IT IS TAKING ALL OF MY CONTROL AND PATIENCE NOT TO CHARGE THIS dance floor and drag her fine ass off to my palace.
She’s fucking taunting me. I can see it in her beautiful hazel eyes every time she glances over here while dancing. She wants me, and she knows I fucking want her. I don’t know when this happened, but I’m in love with Camellia Cruz. She’s got my head all fuck up.
All I’ve been able to think about is getting her hooked in my grap- pling, with her pussy spread wide. I want her, I love her and I want her as mine, forever.
But first, I want her submission and trust. Both submission and trust is essential in the D/s lifestyle. From the first woman I had, and her submission, mainly because I was her prince she submitted, and that was my first taste. I fucking loved it.
As soon as the music stops, the crowd goes crazy with cheers and clapping. The dancers start to leave the floor, and Aadan, Rufi, and I walk forward.
When she turns around, she’s visibly startled and then looks up and frowns. Because I’m a bastard, I stand back two feet on purpose and command, “Come here.” I point to the space in front of me.
As I expect, she just stands there and looks at me
Camellia Cruz is the most beautiful woman in this world to me. She’s all fire, and she’s my delicate desert flower, my blom. She stands just at my chin with beautiful, straight black hair, hazel eyes, beautiful tanned skin, and rosy lips that would fit tight around my cock.
Standing there with her hands on her curvy hips, she’s still panting from the last dance and her tits are rising rapidly up and down and plump inside her tight shirt.
I know she wants to come to me—she just wants to make me wait. No matter, I’ve waited four weeks for this moment and a few more moments won’t hurt. I’ll just make her hurt later for making me wait now.
The crowd disperses around us. The DJ starts up the music, and my brothers both walk off the dance floor with their women.
I’m not going to repeat myself. I stare down at her, unwavering, with a stern look. I wait.
Fuck. She’s beautiful. My dick has been semi-hard all evening, and now it’s lengthening behind my zipper.
Just when I’ve resign myself to the idea we’ll be here all night, she crosses the two feet to stand right in front of me, both her hands still on her hips.
“Mr. Samuel,” she says.
Now, I know she knows my first name, and it turns me on that she calls me Mister. Her sassy fire is one of the many attributes I love about her.
“Let’s go,” I say, and I don’t wait until she gives me the okay; I grab her hand and lead her over to my parents.
My father, Sol, knows what’s coming. Both Aadan and Rufi went over to my parents with their women before they left.
I bow to my father and then to my mother and say, “My father, my mother, I’d like to introduce you to Camellia Olivia Cruz.”
“Ms. Cruz, your performance tonight was wonderful,” my father says.
“Thank you so much, your majesty, and thank you for your hospitali- ty,” my blom says
“Dafari, what manner of introduction is this?” My mother gets right to it. She has never been shy in her desire to see her sons married or about wanting grandbabies.
The words just roll off my tongue. “Ms. Cruz is being introduced to you as my woman, and by the end of the weekend, I hope she will agree to be my wife.”
Between Aadan, Rufi, and I, I’m the one who says exactly what I’m feeling. No matter if it’s my parents or business associates, I say what- ever the fuck I want and do whatever I want as well.
Well, that got my mother grinning and sitting on the edge of her seat. “And what do you have to say about that, my dear?” My mother asks my blom.
With my hand around her waist, I give it a tight squeeze. She looks up at me, and I gaze down at her with a look that tells her to watch her fucking mouth.
Camellia turns back to my parents and says too sweetly, “Well, that remains to be seen. I have to find out if I like him enough to say yes.”
My mother’s eyes are wide as American pennies, and her mouth gapes open.
It’s my father who finds his voice first. “Well, the two of you should be going to…have at it,” is all he says right before I use my arm around Camellia’s waist to pull her along beside me toward the doors.
“Whoa, slow down.” She pulls away from my hold. “Why did your mother call you Dafari and not Zuri?” she asks.
I turn fully to face her, cross my hands over my chest, and say, “Because Dafari is my first name, and Zuri is my middle. I prefer Zuri.”
“Because it means ‘handsome,’” I say with a wide smile.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course it does. Where are we going exactly?” “To my palace.” I reach and grab her jaw with one hand and apply a
little squeeze. “And Camellia, don’t ever roll your eyes at me again.” I say and release her jaw. “Now go get your purse and a jacket, and hurry the fuck up.”
She stands there for a second more before she turns and goes up the stairs with her head held high and not saying a word.