4: DON’T TOUCH ME

At eight a.m. the next morning, Abike made her way to Prince Murewa's room to start her duty. She didn't know what to expect, but if she followed Mrs. Jamila's instructions carefully, she should be okay.

To be honest, she didn't think she would encounter the Prince very often, especially after learning about his daily schedule.

According to what Mrs. Jamila had told her, the Prince trained every morning at six. By nine, he and his friend, Sir Jamal, would train privately till eleven a.m. By eleven thirty, the Prince would be back in his room, where he expects his breakfast to be waiting. He would eat, then rest, and be out for his evening training at three p.m.

By six-thirty, he would be back in his room, where he stays till five a.m the next morning and the cycle repeats itself. No wonder he was always mad and rude, Abike shook her head. If she lived such a monotonous and boring life, she would be constantly angry too.

All she had to do was keep the room clean when he was absent, and she wouldn't have to encounter him when he was present. She had it all figured out.

By the time she reached his door, she was in a better mood. Mrs. Jamila had told her he always left his door unlocked, and she confirmed it when she turned the knob and the door slid open. She stepped curiously into the room, unsure of what to expect, but pleasantly surprised at the outcome.

There was no jarring display of wealth and luxury, as befitting an influential Prince of such a powerful dynasty. The room was ordinary. Very ordinary.

Her room back in Amu had more life than this. The Prince's room had a huge bed that took up one corner of the room, one single-seater couch that looked lonely, a long, dusty mirror, and then the library. The moment Abike sighted the shelf full of books, she shut the door and floated wondrously towards it.

"Wow." Laughter bubbled from her throat as she ran excited fingers down the spine of each book on the middle shelf. Books had always been her escape, and she could see her week turning out great with this collection.

Quickly, she walked around the room to confirm there was nothing to clean. The tiled floor was spotless and nothing was out of place. She peeked quickly into the bathroom, nod impressively at the neat tub and closet, then returned to the bookshelf.

As she browsed for a book to read, Abike thought, I might just like this Prince. By the time she settled on a book, it was 08:15 a.m. She had about three hours to read and get out of here. It was about to be a beautiful week.

***

"Fuck!!" Jamal dropped to the ground, a sweaty mess. He watched his friend, Prince Murewa, do ten more push-ups before dropping down beside him, his breath heavy. "You are pushing the limits today, Murewa. What's the problem?"

"You find my zealousness a problem?" The Prince turned to look at him, his face serious, as usual.

"I heard there was a misunderstanding at the Throne Room meeting yesterday. What happened?"

Murewa jumped to his feet and began to load up the bag with their training supplies. "The Ministers want to use the Amu Kingdom for other purposes."

"What?" Jamal sat up. "They don't get to decide that."

"My point," Murewa answered tightly and Jamal decided to drop the subject for now. He knew the Prince well enough to know he was still fuming. Stressing the subject would only rile him up.

"Let's go." Murewa picked up the bag and moved down the footpath that led to the Palace. Jamal walked after him, wondering what exactly the Ministers were up to this time.

***

"What are you doing?"

Abike jumped, and the book she was reading hit the floor with a thud. She rose from the chair to see a girl standing by the door, a tray of food in her hands.

"What are you doing?" The girl repeated in the same cutting tone as earlier.

"Nothing." Abike picked up the book and returned it to the shelf, her heart thudding frantically at being caught dallying on her first day on the job. She hadn't even heard the door open, that was how distracted she was. What if it was the Prince who had come in?

The girl remained by the door, her eyes narrowed condescendingly. "Mrs. Jamila has been expecting you since eleven. She told you the Prince would be in his room by eleven thirty and would expect his food to be waiting."

Abike didn't like the girl's tone. But right now, she couldn't do anything about it. She was guilty as charged. "Thanks for bringing in the food. Let me have it." She reached for the tray, but the girl held on to it tightly.

"I have it now. Go find something else to do."

Abike let go of the tray and walked out of the room, already deciding she didn't like the girl.

She walked down the hall, away from the Prince's wing when two men stepped off the stairway and directly onto her path. She instantly recognized the Prince.

The men were so tall, so magnificent, Abike stopped in her tracks as they walked towards her, their shirts clinging to their sweaty bodies and powerful muscles.

She noticed the Prince was frowning and she wondered what the other man was saying.

They walked past her without sparing her a glance, like she was part of the vivid wall decorations.

When they were well past her, she sighed in relief and resumed walking. She didn't know what it was about him that held her attention, but what she did know was that this man displaced her Kingdom, and she must hate him.

***

Kemi pretended to be busy with the food when the Prince came in. He didn't notice her hovering aimlessly around the tray because he dropped his bag immediately and headed for the bathroom.

As the tap ran, she dallied nervously, wondering what she would do or say when he eventually stepped out. She was utterly alone with him and didn't know how to behave, even though she had waited for this moment for the longest time.

The tap stopped running and Kemi stood straighter, bracing herself for the Prince's entry.

He stepped into the room with a towel around his waist, and Kemi immediately swooned from the impact of his virility. His gaze landed on her and she stopped breathing as his dark eyes inspected her. For a few seconds, he silently stared.

"What is this?" He asked, finally.

"W-what —?"

"Do not stammer when you are speaking to me." He took a step towards her and Kemi took one backward. "Are you the girl Jamila sent to replace Awelewa today?"

Kemi didn't know what to say, because she didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about.

Mrs. Jamila didn't send her to replace anyone, she was here of her own volition. She had heard the Prince loved sex, and was always willing to perform in that aspect, but no one told her he was this terrifying to be with.

"Get out of my room," he said very calmly, but with gravity. Kemi recognized the command and immediately swung into action. She turned toward the door but it opened at that moment and Mrs. Jamila entered the room.

"Are you mad?" the Prince fired at the woman, his eyes blazing. "What is this girl doing in my room?" He pointed at Kemi. 

Mrs. Jamila's eyes widened. "No, My Prince. I didn't, I —"

"Get out. Both of you."

"I didn't send her," Mrs. Jamila gestured wildly. "She is not here on my orders, My Prince. I only told her to bring you food. Tolani!"

Another girl stepped through the open door and Kemi realized she never stood a chance with the Prince. The new girl had big, voluptuous breasts, and a generous backside. Kemi felt thoroughly embarrassed.

"This was the girl I prepared for you against Awelewa's absence, my Prince." Mrs. Jamila said with pride.

The Prince eyed the three of them like they had developed second heads. "Are you deaf?" He growled. "Get out of my room!"

The three of them rushed outside, shutting the door behind them.

"What were you doing there?" Mrs. Jamila snapped at Kemi when they had moved a long distance away from the Prince's door.

Tolani rushed away.

"It wasn't my fault, ma. Remember you sent me there with the food because the other girl delayed in coming to get it?" Kemi lied. She pressed on when she realized she had Mrs. Jamila's full attention.

"When I got to the Prince's room, I met the girl reading a book. The room was messy and I got scared. I told her to go to the kitchen to see you while I put everything in order, ma. I didn't realize the Prince would find my presence so offensive," Kemi finished with tears in her eyes.

"And who is this girl?" Mrs. Jamila asked.

"She should be in the kitchen, ma."

"Let's go then."

***

Abike didn't know what else to do. There were about fifty servants in the large kitchen and each of them was busy. There was nothing else for her to do. Maybe she should return to her room. Would Fatima be there? Would anyone miss her presence here?

"That's the girl, ma."

Abike turned to see the girl she encountered in the Prince's room pointing at her, with Mrs. Jamila on her heels.

"You were supposed to clean the Prince's room, but you decided to leave it messy to read a book?" Mrs. Jamila attacked.

"The room wasn't messy, ma," Abike answered with embarrassment as she felt almost every pair of eyes in the kitchen on her. Mrs. Jamila's voice was loud and was already creating a scene.

"I made sure everywhere was clean before touching the book."

Instead of responding, Mrs. Jamila looked her up and down. "Come with me," she said finally and turned to leave the kitchen with a smile on her face.

Confused, Abike went after her. Why did the woman smile like that?

She followed the woman out of the busy kitchen and into the hallway, trying to match the woman's fast-legged pace.

"Where are we going, ma?" She asked, but instead of being offended as expected, Mrs. Jamila smiled at her.

"To the Prince's room, of course."

Abike's step faltered.

She had seen the Prince come in earlier, so she knew for sure that he was inside. What were they going there for?

"Why, ma?"

Mrs. Jamila stopped walking and looked at her like she was retarded, then suddenly the woman smiled again. "Ohhh, you are from Amu, no wonder. You see, I am taking you to the Prince. To bed him."

"To what?!"

"Have sex," the woman said impatiently.

"Are you a kid?" She eyed Abike. "It is a privilege to be among the Prince's Harem, which is where you would be if he likes you. It means no more hard work for you. Just eat, sleep and look pretty." The woman chuckled and started walking again.

"Why me?"

"Don't feel too cocky," Mrs. Jamila said offhandedly. "The Prince likes Awelewa, but she is out of the Palace on an errand so a fresh face would suit him just fine. And you look very fresh. And clean. But you are still a replacement, nonetheless." They rounded the bend and were now in the hallway leading to the Prince's room.

"Ma, please, I don't want to do this." Abike tried one last time and the woman whirled to face her, her face scrunched up in an ugly scowl.

"It is not your choice, servant. This is an order. So be careful to follow it so you won't find yourself punished," she warned. "And if I so much as hear one word of complaint about you, so help me God..." she marched down the corridor again and Abike followed dazedly.

Her heart started to thud dully when Mrs. Jamila knocked on the Prince's door.

"Come in."

The last time she had heard him speak, it was in the Great Throne Room where he had rudely threatened a man three times his age. He sounded surprisingly calm at the moment.

"Let's go," Mrs. Jamila whispered harshly as she stepped through the open door.

The Prince was sitting on the edge of his bed, a tray of food on his lap. He glanced briefly at her, then turned to the Head Servant. "Is there a problem?"

"No, my Prince. Well, just a little problem." Mrs. Jamila cleared her throat. "I am sorry about earlier, My Prince. I swear that girl was acting on her own. Awelewa is out of the Palace and so is Tinu, so I was hoping this one would do." She nodded in Abike's direction.

Abike hardened her gaze as the Prince turned towards her again, his eyes lingering and roaming blatantly over her body. This man was truly a bastard. So he had a harem of women who just existed to warm his bed? Wow.

His gaze finally met hers and Abike looked away, unable to hold his gaze for any longer than a second. He was breathtaking.

Even up close, his beauty didn't diminish, instead, it was intensified by how brown his eyes were, how his thick, black hair curled at his temple, how his jaw was perfectly sculpted, and how his eyes had a slightly feline curve. He was painfully perfect.

But was he worth what she was about to give up?

This man would toss her aside in a second. Abike sneaked another glance at him and regretted it instantly. It was like she could see all her flaws in his eyes. He had appraised her and she fell short.

Hurt bubbled inside her.

"Awelewa wouldn't be back soon?" The Prince turned his attention back to the Head Servant.

"No, My Prince."

"Tinu?"

"Tomorrow, My Prince."

The Prince took another morsel of his food and chewed slowly, his eyes moving between her and Mrs. Jamila like he was contemplating what to do.

"Leave us," he said finally and Mrs. Jamila exited the room, her face wreathed in smiles.

Abike watched as the Prince promptly resume his food like she wasn't there. She was scared, but there was nothing she could do than relax.

Mrs. Jamila had said he didn't like to sleep with the same woman twice, except with Awelewa. And judging from the way he had looked at her like she was the lowest scum of the earth, she was sure this was going to be a one-time event.

"Take off your clothes." She heard him order as he picked up the glass of water after taking his last spoonful.

Abike hesitated and he looked up at her, the glass halfway to his mouth. She immediately reached behind to unzip the gown, her fingers shaking terribly. The strip down became a little bearable when he looked away from her and bit by bit, she shed her clothes until she was standing naked before him. The dull thud of her heart had accelerated into an ache, but she maintained a relaxed posture.

Should she tell him she was a virgin? Or should she just wing it and see where this led?

The Prince poured himself another glass of water,  before finally putting down the tray.

"Move to the wall."

Abike walked slowly towards the wall, deciding to keep shut and act disinterested. This would end soon. She stopped a few feet away from the wall, her eyes trained on the stark brown paint in front of her. She heard rustling behind her and itched to turn. What was he doing? Was he getting undressed too?

Suddenly, he was behind her, and her brain shut down. She couldn't think; she couldn't speak.

The outline of his shadow appeared on the wall in front of her and she reeled at the impact of his nearness. He was there. He was there.

His angled head towards hers and she turned the other way, scared. "I don't kiss," he said gruffly, mistaking her action. "Raise your hands, whore."

"I'm not a whore," Abike frowned. He might be used to messing around with whores, but she wasn't one of them. Again, she contemplated telling him her sexual situation.

The Prince moved closer until he was pressing against her, flattening her breast against the hard wall in front of her. Amidst the strangeness of the entire situation, Abike felt herself rouse in pleasure. She immediately felt repulsed by her wantonness. The goal was to act disinterested, and not feel anything!

"What did you say?" She felt his breath on her ear and clamped her mouth shut. Was her body about to betray her?

She shook her head in response to his question and his fingers wrapped lightly around her neck, pushing her face into the wall. "Use your words."

"Nothing." Her voice failed her and she cleared her throat. "I didn't say anything," she repeated loudly.

"Good. Now raise your hands," he repeated the command. "Whore."

Abike complied, raising her hands slowly and breathing in relief when his fingers loosened around her neck. She huffed silently, cursing her body's shameless response to everything he did.

"You have an attitude. I don't like it," he whispered, his arms coming around her to palm her breasts. Abike bit back a moan.

She was getting heated up by everything he did. His nearness. His raspy voice. His touch. He clamped her nipples between his fingers and rolled them gently. Abike bit her lips harder, painfully holding back her moan. But the mere thought of his hands on her was exciting, it was difficult to stay calm.

He flipped her, and she was facing him, her back against the wall. Unable to look directly into his face, Abike lowered her head, only to be confronted by the erection jutting from between his legs, as big and powerful as the man himself.

He was naked!

She started to hyperventilate. No. She couldn't do this. She couldn't take him. He would tear her into two halves! She should confess now.

Her wondering was cut short when he lowered his head. Abike held her breath, bracing herself for anything. She was, however, shocked to feel his tongue gently lap at her nipples, teasing softly. Liquid pooled at the apex of her thighs.

As he sucked on one nipple, he tweaked the other, gently. His other hand roamed her body freely; sweeping up her neck, down her back, her butt, her stomach, everywhere. She ached to touch him, but her hands remained limply by her side.

"Open your legs." He tapped her butt and she complied. One thick finger touched her and she was lost, her body was no longer hers. His touch was so gentle and feathery, very unlike the man himself.

She bit back another moan, struggling hard against the torrent of pleasure he was meting out on her. The Prince raised his head, his eyes glazed with lust. At the disinterest in her eyes, anger replaced the lust.

"Bitch." He pressed her against the wall again, knocking the breath out of her lungs for a few seconds. The pleasure intensified, causing her eyes to almost roll to the back of her head. However, she struggled to remain impassive.

"Your body is telling me a completely different story from your eyes." He held up his finger, wet and glistening from her juice.

She wanted to turn away, but he held her chin, forcing her to maintain eye contact. From her peripheral vision, she saw him lower his hand and his finger was on her again, touching the sensitive bud; while his eyes remained on hers, challenging.

All the struggles she had ever faced were nothing compared to this —maintaining a neutral expression while feeling a pleasure so intense she thought she would burst.

As the finger curved and sank into her warmth, his mouth was on her nipple again, suckling and lapping. She closed her eyes and bit back another moan, but it escaped and hung in the air.

Suddenly, he wasn't there anymore. Her eyes flew open to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his bulging organ enclosed in his fist.

"Come here."

Abike swallowed as she approached him slowly. She couldn't do this; it would go up to her throat. This was the best moment to tell him she was a virgin. Still, Abike couldn't bring herself to.

The Prince tugged her until she was straddling him, his erection stiffly poised at the entrance of her opening.

He bent his glorious head and his tongue touched her nipple again. Abike sank slowly onto him, paralyzed by the immediate pleasure she felt at the contact. The pleasure was so great, that she threw away her inhibitions and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer for a kiss.

He froze. Completely.

"Don't touch me. Ever."

Before she could withdraw from him, he clamped his fingers around her waist and slammed into her in one potent stroke.

Abike cried out, pleasure quickly dissolving into discomfort and pain as he broke through her maidenhead and buried himself inside her warmth.

He felt the resisting barrier a little too late and froze again.

"What- is that- what...?" His mouth kept moving but he couldn't form any coherent words. He made to push her, but she quickly climbed down and took several steps away from him.

He stood and raised accusing eyes to her, his member suddenly hanging limp in between his legs. "What the fuck was that?" His eyes trailed down her body to her legs and Abike knew what he was looking at. She could feel it without even taking a look.

It was blood.

"What the fuck?" His eyes widened. "Did you set me up? Did you and Jamila set me up?"

"N-no," she argued. "I—"

"What the fuck." He dragged his hands down his face and turned to the wardrobe. As he picked out his pants and pulled them up his legs, Abike quickly did the same with her clothes. By the time he turned, she was fully dressed.

"Get out of my room." His voice was surprisingly calm, despite the heat blazing in his eyes.

When she didn't instantly obey, he exploded.

"Get the fuck out of my room!" He cursed, his eyes wild with anger and Abike was reminded of whose touch she had been enjoying just moments ago. He was a beast, the animalistic look in his eyes was a reminder of that.

He stalked towards her, and Abike raced out of the room, flinching when he slammed the door shut immediately, missing her heel by a fraction.

She sniffed back tears and turned blindly to run towards her room, hoping she didn't encounter anyone on the way. But then, who did she have here that cared about her? Her sniveling turned into full sobs as she ran down the hallway towards the large room where she stayed.

Just seconds ago, she had been touched by the same devil who plunged her into this mess. She never imagined she would lose her virginity this way, but she had somehow been unable to tell him.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she really was a whore, because the only reason she didn't tell him was that she feared he would stop. And she didn't want him to...she enjoyed his touch way too much.

Abike pushed the door open and through the sheen of tears, found her bunk and threw herself on the bed, her body heaving as she wept.

Was life going to get any better? Or was it downhill from here?

***

Okay, so I really love this scene because you know why! Lol.

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