by Nana Prah
Their lips separated with a smack as he ended the kiss and pulled off his shirt. For the first time in a month, she allowed herself to touch the spectacular bare chest that had teased her during their training. Her eyes and sensitized fingers caressed his broad shoulders, glided down his flesh-covered steel arms, and skittered along his ripped abdomen.
His stomach quivered as he gasped in a breath.
He arched his hips, bringing her into more intimate contact with his glorious bulge, hitting her in just the right spot to make her call on her maker. Without warning, she was airborne as his powerful legs pushed them off the couch. She wrapped her limbs around him in wonderment at his strength.
The walk to his bedroom was short as she kissed his neck on every spot she could reach before settling on the area that had made him stop and rest a palm against the wall.
In his bedroom, he didn’t lay her on the bed as expected. He opened a drawer, pulled something out, and then left.
Sharp disappointment struck her in the chest. Didn’t he want to have sex?
“Where are we going?”
“To the couch. I’m sure that I unwittingly bought it with you in mind.”
When he settled her on her feet, he gave her a quick kiss before undoing his belt, the button of his trousers, and the zipper. The apparel hit the floor with a pair of black boxer briefs that didn’t keep her interest. The slightly curved erection bobbing up to touch his stomach had more of an impact.
Her tongue moistened her lips as she watched him open a condom and slide it on.
Her hard, fast heartrate strummed in her wet core.
Zareb sat on the couch. “If you want to shift those panties to the side while you slide me inside of you, I’ll be okay with that.”
Her channel wept and pulsed as the words mimicked something that Zareb in her vivid fantasies would say. Yes, she’d been the one to initiate, but he certainly had no difficulty picking up the baton and running with it.
She hooked a finger inside the lace at her crotch and pulled it over, exposing herself. His gaze never left her as he clenched his fingers on his thighs. Not ready to release the sexual power she loved claiming, she let the moist patch of cloth fall back into place.
Her hands had a mind of their own as she stroked them over her breasts and shook her shoulders to make the small mounds jiggle for him. His hardness bobbed in response to the way she wiggled her hips in a slow manner, as if dancing just as she’d done in her mind for him so many times.
She lowered the ice-blue lace of her panties with the slowness of molasses. When they reached her knees, she let gravity take over before stepping out of them. Every inch of her was hot and ready as she strode to within his touching range.
Zareb didn’t move.
He’d given her full control over this experience. In a state of awe, she widened her legs, her intimate scent reaching her nose as she placed her knees on either side of his thighs.
Before she could reach for that impressive member to ease down on, he slid a finger between her folds and caressed until her eyes crossed. Her limbs quivered as his wicked tongue encircled the dark peak of her breast.
“I need you,” she panted.
“Then have me, Malika. I’m all yours.”
Her lids rose to meet the passionate flare in his gaze.
Capturing his lips with her mouth, she reached between them, grasped his hardness, and brought it to her centre.
She released her mouth from the kiss and grabbed his shoulders as she slid herself down on him. Unhurried, she experienced every section of her channel being expanded. The moans of pleasure were silenced when he was completely inside of her. She could no longer breathe. She’d desired him for the past month, and now, they’d merged.
After taking a moment to adjust to his length and girth, she squeezed her inner muscles.
He let out a roar. “Dear God!”
Drunk with power, she rose until his tip met her entrance. She took the lead of their dance as she alternated between an up and down motion and swirling her hips against him.
He joined in with an upward thrust. Their skin glistened with a sheen of sweat as they retreated and met over and over again.
Knowing what she needed, his finger teased her clit. He applied the right amount of pressure to detonate her over the edge into a release that had her seeing both stars and rainbows behind her lids.
“Yes, Zareb!”
He thrust into her several times before he released an animalistic growl as his body stiffened with his climax.
Time passed with them collapsed and entangled.
Zareb rubbed her back. The gentleness brought on a burn behind her lids.
When she sniffled, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders and looked up into her eyes.
“Are you okay? Why are you crying?”
“I’m great.” She grazed a hand along his cheek. “I’m a little overwhelmed with how …” She had difficulty articulating the experience. “Beautiful that was. How wonderful you are.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. Yet another sweetness she’d hold in her heart forever. There was a lot to learn about the prince.
“Would you like to take a shower with me?”
She reached up and touched her wig with both hands. It had miraculously stayed on. That was some powerful hair glue she’d used.
“I can’t get my hair wet.”
Not uncommon for a Black woman to say. Although if she snatched the wig off, she could transport them into the shower fantasy she’d been holding onto after a steamy book she’d once read.
“Then we’ll take a bath together. Is that acceptable?”
Her imagination went rampant at what could happen. When she nodded, he kissed her lips, stood, and swung her legs around so he cradled her.
She rested her head against his shoulder “I can walk, you know.”
“I wouldn’t doubt if you could carry me,” he teased. “But please, let me spoil you.”
She had no will to decline such a generous offer from the man of her childhood and adult dreams.
Chapter Nineteen
“Are you ready for the competition next Saturday?”
Queen Zulekha drew Malika away from thoughts of plotting a time when she could be alone with Zareb again. It was inappropriate on her part to think about how the woman’s son had filled and moved within her until she’d exploded with their passion. Twice.
Zareb had placed a chaste peck on her cheek before leaving her at his mother’s door at the palace. She’d never known there was such a thing as missing a person when you had been with him only seconds earlier.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve been able to best quite a few of the men and women I’ve trained with. I think I’ll do well. Your son will finally see that I’m worthy of being coached as a woman.”
The queen’s head tilted, and her salt and pepper locs cascaded over her shoulder as she seemed to consider her. Zareb was so much like his mother that Malika marvelled at the resemblance.
“From his lovesick expression at having to drop you off, I’m sure he thinks you worthy of other things, too.”
She ducked as heat filled her face.
“I know I’ve told you this before, but your mother was closer than a sister to me, and I consider you to be one of my daughters. No one can replace the wonderful woman who did a spectacular job of raising you, but I hope that you can see me as a surrogate when you need to talk.”
The queen had just presented a much less invasive invitation than her mother would’ve. Malika’s ego swelled at the fact that the woman saw her as mature enough to either accept or decline her as a confidant.
“Zareb told me why he doesn’t coach women.”
Queen Zulekha sighed. “It was a tumultuous time for him. Despite how gruff he presents himself, my youngest son is the most sensitive of all the king’s children. He hides it well. His instincts border on clairvoyant at times, so when this incident happened and he hadn’t seen it coming, he lost
hope. Not just in women, but himself.”
Her heart clenched. Here she was doing the same thing to him. Would her deception make him doubt himself again? It was already happening with his reaction to Sule. What had she gotten herself into?
The queen took a sip of the guava drink that Malika had gulped down and hadn’t been ashamed to ask for more of. Making love with a man with limitless energy had dehydrated her.
“It happened two years ago, but the damage remains.” The older woman flexed and unflexed her fingers as if squeezing something. Perhaps Fariah’s imaginary neck?
Malika wanted to do the same.
Hypocrite.
“With you to train, my son is returning to his former self,” the queen said. “Has he told you why he’d never returned to competitive fencing?”
Malika scooted to the edge of her seat and leaned forward. “He didn’t.”
There had been no announcement of him not returning to fencing—he had simply disappeared from the circuit.
“After his bronze medal win in the 2016 Olympics, Zareb was determined to win gold in 2020. He pushed himself hard and injured his hamstring. Instead of resting for the allotted amount of time, he competed in a tournament and injured it further.” Queen Zulekha sighed. “I love my son, but three months of recovery with limited physical outlet had not been good for him or the palace.”
She could imagine.
“Just as he’d healed enough to return to training, the king had a heart attack. For a while, we didn’t know if my husband would survive. It devastated us all.”
Malika had heard about the tragedy. Her family had held the king in their thoughts and prayers. “But then, he pulled through and recovered.”
The queen smiled. “Yes, he did, with time. It was during that period that our head of security decided to move to the US to be with his family. He didn’t want to die without spending time with the ones he loved. Zareb had been his second-in-command. It suited him because he could focus on training while working at the palace.”
She made silent guess as to how it all went down. “Zareb took the position. But I don’t understand why he couldn’t continue with fencing.”
“My son’s favourite saying is, ‘You can’t serve two masters.’”
Malika nodded. “He tells me that all the time when he’s referring to me committing to a move.”
“Zareb fell in love with fencing before he completely understood what it would take to fulfil his goal of becoming head of palace security. When his father sent him off to Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst at eighteen to become an officer, Zareb gladly went. When he joined the army full-time, he did it with pride. It wasn’t until he failed to come anywhere near to being a qualifier for the Olympics during that time that reality hit.”
Understanding dawned.
“When the 2012 Olympics came and went without him being a competitor, he made a decision and a deal with his father to focus on bringing a medal to Bagumi while learning the ins and outs of palace security as an apprentice of sorts. It all worked out well.”
“Until King Ibrahim’s heart attack.”
“Yes. As a dutiful son, Zareb honoured his father’s request without question. He also gave up any chance of going to the Olympics again.”
Malika rested her back against the seat as memories of every day she’d trained with Zareb scrolled through her mind. “It’s why he’s so hard on Sule.”
“Precisely. He recognizes your talent and is trying to nourish it. It is my hope that he will remember this when he discovers that you are Sule. That his desire to coach you to a state of greatness will circumvent being …” she paused for a moment. “Influenced into training you.”
“I feel wretched about lying to him.”
“I know, dear. You’re forthright. Just like my son. But sometimes, a little lie is necessary to reach an objective.”
Considering how he sometimes reacted to Sule, Malika couldn’t see how it would turn out any way but badly. “He hates deception.”
“Yes, but he likes you. He’ll get over it.”
His mother knew him on a deeper level than she did.
“I wanted you to know his story so that when the truth comes to light and his ire rises, you won’t give up on him.”
Malika’s head snapped back. “I’m sure it’ll be the other way around, and he’ll never want to see me again.”
The queen clasped elegant fingers on her lap. “Be ready for the fallout, but don’t lose hope. Everything will work itself out. Promise me one thing.”
She hesitated for moment. Deals made with queens rarely ended up well for the other party in fairy tales. This was real life, and Queen Zulekha would never hurt her.
“No matter what happens with him, you won’t give up on fulfilling your dream.”
Since she’d already made the promise to her mother, it wouldn’t be difficult to accomplish her goal of becoming a champion. “I will, Your Majesty.”
The newly developed heart-stirring aspiration that saw Zareb in her life for the long haul might not be as easy to attain, though.
Chapter Twenty
Malika’s mask echoed with the double-tap Zareb gave it.
“Get your head into the match, Sule. Where’s your attention this evening?”
She’d been fantasizing about having more incredible sex with him instead of attacking and defending to win.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
His severe scowl would’ve had her knees trembling if she didn’t know what a sweet, caring, gentle man he could be.
“Focus.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Returning to the en garde position, she scrutinized her opponent. A man at least a foot taller than her who knew how to use his height to his advantage. He had the tendency to force his way into her strike zone before she had the chance to parry.
Determined to win, she gave her full attention to the match instead of recalling Zareb’s large hands caressing sensitized areas of her skin.
When the referee signalled for them to begin, she didn’t wait for her opponent’s attack. Two leaps forward and she lunged low, hitting him in the thigh with her sword. The buzzer registered the score.
By the close of the practice session, she’d ended up winning that match along with two more in their round robin.
Another week of practice, and she’d have the first prize from the tournament cinched. That very same day, she’d finally take the opportunity to do what her guilt-ridden mind had wanted to do from the start. Her chest tightened in at the thought of Zareb’s reaction to her true identity.
Would his new-found affection for her allow him to forgive the duplicity like the queen was confident of? Would he want to be with her anymore? The last question had her breaking out into a cold sweat.
A hand smacked her on the back, sending her flying a few steps. She turned to glare at the offender.
The prince stood tall and proud with his arms crossed over his chest. “Good recovery after those first couple of bouts.”
Malika kept quiet.
“You need to do better.” He held up a finger. “From the start, you must be fully in the fight. You won’t have another chance if you’re eliminated from the first round.”
She nodded while restricting her eyes from drifting down to those full, firm lips of his.
“Get your things.” His order wasn’t as gruff as normal. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
Malika blinked up at him. First, he showed up to an evening session with a positive attitude, and now, he was being kind to Sule? The man needed to get sexed on the regular. But only with her.
“Hurry up.”
In an effort to avoid the men in varying stages of undress, in the evenings, she kept her bag out in the main training area rather than the locker room. She met Zareb waiting at the front desk speaking with one of the gym’s managers.
“Let’s go,” he said once he’d finished the conversation. On the way to the car, he stared at her profile.
“You and your sister look so much alike. Like you could pass for the same person with some tweaks.”
She’d never understand how she’d choked on air, but it happened to the point of her coughing so hard that she thought an organ would fly out.
“Are you okay?”
Malika held up a hand as she caught her breath. “Yeah.”
He knew. Such an observant man had to, right? She was a good actress, but to deceive him to such an extent was Oscar-worthy. Was he playing with her? Luring her into a false sense of security? Maybe he’d expose her in public at the competition as a sham before sending her packing.
Or maybe the queen was right. “The things we want to see, we see.”
Zareb needed to train a champion. She’d been hand-delivered to him. He just needed to relinquish his self-imposed rule and allow himself to coach her as a woman.
He clicked the doors open, and they settled into the vehicle.
She’d presume he wasn’t up to a grandiose scheme to humiliate her. He was too direct. If he’d discovered her ruse, he’d have said something. Her guilt-reddened conscience needed to calm down.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware,” she said, her voice coming out steady. “But you keep mentioning our similarity.” Malika rubbed her non-existent beard with her thumb and forefinger and tried to broaden her shoulders. “Except, I’m manlier than her.”
His smirk hurt her a little as she took it as an attack on her acting.
“What?”
“Your sister is feminine, but I wouldn’t call you more manly. You’ve got to get a voice change and grow some facial hair for that to happen. You need more muscle.” He drove out of the space. “In fact, I’m surprised our workout sessions haven’t helped you to create more mass.”
Malika took offense.
“I’ve expanded.” She drove up the arm of the hand-woven smock and flexed.
For the first time while being Sule, Zareb threw back his head and laughed. It was at her expense, but it heated her like alcohol landing in an empty stomach. She pretended to remain indignant with a huff as she tugged the sleeve back down.