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killmongersbootycall · 6 years

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Princess 👑

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Jamilah is a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t know when to stop acting up. Her doting father who never knows when to stop her in her tracks is scared to realization when she nearly kills herself in a drunken episode. New body guards are needed on the double. Then walks in Erik Stevens. Read as their lives intertwine in ways that are good, and some that are not so great. Besides, Erik seems to be hiding something. What is it? Read to find out.

(Minor Spanking, Minor Fondling, Angst, Flirting.)

~~~

Chapter 4

1 2 3 4

You’re a more than a little disappointed when for the next few days, Erik straight up ignores you as best as he can. What really grinds your gears though is how he pretends he can’t see how pissed off you are, no matter how much you show it. You hate it. The feeling of not getting your way. You always got what you wanted, be it through your fathers money or through your charms. Hell, even threats worked in your favor. But Erik was immune to it all, and that was really frustrating. You wanted him to pay attention to you. Yeah, he’s your bodyguard and he kinda has no choice in that but you craved it in another way. You wanted him to want you like everyone else did. It was the first time in your life someone didn’t react to you as everyone else did and that was beyond annoying.

Your yellow acrylic nails tap rhythmically against the table in front of you. You pop your gum loudly, ignoring the way customers seated in the fancy restaurant you were in flinched, glancing at you occasionally, disgust in their eyes. You glare at a particular woman who whispers to her husband about you and she stiffens and turns quickly back to her meal. Unbeknownst to you, it’s Erik’s glare from behind you that spooks her. You uncross and cross your legs under the table, getting impatient. Your father and his ‘wife’ were supposed to be at the table with you, but they both had to mysteriously use the bathroom at the same time.

The two come back to the table giggling, your fathers usually pristine hair a mess and his ‘wife’s’ face flushed. You roll your eyes, irritation rising in you and slight embarrassment due to the fact that Erik was here to see all this.

“Jam, I hope we didn’t keep you waiting to long. The line was... absurd.” Your father says, a guilty smile slipping into his face.

You love your father, so to keep the peace, you smile back at him and nod. “It’s no problem, daddy.” You reply sweetly.

He smiles back in satisfaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek to which you beam at him. Your stepmother watches on with narrowed eyes.

“Ahem.” She clears her throat, bringing up a napkin to dab at her lips. You can’t help but roll your eyes and look at her.

Delores Manchester. At least, she used to be Manchester. You refused to acknowledge the fact that you both now shared the same last name. The woman was the devil in disguise. Your father had married her about two year ago and she would be another on his very, very long list of ex wives. Normally, you would never have bothered yourself in whatever new gold digger your father married, knowing they’d be around for a year at most, but Delores had lasted, and not only did that make you worry, but there was also something about her. She’d always sneak off to make phone calls, or disappear for days on end telling you father she had a business trip (obvious lie because what ex-model goes on business trips). Something about her was off, but in all honesty, you didn’t care enough to investigate. You just didn’t like the bitch, period.

“So, Jamilah honey-“

“Don’t call me honey.” You say interrupting her midsentence.

She falters and her eyes momentarily become cold but it’s just for a second, and then she’s beaming at you in that fake stepmother way stepmothers do when they’re trying to impress their husbands. Your father silently watches on, too pussy to say anything to his new wife.

“Ahem, Jamilah. How is everything with the business?” She asks, taking a sip of her wine.

You immediately get irritated. You had a side business running. A hair salon. The problem is that for some strange reason, it was like god didn’t wanna see you prosper, so there was always something wrong with the store. Mysterious fire. Robbery. Hell, y’all even had a lice outbreak once.

“It’s great. Business is booming.” You reply smugly.

A flash of amusement blooms in Delores’ eyes and you narrow yours at her for a second. It’s gone though. She nods with a plastic smile.

“That’s wonderful. About time really.” She says, a deeminging smirk on her face.

You feel your blood boil. “Excuse me?” You ask, finger digging into the table.

“I mean, some would say this idea of yours is the literal definition of insanity. All signs point to this... facility, of yours failing, and every time something heinous happens, you build it up from scrap again. I’m just worried as your mother, that’s all.” She states, all the while smiling and sipping.

You see red and you move to get up, but a hand on your shoulders sends you right back down to your seat and firmly holds you there. You turn around and see Erik looking at you with a cautious look, and you turn back around after taking a deep breath.

“Firstly, you’re not my mother. Second, don’t be worried about me and my business, we’re fine. Worry about how much longer your gonna keep your claws in my father cus from what I’ve seen over the years, your time is running out.” You reply, hate spewing into each word that comes from your mouth.

Your fathers hands slam the table. You jump and look at him. The whole restaurant has gone silent, and your father looks at you with anger in his eyes.

“That is enough. She’s asking because she cares Jamilah. Don’t you see that?” He asks, and it breaks your heart to see the pain in his eyes.

“But daddy, she-“

“I don’t wanna hear it, Jam.” He interrupts. You fall silent, and Erik’s hand on your shoulder softens, almost comforting you.

Tears well in your eyes and you get up from the chair, the sudden movement making Delores jump. You glare at her then at your dad before snatching up your purse and practically running out of there. You run to the main entrance and exit, then whip your phone out and call your limo driver. You wait for the limo not even noticing Erik behind you.

He clears his throat, not liking the awkward atmosphere. You turn around and see that its him, and a wave of anger comes over you. You dont mean to do it, but you immediatley take your anger out on him.

“What the hell makes you think you can touch me? What was that in there? You seem to forget that I’m the one who fucking pays you. I’m the one who lets you have food on your fucking table. Keep pissing me off and I will fire your ass faster than you can say ‘oops’.” You yell at him. At the end of your rant, your panting loudly.

Erik’s face is blank, and bored with the lack of reaction from him, you turn away from him with a huff. Behind you though, Erik silently seethes, and it takes the strength and patience of his ancestors not to each you the lesson you so deprately deserve. The limo pulls up and you step in, sitting far away from Erik. Erik enters and sits, still not speaking.

“Where to, Ma’am?” Your driver asks from the pane that seperates you from him.

“Anubis. Step on it. I’m tryna get drunk tonight.” You reply with an eyeroll.

You hear a scoff next to you and turn your head just as Erik speaks.

“No you not. Straight home, Reggie. Thank you.” Erik says, then closes the pane.

You stare at him baffled. “Um, ex-fucking-scuse me? I said Anubis and I meant that shit.” You seethe, leaning forward to open the pane.

Eriks hand stops you, yanking you back to your seat. You gasp when your butt makes impact with the chair and turn to look at Erik.

“Sit down and shut up. You’re going home.” He says then looks away.

You’re reaction is instant. You hand collides with his cheek hard, a smacking sound resonating through the back seat. Your palm stings from the contact, so your sure Erik felt it. He doesn’t move for a second, just staring ahead, then his head turns towards you. His hand moves to the pane and opens it, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Reggie?”

“Yes?”

“When I close this, this shit becomes sound proof, right?”

“Yes.”

“Aight, just checking.” The hand on the pane shuts it, then moves away.

In a sudden movement, Erik grabs you and you squeal as your sent sprawling over his lap. You bring your arms to brace yourself while asking what the hell he’s doing, but those arms are grabbed and yanked behind you, held securely against your back by one of Erik’s hands. You struggle and kick, but it’s useless.

“What the fuck? Let me up Erik!” You scream, feeling your face go hot from both the position your in and rage.

“Shut up.” He says, calm as can be.

You buck and fight, trying your hardest to get free from this man.

“You can’t talk to me like that you fucking bitch! Let me go right now! Erik, right no-“

Smack!

All thoughts in your head halt, as do the words leaving your mouth. It takes a second for you to register that the loud smack you heard and the stinging pain on your ass correlate. You look at the black leather car seat in shock.

“When I say something Jamilah, I mean that shit.” He grits, repharasing your words in a way that would usually leave you seething, but you’re in too much shock to react.

Seconds go by without you saying anything, but then common sense seeps back into you.

“Erik, let me up.” You say, and it borderline sounds like your begging because you didn’t mean for your voice to be that soft.

“No. Now shut up.” He repeats.

Your anger flares again and you put your head up to say something but another slap lands on your ass and all that leaves you is a gasp of pain.

You lay there silently for what seems like forever but is only a couple of seconds, and what brings you back to your senses again is the feeling of Erik pulling your skirt up.

“No wait!” You squeal, kicking your legs in an attempt to go free again.

He ignores you and pulls it up anyway, leaving your black lace panty covered ass on display. You whimper and struggle again, but it’s futile, so you give up, slumping against him.

Your breath hitches when his fingers are suddenly against your clit, your panties the only thing blocking him. You want to yell at him and ask him what he’s doing, but what leaves your mouth is a keen of need instead. His fingers don’t move much, just pressing slightly over and over again, and he’s so quiet, you don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

Erik watches as your thighs spread open more, as if inviting him. That, and the sound of his name slipping from your lips in an airy, hungry tone snap him back to reality. His hand moves and your skirt is pulled back down.

Your hands are realeased and your pushed back up. Your eyes try to meet his, but he’s doing everything to avoid yours. You stare at him for a moment, your hands fidgeting, and as you open your mouth to comment on what just happened, Reggie’s voice fills the back.

“We’ve arrived, Madam.” He says.

You glance out the window and see people walking in and out of the building you reside in. This is usually a normal sight, but what makes a frown of confusion and curiosity slip onto both yours and Erik’s face is the fact that some of these people are obvious law enforcement while others have the word ‘coroner’ in large yellow print on the back of their navy jackets.

Your door opens and you startle, then you notice Erik had exited and was opening up your door for you. Your eyes meet his. His deep brown pools capture you in their gaze and for a moment, you’re distracted by the havoc moving in and out of the building you live in. You distinctly see his lips move and your snapped back to reality.

“What?” You ask stupidly.

Erik holds back a smile and repeats himself. “I said come out the car Jamilah.”

You nod and step out unto the side walk, then turn towards your building where a line of freaking yellow tape is being drawn. Your eyes widen and you walk towards the doors, only to be stopped by a cop.

“Um, sorry, but you’re gonna have to take your... business, elsewhere Hon.” He says, his eyes on your cleavage the whole time.

You feel your blood boil at the assumption that your a prostitute. What made it all the more upsetting is that you weren’t even dressed like a working girl normally would. This was an expensive ass dress that met the top of your knees. The assumption was based clearly off the color of your skin and that made you wanna rip this pigs head off. You open your mouth to speak but your stopped when Erik takes a step next to you.

“She lives here.” He plainly explains, his eyes trained on the cop with a glare that would freeze hell.

The cop barely holds back his scoff, but his eye roll makes it clear that he doubts your residence. You stare at the cop, arms crossing ass you prepare to tear him a new one, but your interrupted.

“Madam! What is happening here? Officer, let her in right this instant!” Timothy, the manger of said establishment berates, ushering the cop away from the entrance in order to let you in.

The officers shock couldn’t be more apparent, and an ugly hue of pink rises to his face, further reddening his already flushed tone. Erik visibly holds back his words, his jaw working away as he grits his teeth in rage. His hand finds its way to the dip of your back as he turns to walk in but you stop. You turn to the officer who stares at you in distaste and you pull out a card from your purse. You hand it to him and with a sneer, you tell him to expect a call from that number. You turn and walk away heading for the front desk with Erik in tow, and behind you, you miss the blood drain from the officers face as he reads the number of the city’s mayor.

The desk worker smiles and immediately attends to you, walking back to bring you your mail. Meanwhile, you watch the chaos around you. At the bar, not so far from where you and Erik are standing, different people do different tasks, dusting for prints, bagging what appears to be eveidence of some sort, talking animatedly. You listen in on a conversation a waiter is giving to what seems to be a detective.

“- and he just starts convulsing. First, I thought he was having a fit or something, but then the foaming at the mouth turns red and soon he’s just choking on his own blood. Everyone that had run to help him panics thinking it was ebola or some shit like that. Fucking scared the hell out of me, that’s for sure. I ran to the kitchen like my ass was on fire.” He explains animatedly.

“And did you notice anything unusual?” The detective asks, jotting notes.

“Nah. Like I said, ass on fire.” He finishes with a shrug.

“Here’s your mail ma’am.”

You turn back to the desk clerk and collect your mail, sifting through it as you turn away from her. You walk towards the elevators and for a while on your way up, you forget that Erik is even there. That is of course until you get to your room.

You look up when you hear a throat clear. You glance at him and register that he’s been there the whole time. Then of course, flashes of what happened in the car come flooding your mind and if you were pigmented challenged, you’d be a bright red color.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.” He says.

“Um yeah.” You reply, and you mentally curse yourself for being so dry.

The silence following is slightly awkward. You break it.

“What was that in the car?” You ask, suddenly brave.

Erik balks, not expecting the question, but he quickly answers.

“Honestly, you pissed me off.” He says, nonchalant in a way that aggravates you.

“So that makes you think it’s okay to put your hands on me?” You hiss, frown forming on your face.

He scoffs and crosses his arms. He takes a step towards you and the effect is instant. You stiffen and basically break your neck to maintain eye contact. Erik gazed down at you with a look so intense, you can’t help the shuddered sigh that leaves you. His dimples come out to dazzle, a little smirk forming on his lips.

“Baby, if I was putting hands on you, you’d know.” He speaks deeply, and though there’s no reason for you to take this in a filthy way, that’s all that you hear and it’s sets you on fire.

You stutter as you attempt to answer but he takes a step back, still smirking. He presses in the button for the lobby.

“Goodnight Jamilah.”

Just as you were about to speak, the elevator door closes in your face, and you left in the silence of your apartment.

“Huh.”

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