#New Year Private Yacht Party

[delphismith]

How Do You Plan the Perfect New Year Party in Dubai?

Dubai is a spectacular playground for tourists all around the world. On special occasions, people gather here in large numbers to celebrate with their nears and dears. You can plan a perfect New Year party in Dubai this year by experiencing a luxury dhow cruise or opting for a stunning desert safari experience. There are several places like Atlantis the Palm, Burj Khalifa and Dubai Marina where you can enjoy the stunning fireworks. So when planning a visit to the royal city, keep in mind to book in advance as it is a hotspot for tourists around the time of New Year.

[travelsagatourism]

Book Exclusive Dubai New Year Party 2024-25

If you ever dreamt of visiting Dubai on New Year, it’s your time to grab this golden opportunity with Travel Saga Tourism. We provide the most amazing Dubai New Year Party packages that will make all your fantasies come true. Celebrate the upcoming New year in Dubai with your closed ones by experiencing the New Year private yacht party, Dhow Cruise New Year Party, Christmas Eve yacht party and the grand Mega yacht Party. Getting access to all these amazing packages will make you watchout the stunning fireworks, enjoy a delicious international buffet and drinks. So enter Dubai with the Travel Saga Tourism and get a whole new experience that will take you to the seventh sky.

[johnblog222]

Discover the ultimate guide to hosting or attending a New Year party in Dubai with our informative infographic! Explore why Dubai is the ideal destination for celebrating the New Year, featuring its vibrant atmosphere, world-class entertainment, and breathtaking fireworks.

Uncover the top venues for a New Year party in Dubai, including the iconic Burj Khalifa, luxurious yacht parties, traditional dhow cruises, and scenic glass boat adventures along Dubai Marina. Each option offers a unique way to enjoy the stunning skyline and festive celebrations.

Get inspired by a variety of unique party experiences, such as desert celebrations and themed events that capture the spirit of the season. Our infographic also includes essential tips for an unforgettable night, covering booking advice, dress codes, and safety suggestions.

Whether you’re looking for a glamorous yacht experience, a lively beach party, or a cozy evening on a glass boat, this guide is your go-to resource for making the most of your New Year party in Dubai. Perfect for both travelers and locals seeking to ring in the New Year in style!

[johnseb]

Escape the ordinary and embrace a lavish getaway with Yacht Rental in Dubai

Are you bored with the normal hotel vacation? Then this is for you!! Discover five compelling reasons why yacht rental in Dubai experience surpasses a traditional hotel vacation. Our blog reveals the exceptional comforts that await you on Dubai's beautiful waterways.

Take your vacation to the next level by learning about the attraction of hiring a boat charter Dubai.

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[leo-muscle]

Kings of the World: Caribbean Waves

Kai knew he was far above the rest. Born into money and power, he got everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Women, cars, planes, food... all at the drop of a dime. He dressed in designer suits, which he constantly bragged about the price of. He wanted the whole world to bow to him, and worship the very ground he walked on.

This leads to Kai's 22nd birthday party, taking place in the Bahamas. He had invited five of his wealthiest friends, the only people he deemed worthy of associating with. They had spent the entire month on Kai's father's dime with women, watersports, booze, and dice, all leading up to one final drinking night on Kai's actual day of birth aboard his luxury yacht, moored to a private island. The party was too much: strippers dotted the decks, fireworks went off every half hour, loud music floated about, and poker chips poured like honey. Kai himself sat at the head table with his five rich friends.

"Here's to one more year of life!" Kai cheered, his voice slurring.

"Hear, hear!" His friends replied, and they all chugged down their liquor like it was water.

"Alright, guys, I've got the next round coming!" Kai shouted, as he dashed back to the bar... only something was amiss.

The scantily-dressed barwoman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an absolute giant of an irishman stood behind the bar, dancing to the beat of the music. He wore no shirt, just a bowtie with a nametag reading "Dom," and short shorts, accentuating his enormous muscles. An easy smile sat on his face, accented by the enormous emerald earring in his right ear. Just by being in the room with the man, Kai felt a need to compete with him.

"Where's Chrissy?" Kai asked, a simmer of anger in his voice.

"Ach, she was feeling a tad ill, so she came to fetch me." The bartender replied in a soothing Irish accent. "Watcha looking for tonight?"

"Something powerful and special." Kai said. "You'd know a thing or two about that."

The bartender's smile twitched. "I think I got just the thing for a birthday boy like you. Little something from back home, you aught to enjoy it."

The bartender turned around, and started pouring a variety of liquors into a shaker, then dancing to mix it all up. Kai couldn't stop looking at his ass: while Kai was incredibly straight, he could easily tell that this man had a great, bouncy bubble butt. His pecs too were incredible, the girls should be all over him-- why weren't they?

The bartender brought the shaker right up to his enormous left pec, opened it up, and dumped something in it that Kai couldn't see. He then presented the drink into a tall tankard. It was a sparkling emerald green, unlike any drink Kai had seen before.

"What is this shit?" Kai groaned.

"Special recipe of mine. You'll learn to make it yourself, someday."

"As if. People make my drinks, not the other way around."

Kai took a big swing of the emerald drink, chugging it all in one go. Instantly, he could feel his insides bubbling.

"Did you poison me?!" Kai screamed, but was inaudible over the clamor of the party.

"Nope." The bartender said. "Enjoy." And with that, he vanished.

Kai ran to the restroom as his muscles began burning and pulsing with new strength. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he began to shake, shiver, moan, and grow.

As Kai grew, a single thought entered his head.

My behavior is not suited for a King.

----------

Kai's friends were starting to wonder where their leader had gone, when suddenly, a single text appeared on their phones.

Kai: Everyone, come down to the island. There's someone you need to meet.

The group stumbled to the beach, where a single man awaited them, carrying four drinks with him. He was enormous, seven feet tall, and was a stunning example of peak masculinity. He was clearly from the islands around here: his beautiful, dark skin reflected the setting sun perfectly, while saltwater trickled through his tight curls, mustache, and goatee. His gigantic, bouncy, fuckable pecs sat atop a tight muscle gut, indented with the turtle-shell pattern of abs. His biceps outsized his head, and were crisscrossed with a pattern of veins showing his strength. His legs would have been incredibly oversized on any other man, but on him, they were glorious, perfect cylinders striated with pure strength, able to cut through water with ease. His ass was a perfect breeding site for any cock able to work its way past his thick muscle cheeks. An inviting aroma of saltwater and musk wafted from him, beckoning the boys over. It assaulted their nostrils, the scent unimpeded by clothes, for this beach hunk wore only a speedo and a necklace of purest silver. It smelled divine, and although these boys were straight before, this musk was worth far more than any feeble heterosexuality. They almost climbed over each other to get closer to the man.

"Now, now," The beach hunk said. "We can take me in some other time; I'm not the important one here. What is important, is you."

"What do you mean?" One of the rich boys asked. "You're perfect!"

"And you can be too." The beach hunk replied. "You boys want a drink?"

"Yes?" Another rich boy said.

"I made them myself," The beach hunk said, gesturing to the drinks in his hands. They gleamed a pure silver, like liquid mercury.

"From this big boy down here." He continued, patting the massive cock straining to break free of his speedo.

By this point, every single boy had a raging-hard on. They needed to know what this man tasted like. They dashed over to the beach hunk, and each grabbed a glass from the man's enormous hands, and drank the whole thing in one gulp each.

Instantly, their bodies expanded. Their thighs grew from twigs to tree trunks, laced with power. Their arms mirrored their King's, bursting with strength the size of coconuts. Their abs, one by one, popped into existence, forming tight eight-packs on all of their cores.

Soon, one boy started noticing how hot his neighbor was getting. While the beach hunk was a true being of masculinity, his friend was definitely becoming capable of rivaling him. He reached over to his friend's chest, and touched his nipple--

And suddenly, his friend's chest ballooned past almost every letter of the alphabet with mass, growing larger and darker and more sensitive, until his pecs were just as bouncy and voluptuous as his King's.

"B-bro..." He moaned. "I... I need you to touch them..."

His fellow transformee showed no slowness as he latched his rapidly-expanding hands onto his friend's enormous muscle tits, pawing and kneading the muscle and nipple. His friend moaned with pleasure. How could his chest feel so good?

The other two had noticed what their friends were doing, and immediately joined in. One began worshipping another's ass, while the final one began giving his friend a blowjob. Soon, their asses and dicks had all expanded into pillars and beautiful mounds of dark flesh, sensitive and plush, perfect for kneading. The friends grew closer and closer together, their hair darkening and tightening as they went, until they had all become a massive literal clusterfuck. Each man was sucking a nipple, taking a dick, fucking an ass, all in the most intense pleasure any of them had ever felt in their life.

Though, eventually, it was all too much. They felt their load coming right from their new enormous bull balls... and they just couldn't hold it any longer. In a burst of cum, they all released each other, panting on the sand in their beautiful new forms.

King Kai knew his new boys would make great citizens of his kingdom, but there was still much work to be done. He would go about this subtly, with his own line of drinks laced with kingly fluid. Soon, the islands would be peaceful, and everyone would live freely and without strife.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Ice Princess"

Ice Princess by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Murder, Mayhem, Blood, Violence, Action/Adventure, Thriller, All Dat Good Shit. Grown Folks Only.

Summary:

Portia Keith has it all. A rich boyfriend. An impressive sugar baby allowance. Shopping trips around the world on private jets and more. Every day is spent living in the lap of luxury. For a special holiday trip, her boyfriend gifts her with a private yacht cruise on the Aegean Sea to ring in the New Year with friends.

In order to keep the wealthy party-goers safe, private security is hired to protect the good times, and the spoiled diva encounters the gruff ex-Special Ops soldier, Erik Killmonger, who has no time to coddle a spoiled, coolheaded socialite. Chaos erupts when the yacht is hijacked by ruthless modern-day pirates, and Portia has to learn to leave her Ice Princess ways behind in order for Killmonger to get her back on land... alive.

Word count: 22.5K

"I'm so cold I'm dripping icicles

I go and take your man that nigga might miss you

Spent his whole commission on my neck and ear

To stand around me need to have ya winter gear

Pay me coats and benz's and that berg-ice

That's why I do not feel these bitches, frostbite

Grown money, ever since a youngin' made my own money

You broke honey, and they call me

Banks, cause I can loan money

Colder than December, my diamonds on

Anna WintourSo that's fly ice in my life"

Azealia Banks – "Ice Princess"

Erik Killmonger nearly turned down the job.

Floating around some Greek islands in and around the Aegean Sea for a week babysitting some rich bitches was not his dream gig. Some guns for hire might enjoy the laid-back assignment full of sunshine and sparkling azure waters, but he learned enough over the years that working for wealthy pampered civilians was a pain in the ass. They treated security like servant extensions, and he was not interested in an environment like that. He was accustomed to covert jobs that kept his blood pumping and his mind sharp. There were long-term goals that required him to be with a different mix around the Middle East and real action.

But his homeboy Clark wanted to keep the contract with James Quinton, the multi-millionaire from Silicon Valley who pioneered new bleeding-edge technology in computer processing. For about seven years, he had been a celebrated tech wiz, one of the few Black men successfully cashing out of the grind hustle culture. Killmonger kept up with the man's accomplishments and compared them with his own. As a graduate of M.I.T. and a certified genius with MENSA, the secret Wakandan prince would've probably become another James Quinton himself if his life hadn't been disrupted by trauma and loss. The chips fell where they did, and Killmonger bided his time searching for Ulysses Klaue and working as expensive hired security. Clark nagged at him.

"Man, I'm stretched thin. They want discretion and the best. That's you. I know you were supposed to start leave for a week to recuperate from that Lagos job, but there's some sketchy action happening around the Mediterranean, and your Navy SEAL experience is needed… just in case," Clark said on a satellite call.

Killmonger sat in his closet-sized studio that acted as a storage locker for his gear instead of a home. Constantly on the go, and on the grind, he listened to Clark reclining in his Lazy-Boy chair with a glass tumbler of prime whiskey in his hand.

"You'll ring the New Year in a beautiful atmosphere. Relaxed and peaceful. The bonus holiday pay is great. Please, I need this contract fulfilled. This man knows a lot of billionaires and I could use the referrals… new contacts. Plus, you're good-looking," Clark continued.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Killmonger said, sipping on his drink.

"Look over the file I sent you online. It gives details about the yacht you'll be protecting, and also the rest of the clientele."

"That still ain't got nothing to do with my looks," Killmonger grumbled.

"Pretty girls like good-looking men. That's all I'm saying. You might get lucky compared to the other goons I got," Clark said.

Killmonger closed his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. The studio apartment felt cramped and joyless.

"I'll throw in another bonus for the short notice," Clark insisted.

"How many people onboard?"

"It's a private New Year's party, eight guests, and the yacht staff of four. You'll have your own cabin. You'll lead everything with Sherman and Banks working under you. Giving you the best—"

"Just three men?"

Killmonger lifted his laptop from a small table next to his chair. He logged onto his dark web email account and scrolled images of the yacht. Looking at the dimensions and pictures, Killmonger put down his glass.

"I need at least three more men."

"I can pull at least one more for you—"

"Gotta have five total under me to make this work, especially with us going to a new hot spot."

"The Greek government and the Turkish government have been doing extra sea patrols. James Quinton hasn't mentioned going anywhere for the holidays and I urged him to place his social media engagement on pause for the week until they end their holiday. It'll be a vacation for you. In fact, you could just supervise and chill."

Killmonger knocked back the rest of his liquor.

"Okay, I'll do it. Get me five men."

He hung up and checked the files of James Quinton on his own cryptic software. Quinton liked to stunt his wealth. The man posted photos and corny quotes at least ten times a day on all of his social media platforms. It was the ones with his girlfriend that worried Killmonger.

Portia Keith.

Online, she was known as the Ice Princess. Her beauty and personality were so cold that she had a reputation for being a femme fatale with a rich man's wallet. She had been linked to a few celebrities in the past but had moved her pampered ways to men with deeper and consistent pockets. She rarely spoke in public and showed up to haute couture fashion shows all across the globe. Killmonger couldn't figure out exactly what she did to make men clamor for her and pop culture gossip blogs to want to follow her daily jaunts as a sugar baby with James Quinton.

He stared at a few pictures.

Ma definitely had a face card that would never decline. Medium height, a medium copper brown complexion that turned a pretty darker hue in the sun. Body looked all natural and not the cringy build-a-bitch looks women paid top dollar for. Portia had tits and a nice ass that matched her thighs. She liked provocative looks and expensive things. Quinton gave her everything and baby girl wasn't denied anything according to the photos he peeped on her platforms. There was a crew of girlfriends she jaunted around with, and in every picture, Portia was the center of attention. The face of a model on par with Naomi Campbell, and the body of a vixen bent on destroying hearts and dicks. She stayed dripped in diamonds every day from head to toe. Most men couldn't afford her and several tried to keep her until Quinton snatched her up with the bank account that kept her flaunting her beauty and body.

That face, though? Killmonger couldn't stop staring at it. Her eyes were cool dark windows that gave away nothing. The kind of eyes that cut niggas down if they weren't on point. Her round nose was slightly upturned in a natural haughtiness, but her lips were the deadliest weapons in her arsenal. Killmonger's lips parted as he licked his canine slugs that matched the bottom ones made of pure gold. Portia's lips looked like they could make a dick cry if she sucked on it. Her nickname fit the vibe she gave off, and he wondered what Quinton had besides money to keep that sophisticated sugar baby close.

Killmonger checked the gossip sites and scrolled pages and pages of rumors that Portia and Quinton were having issues and possibly on the outs. He guessed the private New Year's trip was Quinton's way of keeping her, especially with the gossipmongers bubbling with sightings of her having lunch with an Italian billionaire.

Killmonger poured himself a fresh drink, then checked flight schedules on Delta Airlines.

Portia Keith pouted all the way to Greece on her boyfriend's private Gulfstream jet. Scrolling her social media feeds while holding her apricot-colored Pomeranian Mimi, she fumed at the gossip page listing her and Quinton on a site that criticized the super-rich for ruining the climate with their wasteful private flights and hoarding of resources. Her bestie Jodie patted her thigh and told her to ignore the haters.

One thing Portia always did was cultivate a scandal-free reputation. She prided herself on being a carefree Black woman leading a luxury movement for other Black women that had them raising their standards against unqualified men. Accused of only promoting hypergamy and a sugar baby lifestyle, she let people talk their shit because it only brought luxury brands her way courting her favors to use and promote their goods for free. Her exquisite face launched products like no other, and the quiet mystique she crafted with razor precision could not tolerate slander with her image. It wasn't her jet. It was Quinton's. Rich people had to protect themselves and taking commercial airlines with the poors was so… gauche. Especially for bad bitches like herself. The income brackets she played in were fifty million and above, and the low bar of fifty million was just being polite. Not bad for a country girl with tidewater roots and access to an excellent finishing school that prepped her for the lifestyle she led.

Portia left Charleston, South Carolina, with a finance degree from Clemson University and never looked back. Landing a job working under the Director of Finance and Operations for Conde Nast, she labored around the folks who ran Vogue Magazine. A chance encounter during New York Fashion Week launched her new career as a pampered princess. The paparazzi snapped a candid shot of her walking near Anna Wintour wearing a layered sable Balenciaga romper. They both wore the same dark Chanel sunglasses, and a fashion mag begged the question, "Who wore it better?" Before his passing, André Leon Talley exalted her style sense and overnight, Portia became the new "It" girl, the mysterious fashionista who was too short to be a model, but too glamorous to be a simple finance department worker.

She jumped on the parasocial relationship with the New York fashion scene and made sure she appeared at big events. Using a lame-ass rapper who liked to rock oversized ice, she taught him how to dress better, and spent his money on a better investment… her. She put him on to better fashion, better food, and better jewelry. It helped broaden his brand and snag a movie role. She bounced from him to a Hollywood Executive who flaunted her at Oscar parties and she kept her mouth shut and her eyes wide open for new marks. Stacking other people's paper and collecting custom diamond jewelry that became her signature trademark was a lofty career in her early twenties. Portia was nearing the end of her roaring twenties and she had to upgrade her prospects to older men with healthy long-term portfolios. Hollywood and celebrity wealth were fleeting, often feast and famine. New prospects were needed and her finance education led her to San Francisco and tech Daddies. The trade-offs were dull, less attractive men, but fatter pockets.

Then Quinton appeared on a Forbes magazine cover.

Dollar signs flashed in her eyes. She called in favors to get invited to a tech gala and projected her icy exterior onto a man who was rich and above average. New money cleaned him up, but her looks, nimble fingers, and optimum sex magic snagged her a baller on the rise. If she drank enough liquor and squinted her eyes just so, he could almost pass as a poor man's skinny Trevante Rhodes. But that squint had to be hard and the liquor extra strong.

She glanced over at Quinton.

He bored her now.

Quinton was thirty, only four years older than her, but he acted like he was fifty, worrying about his declining fortune all the time. He got caught up in some bad cryptocurrency deals and took a hit on some poor stock market advice. The man pretended that everything was okay financially, but Portia could smell the oncoming of poverty one hundred miles away. Yet she still ran his pockets one last time with the trip she wanted for herself and her girls. She had a couple of boyfriend replacements already on deck and planned to jump ship after the New Year. Broke didn't look good on her and she wasn't built for struggle love or struggle pockets. A baddie always had a graceful contingency exit plan. She sighed loud enough for Quinton to notice her restlessness. Her gaze glossed over his hairline, which was beating a hasty retreat to the back of his neck. What had once been a full head of cropped waves had turned into phantom follicles that gave up on him faster than she did. He had aged so quickly in the two years she'd been with him that she could mistake him for his own father nowadays. Pity. Portia thought she'd stay with him for at least a few more years to see if he could stack his paper higher past the eighty million he was worth when she met him. Alas, that was not to be.

Quinton put down the computer tablet he had his nose buried in and clasped her hand. His eyes were already bloodshot from drinking and anxiousness. Things were probably going downhill faster.

"We're about to land, baby. Have patience," he said.

Her girlfriends giggled and drank martinis behind them. Portia ran a diamond-studded finger up his arm. Mimi whined on her lap.

"Will you give me anything special for New Year's Day?" she purred.

Quinton grinned.

"I have a lot planned for you," he winked.

At least he was going out with a bang, she thought. He was spoiling her one last time, unbeknownst to him. A part of her wondered if she should feel pity for milking him dry until he went belly up. It was the nature of the game, and he knew fully that to keep a woman like her, he had to keep his coins up. She kissed his cheek and her stomach dropped. They were descending.

Their landing was swift, and they were all transported to a launch dock where Quinton's brand-new custom yacht waited for them on tranquil turquoise waters. Seeing the ship, Portia couldn't help but get excited and jump about like a kid with her friends as she held Mimi in her personalized pink Fendi doggy purse. Quinton's three male friends ogled the women through their sheer beach cover-ups. Their teeny-weeny bikinis left little to the lascivious imagination. Portia patted her designer cornrows studded with pink diamond hair jewelry that matched Mimi's pink diamond collar. The ends of her jeweled braids extended past her back, and she flung her natural hair around and waited to board the yacht.

A staff member waited on the main deck of the ship with a tray of mixed drinks in a crisp eggshell white maritime uniform of a starched shirt and knee-length shorts. Portia grabbed the first glass and her gaze drifted over to the tall Black man wearing a hot as hell black military uniform holding a colt commando automatic weapon. His glossy locs framed a gruff, bearded face with a scowl on his thick lips.

"Ohmigod, Quinton. Is this really necessary? Mood killer," Portia complained.

She released Mimi to run around and handed her purse to another crew member. Quinton shook the security's hand. Scoping the yacht, Portia saw five more similar men spread behind the first one.

"Killmonger, correct?" Quinton said.

"Correct," Killmonger said.

"Just Killmonger?" Portia asked.

"Just Killmonger," he answered in a rough tone.

Quinton turned to all of his guests as they mingled and admired the surrounding luxury. The five other security team members dispersed to their stations. Only Killmonger remained. Quinton held out his hands to show off his big, shiny toy.

"As I told all of you, we'll be completely protected. I know there have been rumblings of issues in this region, but I hired some serious security. Enjoy yourselves! Wander around for a bit and they will place your luggage in your cabins. Lunch in an hour!" Quinton said.

"Hold up," Killmonger said.

Everyone stopped chatting and froze with their refreshing drinks.

"We need to go over a safety drill," Killmonger said.

Quinton glanced at his watch.

"Now? Can it wait until after lunch?"

"No," Killmonger said.

"Where would you like us to be?" Quinton asked.

"Head to the stern, please," Killmonger said, pointing to the back of the yacht.

The others headed in that direction. Portia sauntered past him in the opposite direction.

"I'm going to settle in," she said, rolling her eyes.

Killmonger snatched up her arm so quickly that it knocked the breath out of her. She didn't know a human could move that fast. He held her close to his chest as his other hand gripped his weapon.

"See, you're the type of woman who makes the job difficult by being a brat," he snapped.

"You can't talk to me like that!" she hissed, trying to jerk her arm away. It was like fighting an immobile mountain.

"I'm here to protect your good time. We practice drills for a reason."

She exhaled hard when she noticed his teeth. Sharp gold canine slugs on his top and bottom teeth.

"I could have my man sue you for assault," she bitched.

"Do it," he said.

Portia blinked fast several times.

"Do you know who James Quinton is? He could ruin you!" she bellowed, squirming in his grip.

"I'm here to make sure you rich people don't get bothered. I'm the best at that and I'd appreciate your cooperation with the safety drill. It'll only take twenty minutes of your precious spoiled time," he barked.

"Portia?"

Her friend Chelsea called for her.

Killmonger released her arm, and Portia looked up into his face. Narrow, heated eyes peered down at her.

"Let's go, princess," he said, swaggering past her and slinging his weapon over his shoulder.

Portia stared at his wide back and clenched her teeth. She threw her martini glass over the side of the yacht in anger and balled up her fists. Prepared to raise hell with Quinton over the manhandling, she huffed under her breath in anger and stomped her Gucci slides when Killmonger glanced back at her and… smiled, flashing those gold slugs.

Portia halted her steps. The fuck was he smiling at?

And why was she getting aroused by it?

She was a piece of work.

Killmonger knew from jump that Portia would be a problem needing an attitude adjustment. He checked her real quick the moment she mouthed off about not following safety rules that had to be enforced in case of an emergency. She gave him a glacial stare during his short introductory speech on how the trip would run among the security team, and he took them down the stairs that led to a sunbathing deck. There was an emergency escape door that led to an eleven meters long military rigid hull inflatable boat under the yacht that could hold three crew and eight passengers. It had an M60 7.62mm machine gun, an MK19 40mm, and an M2 .50 cal. machine gun armament attached to it. The boat could do forty knots with six in-line cylinder diesel engines. It was an extreme weather craft and Killmonger made them all jump inside of it to get a feel of how they would ride it in case of an emergency exit. He pointed out life vests and showed them the scuba gear his men had available to check for underwater threats.

Once Portia realized they were the real deal, she fixed her face to look less bitchy and bothered. Killmonger was concise and professional and he impressed all the guests with his background and training. He spoke to his team to go over work shifts, breaks, and overnight watch duty. Taking the first shift watch on the main deck, he kept his guard up while the yacht started its adventure away from the Greek port and out into the open sea. The captain of the ship introduced himself and his staff after lunch and their first port of call was Athens, and then they would head to Crete. They would spend the rest of their time tooling around on the open sea and shooting off fireworks on New Year's Eve.

The women wasted no time throwing off their bikini covers and rushing over to sunbathe topless on cushy recliners. An annoying little dog ran around barking and finally jumped on Portia's thighs to sleep until it got too hot and it hid under her chair. He didn't mind watching the sea with binoculars and occasionally looking down at tits. They weren't shy about showing them, so he would not pretend he didn't notice. Quinton and his male buddies grabbed a bottle of top-shelf bourbon and headed to the other side of the yacht to smoke cigars on padded deck chairs. They were torn up by dinner, and by then, he was done with his work shift and free to relax and eat a meal in his cabin. A private chef brought him moussaka and white wine for dinner and galaktoboureko for dessert. It filled him up, and he took a quick shower afterward, then rested on his bed.

The party crowd became raucous and rowdy the later it became, and he changed into light linen pants and a cotton shirt to join them and check in with the night shift team. Music blared from speakers on the starboard side and he eased around to observe and also check out the night waters. The yacht had spotlights that surrounded the bottom of the boat, so there was a beautiful glow to the calm aquamarine water. The rest of the ship was lit up too, which concerned Killmonger. Nothing like advertising a luxury yacht filled with rich people. He was correct in requesting five men to work with him. They had various firearms, rocket-propelled grenades, and enough ammo to start a war at sea if needed. He relaxed after talking to the two men on shift. All was well.

He went for a stroll around the upper decks while the civilians headed down to the lower deck to spread out for cocktails on the main deck. A cool breeze blew past and ruffled his locs. He closed his eyes and faced it fully, luxuriating in the sensation.

"Oh… so you can look normal."

Killmonger opened his eyes and found Portia and one of her friends sitting on white barrel chairs with their legs kicked up on an olive green ottoman. She wore a short pumpkin-colored shift dress and her skin looked amazing from being in the sun all day. Playing with the hem of her extra short dress, he admired the elaborate diamond chips that decorated her long fingernails. She stayed adorned, and he appreciated the effort she took to look feminine and soft. Portia's friend looked cute in a short polka-dotted sun dress. Her hair was lifted in a high ponytail of cascading auburn curls that fell down over her slender shoulder.

He took the open seat next to the friend with a short table between them. There was a half-empty glass of red wine and a fresh unopened bottle next to it with a cork opener conveniently placed on top of it if she needed more.

"I can dress down when I'm not working," he said.

She smiled. The wine had relaxed her and she appeared less uptight. Crossing a seductive leg, he glimpsed her sexy thighs. She didn't have any panties on, and her mound was clean-shaven. He glanced away to pretend he saw nothing, but the smirk on her face told him she meant for him to see her pussy.

"Why aren't you two down with the others?" he asked.

"Needed a break. When you're always the life of the party like me, you need a little time off. Plus, they're talking about work and stocks. Tiana and I are not interested."

"That's so snoozefest," Tiana said, her light skin splotchy with sunburn marks.

"Your other friends seem intrigued by it."

"Those heffas?" Portia snorted. "They just want to appear interested to get attention. Carlos is worth half a billion. Ben two billion. Oh, and that loud mouth you hear right now? That's Stieg. He's a Scandinavian trust fund baby worth five billion. My girls are here to party with me, but make no mistake, they're fishing for a big fish of their own to catch up with me. They're bored out of their minds, but…."

Portia rubbed her fingers together to indicate cash. She stood up and walked down the stairs, leaving Killmonger with Tiana. He sat in silence for a moment before standing up to leave.

"You sure you'll be okay up here by yourself?" he asked, glancing over at the balcony.

Tiana looked heavily inebriated.

"I can hold my liquor," Tiana said.

"Alright then, I'll leave you to your bottle and privacy—"

He glanced over the railing and watched Portia saunter to the front of the yacht. For someone who stayed rude to him while he was on shift, her lax behavior at night intrigued him. Showing off her pussy had to be an amusing game to her. Killmonger liked what he saw and slid his wet tongue across a gold fang.

The rest of his rounds were completed, and he gave one of his men a twenty-minute smoke break starboard side once the guests had turned in to sleep. He took over the watch temporarily and cast his glances out toward the tranquility of the sea. Heavy breathing brought forth curiosity, and he strolled down to a lower deck to investigate.

Portia was on her back naked, legs spread wide as Quinton exerted desperate dick strokes inside of her.

"You're so good, baby. Yes, that's it," Portia said with lukewarm enthusiasm.

Her eyes faced the sea, and she offered no effort to reciprocate affections or even movement as her man pounded her. The detachment on her expressionless face bothered Killmonger. Quinton gave her the world and she couldn't be bothered to give some passion? Even if it was a fake? A true pillow princess, Portia laid there with minimal effort to even wiggle her hips. She managed to push her breasts together and jiggle them, but she refused to look at Quinton's face. The man stared at the fat titties and pumped his way to a sad orgasm. When he collapsed on top of Portia, she took her expensive nails and raked them on the back of his neck and cooed phony words of praise. A smug look painted her face.

Killmonger gripped the railing, and a surge of anger sparked inside of him. He wanted to wipe that petty smirk off Portia's face. He knew fully well that her relationship with Quinton was a transactional one based on the rules of patriarchy. Men bought women as commodities and arm candy all the time. Killmonger knew what the game was, and Ma played it like the pro she appeared to be. However, it irked him that Quinton didn't fuck the shit out of her and make Portia earn all of her riches from him.

Quinton rolled off of her on the wide sectional couch and pulled off the condom that sheathed his average-sized dick. He balled it up and tossed it onto the table next to them. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, and Portia rested her head on a throw pillow. Her eyes squinted in surprise when she noticed Killmonger looking down at them. She slid a finger to her pussy lips, teasing Killmonger by opening her legs wider so he could see all the wet pink of her succulent entrance. His lips twisted up and there was a tightening in his pants. She traced a finger in a wide circle around her folds, then licked her fingers, dropping them onto her nipples to tweak the tips. He gripped the front of his pants to adjust his dick, thinking of all the ways he would fold her body if he had the chance to teach her a lesson about teasing a nigga like him. Her writhing body was doing all the things she should've been doing for Quinton if she hadn't been a lazy fuck. Portia dipped her fingers inside of her pussy and pursed her lush lips as she watched his face grow more aroused watching her display of ridiculous seduction right next to her snoring boyfriend. But he couldn't look away. Her fingers spun magic as they played in her slick folds. She flicked her clit and widened her legs for him until she raised her arm up and flipped him off with a moist finger. Portia cackled and clutched at her stomach, delighted at her teasing. She grabbed the shift dress she had on earlier and put it on, leaving Quinton behind by himself on the sectional. Tossing the used condom in the sea with the flick of a diamond nail, her laughter floated up to Killmonger as she headed to her cabin.

"Bitch," he grumbled.

She had him going, toying with him by using her physical blessings against him long enough to tell him to fuck off. Portia wanted to play cat and mouse, thinking he was the silly little mouse. Little did she know she had a vicious panther on her hands.

They docked in Crete at the crack of dawn.

Killmonger had two of his team stay behind to watch the yacht, and the others dressed in civilian clothing to blend in and trail the women who went shopping and out for lunch with the billionaires and Quinton. The blistering heat didn't let up. He wiped the back of his neck and under his chin several times while tracking Quinton. Portia stayed on the yacht to sleep in late. Her man seemed to find his balls again when he wasn't around her. The passive energy disappeared, and he took on a personality with bravado, impressing Tiana, who laughed at his corny jokes. Their lunch break was long and Killmonger took time to smoke a cigar near an open market. He played tourist watching the surrounding activity, checking the time on his watch constantly, and checking in with the yacht.

In his peripheral he caught Quinton slinking out of the high-end restaurant and entering the luxury hotel next to it. Killmonger stayed put hidden behind a marble statue of Athena, keeping his steady gaze on his client. Quinton checked his surroundings before dashing into the hotel. Killmonger entered the hotel and discreetly shielded his body from the other tourists. Moments later, Tiana walked into the lobby and headed toward Quinton. The tech wiz grabbed Tiana's hand and they entered an elevator together. Killmonger grinned and left the hotel.

The pillow princess's man was getting better pussy elsewhere with her bestie. Killmonger shook his head and checked on the people milling around the hotel lobby. He stayed put until the illicit couple came back down the elevator twenty-five minutes later, fixing their rumpled clothes to look presentable again.

"Quick ass," Killmonger mumbled, sticking a piece of gum in his mouth to chase away the taste of cigar on his tongue.

The trip back to the yacht was uneventful an hour later, and Portia's girlfriends carried plenty of gift bags to commemorate their visit. Portia stood on the top deck with a martini glass in her hand wearing an alabaster knit bikini. A giant floppy sun hat shaded her face. She pranced around on her chunky platforms, waiting for her friends to share their bounty with her.

"Fuck," Killmonger uttered, staring up at her.

Her body was insane. The bikini top only covered her nipples, and the bottoms barely shielded her vulva. He licked his lips again, staring at how fat her pussy looked up there. Tiana was nothing compared to Portia, but Killmonger knew that a lot of beautiful women had trash box and men fucked with women who made them feel good. Looks had nothing to do with keeping a man in the long run. Plenty of mid-looking and ugly women had snatched away prizes from bombshells. Perhaps Portia needed a man with good dick to turn her out correctly. There was no way all that body was going to waste because some rich dude couldn't handle her spunk.

Portia caught him checking her out, and she leaned over the railing to eye him back. Killmonger sauntered to his cabin to change back into his serious work clothes. He checked in with the mercs left behind on duty and all reports were good. The ship's captain updated him with a weather report and soon they were back out at sea for the rest of the trip.

Quinton and Portia threw a costume-themed dinner party and everyone wore Mardi Gras masks and sipped champagne before devouring salty caviar, Kobe steak, and lobsters. The yacht staff hustled to please, but Portia became a bitch when things didn't go as smoothly as she wanted. She reamed one female server so badly for stepping on her dog Mimi by accident that the woman slunk away in tears. Quinton said nothing about the bullying and everyone else was too drunk to comment on anything. Portia snapped at two mercs while moving into their next party area for charades and Killmonger had enough of the poor attitude. When Portia went for a restroom break in her cabin, he followed her. She caught him waiting for her in the narrow hall.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Her icy tone and polar stare made him want to flip her around and spank her ass like an insolent child being reprimanded by a fed-up parent.

"You need to check your tone with the staff and my men. These people are working hard—"

"Shut the fuck up, you simpin' bitch," she said.

Portia lifted the Mardi Gras mask onto her forehead and glared at him. Her little cat woman bikini costume showed off every curve, and he became distracted for a second by the veracity of her tone and demeanor. No woman had ever tried to come for him like that, especially one who didn't know him from Adam. Her breath smelled like the expensive French wine she had drank all night, and he considered her drunken state before speaking. He leaned in, and Portia leaned back until she was jammed against her cabin door. Killmonger bared his teeth at her and she acted as if he had snarled like a beast. Her eyes darted toward the stairs that led to the top deck, expecting someone to rescue her.

"Treat people who cater to you with respect. They don't get paid enough to take your verbal abuse," he demanded.

She looked away from his heated glare and gold canines. He caught the subtle tremble in her body, but then she turned her face back to him and smirked.

"Those people are paid well and competed to get this job—"

"You ain't paying 'em," he said.

"My man is. His money is my money—"

"You sure about him being your man?"

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a tight grimace. Killmonger decided to blow up her spot and teach the brat a lesson. Every bully needed to be humbled in their life. There was no better time than the present for her.

Portia put a hand on her hip and waited for him to run his mouth some more.

"He had a little quickie with your homegirl Tiana at a hotel while everyone was having lunch."

He cocked his head and waited for the explosion and waterworks to begin. Portia stared at him hard, then started cackling.

"Think I'm joking? I followed them there," he said.

Portia snorted and grabbed her stomach to control her laughter. He waited for her to notice that he was serious. She patted his chest with her right hand and he rolled his eyes with impatience.

"The look on your face right now… as if you got me with something!" she heckled.

Portia wiped her almond eyes and touched her chest. Her diamond nails glittered and that cool exterior returned in full effect.

"I sent that bitch there myself," Portia said.

Killmonger's brow wrinkled, and Portia gave him a little twisted lip pout. Then she grinned.

"Aw, I'm sorry boo boo. You really thought this was a gotcha moment. Ever hear of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer? Tiana is a free-loading cunt… yeah, I said cunt like the white girls do. She's not my homegirl, just competition who has been trying to be me from day one. I let that heffa into my inner circle to keep her on a leash. Quinton is going broke and all of this…?"

She waved her hand above her head.

"All of this shit is about to disappear soon, so to teach her a lesson about coming for what I got, I'm letting her have that limp dick brokie. She thinks she's on the come-up sneaking around with him, but I fed her fake bread crumbs to that nigga. Lied, and told her we were having relationship problems, and that I was worried that he wanted someone else. That little worker hoe really thinks she's better than the queen bee. I stayed on the yacht on purpose so she could make her move on him. Now she knows shiny things aren't always diamonds with that weak peen. In her mind, she thinks she has him and his money. The reality is, she's with a broke faker. Checkmate, bitch."

Portia guffawed and pointed to Killmonger's face.

"I respect you for trying to break my heart to humble me, but you can't play a player," she said.

She shoved him out of her way and strutted up the stairs, tooting her ass out so he could see it jiggle as she walked. Stopping halfway, she looked back at him.

"I'll act nicer with the staff just to make you feel better," she said.

Killmonger chuckled and shook his head. Baby girl was cold-blooded. Respect. He eased his big body up the steps and did quick surveillance all around the ship. Portia acted better with the servers, but she was still icy with the other mercs.

The next few days were dull and humid.

Boredom set in with the women, as the men only drank, ate, and slept for hours on end. Killmonger observed how Portia maneuvered around Tiana. Deadly sweet. It was like watching a scorpion slowly poison a frog as it rode the weaker creature's back. The shine of being with Quinton wore off Tiana, and he caught her brushing off the advances of her secret lover when they thought no one else saw them around the yacht. Portia knew everything that went on between them, orchestrating their dismal affair right under the noses of everyone present.

New Year's Eve rolled around and the trip was nearly over. He had to admit that the assignment wasn't as troublesome as he thought it would be. Quinton hired a fireworks crew to meet them on a separate boat at a rendezvous point in the middle of the ocean. Killmonger sent his mercs over to check out the other smaller ship with metal detectors, heat sensor devices, and a thorough inspection of the crew while he scuba-dived under the boat to sweep for explosives and hidden weapons. They inspected the fireworks being used, too. When one of his team helped him out of the water, he pulled off his scuba gear, and Portia watched him undress. Her eyes grew enormous when his scars came into view. The shiny lumpy brown flesh decorated him with a deadly artistic beauty, displaying every life he had taken in his line of work. He walked across the deck, dripping in seawater and muscles. A hunger grew in her aroused eyes to see more under the wetsuit.

"All safe," he said, whisking past her, carrying his air tanks to a rack.

He took his time pulling off the rest of his wetsuit, shaking his thighs, and grabbing his dick through his tight trunks to adjust the weight there.

Quinton walked over, clapping his hands together.

"All good?" Quinton asked.

"You can have your show tonight," Killmonger said.

Portia flounced away, shaking those ass cheeks, and his dick jumped in his trunks. The last few days she'd been a lot more suggestive with her behavior toward him, teasing him with flirty glances, and tugging on her swimwear suggestively in front of him that had Killmonger undressing her in his mind at night. He jerked off on his bed after taking a shower from scuba diving, imagining himself bending her over a railing and spanking her ass, rubbing his dick tip against her while she glanced back at him with those spoiled eyes and luscious, pouty lips. She needed to be punished. Needed to be on her knees and sucking his dick. If she complained about his length choking her, he would slap her and train her to show some respect for the gift of having his length stretch her mouth.

His erection was harder than steel and he kept playing an image of her begging forgiveness for being such a bitch. Killmonger wanted to cum all over her face and mess up that illusion of perfection she had about herself. Knowing what he did about her for nearly a week, he already understood that she would try to break his resolve and manhood down to control him. She needed a strong Daddy to put her right, and the thought of her sucking his balls while she stared at him with insolent eyes sent him over the edge, and ribbons of hot cum shot all over his hand and midsection. His dick was still hard as he beat it again, thinking of her pussy contracting all over his erection. She just had a way about her that made him want to tame her. Break her down. Force her to submit and sit that plump ass on his face.

He rolled over, groaning into his pillow, angry that she had reduced him to playing with himself when he was supposed to be overseeing his men. Cleaning up quickly, he went topside to check on the action above. Quinton and his guests had all retired for late afternoon naps to prepare for the evening's festivities. A fancy seven-course Mediterranean meal was planned for the New Year's celebration and they invited all the mercs to join in the fun with their shifts.

Portia wore her alabaster bikini again with a coral beach wrap skirt. Diamond earrings decorated her ears and a huge blue diamond necklace sat on her neck worth more than Killmonger made in a year legally. She toned down her make-up, going for a natural look, and the switch-up was extraordinary. It softened her face more, and she became even more beautiful.

Killmonger ate his fill of the gourmet food and allowed himself one glass of champagne before changing shifts with another merc. He kept his dark clothes on and strolled alone along the uppermost deck. The ship captain ate from a plate and Erik glanced over at the fireworks ship. He lifted the work binoculars from his chest and stepped back outside to observe the water and sky. No moon. Just stars stretched across the heavens, sparkling the jewels all over Portia.

The fireworks show started at eleven-thirty for a slow countdown to midnight. Killmonger positioned himself on the deck overlooking the stern. Below him, the rich guests gathered with more champagne and small desserts to watch the show. It was spectacular. Fireworks had never impressed him before, but he found himself looking at the sophisticated light show over the sea. Dazzling shapes and styles of explosives brought a magical ambiance all around them. Portia squealed and clapped her hands like a child, often pushing her face against Quinton's shoulder whenever an explosive boomed too loud and scared her. She looked cute while enjoying herself and Killmonger wondered why she couldn't be like that all the time. A certain type of sweetness exuded from her, as if she had put away that mask of cool she always wore, just to be a regular woman having a good time.

A server approached Killmonger with a tray of champagne.

"Why not?" Killmonger said, lifting a glass.

He drank it down and kept his eye on Portia, enjoying the fireworks.

Portia gulped down another glass of champagne and watched a firework turn into a rose in the sky. She clapped and oohed and ahhed to her heart's content. It was a beautiful way to end a relationship. A part of her actually felt a little bad about dumping Quinton after the trip. He would find someone new with a lower income bracket, hopefully, someone who loved him for who he was and not his wallet. The poor schlep was the type of dude who used money to buy his way into the quality of woman he wanted, which was not who he needed. Perhaps if Portia had remained a small-town girl working finance at a bank or small business in her old hometown, Quinton would've been deemed, in her mind, the catch of a lifetime. Alas, that was not the ocean current she rolled in. His ego was big, and he felt entitled to beautiful women simply because he had a dick and some money. Cultivating a personality, hobbies, or real solid friendships was not in his wheelhouse. Trophy girlfriends would never bring him happiness.

The champagne bubbles in her flute tickled her nose. She glanced over at Tiana who looked seasick from too much liquor in her system. Maybe there was some hope for Quinton being with her enemy. Everyone deserved love.

Portia was about to go check on Mimi in her cabin before it hit midnight. She gave the Pomeranian a doggy sedative to keep her from anxiety with all the fireworks noise, and she worried her fur baby would be frightened without checking in with her. The crackle of a spectacularly loud firework drew her attention to the sky again. A chain of enormous fiery lights popped off, and she glanced at her dainty Patek Philippe watch. It wasn't midnight yet for any kind of grand finale. Unless something bigger was about to erupt in the sky after that volley of bright multi-colored lights. She clapped and heard a loud popping sound.

"Did a firework not go off?" she asked.

Her girlfriends shrugged before a gigantic explosion rocked the bow of the ship that was not part of the show. The yacht lurched, and Portia fell to her knees off-balance with her platform heels. Smoke and flames filled her shocked eyes. Everyone nervously headed toward the front to see what the hell happened and more popping sounds commenced from behind them. Tiana fell on top of her with Carlos. Portia's two other friends shrieked and ran, cut down by a hail of bullets through their backs. Portia pushed the limp and bloody woman off of her legs and shoved Carlos away too. The man's eyes looked up at her with a lifeless stare, and Portia screamed. She stayed on her hands and knees to keep low while looking up toward the higher decks. Killmonger had a modified M249 up and shot toward the sea targets. The fireworks ship exploded into a reddish-orange fireball, blazing the night sky with more flames and thick smoke. Parts of that ship flew over onto the deck of the yacht. One of Killmonger's men shot a grenade launcher from his weapon, aiming for some enemy Portia couldn't see on the dark water.

"Portia! Stay down!" Killmonger called out to her.

She did what he said and hid under Carlos and Tiana again, trying not to lose it as their warm blood dripped all down her legs and pooled at her feet. She swiped some of the cooling blood from her limbs and wiped it all over her throat to make herself look injured and played dead on the deck. Quinton ran toward the side of the yacht, and Portia wanted to follow, but the volley of intense bullets whizzed over her head. She covered her face, hearing loud splashes of water and yelling. The mercs around her scuffled with people who had climbed aboard. A powerful arm lifted her up by her waist.

"You been hit?" Killmonger asked.

"No!"

A merc near Killmonger took a shot between the eyes and dropped in front of her.

"Let's go!" Killmonger yelled, helping a server go with them.

The attackers cut the server down in mid-step and Portia realized with horror that all the guests except for her and Quinton were in a dead bloody heap all across the deck. She only lucked out because two bodies fell on her, shielding her from becoming human Swiss cheese. Another of Killmonger's team ran past them to fight, giving cover. Killmonger led her to the secret emergency door that held the military boat.

"Wait! I have to get Mimi!" she yelped.

"Fuck that dog!" Killmonger yelled.

Portia pushed back on the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her poor baby was locked inside her little travel kennel. She'd die all alone in her crate without her Mommy. The yacht tipped to the side, knocked by another explosive. Killmonger helped her into the emergency boat and made her put on a life vest.

"Wait here," he said.

"Don't leave me!" she shrieked, clutching his free hand with desperate fingers.

"I have to check for other survivors on the yacht's crew."

Her heart thudded in her chest so fast it made her gasp for air. She sat inside the boat and grabbed one of the gray emergency blankets and pulled it around her, hiding down low in the boat in case an armed pirate burst in. Portia was small enough to look like a lumpy seat. The odor of smoke crept down to where she was, and after some time, she worried Killmonger was dead. She wanted to wait another ten minutes for him, and then figure out a way to get the boat out onto the water by herself before the entire yacht sank into the sea.

It became hard to breathe under the blanket. She made a little breathing space for herself where she could still be covered up, but the smoke from the fires above seeped down to where she was. The sounds of shooting had stopped. Silence took over, and she debated about going out to see if the pirates had left. Time kept ticking, and the boat listed. Adrenaline had kept her going. But now the tears flowed.

The emergency door burst open, and Portia held her breath and stayed perfectly still. Mimi's woozy and weak bark yapped for her. She threw off the blanket and Killmonger was there, carrying Mimi's travel kennel and a backpack. He handed Portia the dog and tossed the backpack on the boat. Pressing a few buttons on a side wall of the yacht, a release ramp opened and slid down toward the water. He pushed the boat more, and it slid easily with a quiet splash. The yacht leaned further over and they would have to hurry to avoid being sucked down with it.

Killmonger untied ropes that secured the boat to the off-ramp. His face was full of concentration and determination to get them out of there. He put the safety on his weapon and leaned over to drop it in the boat when a masked man wearing dark clothing similar to Killmonger's uniform charged him, jamming his AK-47 under his throat and choking him.

Killmonger flipped the man over onto his back, punched him once and whipped out a Glock from his waist, and blasted the man's forehead. Blood and brain matter splattered, and Portia was too shocked to scream. Killmonger leaped into the boat and started the quiet motor, guiding them away from the yacht. She watched the burning luxury boat slowly sink as they bounced across the water. The pirate boat that attacked them sat on the other side and she thanked God there was no moon because the flames from both ships burning distracted their attackers from seeing them. Portia closed her eyes and let the cool sea breeze dry the sweat of fear all over her. The further away they were, the safer she felt. Her breathing returned to normal once the yacht and the surrounding madness became a tiny shiny speck on the horizon.

Killmonger checked some guidance apps on his military watch computer and took them toward some uninhabited Greek island chains. After about forty minutes, they hid their getaway boat on a small rocky isle inside an island littoral cave that made Killmonger feel secure staying there until he could contact help. Waves had eroded away an opening in the limestone, creating a sea cave that hid and protected them from the elements. He stuck a small headlamp on his head, giving them the only light source to look around. Killmonger handed her one too, and she placed it around her forehead. He dragged the boat once they hit soft sand. The cavern was dark and warm, like a womb. There were flares and a bulky charged satellite phone on the boat.

"I'll use the phone tomorrow and shoot off a flare for rescue when it's safe. We may have to stay out here a few days," he said.

"A few days? Why that long?" she said.

"That was a coordinated attack. They'll be looking for survivors all night and tomorrow. They knew exactly how many people were on that yacht, and you and I are no longer there. It was a hit… on everyone," he said. "There's also a storm moving in and that will hinder rescue efforts."

"Maybe they'll think we drowned and just go," she reasoned.

"They will sweep for floating bodies. Trust me."

He stopped and looked at her hard. She had opened Mimi's crate and held her frightened dog on her lap.

"Portia… Quinton set this whole thing up. I saw and heard him talking with the hit squad when I grabbed Mimi. He left with them on the attack boat."

Portia shook her head.

"No… that's not true… Quinton's a tech guy. He doesn't know pirates and shit…"

"He's going to disappear like he's dead, too. Collect on all the insurance he had on everyone there and that yacht. You told me he was going broke. He fixed his financial problem by getting money for you, your friends, and his billionaire buddies. The men he hired are going to make sure you and I are dead, so we don't snitch on what really happened."

Portia looked down at Mimi and felt the blood rush to her head like she was going to pass out.

"I can't believe this. He killed all those people to save his ass financially."

Killmonger pulled out a cold bottle of water from the backpack he brought and handed it to her.

"Can we last for three days out here?" she asked.

He nodded and showed her a wide variety of goods stored on the boat.

"There's enough food on her for several days that could last a week if needed. Since there are only two of us, we can eat as much as we want and stretch it out if we have to. We have fresh water… blankets. Toilet paper, sunblock, bug spray. We're good. Just have to keep hidden from the clean-up crew."

Killmonger sounded confident, and Portia inhaled deeply. He saved her life and would protect her on their…

New home. She looked around the boat again. There was plenty of room on one end for them both to stretch out and rest. The weapons attached to the hull could thwart a small army. Portia sipped a little water, gave some to Mimi with a cupped hand, then placed the dog back in her kennel. She prayed her fur baby didn't bark after the sedative wore off completely.

Killmonger made soft pallets of extra blankets for them to sleep on while she turned off her light and stepped out of the boat. She walked back to the water. After rinsing the blood off of her body and shoes, she returned to him, and they both stretched out in opposite directions. She felt him move around on his end. Lifting to see what he was doing, she caught him taking off his uniform. He stripped down to his black boxer briefs and huddled back up under his covers. Portia changed positions and crawled to his end when her body spasmed. She rested against his back, spooning him to capture some of his warmth, hoping the shaking in her limbs would stop. Her body moved with uncontrollable, jerky movements and she felt cold. Killmonger faced her quickly and put his arms around her.

"What's happening to me? My arms and legs keep shaking," she whispered.

"You're going through adrenaline withdrawal. Shit was crazy that you went through, and your body was all keyed up for action. It's trying to get back to equilibrium."

"How do you seem so calm? Shouldn't you be shaking too?"

"I'm used to it. Don't worry. It won't last long."

He opened up his blanket to her, and she eased her face against his wide chest. The keloid scars were smooth and slippery-feeling against her skin. His heartbeat was a steady drumming to her ears. Her shallow breathing eventually evened out to match his, and she could rest calmly next to him. The scent of his skin had a soothing musk odor, some cologne mixed with his own sweat, giving off an intoxicating smell. He adjusted his body to give her more room, and she closed her eyes to sleep.

Waking up hours later, she opened her eyes to see him looking down at her with the softest brown eyes. For the entire yacht trip, he always wore a scowl on his face with narrow cruel eyes that held disdain for her. Now… she looked at another man completely. A roar of water drew her attention back toward the opening of the cave. The light pastel colors of dawn greeted them with shades of turquoise and honey yellow bleeding into a blood-orange tapestry. The rising tide rolled in, gently pushing their boat against the sand, rocking their bodies like a mother's hand tending to a cradle. Killmonger had the boat fastened to a stake that he pounded into the sand to keep them from floating out into the sea while they slept.

Sitting up, she admired the view. The clear, tranquil water sparkled as the sun rose higher and the colors in the sky changed into new brighter hues. It took Portia's breath away, bringing tears to her eyes. The rust color of the cave's roof seemed to glow. In the distance, she noticed other island chain formations that probably never had a human walk on them. She wondered if the awe she felt was the same awe that God had when the heavens and the earth were made complete. The scene before her looked like a painting. She spent most of her life drinking, partying all night, burning through rich men's money, and sleeping hungover until noon. When had she ever witnessed a sunrise like the one spread before her sober eyes? What a way to enter a new year.

Porta laid her head back down and noticed that her bikini top had fallen off in her sleep. She was topless in front of him. Throwing an arm over her chest, she glanced around for her knitted top.

"Don't trip," he said with a grin.

He reached above his head and handed her a small container of grape juice. She took it and drank down the sweetness.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head no, the fruit juice helping revive her blood sugar. Pushing the blanket away from her lower body, she luxuriated in the balmy comfort of the air. Tilting her head back, she noticed an opening at the top of the cave that dropped a beam of early morning light on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the inside of her lids turn red from the sun bathing her more. A calloused finger stroked down the side of her cheek. Portia's eyes popped back open as Killmonger dragged his index finger against her skin. She lifted a finger and traced one of his keloid scars across his right pec. He was her hero. During the shootout and explosions, he had his eyes on her, making sure she was safe.

Killmonger dropped his head down and kissed her. She could taste toothpaste and fruit juice on his tongue. A static sound interrupted their joining, and he pulled away from her to pick up the satellite phone. He spoke in a rushed tone, giving coordinates and relaying a warning about the attack and Quinton's hand in it. There was a personal locator beacon with a strong GPS tracker he was going to keep on so they could find them. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands, letting Killmonger deal with everything. Soon after, he shut the phone off to save the battery. Turning to her, he stretched his arms and sighed.

"It's going to take time to reach us. The storm is sitting over Crete and moving slowly. Rough waves."

"But they are coming?" she asked.

"Yes."

Portia fell onto her back and stared up at the cave roof with relief. People knew where they were and would find them.

"I want to eat now," she said.

Killmonger pulled out MRE packages and small disposable plates. She dumped out a packet of southwest beef with black beans and tortillas. There was a chocolate banana nut muffin and apple slices mixed in a spice sauce, a cheese spread, and peanut butter. Portia made herself a burrito, and the food gave her the calories and energy she needed. Killmonger made them coffee over a small propane stove he put together and joined her with his own meal.

"Not bad," she said, stuffing the muffin in her mouth.

"We can have a white meat chicken salad with crackers and pasta for lunch," he said.

She wolfed down her burrito and wiped her lips. Finishing quickly, she let Mimi out of her cage and fed her from the packs of fancy dog food stored inside the kennel with her. She let the dog run around in the cave's interior to relieve herself. Mimi stayed away from the water and occupied her attention quietly by digging holes all in the back of the cave. Looking around, Portia was happy to see there was nothing inside the small cave with them except sand and the tiny beach made by the water lapping inside gently. Killmonger pulled out a large tan camouflage netting.

"Step out. Grab your top," he said.

Portia stunned herself by noticing she had stayed topless the entire time eating. She tied her titties up and draped her wrap skirt around her neck into a dress. She slipped on her platforms and picked up Mimi. Killmonger covered the boat up with the netting, blending it into the background of tan sand.

"Put the dog in its kennel so we can look around and I can plant this tracker up high," he said.

"She'll bark," she said.

Killmonger rolled his eyes.

"Then carry her," he said.

He pulled on his pants, and she eyed the bulge at his crotch. His flaccid state was bigger than Quinton's erect state. Portia checked herself for thinking sexy thoughts in their dire situation.

Dire?

It wasn't, really. They had all they needed and good people were coming for them. He placed several water bottles, a Glock, the satellite phone, and the beacon locator, inside a small pack and slung it around his shoulders. She followed him out of the cave, stepping on vast rock formations on the side to keep from getting her platforms wet. Climbing up the side of a hill, they made their way through brush and mostly barren land. There weren't very many trees and the ones that existed were small, or dead, and had fallen over. She kicked a few on the ground and they crumbled from contact, drier than the heat cooking their skin. Killmonger was already a shade darker, and it looked good on him. His biceps were beefy and darker brown. Her own dark skin took on a red tinge with her rich color. At a glance, they looked like tourists ambling about looking for t-shirts to buy for back home, not shipwrecked targets for death.

"Ow!"

Portia tripped on some sand and eroding rocks, bumping into Killmonger and almost knocking him over.

"Watch it," he barked.

"Sorry! I wasn't trying to bump into you—"

"Take those ridiculous shoes off so you can walk better—"

"It's too hot."

"No, it's not—"

"Yes, it is—"

They fussed like an old married couple all the way to the highest point of the island. He stuck the tracker in the ground and checked to make sure it was working properly. Gazing out at the sea around them, Killmonger lifted binoculars from his chest and peered out further.

"See anything?"

"No."

"That's a good sign, right?" she asked.

Portia put Mimi down so the dog could sniff around and urinate. Mimi happily sniffed and marked territory. When she padded over too close to a drop, Porta scooped her back up. There didn't seem to be any wildlife at all.

"Do you think there are a lot of snakes on this island?"

"Maybe. I haven't seen much scat or midden left behind," he said, searching the sea with the binoculars.

"What's that?"

"Scat is animal shit, and midden is their refuse… the food they've nibbled on and left behind. I only spotted some anthills and one bird so far. Not much to sustain a lot of snakes."

He glanced over at her.

"Just walk hard. Your vibration will scare them off. Keep that rat dog in sight, though."

"She's a Pomeranian."

"Looks like a rat dressed in a hot ass fur coat."

Portia looked at her baby. Mimi did pant. She grabbed a water bottle from Killmonger's pack and poured some on the dog.

"Whatchu doin'?! That's for drinking," Killmonger scolded.

"She's hot. I don't want her to get sunstroke."

He held his hand outstretched.

"We're surrounded by cool seawater. Dunk her rat ass in that. Stop wasting what we need to survive!"

Portia pouted.

"I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted to help her."

"Let me do all the thinking then…" he grumbled.

They explored more, trekking around the entire island in under an hour. She dunked Mimi in a pool of water that came up from a natural aquifer of fresh water near the cave entrance. Killmonger grumbled again, so she walked her dog into the seawater and cooled them both off. He shut his mouth when she removed her beach wrap and frolicked with Mimi until a small wave knocked her poor pooch over. She walked out of the water dripping with her diamonds glittering, making her look like a Black Venus rising to the mortal world. He licked his thick lips, and she shuddered at the thought of that mouth on her body. Killmonger was bossy and so easily annoyed by her. However, he was also attracted to her and Portia played into that whenever he gave a tired sigh with her antics spoiling her fur baby. She made a little condo property for Mimi with her dog kennel. Moving it far back in the cave, she gave the dog a bowl of water and dried dog food with space to call her own to keep away from Killmonger. She decorated the front of the crate with pretty rocks and shells she collected and doted on her little one until Mimi fell asleep, farting from all the snack treats Portia gave her to help with the stress of a new environment.

He checked in with the rescue team on the phone and made them lunch. She sensed he felt more relaxed after finding fresh water on the island that they could use if they needed to. They ate in silence together, sitting on the sand and staring at the water. To be stranded on an island with a trained killer wasn't such an awful experience. Underneath the rough exterior was a man who held her hand to help her move around the island, and who also made sure she was hydrated. He pointed out natural formations of some of the island's geography around them and double-checked for snakes as they stepped over fallen trees. She gripped his arm when they moved into questionable areas, and at one point, she slipped her hand into his as he guided her back down toward the cave.

She took a nap on the sand and woke up to a crackling fire. Killmonger had gathered wood and dried brush, making a cozy glow that couldn't be seen from the narrow opening of the cave from the outside. They watched a new sliver of moon rise and a blanket of blue-black sky rest over the island for the night. She grinned and nibbled on chocolate chip cookies, humming and rocking on her backside as she ate. He laughed at her.

"What?" she said

"You look like a little kid on a girl scout campfire trip," he teased.

"Funny, because I used to be a girl scout."

"A girl scout… and you didn't know what scat and midden were?"

"I must've missed that part. I just looked good in the uniform," she said.

He smiled, and the bright, genuine light it brought to his face made him even more handsome. Killmonger was fine, no doubt, but there was something else deep within him that made him even more attractive. She thought of the way he lifted her up with one arm, shooting with the other as he rushed her to safety. His eyes always slid over to hers, even before the attack, when they were floating in tranquility. Portia had teased him sexually, doing things to get a rise out of him. It had started as a dismissive act, letting him see what he would never have in life, and it changed into active taunting, daring him to step up to the challenge so she could smack him down and belittle his audacity to think he was ever on her level.

Sitting in a cave with a peaceful campfire, her gaze on him brought clarity. She had been attracted to him the moment he put her in check on their first meeting. People always did what she wanted, and he had been the first man to push back on her attitude. She picked at him every time he showed up in her face.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said.

"You couldn't afford my thoughts," she said in a playful tone.

He smirked, then added more wood to the fire. Her eyes drifted up to watch the smoke go through the hole in the high roof.

"You think they're done looking for us? Should we even have a fire with the smoke floating… they could see it."

"By now, they should think we're dead. They never saw us leave on the boat and the yacht is at the bottom of the ocean by now, so they can't even check to see about the emergency escape, even if Quinton mentioned it. I won't have this going for long," he said.

"I like it," she said, holding her hands and feet up, warming her fingers and toes.

They didn't need the extra warmth. The cave was already cozy, but it brought comfort to their predicament.

"I'll sleep out here tonight and keep watch," he said. "I'll have to hike around a bit too, to check in other directions from the top."

She looked around for a blanket or pallet on the sand. There was nothing to lie on. Perhaps his soldier ways let him sleep cross-legged and upright. Her eyes became drowsy. Standing and stretching, she stared out at sea, admiring the sizeable chunk of island rock that faced across from their private paradise.

"I thought a storm was coming," she said.

"It is. Can't you feel the temperature drop? The sky is changing too. Won't hit until later tonight, and it won't be as bad out here. The sheer rock of that island over there is shielding us, and the tide doesn't get very high in here. We're good," he said.

She nodded.

"Night," she called.

"Night," he said.

She checked on Mimi, then snuggled inside the boat with the blankets. Killmonger went and grabbed the solar lights that he sat out in the sun all day and brought into the cave, jamming them down in the sand near the boat. He even posted two by Mimi's kennel because Portia told him the dog was nervous about being in the dark. Her mind tried to stay positive. She wondered how bad the storm could be if the hole at the top of the roof flooded with rainwater. Killmonger didn't appear concerned, so she let the thought drop.

After an hour, a soft splash of water forced her to lift and see what the noise was. Mimi hated water, so there were no worries there. Portia spotted Killmonger on the far side of the cave, splashing his naked feet into the liquid heaven.

"Lord," she whispered into her own mouth, watching him.

He was totally nude and moved his body with an assured grace that made him look like Poseidon returning to the sea. She could not stop staring at his taut glutes and powerful thighs. His keloid scars were all over his back, too. Killmonger walked in waist-deep before dunking his head underwater and wetting his locs. He ran a hand over his hair and shook them, stretching his arms out wide, traveling deeper into the sea until she could only see his head. Going under a few times, he moved closer to shore, and she noticed the small bottle of liquid soap in his hand. He washed all over, rubbing his muscles, and cleaning between his toes and elsewhere. Rinsing off, he dropped the bottle of soap on the sand for later and put on his pants without his boxer briefs. He padded back over to the dying fire and stopped when he saw Mimi sitting near his previous seat.

"Getcho ass back in that kennel," he ordered.

Mimi only sat and stared at him.

He sat down next to the pampered pooch and placed Mimi on his lap. Portia giggled and hid under the blankets.

Smoke and flashes of a blazing fire blinded her eyes. The shouts of fear and the odor of fresh blood grounded her back on the yacht. She had moved so slowly. Champagne and the thrill of fireworks put her in a loopy mood and the horror of the attack froze her and probably saved her life. Tiana and Carlos ran and Portia stood there like a statue, her mind trying to fathom what was wrong with the scenario before she was tackled by the running dead and free-falling onto her back.

"No!"

Portia shot up inside the boat, her heart jackhammering in her chest. Her throat clogged with a scream as she relived the attack. Staring at her shaking hands in front of her face, she expected to see blood and brain matter again as another scream ripped from her lips.

"Hey, it's okay… shhh… it's only a nightmare…"

Killmonger jumped into the boat with her and the fading dream had her beating his chest thinking he was an attacker. The lucidity made her claw at his face and he pulled her into his chest, rocking her, cooing soft words into her ear to bring her back to reality and the safety of the cave. Mimi whined behind her and the sound of the dog snapped her to the present. She fell apart then, wailing into Killmonger's chest, her mouth wide open and unable to close as if the terror she endured would crawl out of her throat. Quinton tried to kill her. Her body could've been at the bottom of the sea becoming fish food and no one would know the truth of what he did to her or all of their so-called friends. Portia moaned and jammed a hand against her mouth.

"You're good, Portia. I'm here and we're okay. Just a bad dream…"

She looked up at his face, then wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned back in the boat, letting her rest on top of him. He stroked her spine and his rough hands on her bare skin brought her back from the brink of totally losing all control of her emotions. She wiped her eyes and covered her face, weeping quietly against him.

"I was waiting for this. Some people take longer to process what happened to them. You tried your best to act like you were okay all day," he whispered.

Her breath shuddered as his soothing voice and hands brought her into a calm state.

"I was so scared," she said.

"I know."

"It was so fast and… I couldn't move…"

"You did well considering all that was happening at one time… even wiped blood on yourself to fool them. That's thinking on your toes, Ma. Most people just scream and holler, then get caught up in the shock. You ran and did what you had to do."

"Thank you for saving me," she whispered.

"That was my job."

His fingers dragged up and down her spine, making her skin feel tingly and warm. She crawled off of him and snuggled into his side, hiding her face in his chest. Portia enjoyed being there. It felt comfortable and safe. He stroked her arms and tried to leave her side to return to his post, but she gripped his arm and pulled him back next to her.

"Don't go," she said.

A soft sprinkle of rain fell on the water. The storm had arrived. The pleasant patter of droplets striking the sea eased her mind and body. Her nightmare faded, easily forgotten, while cozied up against him.

"Try to sleep," he said.

Killmonger rested his head on the makeshift pillow his work jacket made and she stared into his eyes. The solar lights gave her a soft ambiance to look at him with.

"By tomorrow evening, they should be near enough where I can shoot a flare so they can pick us up. Hang on to that thought," he said.

She nodded into his shoulder and released a final shudder that loosened all the tension in her body. Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her fingers across the top of his naked chest, feeling the slick contours of his keloids against the pads of her fingertips. Tracing her fingers under his neck, she took a bold step and ran her finger across his full lips. Raising herself higher, Portia kissed him, enjoying the sensation of warm plush fullness outlining her own plump softness. His lips smothered hers as he took over the kissing. She expected a feral roughness with him, but he was buttery soft and so gentle with her mouth. Even his large tongue surprised her with how seductively slow it was exploring the inside of her mouth. Their kisses were languid and so unrushed that she could almost fool herself into thinking that they had been lovers in some other past life together. There was no clumsy fumbling newness as their tongues sought an understanding of their changed physical relationship.

She tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth, and he smiled. He kissed his own trail down her face and onto her neck where he buried those sharp gold teeth and nibbled on her throat, shooting sparks of pleasure down to her toes and back. Groaning out loud, she delighted in his fingers pinching her nipples through her bikini top. She untied it and freed her breasts. His hand palmed their fullness, and she glanced down at his crotch. His dick tented his pants. She helped unfasten them, releasing his erection. It was a hot, rigid thing in her hand and his head fell back, allowing a deep groan to release from his mouth.

"Stroke that shit," he huffed into her neck while untying the bottom of her bikini himself.

She moved over as he wiggled out of his pants and gasped when she saw his dick and balls together. Her pussy throbbed while looking at the heft and length. Pre-cum pearled at his tip and ran down the sides and she helped slicken that big dick in a hurry, eliciting more guttural moans from him. She liked the pleasurable sounds falling from his lips and squeezed her fingers around the bulbous tip. The hole there opened wider and clear fluid drizzled onto the gap of her thumb and index finger.

"Fuck, baby," he gasped when she twisted and tugged under the ridge.

His fingers found her clit and her pussy wasted no time becoming slick and wet, her folds opening up for him like a blooming rose. He stared between her legs, licked his lips, and flashed those gold slugs. She lost control of the tremors making her body weak for him. Slick sounds met his fingers, and he played with her pussy lips until she was begging for him to do more.

"Play with your pussy. Lemme see you do what you did on the boat when you were teasing me," he huffed.

Her diamond-crusted fingernails made her pussy so pretty for him. She could see his arousal grow in his glassy eyes. She rubbed her clit, then held her folds open. He licked his fingers and stuck them in her mouth. She sucked on them, showing him everything she could do for his dick. He closed his eyes and his lips parted. Panting, he played in her mouth. His big dick twitched and jumped against her thigh, spewing more pre-cum.

"Lemme play in this pussy," he begged.

She opened her legs, and he inserted two fingers inside of her opening, gently testing the limits of what she could take. Portia whimpered when he started tapping on the sides of her walls, flicking his fingers back and forth like a butterfly fluttering away. He knew how to stimulate pussy. Killmonger wasn't rough or jerky with his movements either. He watched her face to read what she could handle from him and kissed her often, slow and steady, binding Portia to him like he was kissing a magic spell into her mouth, conjuring more pleasure from the nerves that woke up all over her writhing body. He fingered her pussy and sucked on her nipples, turning her body into mush that the sea could wash away with the tide.

"Listen to that pussy… fuck… I knew this shit was good… fuck…" he moaned.

"Killmonger," she cried out as his fingers hit spots in her that hadn't been touched in so long.

"You loved showing this pussy to me. So fat in this bikini. Letting me see these pussy lips all the time… teasing me…"

He pulled his fingers out against the clenching she began doing around them. He sucked her juices from his fingers and admired the frothy wetness that glistened all over her puffy folds. Slapping her vulva, he stood up and forced her to her knees.

"Suck this dick," he commanded.

Portia obeyed, jumping to her knees and swallowing his dick head like it was her last meal in life. He pushed his dick in further and her mouth stretched around it. She pressed her hand on his stomach to control the depth, but he slapped her face. The shock of the sting aroused her, and she stared up at him with heated eyes and a throbbing pussy.

"You gon' take this dick how I feed it to you… spoiled bitch. Now suck on it… put those fucking hands away. I want all mouth, Portia."

Portia opened her mouth wider, and he went in deeper. She gagged while trying to suck and slurp, and her eyes watered, but Killmonger slapped the other side of her face, disappointed with her performance.

"I thought you were better than this. You can't handle this dick?"

Her forehead creased with anger. She always gave world-class head. No man had ever complained about her oral skills. She gripped the root of his dick and he slapped her hands away.

"I said all mouth, and I meant all mouth!"

He pushed her back, and the anger that sat on his face excited her. Killmonger wasn't pleased at all. She licked his balls and kissed her way back to his dick again to try better. Taking her time, she licked around the slit and under the head, coating her tongue with all the pre-cum that dripped from him. He dragged his tip across her lips, making them glossy, and nudged the seam of her lips back open.

"Let's see if you can do better," he said.

She adjusted her knees with the blankets and sucked on that dick tip, using her full concentration. Her suction with her lips improved, and she even grazed her teeth gently around him to switch up her performance. He treated her like a little puppet that needed her strings pulled when she didn't suck to his satisfaction. She worked her ass off to get a groan, a moan, or a "Good girl," to drip from his sexy lips. He patted her head and sometimes pulled her braids to force her lips to do better.

"How are you gonna pull that nut outta Daddy when you stay playin' like that? Huh? Is this your best?" he asked.

She popped his dick out of her mouth with a torrent of saliva falling onto her breasts and pouted.

"Not as good as you thought you were. Do better," he said, shoving his dick back in.

Portia wanted to cry. She gave him grade A head, and it still wasn't up to par. All the tricks she had used over the years to get men off failed her. There were moments when she thought she had made a breakthrough, but he grumbled and told her she was not even close to getting him off.

"Look up at me when you suck that dick," he said.

Frustrated, she gazed up at him as he deep-throated her neck. That gorgeous face and big ass lips had her pussy clenching on nothing but air. Her walls felt so swollen and ached for his dick to lay her out. A few tears streaked down her face as her frustration grew.

"That's a good girl. Now take some more of Daddy's dick. Show me you can follow directions," he said.

She wanted to please him so badly. He played with her nipples and breasts as she worked her neck, throating him down as best she could. Her loud gawking echoed throughout the cave.

"Jaws getting tired?" he teased in a mean tone.

He pulled his dick out and glared at her.

"Tell Daddy you're sorry for letting him down with that mouth," he demanded.

The gruff tone ignited the ache in her clit. He threaded the braids in the back of her head with the fingers of his left hand and tilted her head while fisting his dick. He gently yanked on her hair.

"What I say? Tell Daddy you're sorry for that trash sucking," he barked.

"I can do better," she pleaded.

"You had a long time to show me, and it didn't happen."

He grunted and stared at her ripe lips, his right hand working that length like he was ready to burst. Gripping her head with his hand, he bared his slugs.

"Sorry, Daddy—"

"For what?" he gasped, narrowing his eyes as he brought his tip closer to her whimpering mouth.

"—for not sucking your dick right. Please, I can suck your dick so good!"

Portia fondled her left breast and groped between her legs to flick her clit. Begging him for a chance to prove herself was the only goal she had in life. She needed him to cum… couldn't take her next breath until he was satisfied. Killmonger had scorn written all over his expression.

"Daddy, I'm sorry…" she whined.

"Oh fuck, dassit, dassit!" he shouted.

Hot cum shot out in thick ropes all over her cheeks and lips, accompanied by a roar from his throat that enhanced his release. She opened her mouth to catch the last drops of his orgasm and she came all over her own fingers while enjoying the pure ecstasy on his straining face.

"Damn, Portia… oh… baby… shit!"

Another streak of cum shot out, and he aimed it for the other side of her face. His ejaculate dripped down, and she rubbed it onto her chest, showing him how much it meant to have him all over her breasts. He gave a low laugh and stumbled back.

"Whew… damn, girl. I was tryna hold back for so long. Your head game is fucking superb."

She licked her fingers and then stared at him.

"You were playing with me?" she asked.

"Not at first. You're used to simps being satisfied with the bare minimum. I'm a grown-ass man who needs you to show and prove with this dick. It's not for the weak, and you showed the fuck out."

He lifted her up, and she didn't want him to do anything else until she had wiped her face and chest off with a wet wipe. Killmonger hugged and kissed her afterward. They stood in the boat, necking until she couldn't take any more. She climbed him like Santa Claus was bearing gifts and wrapped her legs around him.

"I want you sitting on my mouth," he said between desperate kisses from her lips.

She slid down his body and he situated himself comfortably on the blankets. Portia squatted over his face and planted her pussy on his lips. He let it rest there, feeling the wetness all over before humming and moaning into her flesh.

"Ooh," she moaned, scissoring her clit.

He slapped her fingers away, and she looked down at him. The glow from the lamps made his eyes a liquid brown dream, and he slathered that wide tongue up and down her folds, circling her clit with the tip. He held onto her ass cheeks and she mewled and bit her bottom lip to keep from hollering out his name. Killmonger slapped both of her ass cheeks before sliding his hands under and over her thighs to lock her down on his tongue. He made it stiff, and she lifted herself to let him insert it nice and snug inside of her. Cradling her breasts, Portia went up and down and he fucked her with tongue, lips, and groans that vibrated her folds.

"Killmonger!" she yelled, not caring if pirates, snakes, Mimi, the Coast Guard, or God heard her cries of pleasure.

His tongue was delectable on her pussy and inside of it. The strength of his hands supporting her, his burning gaze rooting her to his lips… everything about him gave her chills. The effort to cum was minimal. Her orgasm shattered her ability to think clearly anymore. She babbled something or other like she was talking in tongues at her old church back in South Carolina. Bucking and yelping made no difference. That man was going to turn her pussy out. She whimpered and fell forward, unable to move any limbs. His laughter at pleasing her bounced all over the cave and she joined him, reveling in the joy that their bodies could share with one another.

Killmonger held Portia carefully in his arms as they kissed.

The taste of the deepest part of her stayed on his tongue and he shared the gift of that with her. She clung to him as if she feared him disappearing into the wet, rainy night. He had to do a patrol and fished around for night vision goggles he found stashed in a sideboard on the boat. Putting on his pants and combat boots, he didn't bother to wear a t-shirt and just tossed on his black jacket. He stuffed the satellite phone into an inside pocket and strapped his Glock around his thigh.

Portia watched him under the blankets, staring up at him with so much lust that it tempted him to forego an island sweep to stay with her. Grabbing an unfinished water bottle, he knelt down next to her and pressed his warm lips against her forehead.

"Keep it hot for me," he said, winking at her.

He wasn't finished with her by a long shot. They only experienced oral sex, each taking turns to taste and learn the other's private parts intimately.

Killmonger trudged out of the cave with Portia's scent on his beard. He placed the night vision goggles on once he was out of her sight. He hiked around, searching the sea even as a light rain came down on him. Without Portia being with him, he could get around fast. He turned on the phone and checked for any missed calls from the Greek Coast Guard. They were operating under extreme weather conditions on their end, despite the mild display on their side. Killmonger was glad that they found a place to hide that shielded them. He hoped the bad weather stayed outside of Crete and didn't follow their rescue unit.

Nothing unusual appeared on the horizon. Confident that they were in the clear, he took a moment to let the soft rain bathe his face. He hiked back to Portia and rinsed himself off before getting back into their boat bed with her naked again. She threw her arms around him like she was his woman, greeting her man after a hard day's work.

Oh, how the tables had turned!

Hiding away turned her into a bubbly, humorous woman who sought beauty all around her. It mesmerized him, watching the glow on her face as the sunrise brought her to tears that morning. She was thankful for the plain food they had to eat, and she didn't complain too much about their situation or bug him about checking the phone more than he did. His leadership and take-charge attitude allowed her to fall back into a space of just living in the present. He liked that version of her and wondered if the ice princess persona would return once they were rescued. Killmonger hoped not.

He sank his tongue back in her eager mouth and they kissed for an hour, stopping to catch their breath and caress each other. Her eyes became dewy for him and she couldn't stop touching him or being hugged up next to him. He made her lay back and played with her clit, dipping his finger inside her pussy just to watch it contract around his fingers, trying to keep them inside.

His dick became a turgid beast and hung heavy between his thighs. There were no condoms available. He had some on the yacht where he thought he might need them if he found a babe to his liking, but the only woman who turned him on was Portia. On the ship, he knew there was no way they would ever hook up. He wanted to fuck the boldness out of her back then, just to wipe that bitch queen attitude off her face. It baffled him at how quickly she wanted to submit to his domination of her body with his. He had suspected she wanted to be dominated, but not that fast.

Killmonger could've busted a nut all over her from the first ten minutes of sucking she did, but he pushed her to the limit to see if she would fight his heckling of her throat game. How he was able to keep control over his release was a miracle. He was ready to blow his load when she spit on his dickhole and cradled his balls in her hand, staring up at him with those formerly insolent cat eyes. Killmonger kept pushing her until she broke and gave him what he wanted. Her apology made him cum so hard. All he could think about was her telling him to shut the fuck up when he told her about herself. That woman got on her knees and sucked the glory out of his dick. Begged to please him. That shit amped him up.

Portia held his dick in her capable hands. They both wanted to fuck.

God!

Nice tits. A dangerous ass. Mouth game beyond ridiculous. How was Quinton not in that woman twenty-four-seven the entire time on that yacht? Portia walked around with that prize pussy, advertised it to the world all week with skimpy swimsuits, and Killmonger regretted not throwing caution to the wind and just stepping to her. Game peeped game. They could fuck and fight afterward. She was most definitely throwing hints he could get it on the yacht, but he stayed professional.

He leaned down and sucked on her neck. She panted, squirming against him, and he fingered her pussy slowly until she squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth fell open in agony.

"Fuck… I wish I could give you what you need, girl," he groaned into her ear.

She touched his scars like they were precious to her.

"You can," she said in a hushed voice.

"Without a condom?" he said.

Her gaze didn't flinch, and she pouted those succulent lips.

"I almost got killed. I'm stranded on an island with a mercenary. A hurricane could blow through here and end us both tonight. I have nothing to lose," she said.

Shit.

Killmonger regarded her face to make sure she was serious.

"I'm checked for STIs every three months," he said.

"Six months for me. I've been with Quinton for a couple of years. We normally use condoms and have unprotected for special occasions only. He's a germaphobe and I'm pretty sure Tiana was his first outside fuck. I'm on the pill, and… well… like I said, tomorrow isn't promised. This entire trip taught me that."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Trust. I want to. Been wanting to."

She grinned and ran her hand over his locs, rolling the end of one between her fingers.

"I have, too. All that teasing was to get your attention."

"You had it the moment you walked on board that yacht. I didn't like you… but I liked your confidence," he said.

He played with the end of one of her braids and fondled a diamond hair jewel.

"Are you like this in private, when you aren't being theatrical with all the spotlights?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Unguarded. Open. Friendly."

"Sometimes. I run with a crowd that I have to have a protective shell with all the time."

"Sad life."

"What about you? You also put on an act. You're not mean all the time," she said.

"I'm direct. There's a difference. My job is life or death in precarious places with dangerous people."

"Have you ever lost an entire team before?"

"No. This was a major hit. Practically overkill. There were about ten men compared to my five, and they were using high-grade explosives. Most pirates want hostages or the ship itself. Those people came there for one thing. Do a wet job and bounce. You and I aren't supposed to be alive, Portia."

He cradled her in his arms. The scent of her hair was sugary sweet, like some exotic fruit and nutmeg. Their ardor cooled with their private thoughts and Killmonger listened to the rush of water lapping onto the cave shore. The wind picked up and howled down from the four-foot hole in the ceiling. He stayed awake and Portia slept deeply, the rise and fall of her chest soothing to him. If she had another nightmare, she'd wake up with him holding her. At two in the morning, he snuck away to patrol again. Heavier storm clouds accumulated in the distance and he expected stronger weather soon. A boom of thunder and spidery streaks of lightning zig-zagged across the sky. He popped the collar on his jacket and used his night vision goggles. A vast emptiness stretched out before him. For all he knew, they were the only people in the entire world. The cell phone had poor reception and the battery life was low. Hell, if no one showed up, they'd have to chance it back on the water. There were paddles and he'd get them to Crete one way or another with his own arm power once all the gas was used. He flipped on the locator beam's distress signal light. Survival was second nature to him. They would make it out.

Killmonger took his time going back to the cave. The darkness, the wind, and the rain comforted his mood.

No more civilian gigs.

He took the job as a favor to Clark, but he missed the offensive action of being in foreign countries. He'd give Clark a piece of his mind when he got back. The men he put together for Killmonger should not have allowed those killers to get that close. He had four men on water detail in all directions, and they allowed a boat to hit them swiftly and deadly. They were all executed, so he doubted they were in on the take. He would've caught on right away that it was a set-up when he first arrived. The attack crew had to have used a submersible to plant the explosives against the hull. It was something he would've done.

A heavier thunderstorm arrived, and he jogged back to the cave.

Portia was still asleep. Mimi was up, digging holes in the back of the cave, too distracted to bark or whine at him for attention. He took off his jacket and boots, climbing back beside Portia for warmth. She had curled into the fetal position under a blanket and looked so vulnerable. The cooler air and rain on his body made him shiver a bit, and he went to make another fire.

By early morning, the storm kicked up and the tide level in the cave increased. It wasn't enough to make them leave because the giant boulders and jagged smaller island formations surrounding the cave kept the larger waves from crashing to shore on them. The gigantic grayish-black clouds made the interior darker, adding to the dreary atmosphere as large raindrops showered their private beach.

Portia ate a cold-weather MRE of scrambled eggs, fruit bars, oatmeal, and a bland trail mix. He made them coffee again and ate his own meal before catching some sleep. With no phone reception and the bad weather making visibility terrible, he could afford to rest for an hour or two. He listened to Portia bathe on the other side of the cave. She hummed with a pleasant voice and spent some time by the fire alone with her dog.

The storm kept them quiet, and they became occupied with other things rather than each other until she found a kit of tiny board games inside a sealed bag. There were checkers, chess, Tic Tac Toe, and a deck of cards. They played speed with the cards and hunkered down to play checkers before lunch. Hunger and lunch skipped them as they got into a serious chess match. Later, they both played with Mimi, letting the dog chase them around the cave until Erik shouted bloody murder and flailed his arms around.

"What is it? What is it?" Porta shrieked, scared out of her wits.

"A spider dropped down on me!"

Portia blinked a few times, then burst out laughing. He swiped at his locs and a quarter-sized furry brown arachnid fell out of his hair and scurried on the sand. Mimi chased after it and they both beat pieces of wood on the ground trying to smash it. The dog gobbled it up and Portia grabbed her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Your big butt was scared of that little thing? I thought a tarantula fell on you!" she cackled.

"It's all the legs that creep me out, and they move real sneaky," he grumbled, embarrassed that he showed a weakness in front of her.

"Poor baby," Portia said, patting his back, "Mimi saved you."

He chased after Portia and lifted her over his shoulder, spanking her backside for teasing him. Another bigger spider dropped from the roof and landed on Portia. She damn near came out of her own skin trying to swipe it out of her hair. Killmonger let her run around like a chicken with its head cut off to teach her a lesson about making fun of him. She walked around with the heebie-jeebies afterward, terrified more spiders would come raining down on them like a horror movie. Rain, thunder, and spiders were forgotten when they crawled back into the boat together for a nap. She traced the shape of his scars with her fingers again, and he rested his chin on her head.

"I know this sounds crazy, but I really like it here with you," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

She nodded against his chest.

"I thought I would go stir crazy, but I'm actually grateful to sit still. Weird, huh? No TV. Internet. People. Just peace. No distractions. No one to impress or look good for. It feels like we're Adam and Eve here."

"No apples or snakes, though," he joked.

"What do you do when you don't work?"

"I sit still. Like this."

"Where?"

"That's classified information."

"Really."

"The less you know about me, the better."

"Is Killmonger even your real name?"

"No."

She never asked for his name. He was glad. She took the hint.

"We'll never see each other again after this," she said.

"No, we won't," he said with finality.

"You make me laugh, and you're a skilled chess player."

"You're not too bad yourself."

Portia sat up and took off her bikini again. Her eyes were loving and drank in his face. She helped him undress, then kissed him all over his face, touching his chin, and giving her lips to him before kissing down his chest, following the trail of hairs below his belly button until she had his dick in her mouth. She bobbed her head, and he said her name softly, praising her for how good she made him feel. Pushing him back, she held his dick upright and aligned it with her opening. He held his breath as she sank down on him. She grunted when she reached the bottom. His dick had her folds stretched all around him tight, creating a snug suction as she went up and down, taking her time. They locked eyes, and the arousal overwhelmed him. He gazed at their connection like he was in a daze and her pussy made his thickness shiny and slick. Portia rode him so well that his back arched and he lifted to press her against his chest as he thrust into her. Up and down she went, caressing her nipples, those expensive, icy-looking fingernails highlighting the hidden treasure that she was beneath all the posturing.

He had looked down on Portia before meeting her, his disdain at her Sugar Baby ways clouding his judgment on who she really was as an individual sans the glitz. Fucking him like that in a hollow cave on a lone island proved to him she was worth pampering and spoiling. If he had the money, he'd spend it on her himself. The pussy taking care of his dick was priceless.

"Turn around," he gasped.

Portia lifted and swung her legs the other way, leaning forward as she wiggled her backside for him. He palmed a fat cheek and her pussy swallowed his dick. She rocked back on him and he was blessed to watch her ass jiggle and his dick stretch her out at the same time. He whimpered in his throat with his entire face scrunched up at the intense pleasure. She rode the tip of his dick, and then placed those diamond nails on her ass cheeks, spreading them wide so he could see her pussy work. He slipped his thumb in her ass, and Portia moaned. She drenched his dick and the gushy sounds harmonized with his groans.

She showed out.

Circling her waist, she twisted her pussy on his dick and he couldn't take it anymore. He slapped her ass and forced her onto her hands and knees. Clapping her cheeks was the goal, and he made Portia call out his name as he gave her what she needed. Her pussy became disrespectful, and he tamed her depths, gripping her waist and deep dicking her nice and slow.

"Killmonger… Killmonger… Killmonger…" she panted.

The need to dominate surged in his loins. Flipping her over, he forced her to take the dick she so richly deserved. The pillow princess vanished and in her place was an erotically in-tune woman with full-body engagement. He threw her legs over his shoulders and cursed at how satisfying her pussy felt all around him. She had to have diamonds on her walls because whatever amount of money rich men spent on her wasn't enough. Her grip on his dick had him moaning and choking up his curse words in his throat. She took him deeper and his glutes clenched tight, helping him pump death strokes into her. The cave was full of squelching and grunts, and he watched their shadows moving on the cave walls from the fire. Her hips wiggled seductively, and he hunched down low to kiss her lips and feel her breasts smashed against his chest. They were beyond fucking at that point, moving into the primal state like they were the first man and woman to ever make love.

Scooting to her side, he held her legs up and stroked her walls from a new angle that knocked the sense out of her. Those pouty lips stayed open and her eyes took on a glazed look as if she couldn't believe what was happening to her. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and she glanced down to watch his dick ruin her. She chewed on her lip when she saw what was happening to her pussy. He snaked his hips and hit another angle within her and she called out to God. He stayed working that spot, stroking it until his body became a stiff plank focused on only one task: making her cum hard on his dick.

She rubbed on her clit, and those pretty nails had his balls moving.

"Baby… I feel it… 'bout to cum…" he gasped.

"You wanna cum in my pretty pussy?"

The wantonness in her voice urged him on.

"Pussy so good… fucking me so good… dick so hard…" he chuffed with abandon

"You want to make a big mess in my pussy?"

Her voice electrified him. It pushed him to give her his best and yet it challenged him like she was internally comparing him to others and he was coming up short. It was arousing, but it irked him too.

"Take it… take Daddy's dick," he grunted.

Her eyes changed, became coquettish, and it threw him off. His skin was on fire and dripped with sweat, and the sound of her voice encouraged him to tame that pussy. She dared him to. Portia's face transformed into a woman who wanted some Daddy dick to control her. Her right hand fondled the nape of his neck and those long nails scraped there with seductive pressure.

"I don't know if I can take all this dick the way you want," she taunted. "So big…"

He groaned, and she latched on to that sign of weakness.

"You're taking it… all this dick," he grunted.

"Are you sure? I'm trying to make it all fit for you," she said, all breathy.

"Oh, fuck!"

What was she doing? Playing coy? She acted like some virgin who had never had dick before. Her tone was ultra-feminine. She tucked the nail of her index finger between her teeth and looked down at his dick stretching those sweet walls. Her eyes were wide with wonder at the sight, and that coquettish energy fed him what he needed. Dominance.

"Nobody fuck you like this?" he grunted.

She shook her head and kept her eyes on his dick, with that finger still in her mouth.

"Fuck my pussy," she said.

She looked at him with sweet, innocent eyes.

"Goddammit!" he cried out. "Spread those pussy lips!"

Portia widened those sticky folds and the sides of her fingers glided along his dick as he gave her all that he had left. She kept her finger in her mouth with her other hand and her beauty pushed him to the brink. He mounted her again in missionary and his sweat fell on her like the rain falling on the water. She kept her legs up, that pussy open, and that damn lone finger between her lips. Her reckless eyes gazed at him and his dick swelled.

"I'm cumming! Oh shiiitttttt, I'm cumminggggg," he yelled.

He shoved his hips forward and Portia pursed her lips. She squirmed and lost the battle to hold on.

"Ohmigod… Killmonger!" she shouted.

Her head fell back and her pussy contracted with strong clenches all along his erection. Their shouts of pleasure intertwined and became one with the back and forth of their bodies squeezing and throbbing together. He caught himself before collapsing on her, pulling out his dick and fisting the last of his cum all over her clit. She was a pool of sweat and satisfaction, and they gasped for air, staring at the cave ceiling. The rain continued to fall.

Portia curled against his chest.

Sleep came fast.

He woke up, and she was gone. So was Mimi.

Killmonger called to them before putting on his clothes and grabbing his pack. It was only early evening, and the rain had stopped. Fat gray clouds still squatted over their island, but the storm's driving power had moved on. He found Portia and Mimi at the peak near the beacon.

"Went for a walk," she said.

He sat down next to them and pet the dog on the head. Mimi licked his hand. Pulling out the binoculars, he checked the sea. A cool breeze ruffled his locs. The wind was still strong, and the water had a few whitecaps.

Wait…

There!

A ship.

Killmonger honed in for the telltale signs of Coast Guard markings. There was a Greek flag waving from the gray and white ship. Greek lettering in big white caps spelled out Hellenic Coast Guard. He watched it approach to make sure it was the real deal before pulling out the flare gun and shooting it. Dark orange smoke shot up high in the sky.

"It's them?" Portia squealed.

"Yep."

She hugged Mimi, and he turned on the emergency cell. The power went out, but he didn't care. He held Portia's hand, and they walked down to the cave. There was nothing to do but push their emergency boat into the water. It had just enough gas left to power them out into the open sea. Killmonger didn't want to wait for them to send a smaller boat. He needed Portia in a safe place fast with Greek government protection.

They sped out on the water, bouncing on the choppy waves. Porta kept looking behind her like she wanted to keep the image of their island in her mind. He gave her his outer shirt to wear on top of her bikini. She curled her legs under her wrap dress.

Killmonger aligned their boat against the large Coast Guard ship and the crew helped Portia up on a side ladder. He tied their boat to the larger one and knotted a rope around Mimi's dog crate so a crew member could help the dog get on board. Finally, he climbed up himself. The captain of the ship greeted them and gave them both blankets and hot coffee. Portia was damn near teary-eyed and she pressed herself against Killmonger, afraid to leave his side.

"Come inside," the captain said when the weather picked up outside.

They followed the man into a busy interior and sat down on cushioned seats that felt good after sitting on the sand and a hard boat bottom. A crew member handed them mugs filled with a thick Greek soup. They ate and Portia asked to use the head. She was led away further into the interior. The weathered-face captain asked him some questions and Killmonger's sixth sense kicked in.

Something was wrong.

There were too many men on the ship not dressed appropriately. Only the captain and a lieutenant had on a proper Greek Coast Guard uniform with their ranks on them. The others had dark clothing without rankings or insignias. The captain gave a weak smile and the perspiration on his forehead didn't go with the cool interior. Killmonger kept his tone normal.

"How soon can we make it back to the mainland?" he asked, thrusting his empty mug out for more hot coffee.

"It will take time. The weather has been tricky. We almost lost your signal," he said.

Killmonger nodded and moved over to a window. He counted the other men outside to get an accurate assessment of what he was up against and thanked his lucky stars that he opted to keep his Glock under his jacket. When he contacted the coast guard for help originally, he kept his identity vague, pretending to be a guest of Quinton. The attack team must've intercepted the Greek Coast Guard for their own nefarious use as a getaway ship. It had become a death trap for him and Portia.

Portia returned, all chipper. Her ice princess personality snapped back like a rubber band. She glanced at him and he pretended things were all good.

"Hey, baby, put Mimi back in her cage. We don't want her running around," Killmonger said.

The forced affection in front of the others surprised her. She walked over to the dog kennel near him and bent down to place Mimi inside it. After she locked the crate, Killmonger slipped an arm around Portia's waist and gently had her sit next to him.

"More soup?" The captain asked.

"No, thank you. When will we get back to Crete? Or is Athens where we're headed?" she asked.

Portia looked at Killmonger, and he sipped on his coffee to keep from answering right away.

"Would you like to rest, Miss Keith?"

The nervous lieutenant sensed the tension that had risen in the galley.

"There's an empty bunk you can sleep in until we reach port," the man said.

His name badge said Makris.

"You should go lay down. I'll check on you later. Take Mimi with you," Killmonger said.

Portia caught on that something was off. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"If there's a door, lock yourself in there," he whispered in her ear.

She kissed his lips and picked up Mimi. Portia showed no fear as she followed Makris. She played it cool and calm, like an iceberg. Good girl, he thought.

Killmonger had fourteen rounds in his Glock. He counted seven false crew members and only two regular ones. The rest of the original crew were dead somewhere on the ship or tossed overboard. He assumed Quinton had escaped on some other watercraft to separate himself from the killers. They wouldn't rush to kill them all until nightfall, with darkness as a cover. Something must've happened to their ship in order for them to risk hijacking a Coast Guard operation.

"She has heart medicine she needs. I forgot to bring it up from the boat we used," Killmonger said. The lie rang true to the men.

"We can have someone go down and get it for you," the captain said.

Vlachos. The captain's name badge gave Killmonger a second to look away from a bulky merc who sized him up.

"It's in a side slot in the back," Killmonger said, following the man out onto the deck again.

The bulky man climbed down the side of the ship and rooted around.

"The back," Killmonger called down.

The man held up his hands.

"Hold on," Killmonger said.

A few more killers came out to watch him as he climbed down. One in the boat. Six up top. Perfect.

"That boat has a lot of tricky compartments," Killmonger said.

A wave buoyed the boat, and they both lost their balance for a second. Killmonger pretended to dig into a slot near the side of the ship and unlatched the boat, letting it float away. He dropped low, pulled out his Glock, and shot the bulky man dead. The man fell over the side with a soft splash. Shots from above popped over his head, but he turned on the motor and glided around the other side. Once he reached the gap he needed, he slammed his hands around the front M60 7.62mm machine gun and blasted at the men. He ripped through four right away. One caught him slipping and clipped Killmonger in his shoulder. It wasn't enough to stop him, but the distraction gave Vlachos and Makris the opportunity to jump the last two killers and wrestle them. Killmonger zipped back toward the ladder again. He hooked the boat and hustled back to the top. Vlachos took a shot in the chest but apprehended one assailant. Makris knocked the gun out of another merc's hand and bashed his head against the deck floor, knocking him out.

Blood pooled and cooled all over the deck with the other dead men.

Portia ran out of seclusion and grabbed him so hard that it knocked the wind out of him.

"Your arm," she said, touching his bleeding wound.

Killmonger shrugged it off.

"We gotta help him," Killmonger said, nodding over to Vlachos.

Vlachos waved them away.

"Bullet passed right through," Vlachos said.

Makris helped the captain back into the galley and tended to both injured men with a first aid kit. They revealed to him the sordid story of how they ran into the armed men on their way to find them, coming across their distressed vessel that had stopped working because an engine fire left them stranded. The hijackers shot their initial crew of eight down to only two when they tried to fight back.

Killmonger was exhausted by the time he tried to rest on a bunk bed. Blood loss tired him out and so did Portia, who fussed over him with tears streaming down her face, thinking she had heard him being killed. She crawled on top of him despite his pain, too frightened to leave his side. He fell asleep to her soft humming and stroking of his locs.

Portia, Makris, and Vlachos arrived in Crete the next morning.

Killmonger had disappeared.

The military boat they escaped with was gone. She relayed the deadly adventure to the press and her photos were blasted worldwide. First came the press tours, then the exclusive paid interviews. A book deal followed along with a movie deal and three-part docuseries. She milked every opportunity to tell her story as the only survivor and was paid handsomely for it.

Returning to New York, she hid out in a penthouse for months, searching all over the internet for any trace of Killmonger. If it had not been for Makris and Vlachos corroborating that the man did indeed exist, she may have convinced herself that he was a figment of her overactive imagination. Two of the killers that survived the Coast Guard ship confessed to being hired by Quinton. A global manhunt seemed never-ending. When billionaires were murdered in cold blood, people cared. She attended memorials to all the victims, making sure she looked fabulous in Thom Browne and Prada fashion with her signature Chanel shades. Portia wasn't close to any of the people she partied with on the yacht, aside from Quinton. However, leaked photos from her private social media account showed merry faces prior to them leaving Athens on the first day of the New Year's trip. It brought comfort to the families, and they invited her to spend weeks in various billionaire enclaves where she spun stories about their rich sons being brave and attempting to save the women. All lies. But it gave the loved ones a sense of closure and peace.

After a year, her life returned to jet-setting and fashion weeks all over again. Her misadventure bolstered her popularity because of the glamorous photos of her being escorted from the Greek Coast Guard ship in her knitted alabaster bikini. For someone experiencing a traumatic event, Portia looked fashionable as fuck.

Media ate up the haunting tale of Quinton living a double life somewhere. Media blasted his life history around the world as the biggest true crime story to come along in years. Many speculated that he had drowned or killed himself because he couldn't be found anywhere. Portia guessed he lived in a country where he couldn't be extradited. The hoopla died down until her book came out. Then there was a buzz about the casting for the movie. Depression set in then.

Portia visited a few therapists, but none could help her cure the anger that sat in her spirit like venom that she couldn't spew out. She wanted Quinton's head on a plate. He needed to pay for what he had done. It didn't matter to her that the people he killed weren't her genuine friends. He ended human lives because of greed. She couldn't get over that he took the bitch route to jumpstart his fortunes. As smart as he was, he couldn't develop or create something new and amazing that made him rich in the first place. An existential dread lived in her gut. Portia couldn't free herself from the lack of justice. Jetting around the world with Mimi in tow didn't heal the pain. New diamonds, furs, and fancy cars lost their luster. Revenge burned in her soul.

She turned toward the dark web to search for Killmonger. Using some of her movie money, she hired the best ex-CIA and former Black Ops agents to help her find her mercenary lover. One former field agent told her the best that could happen was Killmonger would catch wind of her search, but no one could actually contact him. That was good enough.

The Swiss Alps looked like he imagined.

Cold, white, and jagged.

The job called for a remote location and this was as remote as it got. Killmonger rolled the late-model SUV into a long, isolated driveway that hadn't been plowed for a while. He parked when he couldn't drive any further, and dragged a large black duffel bag out of the trunk, along with an arsenal of small weapons in a backpack. The thick powdery snow cushioned and muffled his steps. All the lights were on in the mountain luxury chalet he came to. His target was inside. The cloudless night sky made the snow glittery with the moonlight and security lights surrounding the property.

Cold air made puffy clouds of his breath. His lungs burned from the exertion and altitude. He tapped his wrist computer and all the security cameras shut down within the chalet. The woman inside had a wineglass in her hand and talked on a cell phone, clueless that he was outside approaching with stealth. The lights in the interior winked out, then came back on suddenly. She turned her head and stared out through the large glass windows. Her eyes glossed over the valley below that was filled with snow that would have more dumped by midnight. Flakes had already fallen down on his way up a winding road.

He waited.

The front door opened, and the beauty stepped out in a long white fur coat reminding him of Goldie from the old Black flick, "The Mack". She still rocked expensive diamonds, and Ma carried herself like the ice princess she would always be.

Portia.

He stepped into the light and she grinned, relief creasing her brow and her lush lips spreading into the biggest smile. His heart dropped for a moment. She almost looked like she did back on their island.

"Killmonger," she said.

Her voice made him move toward her. She helped him with the small backpack and he hauled the duffel up the steps and into a cozy, warm interior. A fire burned in the fireplace and Mimi jumped around his legs.

"Hey rat dog," he teased.

He dropped the duffel near the door and lifted the dog. Portia took off her coat, revealing the slinky silver dress with the low-cut front he admired before he came in.

"Bring yourself over here," he said, dropping Mimi to the floor.

She sauntered to him, walking like a runway model, exaggerating her hips as she moved and draped her arms around his neck. He inhaled her lovely scent and memories rushed back of him and her alone… making love. Killmonger kissed her first, and she opened her mouth to envelop all the warmth of his tongue.

Two years.

They hadn't been in contact with each other in two years since he disappeared from her life. He went back to work for Clark and dropped off the radar soon after. The fame of their adventure dazzled his eyes when he went to a movie theater in Morocco and watched a film that was almost true. The actress that played Portia was gorgeous, but she lacked aloofness and sublime sensuality. Their sex scenes were amplified and gratuitous. There were long scenes of them fucking in water that never happened, and also one of them screwing on the Coast Guard ship. Also, untrue. The actor that was supposed to be him wasn't even a close approximation of Killmonger, but women loved him at the box office and the film became a blockbuster. The docuseries blew up, too. Portia became a media star and super-rich by doing nothing except being beautiful and caught up in some greedy foolishness. Some girls had all the luck with pretty privilege. The anomaly was her being a beautiful Black woman with an intriguing action-adventure-romance story. It did not shock him when Hollywood tried to white-wash the film by recasting Portia as a white blonde. That idea dropped, but they did cast a Black biracial British actress to play her. Think pieces blew up around that.

He got word of her searching for him.

It was only a matter of time. He thought of her often as he worked throughout the Middle East and West Africa. His notifications blew up during fashion weeks and he scrolled timelines to see what she had on and found out how her life was going. She dated often, but nothing serious. Her mystique intensified and everyone wanted her at their major events and parties.

He sensed her unhappiness.

Quinton, getting away with murder, rubbed too many white, rich people the wrong way. A Black man double-crossing billionaires and profiting from it... alive somewhere? Unheard of. Portia survived with the sting of betrayal hovering around her.

Killmonger smacked her ass, and she gave him the glass of wine in her hand. He drank it down, and she took it away, resting it on a side table.

The duffle moved.

Mimi growled and barked at the large black canvas bag and Killmonger knelt down, unzipping it. Stuffed inside was Quinton, tied and gagged. Portia picked up the smaller backpack she carried into the chalet for Killmonger. She opened it and he moved his hand around in it.

"Your choice of weapon, Ma," Killmonger said.

Portia lifted a modified Maxim 9 with a built-in silencer.

"What a way to ring in the New Year," she said, kissing him.

She dropped to one knee and peered at her prey.

"Hello, Quinton. Long time no see, baby," she said.

The iciness of her voice chilled Killmonger. Quinton's desperate eyes pleaded for mercy. She would give him none.

Portia zipped the bag up and stuffed the Maxim 9 back into the pack. She grabbed Killmonger's hand and pulled him toward some stairs.

"I'll save him for midnight when the fireworks go off. Right now, I want you," she purred.

Killmonger followed his ice princess. They had some reacquainting to do in the privacy of a luxury bedroom with fresh snow falling outside.

"Happy New Year," he whispered before kissing her all over.

A.N.:

Brought an oldie but goodie back! I first published this on here back on October 11, 2022, a month before "Wakanda Forever" came out. I thought I would expand this into a longer piece and indie publish it with some other stuff I took down from here, but I decided to put it up again because we need fun things to read in these daunting times with Cheeto dust back in office. Enjoy and please reblog!

[calciumdeficientt]

how do you think bif interacts in casual conversation, especially with those he's sincerely close with?

as an infrequent fanfiction Reader i'm struggling to write him

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY I CAN!!!!111!!!!1!!!! Ive really started to love Bif, i guess its because ive managed to fight the theatre kid demon in me back with a broom and get over the fact that his VA is Andrew Rannells

CASUAL BIF HCS

I’m not gonna mince words here, i think once you get to know Bif Taylor you come to realise he’s a total fucking loser. Like, once he’s comfortable enough to drop the champ persona, you really do find out that the real Bif is just a teenage boy. Not that he’s boring or anything, you can definitely hold a pretty good conversation with him. He’s just… kinda pathetic.

Okay maybe pathetic isn’t the right word, but i think he puts a lot of emphasis on his sporting achievements, especially when he’s talking to someone who’s not in the prep clique. It’s a status symbol that he flaunts to separate the wheat from the chaff. But obviously, that doesn’t work on other preppies. They know Bif well, he can’t just talk about how he’s the champ all the time. They know you won again Bif, they were all there, remember? Think of something else to talk about

I think he frequently finds himself short of stuff to say, his interests dont always align with what the other preps enjoy doing, so he probably just choses to listen actively in casual conversation with the other preps and piggyback off of whatever they choose to talk about. Often this ends up being sort of vague statements on the topic to try and pry some information out of the other party. Oh, Bryce went to Bali in winter break, its hot there this time of year isn’t it? Oh great, he’s talking about mosquitoes, prefect now gently slide in the new pharmaceutical company your father just co-opted. Excellent, well done Bif.

One easy topic of conversation is derby, not so much rumours or bitchiness or anything like that, just recounting time spent with derby. He is around him enough that it takes up a good amount of real estate in Bif’s brain. He’s always careful who he speaks about Derby’s personal private affairs with because he’s aware of the the ever looming threat of mutiny from preps who feel badly done to in terms of their leader. Bryce is the only one who Bif can really slag derby off to, then again its never actually anything nasty. It’s more just venting that he had to carry all of derby’s shopping bags, pay for lunch and go and fetch the balls Derby had putted over to the other side of Golf and Yacht because poor Derby’s feet were a little sore from his new loafers.

Now, drunk Bif is where its at, he eases up a lot more and talks freely about his less prep friendly interests. Usually to Justin, he knows Justin is keen to learn all about sports. Bif is usually eager to get drunk after standing for so long on the door playing bouncer. He’s usually tied and more than happy to sit, drink and be merry. And he gets very VERY merry. Red faced, where does the hair end and the skin start, shirt inside out shoes mismatched drunk. He’s loud and bold and laughs himself half to death over every little thing. Drunk Bif is kinder than sober Bif, but equally as receptive. One major change is volume, he yells like he’s in a busy club even if there’s only about four people in the room.

[thedirtygridd]

CHARLES LECLERC’S BREAK-UP STORY…FEATURING YOU (FIC) PART 1

WARNINGS: 18+ Strong sexual content/Fictional

Summary: As per the breaking news today, Charles Leclerc has broken up with his girlfriend and he invites you (you are a close friend of Charles) onto his yacht for what you think is a party with his friends to help him feel better…but it turns out to be a lot more than that, and so does your “friendship”…

You found out about the news that Charles and Charlotte had split up on Instagram, while walking in the streets of Monaco on a December afternoon. You couldn’t believe it. You had been friends with Charles for a few years now, you were good friends and you knew him well. It took you by surprise that they split, because their relationship always seemed so strong. You quickly WhatsApp messaged Charles after reading the news.

“Hey CL, I’m so sorry about the news. I’m here if you need any support x”

You pressed send and you immediately saw that he had read the message. “Wow he’s keen!” You thought. He started typing…

“Thanks for the message. Support would be great, maybe come join me and a few others on my yacht later? I’m taking it out for the night, need to clear my head”

You immediately responded saying that you’d definitely join him on his yacht, who could turn that down! And that you’d meet him after you had got changed. Just as you were putting your phone back in your handbag, you noticed he had sent another message.

“Wear a bikini.” the message said. Nothing more, nothing less. You thought that was a bit strange, but of course you’d do as he said, maybe he was planning on having some fun jumping off his yacht and swimming later on.

You quickly went back to your apartment and picked out your favourite bikini - it really didn’t leave much to the imagination. Your body looked insane in it.

Time passed and you eventually pulled up in the harbour and arrived at Charles’ yacht “Monza”

You had been on it before, it was incredible. So big inside, so modern…and so expensive. You stepped onboard, as the yacht immediately started to sail. You could hear music coming from inside, and you noticed a few pairs of high heels on the deck near where you stepped onboard. You slipped your own shoes off as the staff welcomed you onboard. “Charles has asked us to sail out to the cove tonight, he’s in his private area, with a few of his guests if you’d like to join him….” The kind man mentioned.

You found it so cool how he paid people to run his yacht. It was almost like being in a fairytale, he had the dream life. But you still couldn’t forget how much he’d be hurting right now after his separation with Charlotte. You still felt sorry for him and couldn’t wait to give him a friendly hug. As you started walking, another member of staff offered you a glass of champagne. “Charles requested this for his guests. Please enjoy your evening” he said while you wondered into the long corridor that led to his bedroom.

You noticed the music was getting slightly louder as you wondered down the corridor. You noticed even more high heels, dropped all over the floor as you stepped over them.

“Who is Charles with?” You wondered. “Who has he invited to this get together?”

You pulled on the handle of the door to his private bedroom…but it was locked. You could hear strange noises coming from inside over the beat of the music. “Hello! Charles! Let me in!” You shouted as you knocked on the wooden door.

A few seconds past and finally the door slowly opened, you stepped in to be greeted by another girl, wearing her very own small bikini. She was very attractive, you’d never seen her with Charles before. “Hey, charles asked me to come see him, is he in here?”

“Oh yes…he is. But our job is to cheer him up, he was in a foul mood before, are you ready?” the girl said

You thought this was all very strange, you didn’t know who this girl was. She then leant in and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Emily by the way…” she said. As she came closer you noticed how her skin was completely covered in oil…

“What’s the oil about?” You wondered. The girl smirked and took your hand gently and guided you towards the next door, which took you into where his bedroom was. The noises were now getting louder, you tried to see if you could recognise any voices as you stepped towards the door. You could make out girls giggling and what sounded like Charles giving out the occasional deep groan.

“FUCK!” You heard Charles shout before laughing. “Get yourself down…” he added.

What was going on? You wondered. Your head was full of things Racing round. What did Charles invite you to?

And then the door opened and you stepped inside the low lit room. The room also smelt sweaty, as if people had been exercising in there.

This is when you couldn’t believe your eyes… Charles was lying down on his bed, surrounded by naked girls. You counted 4 around his naked body and then a 5th girl was squatting on his face. You could see his tongue smothering her ass as she squatted on him. The girls were pouring hot oil all over each other, while making out with each other and rubbing Charles’ hard cock with it. The bed was drenched wet with oil. Bikini bottoms all over the floor and the bed. You could hear the girls juices slosh around as Charles licked inside her. You noticed drips smothering his face, getting caught in his stubble. You were so shocked…but also so intrigued.

“Oh f-f…uck” charles said while almost choking himself on the other girls juices. She squatted off his face and sat down next to him, completely wrapping her tanned oily legs over his hard abs. “Listen girls…” charles said over the music , you could tell he was quite tipsy. “Listen…this is my good friend…she’s come to join us.” He got distracted as he said this because another girl had placed her ass near his reach, you saw his eyes wonder to her before grunting and giving it a hard SLAP. The sound echoed in the room. “Mhm, good girl” he said while biting his lip. His hand had already left a red imprint on her left cheek, before he continued, while rubbing another girls oily legs. “…This is my good friend, like I-I- said. Come join us baby” he said while lying back down. At the same time, another girl got into place and squatted onto his face. He immediately began smothering his tongue all over her ass and in between the crease of her lips.

You stood there, shocked. You didn’t know what to do. “Charles…I think I’m gonna go upstairs again…”

As you turned to the door, you heard a thud, and before you could even turn around, Charles placed his hands on your waist.

“Hey, hey…” he whispered gently. He had to focus on what he was saying, due to his tipsiness. He turned you to face him as his hands wondered around your body. “Come onnnn, let’s have some fun. Fuck what anyone thinks, this is about all of us. Let’s just fuck…”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying, you had always been great friends, and only friends. You never even dreamt of being with him, it was never in the question.

“You want to know a secret?” He said while another girl rubbed oil into his muscly, sweaty back and wide shoulders.

He brought himself closer to you, as he did, you felt his hard cock hit your leg. “I’ve always wanted to fuck the hell out of you…” he whispered. At the same time, you felt his dick throb and some of his pre-cum drip out. “Here, let’s have a toast…” he grabbed your champagne glass from your hand.

“To fucking!…” he toasted, while the other girls giggled and continued rubbing him up. He took a sip of the champagne before immediately coming into kiss you. As he kissed you, you realised he hadn’t swallowed all of the alcohol. As you made out with him, you traded champagne and saliva between each of your mouths, you felt him untying your bikini as he did it. His tongue was warm and slimy, it felt so good. You enjoyed the warm feeling of his saliva drip into your mouth. You were instantly turned on. His thick fingers had made it down to your pussy and he decided to go straight in there, while you stood making out. You felt his fingers slide deep inside you, right on your G-spot as he wiggled them around. He started with two fingers , but you quickly felt a third slip inside. He was already stretching you out. You grabbed his oily back , struggling to get a firm grip on him, as he finger fucked you.

“Fuck….fuck charles” you said before he picked you up. You quickly lost balance as he carried you, and found yourself grabbing hold of his oily, rock hard biceps as he tensed them while carrying you. He quickly dropped you onto the bed, and spread your legs wide open.

He didn’t wait around, he licked four of his fingers before rubbing his dick in between them, and then he slipped it inside of you. He was so huge, his dick stretched open your tight walls as he forced himself into you. He picked up a full bottle of champagne at this point, took a massive gulp out of it, and then opened his mouth and spit it out onto you. The champagne covered your tits and your belly, the bed was now covered in sweat, oil and champagne. It was chaos.

He continued to thrust his hard cock into you, you couldn’t help but think how lucky Charlotte was to have this man, and how sorry you felt that she couldn’t have him anymore. But that thought was quickly replaced with the intense feeling of you squirting on Charles’ thick cock. You sprayed his abs and chest as you released your fluid. He pulled out of you so he could fully feel your spray.

Once you had stopped, you saw him smothering his hands around his body, rubbing your juices into his pores. You noticed his finger rings had become fully smothered with your juices.

“Suck me off!” he said to the girl next to him. She got down on her knees and took his wet cock into her mouth. He firmly pushed himself inside of her mouth, and held himself there for a few seconds. The girl was gagging on it, spit was flying out the side of her mouth, and Charles was loving every second, you could see it in his eyes.

He pulled himself out of her mouth, and quickly bent down to kiss her. His tongue fully smothered around her mouth and in her mouth. He was determined to lick up all her spit.

He then stood back up, leaving that girl on the floor, and picked up another one. He pushed her against the wall behind the bed and fucked her hard. You could see how intense it was. His back was now covered in red scratches…where we had all been scraping and grabbing him uncontrollably as he fucked us out.

He pulled himself out of the other girl and immediately said “fuck…I’m, i’m really close” you could see sweat dripping off his forehead, and collecting at the side of his nose. Part of you wanted to lick it off him. But before you could even suggest it, he ordered you all to get on your knees. You all did as he said, and he pushed all your faces close together before standing over you and taking long jerks of his wet cock. It didn’t take long before he started to position himself even closer to you all. He aimed his cock right in front of all your faces, before he let out a groan and then released ribbons of white cum , which came shooting out his throbbing tip. You felt your face get covered with his warm milk as you knelt before him. You smelt the scent of it as well as it hit you. The other girls were quick to react to the impressive load by moaning “mhm, fuck yes Charles , give it us…give us your cum. We want it”

And he did…he continued to shoot out cum for at least 10 seconds. Once he stopped he stood there watching us all. The girls , and you, were scooping up the cum like it was gold, sliding it in between your fingers before sucking it off. You noticed how every girl reacted in the same way. They all treated this man like a god. They all wanted his cum.

But Charles was staring at you in particular, and paying the attention to you now. He didn’t seem to notice the other girls, as you sucked a ribbon of cum off your index finger. It tasted warm and salty, it tasted good.

“Come with me” he said to you while reaching his hand out to collect you. He pulled you up, you were still half covered in his cum. You could feel it slowly dripping down your body. He led you to the bathroom, And guided you into the shower. He locked the door behind as he turned the shower on. The water fell like it would in a waterfall, such a posh shower. Marble all over the floor.

“That was fun…but I gotta admit, I’ve had my eyes on your especially” he brought himself closer as he said it , before giving you a kiss. You noticed his face was full of all sorts of slime, but you didn’t care. It was dirty and sexy. He kissed you again before adding “I’ve always wanted to do that with you. I felt like we’ve always had a bond…and yes I know I’m fucking drunk…but I want to do this more with you. See where it goes…” he continued to kiss you. The water from the shower was now dripping down his hair and on his face, it ran down across his sharp jawline. You placed your hands on the side of his wet face as you kissed. You could feel his cock getting hard again on your leg.

“Fuck! I’m horny…” you both said at the same time before bursting out laughing. He missed you some more before turning you around and pushing the palm of his hand on the arch of your back. He pushed your body forward as you stood there, almost putting your face into the wall of the shower. And then you felt his cock enter you again , this time as he fucked you from behind.

He fucked you even faster than he did before, you both groaned as he thrust inside. You felt even tighter from this angle, and he felt even bigger (if that was even possible.) This is when Charles mentioned “I’m gonna fucking cum again…”

You had to quickly interrupt…

“But….b-b-b…Charles! I’m not on birth control…”

As you said it, you felt his cock fill up to breaking point , and then it burst. You felt even more warm, thick ribbons of his milk filling you up

“Fuuuuuck yeah” he groaned as he clenched on your ass cheeks

“Shit, charles…” you said

He turned you back round to face him. He looked exhausted. He had water dripping down his face , his hair was soaked through and very messy

“Charles, I’m not on birth control…” you laughed nervously to try and relieve the stress of the fact…

He wasn’t fully listening, he was too caught up in the lust of the moment.

“I want to fuck you like this every day, you’re fucking beautiful” he said. His cock was still hard at this point, still throbbing, and still dripping with a mixture of cum and pre-cum. You didn’t know how he wasn’t fully empty by now.

“Oh Charles…you’re so cute” you said while wrapping your arms round his scratch- covered, muscly back. “Look at the state of your delicious back” you said to him “full of scratches” you found it hard not to get too turned on by the feeling of his body, it was still all too new a feeling for you to grasp.

“Worth it though” he cheekily said while holding you in his arms. You could tell he was starting to get tired now.

You stood there with the water dripping down both of your warm bodies, as you felt his cum inside you. He had fully filled you up, and you weren’t on any birth control…

You thought to yourself “I came here to try and cheer him up after his hard break up, and now he could’ve impregnated me…on the same day that he split up with Charlotte….” You stood and stared into space as the thoughts wizzed around your head….

What if…………?

To be continued…

[thebisexualdogdad]

Could you do a black cat x male reader? Like black cat sees someone flirting with him and gets jealous but they aren’t together yet so she brushes it off

Combining with the request: Felicia Hardy x gn! Reader? Where we catch her stealing a jewel or something

Danielle Rose Russell used as a fancast

Felicia Hardy x GN!Reader (masc leaning but no pronouns used)

Felicia Hardy always got what she wanted and what she wanted from you was your family's priceless jewels.

She knew this was going to be a long con, spending the better part of a year playing dress up pretending to be one of Manhattan's most coveted socialites while slowly getting closer and closer to her prize.

She clawed her way into your inner circle, joining you at exclusive wine tastings and days out on your yacht.

Everything was going to plan although somewhere along the way she ended up falling for you.

You weren't like the pretentious pricks she was used to, when you spoke to her you genuinely listened to what she had to say and you never once made any attempts at unwanted advances onto her.

Was she starting to regret her scheme?

She showed up to a party at your mansion in an extravagant black dress that had everyone's eyes on her, including yours.

"Felicia, so happy you made it," you smile, handing her a glass of wine, "and might I add you look absolutely beautiful."

Why did that give her butterflies in the pit of her stomach?

"Thank you Y/N, you look quite handsome tonight as well in that suit you're sporting," she replies quickly downing the glass of wine to calm her nerves.

"Bad day?" You chuckle.

"Something like that, how are you?" She says looking around for any server supplying alcohol.

"It's never a bad day when I'm with you," you state.

She was definitely going to need more wine.

The night goes on and while you would much rather be spending it with Felicia you do your due diligence talking with as many of your guests as you could.

Felicia is completely zoned out of her conversation with some creep stock broker terribly hitting on her with her attention solely on you… and the girl you're laughing with.

She thinks her name is Vanessa, she's seen her at some parties before, never spoken to her before she's noticed the way she looks at you.

This is a new feeling for her, is this what it feels like to be jealous?

Felicia huffs when you lean in close to whisper something in Vanessa's ear, the heist was now back on and in full swing.

She doesn't even bother exiting the conversation with the stock broker with some polite goodbye; she just walks away leaving him confused and his equally douchey friends laughing at him.

You see Felicia heading towards the set of stairs the guests are roped off from that lead up to the bedrooms and you excuse yourself from Vanessa to follow her.

Upstairs Felicia easily finds the safe behind a painting in your private study containing your family's jewels which she canvassed out multiple times on her previous visits to your residency.

She cracks the safe but is shocked to find nothing inside.

"Looking for something?"

Felicia turns around to see you standing in the doorway with a grin.

"Y/N I-" she starts.

"Am a world class thief? Yes I know," you say approaching her.

"How long have you known?" She asks.

"A while, I don't just let anyone into my inner circle, I do my research so I know exactly how all these rich assholes want to use me to make themselves richer," you explain.

"If you knew I wanted to steal from you, why did you let me in?"

"Because you're not like them Felicia, you're actually interesting and way smarter than any of those so called intellects down there. I put the jewels in a secure safety deposit box months ago, I've been waiting for the day I'd find you up here," you tell her.

"So you were playing the long con too I see," she says.

"And it was well worth the wait," you tease, getting closer to her, "did you finally snap because of Vanessa?"

Felicia gulps, your faces only inches from each other.

"She's just a family friend, we've known each other since we were three but I do enjoy knowing she made you jealous," you tease.

"This isn't how this was supposed to happen," Felicia mutters.

"Which part? The part where you steal my jewels or the part where I finally kiss you," you ask confidently which turns her on even more.

"Both."

You laugh and pin her to your desk, roughly kissing her.

She hops up onto your desk, wrapping her legs around your waist and pushing your suit jacket off of your shoulders.

You may have been busy exploring each other's bodies but Felicia was already thinking of a plan to find this safety deposit box you mentioned and you were already thinking of where to hide the jewels next.

This was a con the two of you were definitely in for the long run.

[tinydeskwriter]

Cosmopolitan:Behold, Y/n and Harry Styles’s Relationship Timeline

A/N: I wanted to try my hand in a Harry Styles/Royal Family Member situation. I ended it in the year 2020 because it was getting to much. There is no faceclaim, I just choose the pictures that fitted better into the narrative. Please, If you enjoyed, comment, I would love to hear your thoughts and I am always open for new ideas.

word count: 4807

Much like a rich old man and a dusty bottle of port on a yacht, Princess Y/n and Harry Styles are a match made in heaven. There was drama, a lifetime of rumors, sweet reunions and, of course, that Cartier engagement ring. 

This couple’s love story was one for the ages. From meeting on the backstage of a One Direction concert to getting married, leaving royal duty, having a cute baby, and becoming the power couple the whole world has been obsessed with, they’ve being through it all. And after a whole decade of on and off, facing tons of unfair scrutiny, they only seem stronger.  On that note, let’s walk down memory lane through a timeline of their romance—including it’s ups and downs.

Circa 2012

Harry and Y/n met for the first time in early 2012, a the backstage of a One Direction’s concert in London, according to one of Harry’s close friends from Holmes Chapel, ‘Harry must have been mind-blown to meet Y/n, he always had a crush on her’.

The first photo we can find of Harry and Y/n ever being in the same place is from November that same year at the Royal Variety Performance, where the princess attended alongside her grandmother, Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth. 

In December 1, the One Direction boys shared on their personal Twitter accounts about Princess Y/n’s cookbook, with the aim of raising funds for the Red Cross and for the victims of Hurricane Sandy. The book sold out on pre-order. Two days later, Y/n was spotted on the band’s Madison Square Garden Concert.

The two of them reportedly exchanged phone numbers to ‘keep tabs on each other’ ~ even though Styles was already rumored to be dating TS at the time~. 

Arabella Ferrer, Y/n’s roommate at the time, said later to a tabloid ‘they are both dating other people, but you could see that there was a mutual crush’.

 In 2012, Y/n was rumored to be dating on and off  ‘for a couple of years already’, billionaire Hugh Grosvenor, son of the Duke of Westminster and godfather to her nephew Prince George.

2013

By January Harry and Taylor were already old history, and Y/n was no longer with her billionaire boyfriend.  

Y/n was photographed by paparazzi attending Harry’s 19th birthday at the private members club Groucho. 

On Valentine’s Day, Y/n shared a picture of Richmond Park on Instagram with her thousands of followers, with the caption ‘LOVE’. 

Princess Y/n became a Oxford University graduated with a dual degree in Business and English Literature. And it was reported that the singer attended the private party throw by her older brothers in Highgrove, the Prince of Wales private residence in Gloucestershire. A guest was quoted ‘from the moment he arrived Y/n glowed, she introduced him to everyone at the party as her ‘special friend’ which is the royal family code for ‘boyfriend|girlfriend’, they gravitated around each other, nailed at a few karaoke duets, but I don’t believe it’s that serious’.

Days later, on June 1st , Y/n reportedly attended Harry’s mom’s wedding.

By July they’re in the first of many ‘off-time’ in their relationship. Harry’s busy touring with his boyband, and Y/n’s juggling her professional career and royal duty. 

2014

The couple was pictured with friends on the 24th  of January in Verbier—only a few weeks after it was reported that Styles were dating Kendall Jenner—.

Though  paparazzi weren’t able to capture the couple in any major PDA—apart from a few hugs on the slopes—. Y/n’s cousin, Princess Eugenie, and her boyfriend, Jack Brooksbank, were among the group, as well as the princess older brother, ~another~ Harry, with his then girlfriend, Cressida Bonas. 

The Daily Mail  reported that according to one source, “Y/n and Harry are pretty serious about each other, she knows his entire family and is close to his mother and sister, Harry already met both her brothers and cousins Eugenie and Beatrice”.

Y/n was spotted at the One Direction concert in Amsterdam, the particular date coincided with the state visit of the princess to the country.

The same month Y/n visited Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Belgium and Luxembourg, rubbing shoulders with the other Royal Families of Europe—their are kinda of all related we’re sure… in some way— ‘Doing a Social: Royal Edition’ .

Due to Harry band commitments and touring, the couple didn’t see each other until October, when Y/n visited Styles in Los Angeles, the mood between the couple seemed to cool off after pictures surfaced of Harry out in a pumpkin patch with Erin Foster.

The couple was pictured—in two separated occasions— in heated arguments around LA ~in public~ and we can only guess why…

When asked about his ‘royal romance’ by interviewers Styles standard answer was ‘We are just really good friends’ but that cheeky grin in his face didn’t fool anyone. 

Later in November Styles is pictured by paparazzi going out with Victoria Secret’s model Nadine Leopold in LA, while Y/n is tagged on a Instagram post attending a friend’s wedding in San Francisco… on the same night, and is safe to say that they aren’t ‘on’.

2015

Early January, Y/n is living to the fullest, enjoying single life around the globe with her inner circle of friends~and her ex, no, not Harry, Hugh!~.

She started in the Mediterranean and went on to …Verbier.

On February 01, Styles 21st birthday, Y/n went to her instagram to share a heartfelt message… about Maritime Life and the Health of the Ocean,  illustrating her love for the sea and all it’s creatures with personal photos ~or thirsty trap~.

Which Harry liked, as fans noted. 

And all this just a day after the princess being seen attending Styles birthday bash in LA.

A source told The Sun: “The moment she arrived, red lipstick, high heels and a little black dress, all eyes were on her, including his, poor Nadine, his rumored girlfriend, was completely forgotten on the side, Harry was all over Y/n”

“There’s nobody else he’d rather be on his birthday.”

That was the last time we saw Harry alongside Nadine: ‘they claimed schedule conflicts, due to tour, but Harry made it work once before, dating and touring, the truth, pure and simple is: Harry saw Y/n, and he saw what was missing in his life. He’s blowing up her message box with texts, but she’s keeping her foot on the breaks, Harry’s in the doghouse for now”. 

Around the same time Y/n was spotted out and about in London, partying around with her inner set—which includes her ex, and a few rumored flings—, dressing what we’re calling ‘the revenge wardrobe’.

‘It’s a punishment, she’s showing him what he’s going o lose if he can’t keep his wandering hands to himself’, the source claimed.

They are off again by the end of the year, not long after Y/n was spotted attending One Direction’s last concert before hiatus 

2016

Harry, his family and the Azzof’s were spending the first days of the year in St’Barts, and Kendall Jenner  was there. Khloe Kardashian declared  that Jenner and Styles were hanging out and quote: ‘Do I think they’re dating? Yes.’

Rumors about Jenner and Styles are put to rest later that month, when Y/n was spotted celebrating Styles’s 22nd birthday earlier in London. The ‘on-again’ couple  traveled together to Los Angeles—With sources claiming the couple is serious and happier than ever—.

March was definitely a month for rumors surrounding this couple.

There was the rumor that Harry had been casted in the new Christopher Nolan blockbuster —which turnout to be true—, that he was writing a new album. British tabloids started to run a story that either they are secretly engaged or almost there.

Rumors that they’re buying a house together. All this fueled by the fact that Harry and Y/n are no longer hiding their relationship or shying away from PDA.

May came with ~ goodbye long hair~.

The Palace announced on the 20th  that Princess Y/n would undergo a FOUR month long tour in the name of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. Y/n was to represent her grandmother in engagements around Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and Jamaica from 4th June to 14th October. 

After months apart, the couple were spotted at Heathrow in a ‘warm embrace’ and the singer turned actor welcomed his lady with flowers, ‘it was definitely two lovers reunited after a very long time, it was like watching one of those post-war reunion: They are very much in love, they spent far two much time apart, and they don’t car for who is witnessing.

Later that year it was announced by the Palace that Y/n would be moving to New York for professional reasons, but would continue her work in the name of Queen Elizabeth II.

2017

Y/n and Harry are spotted around New York, Los Angeles and London on the early months of the year, after vacationing together in Jamaica in the end of 2016. 

It was one his ‘secret gig at The Troubadour that the twenty-three years old singer, alluded to his relationship with Y/n for the first time since they have first being linked back in 2012. Before performing the soft ballad ‘Sweet Creature’ the singer addressed the crowd ‘I would like to dedicate next song to the girl that has been my muse since before she can even imagine’, Y/n, according to fans who attended the show, was in front of the stage singing along with her ~should we call him her boyfriend?~.

He is her boyfriend! Styles avoided answering questions about their rumored on and off relationship, but didn’t shy away from calling Y/n ‘his girlfriend’.

During his July movie premiere, Prince Harry and Princess Y/n were the VIP guest in the event, bringing with them three Dunkirk Veterans. Prince Harry greeted Tom Hardy and Harry Styles with the familiarity of someone greeting a old acquaintance. According to The Sun  when it was his time to be greeted by the princess the singer bowed his head after the couple shared a smile and reportedly cheekily said ‘you look very beautiful today, ma’am’.

This couple reportedly took another step in their relationship when Styles was introduced to the Prince of Wales in August.

During tour, the rockstar’s fans seemed to have started a new game: Spot Y/n. 

 2018

During Harry’s tour break the couple once again was spotted out and about around London and Los Angeles.

We know Y/n and Harry spend Valentine’s Day together thanks to the Daily Mail publishing photos of them in the Caribbean.

In March Y/n was spotted around LA with A-listers Dakota Johnson and Kate Hudson, and rumor has it that the royal and her rockstar boyfriend bought a property in town.

In May Harry attends Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s wedding in Windsor. The couple didn’t arrive together, as Y/n, in a break of tradition, was one of her brother’s ‘best men’. 

The children of the late Princess Diana cut quite the image while walking to the Chapel in military uniform. Princess Y/n has been appointed a Regimental Colonel by the Queen in 2017, and our girl slayed in that uniform.

That same month, GQ Australia  drops an interview with Harry where he’s asked about Y/n and dodges the question with “I don’t think there’s anything I want to share about that. But thank you for providing the space.” Lol, but fair.

On the 29th  it was announced that Princess Y/n had resigned from her finance job, but before engagement rumors between Y/n and Harry  started to fly around, Buckingham Palace stated that the princess would be embarking in a four months long Royal Tour visiting Australia, Fiji, Tonga and New Zealand, with official visits to Japan and China. 

Media outlets were quick to point out that the couple would be separated till October, with rumors of a possible break due to ‘conflict of schedules’

In October  Harry and Y/n attend a event together ~a royal wedding at that~ and they looked super coupled up. Styles reportedly was introduced to the Queen and Prince Philip, as well as other members of he royal family.  

November 14, 2018

But nothing in the world prepared us for the announcement released by Clarence Palace on the 14th: ‘The Prince of Waled is delighted to announce the engagement of Princess Y/n to Mr. Harry Styles. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2019, in London. Further details about the wedding day will be announced in due course. Her Royal Highness and Mr. Styles became engaged on February during a private holiday in St.Lucia. Following the marriage, the couple will continue to live in their private residence in London.’ Her Majesty is said to ‘be absolutely delighted for the couple’, a the time of the engagement announcement, Princess Y/n was seventh in line of succession after the birth of Prince Louis a few months earlier, and no longer required the Queen’s formal consent to the marriage.

According to reports a formal engagement dinner party was held in Highgrove days before the formal announcement so the couple would be able to share their happy news with their nearest and dearest, ‘they didn’t want for those really close to them to find out through the media’.

November 15, 2018

Following the announcement, the couple gave an exclusive interview to Emma Barnett from  BBC, Y/n  revealed that the surprise proposal happened on Valentine’s Day, in St.Lucia, ‘It happened after dinner, there was a orchestra in a smaller boat besides ours playing ‘Young and Beautiful’ which I love, when I urn back o him, he’s smiling, he tells me about his feelings, and to this point  I wasn’t sure of  what was happening, then the exact moment the orchestra is playing ‘Can’Help Falling in Love’  he got down to one knee and asked me to be his wife’ the couple shared a sweet look, and then Barnett asked how she responded:  ‘Yes, please’.

When asked if he’d seek permission before proposing, Harry said: ‘I asked her for her hand, but after we announced to her family I privately asked the Prince of Wales for his blessing, as I know they’re very close, and it was important for her.’

This might have been the most shared Royal Announcement on social media and by the end of the day #harryandy/n were trending on Twitter.

Harry shared the news on his Instagram, posting three exclusive pictures to celebrate the occasion, one from the beginning of their relationship~with a tooth rotting sweet~, a peak of the gorges engagement ring he gifted his~fiancé~, and the third one: the precise moment Y/n said ‘Yes, please’. 

Rumor has it that the long wait for the formal announcement was due to the Royal Family disapproval, but Y/n stood her ground and won them over:’He comes from a working class background, he’s a rockstar, has all those tattoos, dated a fleet of lingerie  models, and dress quirky, while Y/n is the royal family ‘golden child’, she attended Oxford, balanced a professional career and royal duty, she’s a bit of a ‘rebel’ in some standards and she’s their most popular member, some years ranking even above the Queen,’ one royal correspondent said, ‘every time they need good press, they send her, she has that bit of ‘Diana-factor’, now she wants to marry his guy, who is a huge star on his own, and it is most likely that she will be withdrawing from royal duty to be by her husband’s side, as Mr. Styles is mostly based in Los Angeles.’

A source told the Daily Mail, ‘They used the same strategy in 1947, when the then young Princess Elizabeth wanted to marry the dashing Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark, they sent her on a long royal tour, keeping them apart, and hoping that the distance will make her reconsider, it didn’t work then and it didn’t work now, (…)another factor here is that Princess Y/n is a very smart young woman, if she had announced her engagement earlier this year, at the time that she was proposed,  she would have needed royal consent, so she waited the birth of her third nephew by William and Kate, which pushed to seventh in line, and she’s no longer required to ask for formal consent per Succession to the Crown Act 2013”.

December, 2018

The couple was invited to the Queen’s traditional Christmas luncheon at Buckingham Palace on the 10th. 

On the 19th, the official engagement photographs were taken at the couple’s private residence in Hampstead, and were issued by the Palace on 19th, alongside the information that the wedding would be happening on 26 April 2019 in St.Paul Cathedral, the statement also clarified that the wedding would be privately paid by the couple, the Prince of Wales and the Queen.

About the couples choice a insider said, ‘they visited a couple of royal venues, but there was no doubt that it would be St.Pauls, it’s Y/n’s dream venue, she has put a claim in the Cathedral a long time ago, going as far a forbid her brothers to marry there’.

In a break with tradition the couple choose to celebrate Christmas with Styles’s family in Holmes Chapel instead of Sandringham.

January 2, 2019

The couple traveled abroad to reportedly escape the media circus surrounding their wedding, with rumors of a royal rift between siblings.

A source said to The Sun: ‘There is some discontentment over the date of the nuptials coming from the Sussexes, the date is very close to Meghan’s due date, and not only she won’t be able to attend the ‘Wedding of the Century’, it also it takes the shine out of the birth of their first child’.

January 6, 2018

Princess Y/n, labeled ‘the Rebel Princess’ and ‘the rioting English rose’, was cover of the January issue of Vanity Fair. In the interview the Princess discusses her upcoming nuptials with rockstar Harry Styles, her late mother, her place in the monarchy, climate change, and her (un)ordinary life. She also reveled that her wedding dress is in works.   

February 16, 2018

After celebrating the one year anniversary of their engagement on the 14th in the English countryside, the couple took their nearest and dearest friends for a combined ‘hen’ and ‘stag’ party. 

A party of forty made their way to Byron  Bay, Australia, a boutique hotel were closed for the occasion,  James Corden, Jeff Azzof, Adele and Dakota Johnson acted as the hosts of the week long celebration with Johnson reportedly welcoming guests with  a cheeky speech ‘If you need help to find your designated rooms, please go to Jeff, for our parting itinerary redirect to James or Adele, if you want to find the closest bar, I am your girl.’

‘The whole trip was pretty much organized by those four, who have been close to the couple for years, Blake Lively helped them, but was unable to attend, Y/n have been close for two years now, as Blake and Ryan are Harry’s New York neighbors.’ A source claim.

From Harry’s One Direction days, only Horan was in attendance. 

March 5, 2018

To mark the wedding of HRH Princess Y/n of Wales to Mr.Harry Styles, the Royal Mint produced an official UK £5 coin, showing the couple in profile. In May, a set of commemorative postage stamps, featuring the couple's official engagement photographs, was issued by Royal Mail.

Princess Y/n accepted the position of UN Women Ambassador in a private ceremony. 

Harry and Y/n also paid a private visit to the Great Ormond Street Hospital.

March 7, 2018

Y/n had her debut Vogue Paris cover, labeled ‘a Modern Princess’ , the royal talked about becoming a aunt for the fourth time ‘I’m so happy for Haz and Meg, I can’t wait to met my future new cuddle-buddy’; her choice of wedding date and venue:‘it’s a special date, my great-grandparents are married on the 26th of April, I was very close with my great-grandmother before her passing, I think she would have liked the sentiment behind, and the Cathedral is such a luminous place, and of course it’s where my parents got married, it’s a way to keep two very special ladies, that I loved very much, with me on that date’, about her wedding preparations: ‘I salute the brides that do it on their own, I have a wonderful wedding planner, Harry is being very present in the whole process, he can be worse than me sometimes, Anne, my soon-to-be mother in law is always with us’; and about being called a rebel: ‘Why a rebel? I am doing what many woman did and do, even in my family, it’s not really original, I’m not a trailblazer, Princess Margaret was the original rebel, auntie Anne too, I am just the 21st century version.’

April 21, 2019

It was reported that the couple attended a private luncheon to celebrate HM Queen Elizabeth II birthday.

Broadcast channels started o exhibit specials about the couple, including documentaries and two biopics: ‘A Modern Royal Romance’, and ‘How Harry met Y/n’. BBC reported that there already was people camping along the royal route.

April 25, 2019

The day before. The Cathedral is being prepared for the ceremony, the public and the press were able o get a glimpse of the floral arrangements already coming in and the stand in rehearsing the ceremony and testing the cameras for tomorrow morning. 

The Duchess of Cornwall, the bride’s stepmother, hosted a Rehearsal Dinner & Welcome Party for around 150 guests at The Savoy Hotel. For the occasion the bride wore Valentino and the groom wore Gucci. 

Camilla hosting the night raised some eyebrows from the public—specially among those that still blame her for Charles and Diana’s divorce— but according to one royal correspondent ‘Y/n is perhaps the child of Charles who is the closest to Camilla, she was six years old when Charles introduced the two of them, and she lived with her father full time while her brothers were in Eton so she was the one that had more contact with ‘Pa’s new girlfriend’ she was only thirteen when they married’.

April 26, 2019

Princess Y/n married her long time love on 26 April 2019 at St.Paul Cathedral. It was a star-studded affair, with guests including he likes of the Beckhams, Stevie Nicks, Elton John, Kate Moss, Ronnie Wood, and Paul McCartney. It’s estimated that the wedding itself costed around £32million. With the palace later confirming that the couple and the royal family had paid for he core aspects of the wedding, including church service, associated music, flowers, decorations and the two receptions that followed.

Y/n stunned the crowds in her  silk and cotton organdy Vivianne Westwood gown, which featured a nine-foot-long train and cost an estimated £250,000, she was lent a sapphire tiara by her grandmother, and wore her late mother diamond wedding earrings and sapphire oval brooch. She also wore a 5 meters long silk veil, among the hand-embroidered flowers, were  guitars and pieces from Harry’s songs and the constellation of their ~very~ compatible zodiac signs.

The bride made her entrance in her father’s arm to the sound of Elvis orchestra arrangement of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’, one of the many break in tradition in he couple’s wedding.

The wedding reportedly attracted a estimated 1.2 million people on the streets and broke records of broadcast. The couple shared a kiss at a balcony appearance.

Elton John performed at the garden reception hosted by the Queen and Ed Sheeran performed ‘Perfect’ and ‘Hearts Don’t Break Around Here’, at the evening reception the couple once again took to the dance floor, this time at the sound of ‘One Woman Man’ by John Legend. 

Princess Y/n, in a break of tradition, made a speech calling Harry ‘my Sun and my water, my stay and my strength, the absolute love of my life’, after Harry confessed that he wasn’t good at speeches but was a ‘okay singer’ the newly wedded husband sang a slow ‘jazz like’ cover of Jonas Brothers’ ‘Sucker’ for his bride.

Oh, did we forget to mention that HM made Y/n a Duchess? Our favorite princess new style is HRH Princess Y/n, Duchess of Albany, Mrs. Harry Styles ––AND SHE ACTUALLY PUT IT IN HER IG BIO—. Her title is suo jure, which means ‘in her own right’, so no, Harry isn’t a Duke.

The newly weds left for their honeymoon on the 27th, after a wedding breakfast for 150 guests at Buckingham Palace, Y/n wore a The Vampire’s Wife going-away outfit, they departed in Styles’s convertible vintage red Jaguar. The couple set for their six-week honeymoon on a private yacht.

May 6, 2019

The couple took a brief pause from their honeymoon to attend the Met Gala, where Styles was on of the co-chairs for the night. The couple wore Gucci, Harry looked dreamy in a black sheer shirt and his wife looked gorgeous in a diamond tiara and a Plymouth-pink feathered gown. 

The couple exchanged a kiss on the ‘pink’ carpet to the delight of photographers and fans on site.  Another Iconic moment of the night was Anna Wintour and Lady Gaga curtsying to Y/n.

Alessandro Michele described he young couple as ‘his muses’.

July 12, 2019

The world was shocked when Buckingham and Kensington Palaces released a joint statement in the name of the Queen and the Duchess of Albany announcing that Y/n has giving up her place in the line of succession in her name and that of her future offspring, but would keep her title, and would continue to privately serve the HM the Queen and carrying out charity engagements. 

In her Instagram the Princess shared the pictures of herself and Harry, in the caption she asked for respect of heir privacy and said that she was: ‘following her heart, and taking the steps (she) thought are better for herself and the future family she hoped to build with Harry’.

The announcement come ahead of claims that ‘senior members of  the palace staff’ had been critical of Harry’s Met Gala outfits and his ‘quirky and queer style’ and are trying to ‘re-brand’ him and ‘control’ what he could and couldn’t do in his professional career as ‘his image reflected on the family’.

Honestly, good for them.

September, 2019

Harry is the cover of The Face, and boy, he looks gorgeous, he talks about his new album, his relationship with LA and move back to London ‘I am not over LA (…) but the relationship changed’; his status as a sex symbol, and ~of course~ his wife of almost five month ‘I have never been happier, life looks beautiful’.

And no, there is still no plans for a baby Styles, ‘We’re young, there’s no rush, we just got married’. 

For the first time in… forever, Y/n took to the Instagram to jus share with the world how proud she’s of her hubby.

Caption: I am just so proud of being able to call this beautiful, amazing human being my husband.

December, 2019

Fine Line is released. And everyone in the world is losing their minds.

AND, V.L Roche published another bestselling novel, that everyone is recommending, from The Michelle Obama to Reese Witherspoon. And it wouldn’t be relevant if it didn’t turn out that V.L Roche has been Y/n pseudonymous since 2010, in a interview this month the royal admitted that she was afraid os public opinion but Harry convinced her to come out withe the publishing of her TENTH novel. ‘Pictures of Us’ and ‘With the Band’ published in 2013 and 2015 respectively, had it’s adaptation rights bought by Netflix and Amazon in 2017.

It’s mind blowing that she was able to keep it private for so long, and…Was any of those amazing characters she wrote inspired by Harry? Her answer? ‘Perhaps’

April 3, 2020

We are shocked when almost a year after getting married, Harry and Y/n announce that they welcomed their first child. The couple are able to keep their entire pregnancy private, their families were informed and Buckingham Palace, Clarence House and Kensington Palace public stated their delight with the new family addition and look forward to meet them.

We are honestly shocked, I mean, they did a better job than Kylie Jenner in hiding their pregnancy.

We wish the new parents the best of luck and can’t wait for the next chapters of what is definitely a modern fairy tale.

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[iclarye]

zosan!au but they’re formula 1 drivers.

just imagined, zoro was a gifted child in kart, his talent made money not seen to be the problem, since his career was sponsored by an old man from the same country who helped him take racing to international levels, winning formula 2 and ending up in the toro rosso in the main championship: formula 1.

but sanji? he seems like the typical monegasque guy, with private schools in switzerland and yachts in the summer. he never really loved racing, he had another hidden passion, but pressure from his father made him start karting and when he found himself winning his first european junior competition, he knew there would be no turning back from being a professional driver.

they know each other since they were children, in international competitions, and despite having mutual friends during their pre-teens and adolescence: they don't like each other. zoro entered f1 very early by standards, always very focused, very serious. toro rosso seemed like the perfect place for someone like him, until two years later, after winning the formula regional european championship, sanji was announced as the second driver for the same team.

sanji is charming, sanji is friendly and handsome. It wasn't a surprise to anyone when his popularity went beyond the formula circle and he began to form partnerships with major haute couture brands. and zoro? he hated it, he hated how Sanji treated the sport of his life, he hated how everyone fell for him, and most of all, he hated how he had also fallen for the blond charms.

so after two years of being in the same team, and after a drunken celebration he finally has the courage to take action, the two end up hooking up in a bathroom at some random millionaire's party.

and zoro feels like he's on a cloud for the next 8 months, never really having a conversation about what the two of them were doing but he's happy, that's what mattered.

until the day he wakes up to the news that sanji vinsmoke was signing with mercedes for the next season. he feels betrayed, even though he can't say anything because after all, they don't have anything serious, right? he also feels angry because at the same moment he was considering spending another year at toro rosso just to continue with this thing that he has (or had) with the blonde

[johnseb]

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[theroyalsims]

TOO FAST, TOO MUCH, TOO SOON - PRINCE ALISTAIR RUMOURED TO HAVE BROKEN UP WITH SOCIALITE GIRLFRIEND

Is it over for Prince Al and his latest lady love?

Brindleton's "it" couple has been uncharacteristically quiet these past few weeks and people are starting to speculate that the Prince has called it quits with his latest girlfriend, socialite Margeaux Riccaforte.

The pair, since debuting their relationship, has been very public about enjoying each other's company. Week after week, they have been photographed at parties and events. However, just as suddenly as their relationship seems to have blossomed, the Prince Al and Margueax sightings stopped. One royal expert claims:

"Prince Al couldn't cope with Margeaux's lifestyle. She's very much the social butterfly, but Prince Al's very introverted. He's a homebody, she's the life of the party."

"One of the reasons why HRH and Ximena worked very well for over two years was because they love hanging out together, but in private. They have movie nights, he cooks, she bakes, they play board games... they're both very low key. Margeaux, on the other hand, she's very social, she enjoys making contacts with new people. She's very friendly and outgoing, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. She and Prince Al are just very different people."

(Above: File photo - Prince Al accompanied Margeaux to the latter's friend's wedding earlier this year.)

Apparently, there was also an argument on whether or not Margeaux would be attending as Prince Al's date for the Queen's big bash last month. A palace source claims:

"Margeaux wanted to attend, but Prince Al thought it was too soon. They haven't been dating long. He wasn't ready to 'go there' with her. That'd make it seem too 'official,' and he just wasn't there yet. There was some sort of argument. In the end, Margeaux didn't score an invite. It was worse the next day when she found out Princess Ingrid's boyfriend attended the event."

(Above: File photo - Prince Al was photographed looking rather gloomy as he left a yacht club event with Margeaux.)

One other reason why it hasn't been smooth sailing for Prince Al and Margeaux? He jumped into a new relationship too fast. The source further claims:

"There was no proper 'transition' for Al to process things after his relationship with Ximena ended. I think he was hurting too much that he mistakenly jumped into a new relationship just to drown out the pain and to avoid the truth. It was just too much, too fast. It was definitely too soon. He just wasn't ready.

I wouldn't go so far as to claim that Al used Margeaux. They enjoyed each other's company and I genuinely think they both got 'something' out of it. Margeaux loves being the centre of attention, and I think dating Prince Al and being seen around town with a real life Prince has cemented her place as an A-lister. But I honestly think she just isn't who he needs right now."

The couple was last seen over six weeks ago leaving the opera (see photo above). The two were spotted having some sort of discussion as they were waiting to board their vehicle. Although they were holding hands and Margeaux was later seen smiling broadly for the paparazzi, Prince Alistair looked glum and almost reluctant to be there.

It looks like what started at the opera ended at the opera. If rumours are to be believed, here's hoping these two find their own happiness... apart.

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 7: The Billionaire Revelation (Part 1)

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2)

Charles had been on cloud nine since their recent road trip and camping adventures. The growing bond between him and Mark made him feel lighter, more connected, and excited for what lay ahead. But what came next caught him entirely off guard. One afternoon, while sitting with his younger brother, Arthur, in the Ferrari garage, they casually chatted about the upcoming race when Arthur leaned over with a smirk. "You know, Charles, I always wondered why Mark seemed so comfortable in the spotlight," Arthur mused. Charles raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?" Arthur casually scrolled through his phone, chuckling. "You really don't know, do you?""Know what?" Charles asked, getting a little impatient now. Arthur flipped his phone around, showing Charles a high-profile article about Mark Spencer—the son of the Italian billionaire Alessandro and Isabella Spencer. Charles stared at the screen, utterly shocked. "Wait, what?" Charles blinked, staring at the headline. "Mark's the son of a billionaire!? THE Alessandro Spencer!?! How have I never heard of this?" Arthur grinned. "Dude, he's loaded. Like, beyond anything you'd imagine. Not to mention, he's famous outside of F1. He's been around celebrities for years. Look at this." Arthur scrolled further through Instagram, revealing pictures of Mark at elite parties, casually hanging out with international superstars. There were photos of him at glamorous galas, on yachts, and even attending exclusive fashion events. Charles shook his head, baffled. "This explains why he's always been so at ease in front of the cameras. And why those celebrities at the party already knew him. He was part of their world long before F1."

It all started to click into place for Charles—the ease with which Mark carried himself, his charm, and his way of brushing off the media frenzy like it was second nature. Mark wasn't just new to the racing world. He had already been living in a world of fame, wealth, and attention.

"Why didn't he ever mention any of this?" Charles muttered, scrolling through the photos in disbelief. "He just—acted so normal." Arthur shrugged. "Guess he didn't feel the need to." After some reflection, Charles decided he needed to understand Mark's world better. So, a few weeks later, they traveled to Italy, and Charles was about to meet Mark's family—on their turf.When they arrived at the Spencer family mansion, Charles was stunned. The estate was enormous—more like a palace than a house. There was a home theatre, a private bar, a jacuzzi, and a massive pool surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. Every corner of the place screamed luxury. Mark, casually leading the way, looked back at Charles and grinned. "Yeah, I know. It's a bit much, but it's home." Before they could even reach the front door, an older gentleman greeted them with a warm smile. "Master Mark," he said with a slight bow, "your parents will be home soon. They're running a bit late." The man, who Mark introduced as Signore Lazzaro, had been with the family since Mark was born. "He's like Alfred to my Batman," Mark joked, patting Lazzaro on the back. The old man chuckled fondly. Mark's parents were strict, but not in the way Charles had expected. Alessandro Spencer arrived in a crisp suit, exuding a cold and calculated demeanor. His mother, Isabella, though more warm and welcoming, still had a regal air about her. After exchanging pleasantries, they all sat down in the grand living room. Mark received an urgent call from his team, and with an apologetic look, he excused himself from the room."Sorry, I've got to take this—urgent call. I'll be back in a bit," he said before leaving Charles alone with his parents. Now that they were alone, Alessandro's gaze fell on Charles, his piercing eyes studying him for a moment. Charles felt a bit nervous under the weight of that stare, but Isabella quickly eased the tension with a gentle smile.

"So, Charles, how long have you known Mark?" she asked softly, her voice filled with maternal warmth. "For about a year now," Charles replied, still a bit caught off guard by the opulence surrounding him. Alessandro cleared his throat, drawing Charles' attention back to him. "You seem close with him." Charles smiled nervously. "He's a great friend." Alessandro's expression remained stoic, but there was a slight twitch of amusement in his eyes. "Good. He could use a friend like you."After a moment of silence, Alessandro's tone softened, and he began talking about Mark's childhood. "You know, Charles, Mark wasn't always this confident. We put him in every possible class—piano, guitar, singing, cooking, you name it. He excelled at everything, yet he still surprised us when he chose racing." Isabella nodded, her gaze soft. "Yes, our son is full of surprises. But one thing you should know..." Charles felt the tension rise, sensing that they were about to share something important. Alessandro leaned forward slightly, his voice low and serious. "Mark... is adopted." Charles' eyes widened. He hadn't expected this revelation at all. "We've kept this from him all his life," Isabella added. "Not out of shame, of course, but out of love. We didn't want him to feel different, and we didn't think it was necessary to tell him yet."Alessandro gave a knowing glance toward Charles. "But something tells me he's already figured it out. He's smarter than he lets on." Charles sat there, absorbing everything. It was becoming clearer now. Mark's confidence, his hidden life, and the deep layers that made him who he was. His parents weren't cold or distant—they were simply protective. They had raised him in a world of wealth and status, but they also genuinely cared about his happiness, even if they didn't always show it openly. "Thank you for sharing this with me," Charles said quietly, his respect for Mark's family growing.Isabella smiled warmly. "We trust you, Charles. You're a good friend to him. And it seems that he's important to you, too." Charles nodded, feeling a deeper connection to Mark now. He had always seen glimpses of the complexities beneath Mark's surface, but now, he understood just how intricate his friend's life truly was. After a little while, Mark returned to the room, still his usual carefree self. Charles exchanged a glance with Alessandro and Isabella, who simply smiled knowingly. As they were about to leave, Mark turned to his parents with a grin. "By the way, I've known for years that I was adopted." Alessandro and Isabella looked shocked. "What!?!?!?" Mark laughed. "Come on, I'm not that clueless. I figured it out a long time ago. But it doesn't matter. I got dad's mind. As Adopted or not, I'm still your son." His parents stared at him for a moment before Alessandro broke into a rare smile. "You never fail to surprise us." As they got into the car to leave, Isabella turned to her husband. "He really is our son." ---