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One

“Knooooooow that you are loved,” I sang the words to the final song on Cleo Sol’s sold-out set in the beautiful city of Roosevelt. 

With my hand pressed against my chest, I swayed from one side to the other. Sinched eyelids deepened the reach of the melody as the words touched places they hadn’t since the first time I heard the record. 

The live session I was a small part of was incomparable to the sessions in my studio apartment. This was gratifying. This was bone-chilling. This was encompassing. Her voice. Her presence. Her smile. Her story. Everything was heartening. 

My vulnerability was at its peak. My chest was heavy. And, the weights I carried every day were almost unbearably light. 

For once.

I rocked my body from one side to the other, following the words as if they’d been etched in my brain at birth. The roaring of the seat dwellers near me pulled my lids apart. Unsure of what was happening, I continued singing while trying to locate the source of the disturbance. It didn’t take long. However, the vintage Gucci slingbacks didn’t extend my height by much. 

I stood on the tips of my toes trying to see the woman of the hour. She’d abandoned her post on stage to bless the audience with her presence. A deeper presence. A closer presence. Seemingly, a spiritual presence. 

See me.

Hear me.

Feel me.

Know that I am real. 

Know that everything I sing is real. 

Know that you are loved. 

The words hadn’t come from her mouth, but I could feel them on my skin. In her voice. In her tone. 

“Oh my God,” I whispered, watching as she descended. 

“Knooooooooow that you are loved.”

Accepting my fate, I stood just a seat shy of the aisle she was serenading. With small, fine bumps lining my skin, I pressed my palm deeper into my chest.

“Even if you don’t love yourself.” 

A long, cold, and offensively smooth hand rested on the ball of my elbow. I felt the chill down to my humerus bone. Naturally, I flinched. My eyes shifted, desperately searching for the source of discomfort. 

Soft brown eyes, oversized lips, wide nostrils, and a perfectly lined fade bombarded me with pleasantries. The growing smile of the stranger initiated mine. For absolutely no reason other than the beauty of the stature before me, my lips curled upward toward my ears. 

He leaned in, hand caressing my arm. “Sorry. Would you like to have my seat to see?”

Before a response fell from my lips, the shift was already being made. His body was sliding behind mine, and I was maneuvering to accommodate the request that was disguised as a question. 

Just as my feet landed in the spot his had just lifted from, Cleo Sol approached. As if she was floating on thin air in the long blue skirt, she glided down the center of the aisle. 

“Knoooooow that you are loved. Even if you don’t love yourself.” 

Halting, she rested a hand on my shoulder and angled her body in my direction. 

“Knooooow that you are loved.”

Her lips widened with a smile while her head lifted and fell slowly. As she continued, I suffered from immobility. Frozen in place, I followed her down toward the stage with only my eyes. Every other part of me was incapable. 

By the time she walked back up the same way she’d come down, my limbs were unthawing, and the brief encounter had become a distinctive blur. 

“Knooooooooooow that you are loved,” I sang in unison with the rest of the building. 

“Even if you don’t love yourself.”

Seconds later, and she’d returned to the stage, still professing her love for strangers and affirming our love for ourselves. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Get home safely, everyone.”

She rocked her body from one side to the other. 

“Knoooooow that you are loved,” she continued in harmony with the chorus behind her. 

I pulled my bag onto my shoulder, still belting the words of one of my favorite songs. The moment I stepped into the aisle, I recalled the morals and manners my parents had worked overtime to instill in me. 

“Thank you,” I shouted over the music. 

I extended a hand, gesturing my level of gratitude. As if I’d pissed his Cheerios, the handsome stranger dressed in brown from the tip of his head to the soles of his feet scrunched his nose. A smile followed the contortion of his features. He shook his head, prompting me to lower my hand. 

How didn’t I see him?

So lost in my own world, in Cleo’s world, that I hadn’t noticed the handsome figure beside me. The seat was empty for nearly half the show. It’s filling hadn’t grasped my attention. Yet, the occupant had my ears, eyes, and hands consumed. My heart made a fuss in my chest. 

He leaned closer, pulling me in by the shoulders before wrapping his arms around me. My breath jammed in my throat, never meeting the surface. The oxygen I needed to clear my airways was stolen from my lungs as he invaded my personal space ever so politely. 

So willingly. So gently. 

His scent unleashed a new set of feelings between my thighs. Ones that I didn’t know existed. Ones I had never experienced. When he released me, I nearly fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

“You want to thank me, pretty… show me where to get a good steak in the city at this hour.”

“I–uh–”

Too soon, Pip. 

I closed my eyes and swallowed the nothingness in my throat. Gathering words had never felt so daunting. 

So grueling. 

So impossible. 

I opened my eyes to a tilted head and curious orbs. 

“I– my brain is– it’s —pluuuh.”

I used my hand to gesture explosions. The smile that followed expanded my heart. He was precious. So was his presence. There was something so calming about it, even in the chaos around us. 

“I think it will–” he chuckled, managing a reversal of my hand gestures, “by the time we’re in the backseat with my driver at the wheel.”

I took a quick look at the time on my phone. 

“It’s 10:28, Mr.-”

“Axel. Axel Holden.” 

“Mr. Axel. Axel Holden.”

“It’ll be 10:30 if we don’t get going now.”

“That wasn’t a yes, Mr. Holden.”

“I haven’t asked a question, either, Ms.-”

“Pip. Pip Drucille.”

“Ms. Pip. Pip Drucille.”

I couldn’t stop the blistering smile that nearly split the corners of my lips. 

“This way–” 

He nodded, extending a hand toward the exit. With the other hand, he took mine. The second he was out into the aisle, nature began to reverse our positions. He led me through the crowd of people ahead of us, swiftly finding the loopholes and making a few when there weren’t any. 

“You good back there, Pip?”

He paused to look down at me. Axel towered over me nearly an entire foot. My 5’3 frame was suffocating in the sea of people. 

Nodding, I responded. “Yes.”

“Here,” he insisted, switching positions. 

I didn’t have time to protest. I didn’t have time to consider the ramifications. I didn’t have time to process. 

Oh God, Pip.

His body pressed against my backside as his arm snaked around my waist. He held me closely, shielding me from sharp elbows and wayward hand gestures from those giving directions. My heart tapped against my chest with urgency as if it had somewhere to be. Somewhere other than where I was. I couldn’t think of any immediate plans. Not any that I’d made. 

Finally, we pushed through the door and out onto the sidewalk. Darkness made the lights around us brighter and bolder and a little harder to stomach. Cars lined the streets surrounding the establishment. Every inch of the concrete squares was filled with feet. 

Honk!

Honk!

Taxis beckoned for those pouring out of the theater, willing and ready to take them to their destination. 

“This way,” Axel commanded, shifting the direction of my body.

Cool air met my backside as he returned to my side. Someway. Somehow. I wanted him right back where he’d been. Suffocating me. Reminding me of something I hadn’t felt in far too long. A man’s touch.

I rested my eyelids on top of each other as I inhaled. The fear of falling separated them as I followed behind Axel. I wasn’t pleased with my position, but neither was I with the idea of demanding change. So, I pressed my lips into each other and tucked them between my teeth, silencing my thoughts. 

Those long limbs stopped abruptly, causing my knees to lock and my spine to arch in his direction. Confused, my eyes shifted in three different directions.

“Pip,” Axel called out to me.

“Yes?”

“We’re right here,” he informed me, extending a hand toward the flashing lights just ahead.

Oh.

The enormous body of a Rolls-Royce forced my eyebrows upward, chasing my hairline. Beside it was a man quilted in black. His hands were interlocked in front of him. His gaze was fixed. His feet were shoulder-width apart. 

Our stride continued, approaching the awaiting vehicle as I tried wrapping my head around the turn of events. Axel slowed his pace. He placed his hand on the small of my back, urging me forward. 

“Pip, Frank. Frank, Pip. Pip Drucille.”

A curt nod revealed the true nature of Axel’s disclosure. My first and last names had been revealed. While it felt unnecessary, I understood the precautions Axel was taking. He was far from average. 

I sensed it the moment I was alerted to his presence. Following him to a Rolls-Royce with an awaiting driver wasn’t appalling. The car itself was. It was beautiful. Stunning. 

At the mention of my government, I inched closer to the car as I pressed the camera button on my phone’s screen. The lack of lighting caused a flash as I captured the image. Immediately, my fingers began working overtime. My parents’ numbers combined to make a group text we visited often. Tonight was more of the same. 

Axel Holden. 

Both texts were delivered simultaneously. I didn’t need to explain further. My mother and father would understand the context of my message fairly well. Should they need the information, it would be there. I had exactly twenty-four hours to assure them I was still breathing and reachable. Otherwise, the search would commence.

There.

“Satisfied?” Axel chuckled, head tilted and fingers racking at the hairs on his chin. 

“I am.”

“Frank, I think you’ve pissed my guest off, and you just met her.”

His eyes never left me as he spoke to his driver.

“Not my intention, Miss Drucille. Seems as if we got off on the wrong foot.”

He stepped forward, extending a hand. 

“My apologies. I’m Frank. Frank Holden.”

My chest sank two inches as the realization stunned me silent. My gaze darted.

From Axel to Frank.

Frank to Axel.

Axel to Frank.

Frank to Axel.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  

“Frank Holden,” I scoffed, taking his hand into mine, “a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. Pay me no mind. I’m sure you tell your father the name of your suitors. Am I right?”

“You’re absolutely correct, but I don’t call him by his.”

“Better that way,” Frank said, shrugging. “Besides, I’m not his father.”

“No?” Confused, I looked up at Axel for answers.

“Not by blood, but by nature.”

“Stepfather?”

“Uncle. My father passed away when I was seven.”

“Makes perfect sense.”

“Good, now get in, Miss Drucille, before you catch a cold.”

I wasn’t sure that was possible with the heat cruising through my body, but disobeying an elder who didn’t mean harm wasn’t an option. Though my parents weren’t here, their teachings still held relevance.

I lowered my body onto the seat. The comfort was indescribable. Axel slid in from the other side. 

“How are you feeling Pip?”

Nodding, I exhaled, “Pressured.”

“Don’t mind, Frank. He’s a helicopter,” he sniggered. 

I shook my head. “It’s not Frank I’m worried about,” I admitted.

“Then what is it?”

“Naming a steakhouse that doesn’t disappoint you.”

Chuckling, Axel nodded. “Ah. Please don’t disappoint me, Pip Drucille. I have high hopes.”

“For the steak?” I questioned, finding his statement amusing.

“And you. And dinner with you. It’ll be rather hard hearing about the parents you sent my tags and name to over an overcooked or undercooked steak. I don’t know that I’ll be able to hear about your career and personal interests if I’m chewing on the same piece for thirty minutes at a time.”

With a playful roll of my eyes, I sighed. 

“Is this how you steal them?”

“Steal? Steal what, Pip? I’ve never stolen anything a day in my life.”

“The hearts of the women you encounter? Is this how you do it? By not giving them a choice in any matter that involves you?”

“Am I stealing yours?” 

His eyes penetrated me, going beyond my skin. I pushed the lump down my throat and took in a heap of oxygen. 

“Is it, Pip? Pip Drucille?”

“I don’t know yet, Axel Holden. I need a good steak and a bitter martini to decide.”

“Then a good steak and a bitter martini you’ll have.”’

I slid my hand underneath my thigh. The fabric of my skirt absorbed the sweat on my palms. My heart hammered against my chest as the brake was released and the car began to creep through traffic.

The clearing of Axel’s throat pierced the silence. 

“You don’t have to be–” he said, eyes still ahead. 

“Have to be?” I inquired, fixated on his perfect jawline and lips and chin and neck. 

God had done such a good job. He’d perfected the design he’d started with Frank and Axel’s father. I could only imagine how generous the women were with them in their younger days. Axel was a split image of his uncle, so I concluded he was his father’s actual twin.

“Nervous.”

His fingers slid across the leather, landing on my inner arm. He lowered them until they reached my hands. His fingers laced with mine, pulling them away from my skirt. 

“I won’t hurt you.”

I drew in a shaky breath. 

“I promise,” he assured me, placing my hand against his lips.

Pip. Focus.

The thudding of my heart transferred, reaching my center. I mourned my sanity because I understood the power of my desire. I wanted steak, but it wasn’t the only meat that could possibly end up in my mouth before sunrise. 

Dreadful of the task, I pulled away from Axel’s gaze. Mine lingered on the window, watching as the bright lights began to fade. The center of the city was almost behind us.

“Maxwell’s.”

“Come again,” Axel replied.

“Maxwell’s Chop House.” 

“Frank–”

“Yeah?”

“Maxwell’s Chop House.”

“You’ve got it.”

A gentle squeeze from Axel reminded me that he still had possession of my hand. It felt good. It felt real. It felt right. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pip.

I won’t.

Peering out of the window, I prepared for the eight-minute drive. Time was way ahead of itself. I just hoped it didn’t pass us by too quickly. Axel was the kind of company I wanted to keep.

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Princess Diaries, Episode 1.

Rebellion.

Recalcitrant.

Refractory.

Revolution. 

Revolt.

Riot.

Some words curled my lips upward at the mere sound. They made my heart pound and my pussy thud. There was just something about them that reminded me of myself. 

My thoughts. My moral compass. My requirements. My goals. My plans. My moves. My desires. My way of life. My waywardness. My passion. My drive. My journey. 

My nature was loud. It always had been, even in my mother’s womb. And, it was flamboyant, even as early as the delivery room. Rhea remembers the day as if it were yesterday. Her cheeks fluff and her smile spreads across her pretty face whenever she recalls the moment I made my entrance into and intentions for the world clear. 

With my mother’s remnants coating my skin, my head was high. So were my standards. My neck was strong. My limbs sturdy. At only a few minutes old, my eyes were wide, bright, and ready to see what the world had to offer me as I smiled up at my parents. Gasps fell from the mouths of everyone around my mother. 

Everyone except Richie. My strength didn’t enthuse my father. It was a requirement. He expected nothing but the best from his children. That didn’t change because of age, gender, or size. If I’d cut a flip fresh out of the womb, he wouldn’t clap. He would critique and tell me how to stick my landing better. That was Richie. And, I missed him with every fiber of me. 

The self-willed newborn my mother held in her arms sparked a fire within the room that had yet to smolder or show signs of exhaustion. The world was my pit. The soles of my shoes were engulfed. And, with each step I took, I left a trail of flames.

I wasn’t oblivious to my ungovernable nature. Neither did I attempt to mask it. My anarchic way of life helped weed the weak from my world much swifter than the softer parts of me. Only those deserving experienced that aspect of my existence. There was turbulence and chaos for everyone else.

“Princess,” Big Fella sighed, resting a hand on the door of my dressing room. 

The other smoothed over the perfect arch of his eyebrows. Weariness consumed his features. Still, he was handsome. I stared at him through the mirror of my vanity, considering how blessed he was to have me in his life. 

“We’re going to be late. You’re not even dressed, baby. What’s going on?”

The stress I caused the love of my life was comical and saddening at once. But, it simply wasn’t in me to spare him. Or anyone else. Israel had known the trouble he was getting into when he sought me. I hadn’t changed. I wouldn’t change. Even with growth, I’d remain Roulette to the core. 

“I was imagining the narration of my life’s story. You know, when I die. I want a highlight reel of my life, and I want to be the narrator. I’m assuming I could start collecting the footage an–”

“We have dinner in less than an hour, and you’re thinking about narrating a film at your funeral? Why is death on your mind, Princess?”

“Because it is as common as birth. It’s the natural process of life. And, I don’t think it’s talked about enough. I’d rather plan my celebration of life before I leave so I know everything is just right. Up to my standards. Out of this fucking world. Big. Bold. Extrava–”

“Baby, can we start where we left off after dinner?”

With a roll of my eyes, I turned around. “Seeing as though I never agreed to dinner, I’m preparing myself for the fuckery.”

Chuckling, Israel pressed his shoulder against the door and leaned into it. 

“The fuckery? Princess, we both know that doesn’t exist in their worlds. Only in ours. Well, in yours.”

With a shrug, I scoffed. “Hmph.”

“What’s the issue with you and my parents? They adore you. Why you always got an attitude before we spend time with them?”

“Because–”

“Because what? And, fix your face. You’re pouting.”

I turned back around, eyes on the mirror in front of me. My lips were pursed and my cheeks were round. 

“Because, they didn’t teach you not to play with fire, Big Fella. They need a belt to their asses and I should be the one administering the whooping.”

“You fell in love with their son. That’s the reason you’re upset with them.”

“No. I’m mad your mother didn’t swallow that night.” 

“Roulet–” he groaned. 

I continued, not caring that I’d crossed his imaginary line. There were no lines for me. Only facts. Only the truth. Only honesty. 

“I would be somewhere letting my pussy hang, jet setting across the world and drinking until I can’t think. But, nooooo– I’m a stepmother to a precious teenager I’d give my life for and I’m sucking her father’s dick almost every night because it feels like it belongs in my mouth as much as my teeth. 

“I have a solid, possibly questionable bond with her mother that I cherish like a new friendship in late adulthood. I count down the hours before I’m beside a man I was never supposed to love. Every night. All night. And, I am at peace only when him and that damn daughter of ours are within reach. All up on me. All in my skin. It’s repulsive.” 

Israel shook his head and ran his hand down his face. He was fully dressed, stunning, and begging for me to rub my pussy across his nose. But if I unleashed the dragon between my thighs, the dinner table wouldn’t see us. 

“Didn’t swallow?” 

“You missed the point,” I explained. 

“I got the point, Princess. I’m just unable to comprehend your– your– you’re mad my mother didn’t swallow that night?”

I shook my head and finished the liner on my lips, unable to speak because I’d destroy the work I’d already done and begin again. Israel’s patience was thinning. He’d toss me over his shoulders half-naked to get me in the car if he had to. I knew it, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before his threats to do so began. There were stages to his chaos. We were approaching stage two. 

“You’re fucked up, baby. I just want you to know that shit.”

“You love me,” I reminded him, placing the liner on the vanity. 

“I do. I really fucking do,” he admitted with a sigh. 

“So stop complaining, baby.”

“You’d better be on your best behavior tonight, Roulette. And, be nice.”

“Nice might be pushing it. Not because I can’t be, but because–since when have you known me to be nice? Cum digesting aside, I really like your mother. And, your father.”

I cut my eyes in his direction, staring through the mirror as his brown skin grew red. His nostrils flared, and he shifted his weight. He was now standing upright with his hands shoved in his pockets.

It was no secret that I had a slight attraction to Israel’s father. To Israel’s brother. And, to the only cousin he’d introduced me to. They were one in the same. All resembling his father. 

Tatum was a sharp old man. A fine old man. A polished old man. And, he didn’t look a day over forty. Israel was his twin. Looking at his father was like looking at Big Fella. So, imagining my legs wrapped around Mr. Kingston’s head every blue moon wasn’t difficult at all. 

“You have thirty minutes to be downstairs, Roulette, or I’m tossing your fine ass over my shoulder half-naked and putting you in the car myself.”

Stage four. Get your shit together, Roulette.

“I’m certain your father would enjoy that,” I teased. 

I couldn’t help myself. 

“Don’t make me fuck you and that nigga up for even considering it,” he warned as he turned to leave. 

Sniggering, I nodded. “I love you, too, Big Fella.”

“Um hm.” 

Confident.

Secure.

Unbothered.

Grumpy.

Serious.

Passive.

Deadly.

Israel’s nonchalant demeanor only fooled strangers. He was calm, but he was calculated. And, callous. And cold. And couldn’t be easily tamed once he let loose. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the rise I easily got out of him. It stirred the juices of his favorite pot. 

Click.

Clack.

With Raquim at the wheel, I climbed into the backseat of Israel’s Phantom. The custom interior was matte black with red accents and stitching along the seat. It suited him. The sleekness reminded me of how slick his tongue was as it glided across my flesh. 

One.

Two.

Hold.

Three.

Four.

Hold.

Hold.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Hold it.

Eight.

Nine.

Hold. Hold. Hold. Hold.

Ten.

I squeezed my pussy muscles, working my pelvic floor. I was practicing for the extraction of Israel’s semen when we returned home. If we made it home before his tool was in my garden. The sandalwood and santal on his skin were the initial ingredients for disaster. 

Big Fella was no saint. He knew exactly what he was doing. And, he knew exactly what that combination did to me. Fine bumps caressed my skin as he slid in next to me.

Should be inside of me. I groaned, inwardly. 

Tucked away in the car, we sped off from the roundabout. I tried relaxing beside the man who put my worries to rest, but settling in wasn’t as simple as it usually was because there wasn’t a teenager near, working our nerves or obsessing over her appearance. 

Malaya was with Yara for the weekend. They’d been planning the mother and daughter staycation for three months. Both wanted and needed time away to better understand the versions of themselves they were today. Yara last year wasn’t Yara this year. And, Malaya pre-Roulette was not Malaya post-Roulette. 

There was some adjusting that needed to be done. They both understood that. The beauty of their relationship was their willingness to pivot for one another. I was smitten by their selflessness. 

“What is it, Princess?”

Pushing out a breath of fresh air, I shrugged. “Maybe I should call her.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Just to see how the trip is going.”

“It’s Friday, Roulette. They just left five hours ago. Call her tomorrow. Let them settle in. Let her start missing you before you start calling.”

“First of all, hating ass n–”

“Princess,” he cut me off. 

“She texted me in-flight to tell me she missed me. That’s not up for debate. If you’re feeling some type of way about knowing she will be calling me instead of you when she does make a call, just say that.”

“Here you go.”

“Um hm.”

“I got you when we get home, baby.”

“What does that even mean? What are you even talking about?”

“You’ve been a brat all fucking evening. I stayed in the office too long. I get it. You were deprived of my presence and attention. And, though I’m here in front of you and spending the rest of the night with you, you’re resentful. 

“Because, you’re spoiled. And, you want my undivided attention, not sharing it with my family which is where the bullshit about my mother came into play earlier. Like I said, I’ve got you when we get home.”

Adjusting my body in my seat, I squeezed my thighs together to combat the pressure building between them. 

I can’t wait that long, Big Fella.

He knew me too well. The three hours he spent in his office handling business nearly drove me up the wall. I busied myself around the house, but by the time he finished up, it was time to prepare for our departure. The budding frustration was suppressed and poorly masked, but there was hardly any hiding it now. He was on to me. 

But, I want him in me. I reasoned.

“I’m not fond of waiting, Israel,” I admitted, peering out the window. I kissed the skin of my teeth, feeling half empty, half full. 

“I know, Princess. I’m not fond of making you wait, either. And, for that, I apologize. I should’ve ended work earlier.”

“You should’ve.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

Obliterating the space between us, Big Fella pressed his body against mine. His lips caressed my shoulder. My neck. My cheek. My ear.

“Hm? What does Princess want?”

Breathlessly, I swallowed. My heart was battling my logic, but I wouldn’t allow it to succeed in the end. I couldn’t, because it only led to irrational thinking, requests, and words. 

Slow down, baby. I begged. Slow down.

My chest ached with desire. I loved a man. I loved this man. Deeply. Truly. Unjustly. Unfairly. Safely. Slowly. Softly. Securely. Sacredly. Only. 

“Just say it, baby, and it’s yours.”

His hand caressed my thigh with a gentle squeeze. Squirming in my seat, I pushed my feelings aside and tapped into the part of my brain that was absent from Israel's influence. Though small, it was powerful. And, right now, it was all I had.

“Two we– weeks.”

His closeness was intoxicating. 

“Two weeks what, Princess?”

“Two weeks on a remote island,” I breathed out.

“Two weeks on an island,” he agreed. 

“And, land.”

“Land?” He questioned. 

He didn’t think he was getting off so easily. Hopefully, he hadn’t. I was just getting started. 

“At the tip of Mt. Clarke.”

The tip of Clarke was the very final point of human existence in the mountains. It snowed half the year, and temperatures remained low from month one until month twelve. 

“For?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t, because you’re getting it regardless. But I’m asking you a question. I want you to answer it.”

“For the moments when the world grows too loud. When the chaos overwhelms me. When I’m too far in my head. When I need calm. Quiet. Serenity.” 

“A home, Princess? You want a home at the tip of Clarke?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“I don’t need you to look into it, Big Fella. I need you to present me with a deed. Soon.” 

He pulled my chin in his direction. His pensive gaze unravelled me. I was ripping at the seams with each passing second. And, when he finally spoke, my heart opened a little more to accommodate his vastness.

“Don’t insult me, Roulette. Whatever you want, you’ll have. That’s been the deal since day one, and nothing has changed. When I say I’ll look into it, I’m just telling you I will start the process. 

“But, please note the process will always end in your favor. The day it stops, understand that I’ve left this earth and I am no longer breathing. Cause, as long as I am, your wish is my command.”

I know Big Fella. I softened. 

He was too good to me. Too good to be true. Too good to be mine. All mine. But, he was.

I observed the features I’d studied a thousand times or more. They were perfect. He was perfect. 

“Understand, Princess?”

I nodded. 

“Nah. You got so much mouth, tell me what I want to hear.”

“Isr–” 

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Yes–” he pressed, eyebrows rising on his forehead. 

“Yes, Big Fella.”

He kissed my lips and freed my face from his hands. Traces of me stained his skin. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth to reduce the redness I’d left behind. 

“Anything, Princess. You know that, and so do I. That’s why long hours in the office are needed. Somebody has to pay for that damn ice box you want.”

He made light of the moment, understanding I was deep in my chest. Deep in my feelings. Deep in my thoughts. 

Deeper.

It was a place only he could take me. It was a place only he had gone. It was a place that only he made comfortable. Safe. Secure. 

“And dick.” I finalized. 

“That goes without saying.”

I leaned closer, nearing his ear. 

“In my mouth.”

He nodded, grabbing hold of his neck with his right hand. He shifted his position slightly, the stress of my presence consuming him. 

“I know,” he assured me. 

“Do you?”

“Um hmm.”

“Good then.”

I retracted my claws, giving him space to breathe. When I rested my back against the seat again, the car came to a complete stop at the red light. I didn’t have to turn around to know that Israel was staring daggers into me. 

It was standard procedure at this point in our union. It was the reason he preferred Raquim at the wheel most of the time we traveled through the city. He needed his hands and eyes free to roam me.

Silence carried us for four minutes. By the fifth, he could no longer contain himself.

“You look splendid tonight, Princess.”

“I look splendid every night, Big Fella,” I reminded him. 

And, I don’t need a man to tell me that. I thought. But it feels wonderful coming from you, love.

“You’re hell,” he tittered, kissing the skin of his teeth. 

“You’re the moth–”

“Your flame is magnetic.”

“And your strokes are magical. We’re both fucked, baby.” 

He nodded, agreeing.

Time ticked away as we made our way to one of many of Israel’s properties. It was the home his parents preferred while staying in Clarke. For this reason alone, Israel refused to sell it or allow long-term rentals. Tourists could rent the beautiful home for up to seven days before they were required to check out and find their next accommodation. 

Upon arrival, Israel exited the vehicle, keeping the door ajar. He leaned his long frame forward and extended his left hand. The diamonds dancing on his ring finger made the butterflies in my stomach swarm.

The civil ceremony was my best-kept secret. Six days ago, I agreed to love Big Fella in every lifetime. There wasn’t even an inkling of doubt in my mind that I would. That I could. Before he was instructed to kiss his bride, I slid a ring as icy as the tip of Mt. Clarke in the middle of winter onto the same finger that had been inside of me a hundred times. 

Roulette Childers-Kingston.

A wife.

His wife.

I never thought I’d see the day, but it had come, and my heart still caved at the mere thought of that perfect evening. Israel accepted me for exactly who I was, never attempting to leash and train me to be the person he imagined a woman or wife should be. 

My liberation was exhilarating to Israel. He woke up each morning not knowing what to expect from me, which he loved. It kept him on his toes. It extended his pursuit. And, it kept him in line because he understood my value. The risk of losing me was one he wasn’t willing to take. I appreciated that part of him. 

He was intentional. He was sure. He knew that he wanted me in his world and he did a damn good job convincing me each day. Israel didn’t just want a wife. Israel wanted to be a husband. A good husband. And that’s what separated him from the rest.

Unknowingly, he’d influenced me. Being a good wife was my new life goal. I’d never be the ideal woman or even what the world considers a good woman. But I would be a good wife. Israel knew it, which was why he put papers on me to prove it.

Tires made the gravel crackle beneath us as I grabbed hold of Israel’s hand. The noise of the engine ceased, and we were quickly met with a slimmer, slightly more youthful version of Big Fella. 

My lips curled upward into a smile. My nostrils widened, and my walls contracted. My nature swayed with the wind, ruffling the feathers of the man I’d stood in front of a deserted courthouse with and recited vows. 

“Mrhban.” Hello.

“Mrhban,” I dragged, lust heavy in my tone. 

Israel’s grip around my hand tightened. He leaned over, keeping his eyes on the man who’d exited the vehicle a few feet ahead of us. 

“I said to behave yourself, Princess. Fuck with me and I’m taking your ass right back home.”

“Can he come, too?” I questioned, quite intrigued with the man before me. 

He had returned to the States and wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. This was only our third encounter, but the moisture of my pussy hadn’t stopped collecting in my panties at the sight of him, yet. 

I’d be damned if Big Fella had a twin. I would’ve requested them both that night.

“Roulette,” Israel hissed, lowly. 

His slight irritation didn’t bother me a bit. Because, without placing my hand to the front of his pants, I would bet my last dime that his limp dick was slowly hardening. Though he hated to admit it, Big Fella admired my spontaneity and desire for other men. 

He admired the fact that he was the only man sticking his dick in me more. After my pussy was good in sloppy from lusting, it was him that would reap the benefits and slide in without resistance. Only him.

“He’s handsome, Big Fella,” I reasoned, never taking my eyes off the man who shared his blood.

“He’s my brother, Princess.”

“He’s not mine.”

Israel pushed out hot, steamy air from his lips. Finally, I peered at him. His beauty was baffling. 

“Behave,” he warned as his brother approached us. 

We all climbed the first step to the home simultaneously before stopping on the second one. 

“Roulette–” He widened his arms, pulling me in for a hug.

As he attempted to pull back, I held him in place with my right hand against his body. He smelled divine. Like, I don’t eat meat, but pussy is the exception divine. Like, I’ll fuck the period blood out of you four days early divine. Like, I am religious enough to set a nigga up for a personal meeting with Allah, right in his chambers divine. 

“Ummm–” I inhaled. 

Israel’s hand sliding around my waist to pull me backward was no surprise.

Jealous.

“Good to see you again.”

“Good seeing you again,” I responded with a nod. “Really good.”

He tossed his head back in laughter. He found my assertiveness comical. His voice was void of nerve when he spoke, letting me know that I didn’t intimidate him, and neither did his brother. I loved that for him. I loved that for me.

“You’re wild,” he claimed. 

With a shrug, I retreated, allowing Israel to wrap both hands around my waist and show me exactly what I’d done. His dick pressed against my ass. I clenched my pussy muscles, hoping the sudden thud subsided. 

“And, niggas get laid down bout this wild shit, too,” Israel responded, “Don’t fall victim, my brother.”

“Ah, I don’t mind meeting Allah if you don’t mind, because we’ll both be visiting together.”

Loud, obnoxious laughing clutched my heart like stringed pearls around the First Lady’s neck as the Pastor’s side chick of three years stood to tell the congregation she was having a child out of wedlock with a married man. Her man, more specifically. 

“Min al-jayyid an araka, akhy.” Good seeing you, my brother.

“Naema. al'umi wal'ab yantazirani. yajib 'an nadkhula.” It is. Mother and father are waiting. We should head inside.

As he finished his statement, Israel ushered us all inside. Ibrahim led the way. I was right behind him, close enough for one to believe I’d come for him. My victory didn’t last very long. I felt my body being pulled in a different direction, toward the grunting of my new husband. 

He closed the bathroom door, trapping me inside as he gnawed on his bottom lip. His dick was trying to make an exit through his zipper. It was threatening to split his threads if it wasn’t freed soon enough.  

“Why do you choose to play with me?” Israel asked, locking the door behind him.

“Because you fuck better when I misbehave.”

“Oh yeah?”

I nodded, heating all over. Israel was something straight out of a fucking movie. My mvoie. 

His shirt slid from his pants with a tug. He swirled his finger around his belt loop to extract the rest of the fabric. The sound of his belt buckle loosening loosened parts of me that had grown tighter each hour he remained in the office behind that oak desk. 

Big, BIG Fella. 

His eyes were on me. My eyes were on the bulge leading the way. 

“Isra–”

“On your knees.”

“Is–”

“On your knees, Princess. I know exactly what the fuck you need.” 

“Your pa–”

“Fuck everybody at that table right now. I have business to tend to. And, until I do, you’re going to be showing your pretty little ass. Because I didn’t handle you earlier like I should’ve, I’ll take the blame for your wondering eyes and the fuck me faces you keep giving my brother. 

“The ones you planned to give to my father. And, the shit you planned on getting every other nigga in your path in tonight. That’s my bad, but a dead body due to your uncontrollable desires won’t be.”

He made me hot in the ass. Hot in the dress. Hot in the chest. Hot on the cheeks. Hot in the mouth. I was on fire. 

You don’t mean it. I sighed, referring to the comment about everyone at the dining table awaiting our presence. Big Fella loved his parents dearly and respected them a great deal. 

“And, yes, I do mean what I said, Princess. My wife comes before all. So do her needs. And, right now, she needs my dick in her mouth. Shortly after, she’ll need it in her pussy, fucking her until her vision blurs and her makeup smears.” 

He wasn’t a mind reader, but he knew exactly what I was thinking almost every time a thought passed through my head. It was partially the reason he was always a step ahead of me, waiting for me to make the move he’d already predicted. 

“I didn’t say y– uhhh–”

Israel’s dick touched the back of my throat.

“You didn’t have to. You’ve said enough,” he grimaced, looking down at me with lustful eyes.

His hand caressed the back of my head as he slowly, methodically stroked my mouth. 

“Ummmm,” I sighed, relaxing my limbs and savoring the taste of his skin on my tongue.

“This what you tripping bout?” He questioned. “This motherfucker in your mouth?”

I nodded, unable to speak. His precision made my knees weaken and my stomach flip a hundred times. Saliva thickened in my mouth, coating his dick in frothy layers. 

“Shit, Princess.”

In.

Out.

In.

Out. 

In.

Out.

“Fuck.”

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

“Shhhhiiiiet.”

My eyes met his as I tried extracting his soul from his body. I felt the bulge of his dick near the head of it. Just when I began planning his ending, Big Fella ejected himself from my mouth. 

“Get up.”

As the words left his mouth, he was pulling me up from the floor. Our lips touched. So did our tongues. And, before I knew what was happening, I was up in the air with him lodged inside of me.

“Ahhhhh,” I gasped, taking him all in at once.

Keeping quiet felt impossible as I came down onto Israel. His thumb pushed upward into my asshole, intensifying his strokes. Double penetration threatened to send me over the edge. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down. 

“Shit so fucking wet,” Big Fella groaned. 

The sound of his voice…

The pressure of his body…

The feeling of him inside of me…

The smell of his cologne…

The heat of his minty breath…

The foulness of the act…

The determination to please me…

The fact that I was the priority…

It mounted me. It shook my body uncontrollably. It sent me into another stratosphere. 

Everything tingled. Everything grew sensitive. Everything ached in the best way. Everything stiffened. 

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down. 

“I’m cummmmmmming!”

“Fuck!”

The contractions of my pussy sucked the semen from Israel. I feasted on his tongue as his soldiers went to war in my womb, reminding me to make the appointment to have them sterilized. 

***

Israel washed my flesh gently and without haste. I leaned into his firmness, wanting badly to be cuddled and rocked to sleep like a baby. He’d given me exactly what I needed, but now my needs had changed. I wanted our bed. Our covers. And, our daughter talking my ear off as I dozed off on her every few seconds. 

“When we go in here, act like you have some fucking sense, Princess. Keep your eyes off my brother and don’t be fucking with my father.”

“You’re no fun,” I yawned. “And, who made you the boss anyway?”

He held his finger up, exposing the glistening diamonds. “You.”

I nodded with a smile. He’d called my bluff. If this was his position in each disagreement, he’d win almost every time. I didn’t have a rebuttal. Not yet, at least. I’d need a little more time to adjust to his new title. To my new title. To our new status. 

“You have a point.”

“Um hm. Do what I said and we won’t have any problems tonight, alright?”

“We won’t have any problems regardless.”

Because we both know I’m not doing what you say.

Once we’d gotten ourselves together, we exited the bathroom on the first floor of the immaculate home. 

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

We entered the dining room, immediately greeted by his mother and father. They were already seated, but stood quickly at the sight of us. The encounter was brief, but my eyes lingered on Israel’s father. He was stunning for his age.

“Behave,” Israel demanded. 

I nodded, leaning closer to him so that he could hear my whispers. I would behave, but before my impulsiveness took the backseat, I had a question that needed an answer.

“I have three holes, Big Fella. Why must I choose?”

“I have possession of them all, Princess. The only thing you’re able to choose is which one you want me in when we make it home tonight.”

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