14: TOUCH ME

Murewa watched the recruits file out of their base towards the camp clearing, his gaze searching each young face for Muyiwa.

It was almost the end of their first week and he was required to lecture them on what to expect and how to behave. He always let Jamal do all the talking though.

The young boys didn't seem too happy to be woken up at seven a.m for a pep talk and he smiled at how easy they were getting it now.

When he was with his Grandfather in camp, seven a.m. was too late.

He sighted Muyiwa standing afar off, away from the others, but not too far to be obvious. Their gazes met from across the clearing and Murewa held his gaze, staring back until the boy looked away.

"Quiet!" Jamal shouted and the boys went silent.

"He said quiet and you are still talking," Murewa barked at a boy who looked barely eighteen.

"Fall out!"

The boy looked at the friends he was talking to in panic but they all seemed to have deserted him, their unwavering gazes on Murewa, their faces straight.

"Fall out!'' Jamal echoed and the boy's gaze slid to him, his eyes widening with each passing second.

Murewa and Jamal both looked formidable in their army strappings and holstered guns, so he understood why a young boy would be so scared. But if he didn't handle them like this now, they would remain spineless and undisciplined young men.

The boy made his way out slowly and as soon as he was within arms reach, Murewa grabbed him and raked him down. The boy hit the stony ground with his knees, his face scrunching up, a sure sign of tears.

"One tear falls from your face and you would sleep out here tonight," Murewa threatened and the boy clamped his mouth shut.

He felt a deathly calm fall on the rest of the recruits.

"In these parts, you only do whatever you are instructed to do," he shouted, raising his head to look at the rest of the boys.

"If I say move, you move. If I say jump, you jump. If I say shout, you do so, without questions!" He looked down at the embarrassed boy and decided to let him go.

"Get up!" He ordered and the boy rushed to his feet and towards the crowd.

"Come back here," Jamal shouted and the boy jumped again, frightened into confusion.

"He said get up, he didn't say you could go," Jamal simplified.

The boy trudged back, his shoulder dropping with every step. "Are you retarded?" Murewa snapped as the boy stopped in front of him, his head down.

"I was just saying something and then you go ahead and do the opposite. I said only do as you are instructed!"

"Yes sir," the boy answered quickly.

"Go!"

The boy stood indecisively for a moment and the crowd began to stir again.

"I said go!"

He dashed off and Murewa noticed he sat far away from his friends this time. Good. Lesson one learned. In times of need and trouble, you will always find yourself alone.

Jamal cleared his throat and silence descended again. Every pair of eyes was on them.

"I hope you have all been having a good week..." he started. "Today is Friday and in a few days, you would start having a clearer understanding of why you are here. These past few days have been so easy and it's just our way of welcoming you, giving you ample time to adapt to the new environment."

"I know it can be hard, not seeing your mothers every morning when you wake up or not having your little sister bring you food five times a day. But in a few weeks, all that would seem very trivial as you would be facing real difficulties like how to handle a sword, how to shoot an arrow, how to dodge bullets, and basic skills to staying alive."

The boys began to steer in excitement.

"You would be training two times a day and anyone who gets to training late would sleep outside here, in this clearing without a sleeping bag or pillow or whatever. Nothing. And this would be a good time to add that we never fumigate this place. We are environmentally friendly to people, snakes, and scorpions." He paused.

"There is no forgiveness in this part and whatever you do comes with a consequence, either good or bad, it depends on your actions. We are not your enemies, you would learn that soon enough. We are your friends, here to teach and equip you because sometimes life comes at you hard and fast, not caring how experienced you are, how young you are, or how handsome you are. When it comes you have to be prepared. That's what we do in this place. Prepare you."

He paused to let the boys catch up.

"We started this program seven years ago and who can tell me why?" Jamal asked and they all stared back in silence.

"Whoever gets it right would be rewarded," he added and five hands shot up.

Jamal pointed to one of them and he stood slowly.

"This program started because eight years ago, ten young boys were kidnapped by Amu thugs, and only one of them was able to escape because his Father had taught him how to defend himself. If all the boys had been taught, they would have been safe."

"That's correct. What's your name, boy?"

"Segun."

"Next time, if you know something, be bold enough to say it and not wait for a reward to ginger you. Rewards are most often than not a trap, just like this one."

Murewa stood proudly as Jamal talked to the boys, lecturing them and forcing them to unlearn the bad habits they brought along. Eight years doing this together and Jamal was proving to be better at it year after year.

"There is no hate here and if caught engaged in any brawls or fights, the punishment for that particular offense is very severe. If we can't learn to live together in peace as warriors, we would never be able to fight together against the enemies on the battleground. A word is enough for the wise."

Jamal stepped back and Murewa took the baton.

He sighed as this particular chore was one he would rather leave to Jamal, but he could not leave here without saying something.

"You have heard what your Master has to say and if you don't listen to all he has said, there would be a problem. Have a good day."

He and Jamal stood together as the Level two officers directed the boys back to their base, the clearing emptying slowly until they were alone.

"Real work starts on Sunday. Good luck trying to train them into fearless men," Jamal laughed beside him.

"Stop with that, we have trained even more spineless boys." Murewa shook his head.

"True enough." Jamal nodded. "Remember that boy of two years ago who used to cry whenever he saw you?"

Murewa was forced to laugh at the memory. "I think his name was Ayo. I wonder where he is now."

"Probably in the city. He wanted to go join the national army," Jamal answered. "You did a mighty work on that one. If you could train that one, you can train anyone."

Murewa held back his smile at the compliment. For eight years, he had tried his best to train each set of young men that were recruited. Some excelled beyond expectations and stayed back to join the army, some didn't have such capability and went back to their mother's bosoms. But he could boast that all the young men he trained were very apt in self-defense against a vast range of attacks.

That was the ultimate goal.

Jamal walked beside him towards the other side of the camp where the Level three soldiers were currently training.

He watched proudly as the men went through the stages of the exercise, each stage harder than the last. He tried to tune down the pride he felt because these were Level threes, he shouldn't expect any lesser, but still, they were humans and were bound to mess up sometimes. The fact that he had never seen them mess up was something he reveled in.

He stood watching them for a while before leaving Jamal behind and walking up the clearing to the other base where the Level fours were practicing.

He watched as their supervisor took them through each stage and felt the same pride. He had done something here, something to be so proud of.

It was too bad he couldn't do the same for himself. Here he was, at thirty, scared to take a break and understand how he was letting a twenty-three years old girl torment him.

He shouldn't have touched Iroko. He should have just let him go because the man was just doing his job. It's what he had always done. But seeing Abike yesterday, her eyes so full of hurt and pain, he had to do something.

He had thought dealing with Iroko would make him feel better, but it hadn't, instead, he found himself struggling with the fact that he liked someone.

Was his mother turning in her grave right now?

He had deliberately stayed away from his room yesterday because he didn't want to be in the same space with her. He had held her in the cell and it had felt so perfect.

He raised his palms and stared at them. The feel of her through the thin material of her cloth, her soft hair, he couldn't get it off his mind. It was the first time in eighteen years that he was holding a woman in a nonsexual way and he liked it.

He wouldn't lie to himself. He wanted to do it again.

Should he let himself enjoy the feelings Abike evoked in him? Should he spend as much time and be with her for as long as it pleased him?

He had lived a vigorous, lonely life. He just wanted some form of peace; and with her, he got it. Should he keep her?

He had promised his mother before her death that he wouldn't love any other woman and that still stood. He was never going to let himself fall in love with the servant girl. He wasn't even capable of love.

Whatever he was feeling for her right now were selfish feelings. He just needed her to make him feel better for a little while.

"Come on." Jamal walked past him towards their private training area. "Let's go."

Murewa shook the thoughts of Abike out of his mind and went after his friend.

***

After three hours of training, Murewa decided to go back to the Palace. He had a meeting with his Grandfather in a few minutes.

"You are leaving?" Jamal asked, his voice shaky from the strain of the weights he was lifting.

"Yes. I have a very important meeting with the Grandfather," Murewa answered, relaxing his body after a stretch.

"I thought you already went to the mines with him yesterday." Jamal threw down the weights and sank onto the bench.

"Yes. I'd see you later," Murewa said evasively and walked away.

To be honest, he also didn't know what his Grandfather wanted to talk about. On their way back from the mines last night, the man had requested a private meeting today and he had said it so seriously it made Murewa very concerned.

As he approached his room door, his thoughts deflected to Abike again and he put a stronger leash on it. He had tried to keep thoughts of her out of his mind for hours and succeeded, he couldn't fail now. Not when he was about to meet his Grandfather. He needed his wits about him for that.

Thankfully, his room was empty when he walked in and he quickly took a quick bath and changed before heading to his Grandfather's room.

The man was seated at the table eating a lonely lunch.

"Balogun..." he called fondly, looking up as Murewa entered.

"Grandfather." Murewa shook his outstretched hands and sat beside him. "You wanted to see me?" He went straight to the point.

The man laughed and took the last bite of his food. "Are you in a hurry?"

Murewa sighed and forced himself to relax. "No. But tired. Just came back from training."

"Oh true, I almost forgot." The man pushed the empty plate of food away from him and turned to face his grandson. "I trust it went well?"

"Like always," Murewa answered, impatient with his grandfather's delay tactics.

"Olumurewa..."

"Grandfather."

"You are thirty years old."

"I am?" Murewa answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. What was the man driving at?

"You have never been serious with any girl," his Grandfather said and Murewa looked up in shock. This was the first time the man would show an interest in this part of his life. And why now?

"You need to find a girl to settle down with, everyone is expecting it of you."

"By everyone you mean?"

"Murewa..." the man narrowed his eyes in warning.

"What?" Murewa continued stubbornly. "My father has no right to expect shit from me. Isn't that why he married Habibah when I went off to camp years ago? So she could give him an heir and he could finally kill me like his father killed my mom?"

"Young man, we talked about forgiveness," the Grandfather said. "Forgive your father, son."

"I don't have any problem with him as long as he stays away from me."

"I am the one talking to you now, Balogun. Look at me." He waited till Murewa looked up.

"I have always loved you, son, you know that. It's been many years, but I am fading away now. I feel like I don't have much time left."

Murewa was suddenly hit by an overwhelming tide of guilt. His Grandfather had always been a fighter, strong and well-built. For years, his Grandfather remained immovable, like a rock that couldn't be moved. But lately, Murewa had noticed the man looked sickly. His skin looked a lot wrinkled and it seemed his bad leg was getting worse causing him to lean heavily on his cane lately.

The guilt kept him silent for a few seconds.

"I have been meaning to ask...are you okay?" Murewa asked quietly.

The man laughed, shaking his head as he did so.

"I am not. You need to provide me with a grandchild, Murewa."

Murewa shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't think his Grandfather was the kind of man to be bothered by such frivolities.

"I didn't think you would worry about that," Murewa grumbled.

"Why not? Look at me, old and gone, I need my grandchild to feel good again."

Murewa sighed. "I haven't met any woman with whom I would want to have a child."

"Awelewa?"

"Awelewa?" Murewa repeated.

"Yes."

Murewa shook his head silently.

"What? You don't love her?"

Murewa shook his head again.

"Who do you love?"

"No one, Grandfather," Murewa managed to say, completely fed up with the whole conversation.

If he had known this was what the man wanted to talk about, he wouldn't have come.

"No one? Fifty women in your harem and you don't like anyone of them?" His Grandfather was already getting upset and it only amused Murewa.

"Well, I like all of them for different reasons. I thought you were talking about love."

"I am not joking, boy." His Grandfather glared.

"I am not a boy." Murewa slapped his palm on the table, upsetting an empty bottle. It rolled and rolled until it hit a flower vase and stopped.

"I am a man." He was getting really angry too. This was the most foolish discussion he has had in a long time.

"Be calm," his Grandfather said with sad eyes.

"It seems this conversation is putting you off. Let's talk about it later?"

"I'll see you later then." Murewa pushed his chair back and left the room.

***

The room was empty again, Abike grumbled as she walked in with the Prince's tray of food. She hadn't seen him since yesterday and she was beginning to get worried. It was already some minutes after one p.m., way past his arrival time.

The door slammed shut and she jumped in fright, turning with the tray in her hands. She turned to see him leaning on the closed door, blocking the exit.

He was dressed in his usual wear: grey pants and a black shirt. His eyes were unwavering as he looked at her. Abike didn't look away.

They stared at each other silently for seconds that felt like an eternity, until he pushed himself from the door and walked into the room, towards the bed, while giving her a wide berth.

She turned so she wouldn't lose sight of him as he moved towards the other side of the bed.

"Good afternoon, my Prince," she greeted, her voice low. He made no reply as he sat on the bed, his head turned in her direction.

"You didn't come back yesterday," she said in an accusing tone, hating that she sounded so whiny.

She hadn't intended for it to come out like that.

He tilted his head and Abike watched in confusion as his eyes changed with emotions. What was he thinking?

"Were you waiting for me?" He asked finally and she looked down.

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"Why?"

She looked up at him again. He didn't have his usual blank look, he had an expression on his face this time, but what was it? Why was he looking at her like that?

"I wanted to see you." She knew she was being forward. This was the great Prince Murewa.

For the past eight years, she had only heard tales about him. Now she was in Ore as a servant and here he was, looking at her in a way that meant...could she hope?

"Why did you want to see me?" He didn't look like he was messing with her, his eyes told her he wanted answers. Well, she wanted them too.

"You hugged me," she blurted out of the blues, and for the first time, Murewa looked embarrassed.

"It was a one-time thing, don't let it mean anything to you." His voice was rough and her first instinct was to curl up and cry, but something about his demeanor told her something wasn't right. Prince Murewa wasn't one to go around hugging servant girls.

"But it meant something," she argued softly.

"That's your problem." He didn't look up at her and she remained quiet. After a while without a word from him, she set down the tray and turned to leave. His harsh voice stopped her.

"You are very forward for a servant, aren't you?"

She gasped, the question shattering every fantasy she had built around her.

"Yes, you are," he answered the question himself.

"Look at you, asking me silly questions, saying silly things, all because I have been lenient with you. You are taking it all for granted."

She hurried towards the door, her eyes filling with tears. She was so weak when it came to him, it was downright pathetic.

"Don't open that door!"

"I'm leaving!" She fired back in a shaky voice, not halting her movements as the exit loomed closer.

"Don't.fucking.move. If you open that door, so help me God..." he trailed off and Abike came to a halt.

"Turn the fuck around, don't make me say it twice."

She turned, her eyes glossy with tears and Murewa felt cheated. When the Queen had slapped her the other day at breakfast, this witch didn't cry. When Iroko had hit her yesterday, this witch didn't cry, but now, just because he said a few things out of anger, waterworks!

His heart twisted in his chest as he watched her struggle to maintain her composure.

What was he going to do with this one?

She turned her face to wipe her eyes and his gaze finally caught a fading red welt across her right cheek. His muscles tightened and he fought to calm himself. Iroko had been duly punished, there was nothing else he could do.

"Does the welt on your cheek still hurt?" he asked after a long silence.

She kept silent and he felt himself go soft as her shoulders shook in an attempt to be stubborn.

He really shouldn't be letting her get away with these things. She would become too aware of his confusing feelings for her and prey on him. That was the way of women.

Even Awelewa and her colleagues whom he didn't have any feelings for would sometimes try to prey on whatever they thought he felt for them.

He imagined what this one would do if she realized the extent of his...

Of his what? He felt nothing!

"I know you hear me talking," he snapped and she flinched. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"It's fine," she answered stubbornly and he let her slide. He didn't want to shout at her anymore.

She had asked him why he had hugged her yesterday and he didn't have an answer to that.

But would it be so bad if he did it again?

"Come, mama," he said, finally losing the battle with himself. She was looking so cute standing there, he couldn't hold back.

He was being selfish, he reassured himself. Holding her yesterday had made him feel so content and he just wanted to feel that way again. He was just using her for his selfish reasons. There was nothing too special about it.

"Come," he repeated softly and she dragged her legs towards him, stopping till she was a few feet away. He pulled her towards him and splayed his legs so she was standing in between them.

She had the perfect petite stature so he didn't have to tilt his head to look at her face.

He gripped her waist and pulled her even closer. She looked so sad.

He didn't know what to say so he just rested his head on her stomach, his arms snaking round to encircle her waist. She remained silent, her arms hanging limply by her side.

Murewa closed his eyes in bliss, he could feel all his stress seeping out, the simple contact providing relief.

He closed his eyes tightly and thought about what he was about to say for a moment.

"Touch me."

"Hmm?" She wanted to move back but his arms held tighter, imprisoning her.

He wasn't about to repeat what he just said so if she didn't hear, that was it.

A few seconds later, she lifted her arms and he steeled himself for the contact. Her fingers dipped in his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good. Then her fingers were on his temple, touching, feeling.

"Your forehead feels hot, do you have a headache?" She asked so softly, that he felt like a baby. He couldn't even get mad. His eyes remained closed and he shook his head against her stomach.

Her fingers went back into his hair to continue her massage. Even if he had a headache, it was sure to disappear with how good this felt.

Her fingers ran down the back of his neck in light, feathery caresses that made him doubt if she was even touching him at all.

Then she did something that touched him deep in his core. She put both arms around his neck and pressed deeper against him while resting her forehead on his. It was the most intimate touch he had ever felt, and the action spoke louder than a thousand words.

She liked him.

He pulled away and looked into her eyes like he was seeing her for the first time. She looked so beautiful, her eyes unsure and scared as she stared back. "Did I do too much?" She asked. Yes, Murewa thought to himself. You did.

His silence spooked her and she wiggled out of his hold, wringing her fingers in front of her.

"I am sorry..."

He grabbed her wrist again and pulled her closer till she stumbled onto his lap. She sat rigidly, clearly uncomfortable with the closeness.

"How did you spend your morning?" She asked awkwardly, trying to dispel the silence.

He didn't know why silence bothered her, it didn't bother him. Still, he decided to indulge her.

"The usual way. Training sessions."

She nodded quickly, her eyes everywhere but him. "Uhm, c-can I still touch you?" Murewa knew he couldn't say no.

"Yes."

She lifted her arms and circled them around his neck, resting her head in the crook of his neck, he put his arms around her waist reflexively and she sighed, her breath fanning his neck. He stirred as he felt his member coming awake in his pants.

"You arrived late," she said.

"Well..." Murewa wasn't sure what he was doing. It was the first time in his life he would be recounting details of his day to someone else. "I had to speak to my recruits first before training."

"Recruits?" She lifted her head, though her arms stayed around his neck.

"Hmm." he nodded. "We recruit boys age eighteen and above every year to train in the army for twelve months. We want every man in the kingdom to be well trained in defense."

"That's thoughtful." She rested her head on his shoulder again. "You only train with Jamal?"

"Every day. But I also train with the Level threes and fours."

"Who are they?" She mumbled against his neck and he lost his concentration for like two seconds.

"Trained soldiers. Level Threes are those who have been training for three years. Level fours are those who have been training for..."

"Four years?" She interjected and he found himself smiling. "Four years and above."

"No level ones and twos?"

"The recruits are level ones. Level twos are the recruits who choose to stay in the army after their compulsory one-year training."

"Some choose to stay behind?"

"Majority of them always choose this. It's nice to know you have the power to defend yourself when the need arises, most of them want that."

"I want it too," she said softly and Murewa felt his arms tighten around her on their own accord. It couldn't be him acting like such a simp.

Suddenly she became restless. He felt the shocking sensation of her wet mouth on his neck and froze. It was like an electric shock and he wanted to feel it again. She granted his unspoken wish and began to press hot, wet kisses on his neck, down to his shoulders; he bit back a moan.

"I only said you could touch, I didn't say you could do that," he complained but she wasn't listening.

His groan escaped as she found a sensitive spot just beneath his ear and licked at it, her tongue lapping tentatively like she was scared of what his reaction would be.

Well, he liked it. He more than liked it. But he liked to be in control in situations like this, he couldn't have any woman controlling him.

He should tell her to stop after a few more seconds, but he didn't want to shout at her again because it made him feel weird. He told himself he was being selfish and it made him feel better.

It wasn't like he had any real feelings for this girl or anything. He was just being who he was. A selfish bastard who took what he wants whenever he wanted it. He didn't care who he hurt in the process.

Her fingers slipped under his shirt and he froze as her palm connected with his skin. It wasn't the first time a female was touching him like that, but it was the first time he was feeling it so acutely. So intensely. How this was any different, he couldn't tell.

"Stop, mama," he whispered into her ear as her fingers brushed his nipples. His penis jumped inside his pants. She didn't stop; instead, she began to move on his lap, her hands roaming his body, tormenting him.

"Stop." He grabbed her hand and moved it to his erection. She gasped and froze when she came in contact with his hardness. "You need to stop if you don't want to get fucked on the floor."

She didn't move a muscle.

"Good girl," he whispered. "Let's do this my way." He picked her up and set her on her feet.

"Take off your clothes."

She looked away from him, suddenly shy. He watched her play with the hem of her gown for a few seconds.

"Don't act all coy now, you weren't like this when you were asking for it. Now I am about to deliver, take off your damn clothes, mama."

She reached behind to unzip her gown and he quickly pulled off his shirt. When he noticed it was taking her too much time to unzip, he reached for her, turned her around, and pulled down the zip.

"Take it off."

She let the gown fall gently to the ground and stepped out of it, then she was standing naked.

He had seen a lot of beautiful women, but no one as beautiful as her.

"Lay on the bed."

He watched her move towards the bed and sit on the edge, looking down at her feet. He held her legs and pushed her until she was lying straight.

He left her for another brief moment to take off his pant and she tried to cover herself.

After pulling off his pants, he climbed onto the bed again. She looked so innocent laying there with her hands over her breasts and vagina, Murewa was forced to just watch for a moment.

She couldn't even look at him.

For ages, women had always played this part in bed: the innocent temptress who didn't know what came next. Even though some men liked it, it never held water when it came to him; because he liked women who knew what to do. He didn't have time.

But with Abike, he was fast discovering that he had time. Plenty of it. He climbed over her, took both her arms and pinned them over her head.

Her breasts rode up with the movement and he couldn't take his eyes off them for a long minute.

"I want to try something I have never done before..." he murmured, his eyes on her.

"You want to kiss me?" Her eyes widened slightly and he smiled. "How do you know I haven't kissed before?"

She smiled back, her eyes smiling with her.

"I just know."

Murewa held back, suddenly feeling very inadequate. He had never kissed before, he wasn't sure he even knew how to.

"Kiss me," she said so surely and confidently that he narrowed his eyes at her and asked.

"Have you kissed before?"

She remained silent, her watchful eyes on him.

"I..."

"Do not lie to me woman."

"Yes," she answered. "Yes, I have."

He felt a pang in his chest and separated himself from the painful feeling. It could be a heart attack for all he cared, he wasn't going to examine it.

"Really? How many?"

He was naked —poised over her, while asking foolish questions like a high school boy.

"One. Teju, that's his name."

"I didn't ask," he snapped and she closed her mouth and looked away. He remained in his position, shuffling between anger and disgust for how very foolish he was acting.

Abike pulled away from him and sat up.

"It's okay if..."

"Shut your mouth and lie down." He pulled her legs and she slipped back to the bed.

"Don't think I'm not going to fuck you just because of a prick named Teju." He bent and bit her neck.

She moaned and tilted her head to grant him more access.

He had both her arms locked in one of his over her head and the other hand trailed down her body freely, touching and caressing as it traced a hot path towards her sex.

As one finger parted her and touched her clit, she jerked off the bed; her moan so loud it went straight to his brain, dulling his anger. He just wanted to hear her make that sound again and again.

He kept touching her and her moans filled the room. She was so sensitive. He raised his head and watched as she writhed on the bed with her eyes closed, her face scrunched in pleasure.

He approved.

Her breasts danced as she moved restlessly and he bent to capture the closest nipple in his mouth.

He sucked and laved at the pebbled bud slowly and she began to shake, her breaths coming in gasps.

"Please..." she begged and the broken plea intoxicated him. He wanted to hear it again, with his name this time.

"Say my name." His open mouth touched her stomach and she screamed in pleasure.

He trailed kisses up her body, deliberately avoiding the other nipple as he touched his mouth to her neck.

"Say my name..." he bit down her neck and pressed his tongue to the spot. She moaned.

"Murewa.."

"What do you want, mama?" He kissed her jaw, his mouth so dangerously close to her lips and she almost went insane. What did she want?

"I want you," she said, brutally honest.

His mouth halted in its movement and his body tensed. "You want me?"

"Yes."

He was like a mad man after that, his mouth sucking and licking as his fingers tortured her down there. Soon, he aligned himself with her and finally released her arms.

She put them around his neck and put her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Chill, mama, I don't want to hurt you..." he shook his head and began to lower himself inside her.

His body shook as he penetrated, her walls closing in on him, tightening against him.

"Oh..." he groaned deeply and pushed himself in, all the way.

Abike began to move against him, impatient with his slow strokes. As they moved against each other, his face contorted with pleasure. It was a heady feeling and it gave her such a sense of satisfaction.

He was like that because of her. So out of character.

Pride swelled inside her and Abike locked her legs over his waist and began to move faster.

"Fuck...hold up, mama." He begged, but Abike was beyond listening now. She felt the pleasure building up inside her and she wanted to see it crash.

Suddenly his own body tensed and he rested on the bed with his shoulder. He swept his arms under their entwined bodies and held her waist, pinning her to the bed. He bent to capture one pebbled nipple in his mouth and he slid out as he sucked. She whimpered in pleasure. She was done for.

"You asked for it," he said huskily, a note of warning in his voice. Before she could say anything else, he slammed into her. Abike screamed.

"Shush, mama." He slammed into her again and Abike clamped her mouth shut to keep from screaming the second time.

He began to stroke even faster and deeper; she couldn't hold back anymore. She stretched beneath him as stars danced behind her eyes.

"Come for me, mama." He sounded so tender, that she gave up herself and her heart.

Murewa felt her spasm beneath him and groaned in satisfaction. Now that she had gotten her pleasure, he could chase his own. He stroked deeper, gingered by her deep moans and soon he felt tense as he emptied himself inside her.

They went limp, their breathing heavy as they came down from their high.

He felt Abike move under him and let her go. She climbed down from the bed and began to slide into her cloth.

"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously. She was acting like a prostitute who after sleeping with a client, packed up her things and left.

"I don't know if you would want me with you after sex," she said honestly.

Murewa thought about what she said.

He didn't normally want women cuddling up to him after sex, but this one...

"Do you want to go?"

"No."

"What do you want to do now that we've had sex?"The gown dropped back to the ground.

"Cuddle. And talk."

She looked so cute standing there that it confused him."Talk about what?" He asked finally.

What could they possibly talk about after sex?

"I'm being stupid." She picked up the gown again and slipped into it, reaching behind her to zip it up.

"I'd take my leave now."

"Take this tray along with you." He spoke when she had reached the door.

She turned and came to pick up the tray, before heading back for the door. Murewa watched her go, feeling very sorry. Maybe he should have cuddled and talked?

That would have been extremely stupid, but it would have put a smile on her face. As the door closed behind her, he wondered why her smile was suddenly so important to him.

God help him, he was going crazy.

***

King Bankole paced the large space in his living room, utterly confused and miserable.

He was feeling very afraid and desperately alone. He had no one, except a scared wife and a distant son.

He desperately wanted to talk to Olumurewa about what was going on. The boy was the only family he had left, but his son was too far gone to even listen to him.

He stopped his pacing again and looked at the time. Any moment now, his visitor would be here.

As if on cue, the door slipped open and his visitor came in —all smiles, dressed in pants and a large coat; accompanied by four Ore guards.

"Ahh, my friend. It's been a long time." King Bankole stepped into the man's arms and they both laughed, patting each other's backs.

"Tell me everything you have been doing in the past year." His visitor said with excitement, walking further into the room.

"Ahh, my friend, let me pour us a drink first."

King Bankole laughed heartily as his visitor sank comfortably on one of the leather couches in the room.

"Make sure no one disturbs us." He ordered his guards and shut the door.

The excitement in the room died as soon as the door shut and he turned to see his visitor rising to his feet, the sharp movement causing his coat to part, revealing the beads of cowries and lion teeth stringed around his waist.

"Baba oo." King Bankole greeted in respect.

"What was of great urgency that you asked me to hurry here? You haven't called me in three years." The man frowned.

"It's my wife, Habibah." King Bankole looked up at the man's expectant face. "She is pregnant again."

***

Their gazes clashed and they stared at each other silently; the silence hanging over each of their heads like a dark cloud. Baba Osokotu —King Bankole's visitor's mouth worked, but no words came out.

"You need to say something. You have less than thirty minutes to be out of here." King Bankole said finally.

Baba Osokotu remained quiet for a few more seconds before opening his mouth again.

He was about to say something when they heard a commotion outside the door.

"Let me in!!" Someone was shouting.

"Minister, the King doesn't want to be disturbed." One of his guards barked.

"Unhand me, you bastard. How dare you touch me? I'm a Minister!"

The voice sounded so familiar and it took King Bankole a few seconds to place it. It was Jolayemi.

"Go see who it is," Osokotu said as King Bankole's gaze strayed to the door.

"I know who it is." The King bit back, torn between staying to hear what Osokotu had to say or going to see what Jolayemi was up to.

He turned away from the door to see Osokotu had disappeared, the bedroom curtains flapping as a telltale sign of where the man went.

King Bankole stormed to the door and swung it open to see Jolayemi glaring at the four guards who were in a loose semicircle in front of the door; their hands on the hilt of the sword sheathed on their waist.

The King wanted to shout at the Minister. The man knew better than to flout an order from the King, but one look at the man told him something was wrong. Jolayemi looked hopeless and hapless.

King Bankole opened the door further and motioned for the man to come in.

Jolayemi adjusted his dashiki around him and stepped through the semicircle of guards and into the room.

"What do you want?" King Bankole turned to see the man already on his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"Please, My King." He touched his head to the tiled floor and raised it again. "I am in deep trouble, My King. Please help me."

King Bankole looked beyond his bedroom curtains and back at the teary man in front of him, the ticking clock reminding him of how quickly time was running past. "Hit the nail on the head, Jolayemi."

"I need the ownership documents belonging to Amu." The Minister's voice broke like he knew what he was asking for was impossible. It was.

"What?" King Bankole forgot about Osokotu for a moment. "Just like that? What do you need it for? That document can not be given to you, Jolayemi. It has to remain with me."

"Help me, please. Please. It's Jimi." Jolayemi looked up, his eyes glossy with tears and King Bankole met his gaze, streams of communications passing between their connected gaze and they were both transported to a time they had both buried long ago.

"What?" King Bankole whispered. "How? What?"

Jolayemi nodded. "It's Jimi. They have him."

Bankole opened his mouth to say something but his eyes caught movement and he looked up to see Osokotu silhouetted behind the curtains. He was forced to make one wild decision.

He charged into his room, ignoring Osokotu's hard gaze burning into his back, and sped through the drawers, searching for the documents.

He found it in the last drawer and returned to the living room.

"Hold this." He pressed it into Jolayemi's shaking fingers and pulled the man up.

"Don't do anything stupid with it until I call for you. I need you to leave right now because I am busy with something else. I am giving you this to calm you down. Leave!" He directed the Minister to the door.

The man wiped his eyes, his mouth breaking into a watery smile as he shuffled through the door.

"Thank you, my King. Thank you so much. I —"

King Bankole shut the door against the man's excessive show of appreciation.

"Isn't that Jolayemi, your friend?"

King Bankole whirled to see Baba Osokutu's walking out from behind the curtains.

"No one knows, Osokotu. Let's keep it that way. We have five minutes, Baba. Let's get back to business."