty, and shined with exertion. He never fucked foreign women raw, but he made an exception for her. Her ass cheeks clapped, and she looked back at him with lust dripping from her eyes. She couldn't get enough of him. Once she knew who he was, the sky was the limit with the sex.
"Hold still, hold still…" he shouted at her.
She lifted slightly because she knew it was his favorite part of ejaculating. Watching his dick throb inside of her. But watching it raw was a gift. The veins were thick across his erection and he was blessed to make her nut too. Her pussy contracted around him and he watched their swollen parts sing to one another. A hard throb from his dick was answered with a hard contraction from her pussy. Their duet complete, Destiny lifted off of him completely.
"Push it out," he growled.
His exit from her love canal left a gaping opening that pleased him. His cum slid back out in thick sticky streams and he moaned his approval. He inserted two fingers gently inside her wet slit and wiggled them, feeling the hot load that coated her walls.
Their fucking went on all night. She was on a physical high that obliterated her earlier fears and concerns about what happened to her with Sandrine.
Lying on top of him, he sensed she was done for the night. He could've gone for round five, but four was her final limit.
"T'Challa, did you or your father think I was like Sandrine? A plant? Plotting against you? Is that why you treated me so poorly?"
"No. I thought you were a Sugar baby. Isn't that what you Americans call it? A young woman out on the take. Out to use my father."
"I would never do that."
"I know that… now."
She pinched his nipple then played with the points on his fronts.
"I will miss you when you go to Europe."
"Let's not talk about separation."
"We'll have two weeks, but then your father should be back when you hit Atlanta and New Orleans."
"I will ask that you go to Europe with us."
"Are you serious?"
She lifted her head, and those inquisitive brown eyes made him pine for her.
"We can see Paris, Italy, Spain, England, and Sweden together," he affirmed.
"We'll have to be extra discreet with your father around—"
"And my mother."
"Queen Ramonda?"
"Yes. She will join us for the European leg. Then there's the South American tour."
He stroked her hair.
"You may have to go on a sabbatical from the U.N.," he said.
She smiled and hugged his chest.
"Then there's the entire continental African Tour of fifteen countries. Baba will need an interpreter for the global streaming of that leg."
He kissed her forehead.
"I don't know, Destiny. This could stretch out for a year. Can you stand being around me for that long?"
"Can you stand to be around me?"
"Without question my love. Without Question."
T'Challa held Destiny until she fell asleep with him spooned around her. He stroked the back of her neck and made a mental note to buy her a necklace that matched the earrings she loved so much from him. They sparkled on her ears the way she sparkled in his heart.