Pride and Consequence

Malik, however, had yet to remove his own clothes. He simply leaned across Zakira and massaged her soft skin.

“Mal…” she whispered, throwing both arms above her head and closing her eyes to savor his touch. The caress made her forget everything, except how wonderful she felt at that moment.

A sigh of disappointment escaped her lips when he ended the delightful massage. He replaced his hands with his mouth. Zakira moaned shamelessly beneath the touch of his wide, sensuous mouth gliding across her body.

Beginning with the column of her neck, he moved downward. Zakira still had her arms thrown overhead and gasped when she felt his lips pressing sweet kisses into the softly scented pit of her arm.

“Malik please…” she urged, as she tried tugging his sweater over his back.

In response, he pulled her hands away and pressed them to her sides. “Shh,” he soothed, his warm breath fluttering against her skin.

She arched her body closer to his mouth. Long, heavy dreads grazed her skin when his lips touched the hardened tip of her breast. He released his grip on her wrists, and she instantly pushed her fingers through his hair.

Malik squeezed one breast as his lips feasted on the other. The simple, erotic caress robbed Zakira of her breath. She desperately wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. Once again, she moved her hands over his gray wool sweater. Suddenly, she requested that he undress by tugging at his broad shoulders.

A roguish grin touched Malik’s gorgeous face and he again pinned Zakira’s hands to her sides. He continued the caress, his lips moving onward from her breast to trail her flat stomach. Zakira’s hips rose from the bed when she felt Malik’s mouth touching the center of her body. Her lips parted as she pushed her head deeper into the pillows and enjoyed the caress.

The intensity of the kiss increased moment by moment. The expertise of the intimate caress was overwhelming. He knew exactly how his wife of three years liked to be touched. He never hesitated to give her what she wanted. In many ways, he played the willing slave in their bedroom. Every sexual request or fantasy was eagerly granted.

The soft groans expressed on Zakira’s part soon turned to cries of pleasure. Malik never veered from his task and Zakira was soon experiencing an intense orgasm. He finally pulled away and watched her quiver from the incredible sensations coursing through her.

“Wipe that grin off your face,” Zakira ordered later, without opening her eyes. She could envision Malik sitting above her, still fully clothed and smiling.

Of course, she was right. Malik continued to grin as he watched Zakira yawn before she drifted back to sleep.

Slowly and carefully, so he would not awaken her, he eased off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him, he began to disrobe. Pulling the heavy sweater away from his chiseled torso, thoughts of Zakira filled his mind. Lord, how he loved that woman. She was his life, and he prayed he never lost her. Moreover, he prayed she never lost him.

A lazy smile brightened Zakira’s face when she woke the next morning in her husband’s arms. She was surprised that they had slept so soundly, especially when they usually woke in a tangle of covers, arms and legs. Not wanting to disturb the moment, she snuggled deeper into Malik’s embrace and sighed.

Malik woke the instant he felt Zakira wiggling against him. When his grip tightened on her arm, she looked up.

“Morning,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the strong line of his jaw.

His haunting gray tinged stare narrowed. “Tell me about this dream.”

“Malik…” she sighed, trying to pull away.

“Zakira…” he repeated in a warning tone, as he tightened his hold.

She grimaced and closed her eyes. “Baby, what does it matter now? I feel a lot better this morning.”

“What about tonight?” Malik challenged, a slight frown beginning to form between his thick black brows.

She seemed to consider his question for a moment. Then she tensed and tried to sit up.

Malik, however, had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to let her get away so easily this time.

“Let me go,” she softly ordered when he pinned her beneath him on the bed.

His grip was unyielding. “Zaki, do you realize you were so caught up in that damn dream last night, that you didn’t even hear me come in the house? Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, but either way I’m gonna find out what’s upsetting you.”

Zakira’s huge brown eyes searched Malik’s narrowed darker ones. What she saw there convinced her he would not let up until she came clean. Finally, she nodded and he released his hold on her. She sat up in bed and focused her gaze on the burgundy-and-black comforter covering the bed.

“Um…it’s really just a vision or…something.”

Malik rolled his eyes. “Zakira…” he said once again. His tone warned her to be truthful.

She raised her hands defensively. “It is. I swear it. I see a man laid out, dressed in black. There’re candles everywhere. Unfortunately, the closer I come to him, the foggier the scene becomes.”

“And that’s it?” Malik questioned as he propped himself on an elbow and watched her.

Zakira nodded. “That’s it. I guess it freaks me out so much because it all just looks so eerie, you know?”

He shrugged one huge shoulder and pushed himself to a sitting position. “I think maybe you just saw a movie or something that scared you,” he reasoned.

Zakira was not convinced. “I’ve never been spooked by a movie before. I don’t see why that would bother me now.”

“There’s always a first time,” Malik decided, watching Zakira consider the possibility. A small smirk tugged at his mouth and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her mouth.

“So, what time are we leaving on Thursday?” Zakira asked, turning on her stomach and resting her head on Malik’s pillow. She watched him pull back the covers and get out of bed.

“Thursday?” he asked.

Zakira closed her eyes and grimaced. “The food festival? California?” she replied, her soft, melodic voice going flat.

Malik selected a black, long-sleeved shirt from his closet. “Damn, Zaki, I thought you were just teasing about that.”

“Don’t even try it, Malik Kuame Badu. You promised.”

“Don’t get excited,” Malik soothed, waving one hand in the air before he once again disappeared into the closet. “We really didn’t discuss it that much. I thought you were just making a suggestion.”

Zakira toyed with a cotton-soft lock of her thick hair. “I suggested it because I wanted us to go. You agreed and said you’d take care of the tickets and everything,” she reminded him in a weary tone. Getting away in the midst of the Christmas madness was a treat she was looking forward to.

“I’ll get on it soon as I get to the restaurant,” he promised, his deep voice muffled from the closet.

“Never mind,” Zakira groaned, pushing herself up in the bed, “I’ll handle it. This is the closest we’ll probably get to taking a vacation. I don’t plan on missing out.”

“You’re the best, Zaki.”

“Mmm, so I’ve been told.”

Malik emerged from the closet carrying a pair of wine-colored slacks and a matching jacket. He tossed them to the chair where the black shirt lay. “So what’cha got planned for today?” he asked.

Zakira swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Not much. I’ve got some things I want to try out in the kitchen, so I’ll probably be there most of the day. After I handle our travel arrangements,” she added pointedly.

Malik grinned. “You should bring that stuff into the restaurant when you get it together,” he ordered, heading across the room to the bathroom.

Zakira shook her head. Her husband never passed on the chance to get her more involved with his business. Malik had just begun working on the restaurant when they met five years ago. Zakira had been interning for a Richmond consulting firm when he arrived one day for an appointment with a friend of his who also worked for the firm.