"Are you serious right now?" I hiss, wriggling away, but his arm is like iron around my shoulders. Black chuckles, a low rumble that seems to fill the car, and I feel him pull me even closer, his warmth radiating like a furnace against the cold leather seat.
"Relax," he mutters, almost lazily.
"Tell the driver to stop," Black calls out to the bodyguard in front. His voice is calm, but there's an edge that brook no argument. Within minutes, we pull up at a small, late-night diner glowing like a beacon on the street.
"No, it's fine, really," I start to protest, but Black's already out of the car, holding the door open for me, his hand extended in a way that's both chivalrous and demanding. There's no getting out of this now.
We walk into the diner, the warmth and smell of coffee and fried food hitting me instantly. It's cozy and dimly lit, with a few weary travellers hunched over steaming cups. Black leads me to a booth in the corner, settling in across from me with a smirk as if he owns the place.
"Order whatever you want," he says, nodding to the menu. "Consider it... my treat."
I roll my eyes, but my stomach's taken the reins. I order a sandwich and fries, grateful to have something filling. Black watches me eat with that same lazy, infuriating smile, his gaze never leaving my face.
"Do you enjoy being difficult?" I ask, after a few bites, finally meeting his gaze. There's a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked.
"Maybe. Do you enjoy pretending you're afraid of me?" He leans back, his gaze sharper now, his words probing.
"I'm afraid of you," I mutter, stuffing a fry in my mouth. "I just don't get why you... I don't know... act like this."
He shrugs, his eyes losing their playful glint for a moment. "Maybe I don't want to be that predictable person you can figure out. Where's the fun in that?"
I let his words sink in, silence settling between us like a challenge. There's a depth to Black I hadn't seen before, and maybe, just maybe, a loneliness. We finish our meal, and As we head back to the car, Black opens the door and pushes me into the back seat. His face is unreadable and heavy. "You guys can go grab something to eat," he says, addressing the bodyguards. They exchange looks but don't question him, simply nodding as they turn and walk away, leaving us alone. He climbs into the back seat with me.
"Take off your trousers," he commands, mirroring his own words with action.
"What? Here? Now?" I stammer, unsure, glancing around. "You're joking, right?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" His expression turns hard, eyes locked on mine.
He undoes his belt, his confidence unwavering. From the front seat, he pulls out a small bottle, hands moving swiftly and surely. The air is charged, and tense, each movement precise. He holds the lubricant, preparing.
Black pulls my trousers roughly to my knees as I was taking time and bends over me to take my cock in his mouth. At first, nothing happens, and Black tries and tries to make me hard. However, my cock remains limp.
Frustrated, he asked "What is wrong with you?" in an irritated tone.
I am not sure, maybe I am just afraid. I say.
Not satisfied with my response, Black takes matters into his hands and punches me in the mouth. "Are you still scared?" He asks. His tone is cold and emotionless. Instead of replying to his question, I simply look at him, unsure of what to say.
Without hesitation, Black bends back down on me and resumes his efforts to get my cock hard. After a while, he positions himself on top of my cock and starts thrusting. He fucks me hard, his moans fill the car. After sitting on me and fucking me for a while, he lies on his back and pulls me on top of himself.
I slip in roughly. My anger builds, and I become increasingly frustrated. I lose control and start to fuck Black roughly, my thrusts becoming more intense. My hand moves of its own accord, finding its way to his throat. I want to strangle him, to let him die. To my surprise, he actually enjoyed it, his screams filling the air.
With my hand gripping his throat tightly, I continue fucking him even harder. I want him to suffer, to let him feel the pain that I, too, am feeling. I want him to understand the consequences of his actions.
Despite the anger and frustration coursing through me, I can't ignore the fact that Black is enjoying the rough treatment. It's a sickening realization.
"Press it harder," he says, as his hand makes its way to his cock, he pumps it hard while I fuck him till he climax.
I was about to stand up but he didn't allow me. Don't stop, he says, and I keep fucking him without stopping for another 30 minutes until he cums again.
Eventually, I climax, my release crashing through me. As I collapse on top of him, my hand releases its grip on his throat. Only then do I realize that I am covered in sweat, my body trembling with a mixture of anger and exhaustion.
As I lay there, breathing heavily, I realize that my anger has consumed me. I have let my emotions get the better of me, and I regret it. But it is too late, the damage has been done.
I get up and he gives me wipes to clean myself off. We dress and he calls his bodyguards to come. The bodyguards enter and immediately zoom off.
"That was great! We should do more of these," Black says, his voice low as he inches closer.
I steal a glance at the back of the driver's head, wondering if they're paying attention to our conversation. Knowing Black, they probably hear every word but wouldn't dare respond.
"You sure know how to make me scream," he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Get the fuck off!" I snap, pulling my shoulder away from him, the tension in the air crackling like static electricity.
Black chuckles, unfazed, with a smirk. "Come on, don't act like you didn't enjoy it," he says, his voice dripping with that familiar arrogance.
I roll my eyes, folding my arms. "You're unbelievable."
The car glides smoothly down the darkened road, streetlights flashing by in quick succession. Black's hand lingers on my shoulder, heavy, unyielding.
"Come on, babe," he says, voice low like he's sharing a secret. "You didn't hate it that much."
I roll my eyes, shifting further into the leather seat, away from him. "Believe me, I did."
He chuckles, a sound that dances between amusement and something darker. His fingers tap rhythmically against his knee as he studies me, eyes sharp and assessing. "Maybe you should stop pretending, then."
"Maybe you should take a hint," I retort.
Black smirks, unbothered by my resistance. He leans back casually, crossing his arms as he watches me, a hint of mischief in his eyes "Playing hard to get?" he taunts, voice low and teasing.
"Keep pushing," I mutter.
He laughs softly, a dark sound that sends a chill down my spine. "I'd hate to make you uncomfortable... unless, of course, you like it."He gives a low chuckle, barely acknowledging my annoyance as he drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer. The scent of his cologne fills the confined space, a blend of cedar and something sharper, like smoke. I want to push him away, but I'm too tired to argue. Besides, I know Black well enough to understand that he doesn't take no for an answer.
The car pulls to a stop in front of my house. Black nods to one of the guards, who quickly steps out and opens my door. I slip out of the car, the night air cool against my skin, clutching my shirt tightly around me. I hear Black's voice, low and mocking, as I close the door. "Goodnight, babe." and they drive off, leaving me in the quiet darkness. As I walk up the steps, I feel a strange hollowness in my chest, a sense that something between us just shifted—something worse.
When I finally slip inside, my grandmother is waiting, her eyes tired yet relieved. She doesn't ask questions, but as I hug her, I can feel her arms tighten around me as if she senses something I don't fully understand.
"You reek of smoke. Please don't tell me you smoked," she says, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
I pull away gently, the warmth of her embrace still lingering. Leaning closer, l open my mouth around her nose. "No drink, no alcohol," I assure her, trying to keep my tone light even though a weight hangs in the air.
"Please don't smoke or do drugs," she implores, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
"I won't," I promise, though my voice quakes slightly.
"What happened to your mouth?" she asks, her gaze narrowing in concern. I know she suspects the answer, but I tell her anyway.
"Black wanted to have sex with me in the car, and my... my preek wouldn't get hard, so he hit me." The words tumble out, heavy and jagged.
I can see the fury rising in her, a fire igniting in her eyes. "I need you to promise me two things," she states, her tone serious.
"Okay, Grandmother," I nod, the gravity of the moment sinking in.
"Promise me you will never drink or do drugs."
"I promise, Grandmother."
"Swear to me you will never feel anything for that vile man." Her voice drips with venom, and I can sense the weight of her history pressing down on both of us.
"I swear I'll never feel a shred of anything for him," I say, my voice now firm. "I never liked Black, and I'll never like him." The conviction in my words fills the room, a silent pact forged in that moment.
Are you hungry? My grandmother asks.
No, I'm okay.
Go and sleep. She smiles and hugs me.
I went to fetch water outside and have a thorough bath. I lay in bed thinking about how life would have been if things were different. I have always wondered what it would be like to love someone, to have a heart that beats for another. A girlfriend or boyfriend—those words danced in my mind like whispers, but I never lingered on them. My days were consumed by survival, the weight of responsibilities pressing down on my shoulders. The thought of dating felt distant, like echoes from another world. I was an observer, a ghost in the vibrant tapestry of life, yearning for connection yet trapped in the shadows of my own making. "Love seemed a luxury I couldn't afford, not yet."
I dream of someone fierce yet gentle, whose love wraps around me like a protective shield yet melts into tenderness. Someone who listens with patience and an understanding smile, who reads my silence as easily as my words. I want someone who reaches for my hand in the quiet moments, who hugs and kisses me just because they're near, because they're mine. Someone who pulls me close at night, their heartbeat lulling me to sleep, steady and safe. I want someone who fears losing me not out of insecurity but because they cherish me too deeply to let go.
I dreamed of someone untouched by wealth or status, someone who valued kindness over power. I longed for a person who looked at others with respect, no matter their station, who had a humble soul and a heart filled with goodness. In those dark days when Meng tormented me, these dreams became my escape. I clung to the thought of someone who could see beyond the surface, who wouldn't sneer at my fears or struggles. It was this hope, this vision of love untainted by pride or cruelty, that kept me moving forward, step by painful step.
I drifted off, the flickering shadows danced on the walls, weaving dreams of hope and endless possibilities.