Billionaire Heiress of Lasgidi, page 22
"No."
"Good. Besides, grandma needs to know you have someone on your side."
He walked me home that evening, regaling me with tales of how he grew up in Ekiti state and his brief stint at a high school in America.
He was engaged at the time but the woman broke his heart. He spoke about how he had been afraid to love since then. How he was too fragile to be heartbroken again. I felt as though both of us had something in common.
I loved that he spoke to me like I was grown.
Every other day he walked me home, buying me stuff on the way. It was food from fancy restaurants at first and then clean romance novels and then erotic and dark romance.
One day, he asked grandma to send me to his after-school lessons.
I was over the moon and even though grandma said she was uncomfortable around him, I grumbled around the house until she let me go.
Sule Adeoye and I were so close. He taught me differently, exchanged meaningful glances during lessons and we had our private jokes.
I didn't really know what I bargained for until the day I waited for him after lessons as usual.
"It's about to rain," I murmured, holding the rusty iron that made up the burglary proof in the empty classroom. Everyone else was gone.
"Yeah. Maybe we can wait it out."
I glanced at him, worried. "I need to follow grandma to Church today. Weekly service things."
"So you can't chill with me for like fifteen minutes?" He asked, feigning anger.
"I'm sorry. But she would kill me if I don't get home in time." Thunder roared across the sky, bringing with it a foreboding I should have taken a little seriously.
"But me I won't kill you now, so you don't care about my feelings." He looked despondent.
"I care-" I stopped, unsure of where the conversation was headed. The words were softly spoken but they also carried a mild threat. "Mr. S-"
He pressed a finger against my lips. "Shh," he said. "How many times have I said call me Sule?"
The rains tore through the sky, pouring in torrents. Still, I looked towards the door of the building that housed the lesson. The wind slammed it shut but I started towards it anyway.
"I feel as if you know that I like you but you use it against me," he said to me. I stopped.
"No!" I yelled. "I like you too."
"So why have you never kissed me?"
I was confused. Because I didn't know that he wanted a kiss. But why did he? Wasn't I too young for him? Were my lips ripe enough for his more experienced lips? Was my body ready for his more experienced hands?
I drew back as he crossed the distance that separated us.
Suddenly, he was no longer attractive to me.
He felt like a predator.
And I wanted to run.
I dashed for the door but he pulled me back.
"Wait, why are you running?" He asked.
"I don't know," I said, my heart beating in trepidation. I just sensed danger and I didn't know how to say it.
"Wait. I really like you and-"
He drew me closer with renewed force, tearing my lips apart with his mouth, invading my body with his hands.
"Now you want to act as if I'm forcing you? As if you don't like it? Those books I gave you, lie that you didn't imagine it was me between your legs!"
I froze, falling to my feet, a move that proved to be a mistake as he released himself, grabbed my head, and covered his erection with it.
Then in a flash, I was on my back, pinned against a wooden table, his fingers finding my opening.
"Please," I begged. "Please don't do this."
He yanked off my panties, shoving himself into me, yanking off my bra as he removed my buttons.
He went at it for as long as the rain poured.
Forty-five minutes I think.
For every time he climaxed, he started again.
When he was done, he thrust a morning-after pill in my hands with a bottle of water. He’d come prepared.
"Drink," he commanded. "We don't want you claiming I got you pregnant a few weeks from now."
When he stood by the window a few minutes later, he said, "I have a future I have to protect."
It was as if my future didn't need protection, I thought. As if because I didn't announce mine, it made it less important.
It was the last time I saw him.
I feigned sickness for a few days after the rape and by the time I returned to school the following week, he had resigned.
But I never recovered from the assault.
I also never found the will to write after then. And because I needed to write at least one essay in the entrance exams for Uni and also pass Literature, it held me back from admission for three years.
Grandma never knew why. She just thought I was struggling with my academics.
I watched Ryan as he walked closer, covering me with his arms, holding me as I finished my narration.
Talking to him about it was easy.
Talking to Banks about it hadn't been. I couldn't tell him everything. He saw me that day on my way home and knew something was off.
He didn't ask questions and I didn't say anything.
I respected that.
But I knew that if Ryan had been present in that same past, I would have told him everything as I did now.
I couldn't say if it was because I felt connected with him in gloom or because I liked him the way I had never liked anyone else but it would have come as easily as it came tonight.
“And the first night we met-what I said-I was so insensitive. I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in my hair, I held on to him.
“You didn’t know, Ryan.”
“I promise to be more sensitive. I promise to be more careful with the things that I say.”
He was so difficult not to need.
"Make love to me, Ryan, please."
"Not when you are like this," he said. “I care about you too much to touch you when I know you just need me to be there.”
"You told me I could unburden myself. I just did."
"Was that because I said so or because you wanted to?"
"Both, Ryan. I wouldn't have been able to spill my guts if you didn't give me the avenue to."
"I can't be with you when you're this vulnerable. I can't take from you when all you need is a friend."
I felt the truth in his words as he spoke them. But I also wanted to feel him deep inside of me.
I needed him.
"I need you," I pleaded.
"Let's see if you will feel that way by morning," he said, planted a kiss on my forehead, and sauntered into the kitchen. I heard the sound of the gas cooker coming on and water pouring inside a kettle.
I remained in the dining area of the living room for minutes.
Then I hopped off the stool, shedding my romper along the way, showing myself to him in nothing other than my thong and bra when I enter the kitchen.
"Holy shit, Nimi," he called a guttural sound following my name as his gaze swept through me. "Nimi, what you need is comfort." He looked tortured, as if he was struggling with a thousand emotions.
"And a fuck from the only man that I have ever wanted."
He leaned against the kitchen island, unable to shift his gaze or pay attention to the kettle that whistled away on the gas cooktop.
I removed my thong, holding his gaze as I gently kicked the silk material away from me.
My hands found my bra next, setting my boobs free. I walked closer to him.
He watched me in silence, gazing at me as if undecided.
What was he going to be? Was he going to command me to wear my clothes? Take me home?
I hoped not. I'd rather be here with him. Not anywhere else.
Gently, I found him, placing my hand on his hardness. He drew in a long breath as I gained the boldness to step closer, gently stroking him through his jeans.
"Should I stop, Ryan?"
He threw his head back, holding tightly to the countertop. "Shit, Nimi."
"Ryan, should I stop?"
I hoped that he would say no, allowing us to give in to the one thing that tortures us more than whatever dark cloud covered our past.
"No," he groaned, grabbing me, placing me on the countertop. I could feel the heat from the kettle spaces away.
He drew my legs apart, pulling me closer as he placed both my legs around him.
"You little tease," he moaned, setting himself free.
I watched, hungry as hell as his thickness sprung out of his jeans, a little moisture staining my thighs. I wanted him, every strained vein buried deep inside of me.
He crashed his mouth into mine, digging his fingers into me, roaming my body as if he couldn't have enough.
I dripped all over his fingers endlessly, wetting him without hesitation.
"You're so ready," he murmured against my hair.
"Yeah," I said, barely finding my voice.
He dug his hand in his back pocket and produced a shiny wrapper, deftly tearing it off with his teeth as he sheathed himself with the latex.
"You ready for me, babe?"
I nodded. I was more than ready. His countertop was moist with my wetness in case he hadn't noticed.
Gently he lifted my legs, drawing me closer. I never watched Banks whenever he penetrated me. It never interested me but with Ryan, every single move was hot, it turned me the fuck on.
"I want to see you fuck me," I muttered. A devilish grin spread across his face.
"Oh, you frisky little thing. At your service, my lady."
He gently raised me, close enough for me to see what he was about to do.
Gently he pulled apart, giving a little space between us, enough for me to see him pushing for my entrance.
I reached for him, guiding him to my opening.
When he shoved himself into me, my hands held tightly onto him, his name on my lips like he was my favorite brand of lipstick.
He slowly retreated and pushed deeper when he came in this time.
I felt as if I was going to die of bliss. The ease with which he slipped in and out was foreign to me.
I had never had anyone come in with such easy access as if my whole pussy was created for them to be in.
It felt so good, so exhilarating, and so sweet that I wanted to do this with him all the time.
I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin when his tongue twirled against my taut nipples. Pleasure surged through me, threatening to erupt if I didn't contain it.
I couldn't rid myself of his name, not when his gaze held mine as if he was promising to do this to me for as long as I wanted it.
My fingers dug into his shirt, I yanked off buttons as I met him thrust after thrust, his name rolling off my tongue, my legs pushing him deeper until I had taken in every inch of him.
"Scream my motherfucking name, babe," he grunted, commanding me, watching me yield to him completely.
His fingers found my swollen clit, circling it as he writhed against me, leaving me no other chance but to inch closer to the edge.
I felt an unfamiliar push, a rush in my pussy, a clench that tightened my insides around him.
"Ryan! Shit, what's happening?" I asked, voice quivering, unfamiliar with the way my body tensed.
"You're cumming for me, babe," he said, covering my mouth with his as I erupted into a million pieces, yanking off what was left of his buttons, holding on to him for dear life, screaming his name as if it was the truth.
But he powered through the volcanic eruption that was my body responding to a climax.
"Hey, you did good," he murmured, kissing me gently as he kept thrusting with short strokes as I slowly came down to earth. He placed my head against his shoulder, gently stroking my back.
"I love you," I blurted, surprised by the realization the words brought with them.
He stilled. Not a single word escaped his mouth.
"The kettle," he suddenly hissed, dashing to the gas cooktop.
When he turned it off, he placed a tin of peppermint tea and a blue mug on the marbled countertop. "I thought you might want tea," he said. "The driver would take you home," he added before leaving the kitchen.
The message had never been louder or clearer.
I felt like a complete idiot.
Falling for the first man who gave me an orgasm.
Chapter 14
RYAN
My heart pounded in my chest when I was behind my door, my back against it, my mind a vigorous whirling jig.
“I love you.”
It should be easier really. It should be in black and white, the response to that declaration.
Never had it been so complicated.
Never had it been anything other than, “Hey, I know how you feel and your emotions are valid and I am so lucky to have you say those words to me but I don’t want to be an asshole. I am simply not ready. I don’t know the future but I doubt I’ll ever be.”
Those were the words that were the response to Toke, Chioma, and Fa’idah’s ‘I love you.’
They weren’t the same response to Lili’s but they damn well conveyed the same emotions.
Now, why couldn’t I keep up with the same energy, look at Nimi Carew and voice those words? Why couldn’t I tell her without flinching that her feelings were likely true and very valid but I wasn’t the guy deserving of them?
Why did I run instead, dashing for the safety of my master bedroom like a little child running away at the first sign of danger?
Why the fuck was I a freaking simp?
I balled my fists, punching the air, unable to steady my breathing.
I dashed towards my walk-in closet, throwing out shoe boxes, clothes, perfumes until my fingers curled around the box I had kept hidden for too long.
I stared at the box containing the only form of comfort, the only form of love that I knew.
But for the first time, they denied me the feeling that leaped at me when I came to them. For the first time, it felt as though we ensued in a staring contest, daring the other to do something silly.
Except these were just opioids. Drugs. Substances that offered me relief but that also drove me deeper into the darkness that lurked in my heart for so long.
The sort of darkness that didn’t envelop me the moment I pulled out of Nimi. The sort of darkness that didn’t follow me to this room.
She was a ray of light, bursting through the slightest opening, convincing enough to pull the whole fucking door open so she could offer more.
But more would have us both fucked up.
More would destroy us.
And now, after I had tasted her - and the universe could testify to how I wanted more - I couldn’t say to myself that I didn’t want her.
I wanted her a thousand times over.
And not just as a fuck buddy, as someone I could comfort, someone I could be there for and that I knew would be there for me.
I clutched my chest as my heart raced.
Fucking her was a high and now as I yanked off my hoodie, I realized that I had lost control a short while ago.
The effect of being with her trickled into my bloodstream, racing my heart the same way the drugs do. However, unlike the drugs, a calming effect came with the speed at which my heart raced.
She could drive me crazy and calm me at the same damn time.
She could also have me doing crazy things.
I peeled off my clothes, the condom that sheathed me earlier long tossed into the trash.
In front of the mirror, I stood naked and stared at my reflection for the first time in years.
I never had the nerve to look at myself before now because the person that stared back at me was damaged, confused, and a failure.
My scars were a receipt of exchanging sanity for an unruly life filled with the nastiest and filthiest things I could do.
I removed my wristwatch, watching as the heavy piece fell to my feet. There, the most hidden part of me lay - the deep cut from my last bender.
The one that threatened to bury me forever.
How could I drag Nimi into that?
Her father was the first person who found me, the one who walked me through the madness, and the one who held my parents’ hands when shit hit the fan.
So maybe I couldn’t treat her like the Tokes, Chiomas, and Fa’idahs of this world but I also couldn’t indulge her feelings.
I didn’t need her to be dependent on someone like me who would hurt her.
I grabbed my phone and did something I knew damn well would tear her apart because of the night we just had, the night where she bore her soul and gave herself to me without holding back.
Every part of me broke into the words I typed to her.
Listen, the sex was really great. But let’s keep it at that. I’ll be in touch.
When I hit send, I did the other thing kids like me usually do when someone fucks with them.
“Sup ‘Lik? I need to find a Sule Adeoye.”
“Sule who?”
“Sule Adeoye.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“That’s what I am about to find out.”
Well, well, Sule Adeoye, I have a lot of pent-up emotions to pour into this revenge mission.
Unlucky you.
Chapter 15
NIMI
Five days after I foolishly but willingly gave myself to Ryan Dokpesi, I rolled yet another A-4 sheet in my hands and tossed it into the trash can by the door.
By the door a pile of unfinished prose and proof of my endless failure at putting words to paper sat, most likely as disappointed and as embarrassed for me as I was for myself.
Nothing stuck.
Just the stupid idea that I could say ‘I love you’ to a guy whose penis was the John Mayer of Lagos elitedom.
I collapsed on the bed, a blue ballpoint pen pressed against my glossy lips, my gaze set on the ceiling. I was mindlessly chasing words I had convinced myself I wanted to pour into paper. I didn't even know what I wanted to write and why.
A soft rap on the door pulled my attention from the constant torture I had subjected myself to and tempted me to return to planet earth.
