About the book
After love had dealt the bossy Ana a huge blow nearly a decade ago; the reason she chose a rich, solitude life, love finally knocks on her door once again, but…
Shadows Don’t Lie
Chapter 13
He followed her out of the ongoing merriment. She had been at this venue more than a couple of times so she knew the environment quite well. When they were outside, their hands instinctively found each other’s again. There was no danger in sight but they felt they needed each other in the dark. Neither talked nor hesitated. She chose a path that led to the meadow.
The strong breeze of the night blew back her hair, revealing her small head from Kwame’s viewpoint. They were walking against the direction of the breeze. On top of that the stellar decor of the sky had provided a beautiful scenery of the whole place. They walked in bright darkness. The moon’s vigil was well noticed.
The field had an evenly undulating landscape, so that for every fifty meters they either were on a small uphill or a shallow valley. As they climbed one of these, her sixth sense told her that he was staring.
She checked and she was correct.
The glint in his eyes was the evidence. They were fixated on her. Lightheaded, she laughed gently and almost set off to a run. Kwame licked his lips and began.
‘I never knew you could be like this,’ he confessed. She turned playfully at him but did not utter a word. Ana had always known that truth was in alcohol she only lifted her brows as a sign that she had heard him.
Kwame hated the fact that the vodka was setting in, but it was already in his system, he could do nothing about it.
‘Come to think of it.’ She turned to listen. He stretched the other hand and she took it with delight. They both squeezed lightly. She pursed her lips as he did the talking. Ana was now walking with her back but was facing him. ‘What if you had fallen today?’ He smiled brightly. Ana threw her stare away from him, contemplating the possible consequences if she had landed on the ground. All were not too good. She had glimpses of smiles all over her face as she thanked her stars for bringing him along.
‘Thanks once again for your skilful catch, I am glad you came.’ That was how slow and tactful she could come to saying that they should change the topic of discussion to a more romantic one. She dropped her stare briefly and flew it back to his face. However, she could not hold the stare for long, she had to drop it.
Oh boy you are damn handsome.
She sighed under the power of his God-given looks. At the same time Kwame also thought of his own version of her beauty. She was a to die to be with.
Kwame had a long face with plenty of hair that had been well shaved to a fine moustache around his mouth. His hair was well cut for the occasion and was replete with waves. It glimmered occasionally under the influence of the moon. His Adam’s apple was constantly at work. It rocked to every utterance that he voiced out.
Kwame had a heavy baritone voice that always caused vibrations in certain sacred places of Ana’s being. The voice commanded immediate effects on her effortlessly. Additionally, every time he talked for a long-time she appeared as if listening attentively, but the truth was that she was lost, lost in and around his lips. His ash suit also made him appear angelic in the night. Ana at some moments felt overly secure in his heavenly presence.
‘Can you do me a favour?’ Ana wanted to read the request on his face but he was unreadable at this moment. The vodka had altered his visage lightly.
‘Sure.’ She nodded in addition and bridged the gap between them to half. Her eyebrows knitted in anticipation.
‘Would it be possible for me to catch you again?’ he spoke flatly.
‘Catch me again, how?’ she was confused. Ana thought Kwame had now found his dancing shoes. Her eyes were the widest he had ever seen them become. The urge to kiss them and tell her she had pretty eyes was all over. The appetite was literally screaming at him to dap his lips on those set of blinkers. Her lips were still rounded and parted after the ‘how?’
Kwame left her hands and squinted a little. Blood from nowhere rushed to Ana’s lips. Her tiny lips suddenly felt heavy and swollen.
Is he going to catch my lips with his?
She swallowed and threw a leer over his shoulders. She wanted to take off into the skies but gravity did a good job on her. Kwame’s hand moved around her hips as if to touch her and survey her curves upwards but he did not.
Rather, he prickled with his middle finger at the side of her waist.
This caused Ana to snake to one side of her body, so that her other side joined shape with her already outstanding hip. She still could not catch what he meant by catch you again. Then another prickle came at her other side. She twisted herself and then started moving back.
Kwame closed each gap with a step of his own. His steps were that of an assassin’s who had his target to himself in a room. Ana now understood what he meant by ‘catch you again.’ They both broke into smiles. Ana’s mushroomed into laughter. He stretched and prickled her again. This time she twisted herself so that his impact was minimized. He did not know he was injecting long-lasting excitements into her already disturbed system.
‘Kwame please,’ she pleaded amid uncontrollable laughter.
‘That’s your gift for the vodka,’ he disclosed. ‘Now who’s going to save you?’ he threw
his arms wide to indicate that they were the only people out there on the meadow. The music from the dinner could be heard from a distant. She pleaded again with her hands clasped in front of her but Kwame was in the mood. He would not listen.
‘Talk to the hand!’ he waved at her jovially.
‘Oh! my G… What have I landed myself into?’ she threw the question out loud when she realized that he would not stop.
He tickled her until she had no option but to take to her heels. She held her dress around her thighs and turned around. Running, she was laughing so much that she could barely move her legs. She was such a beauty to watch. She ticked all his boxes of a goddess. Ana had the wisdom of women. She felt as free as a bird. Kwame delighted in running after her in the dark.
Each time he caught her, her pleas were like honey. Most of the time he would jovially ask to tickle her one more time before he stopped. Ana would begin running before he could execute his last attempt. During those times he would hold her at the waist, as it appeared to shrink and expand in her lungfuls.
In spite of his lovely worries, she loved the fumes that came with his utterances when she was that close to his lips. His intoxication had made his eyes look dull and sleepy, but he was a package of energy not willing to sleep anytime soon. The night appeared to have a lot of prospects.
At last, when he also was tired, they stood at one spot in each other’s arms. She leant against his trunk of a torso. Her lungs needed to work some overtimes to replenish the lost oxygen. She was extremely slaphappy that if he should ask her the colour of her panty, she would not hesitate to shout. ‘LACY WHITE!’
Their bodies bobbed against each other in the cold night. Though cold, she felt nothing close to it. By his side, nothing came close to his presence. Cold felt like quilt warmth in the harmattan season.
After some minutes, Kwame bowed and scooped her off her feet.
Her surprise brought a ‘wow’ to her lips. She looked up at him only to meet his firm gaze locked on her. In safe arms, she decided not to talk but just relax and let him do whatever he wanted. He was taking her to the hilltop nearby.
He ascended with no difficulty at all, making Ana wonder if he held something that had weight in his arms. Ana felt something most people will describe as falling in love. When he had reached, he sat himself on the ground so that he faced downhill. He deposited Ana onto his lap with grace.
For the first time, she felt the large expanse of his thighs with her womanly backseat.
His lap was fully occupied. He dragged her in so that she had a firm grip of his lap with her cushion. As humble as a cat, she submitted herself to anyway he preferred her to sit. The tip of her hip now invaded a bigger part of his groin. Her arm stood in between the side of her trunk and his concrete abs. In suit and tie, she could still feel the waves of his packs.
Placing her head on his shoulders, she fondled herself against him like a cat trying to draw the attention of its owner. His collar bone pillowed her cheek. This made one side of her lip have great difficulty sealing. They stayed open under the fragrance of his aftershave. It was here that Vodka did some talking.
Chapter 14
‘Let me ask you this, if I should pick from a million women, yourself inclusive, whom do you think I am going to pick?’ Ana forced her lips close to prevent the smile that was gushing out. She did not need to be told the treat in his question. Vodka looked down at her before red cheeks had the courage to look up. She blinked like a hundred times. When the urge to kiss his eyes had begun boiling in her inside, she tossed her gaze aside.
Ana wanted to bare her heart out to him.
In his arms, the strong willed Ana was the weakest. Kwame was a land of plenty that she could hardly resist.
‘Based on what criteria?’ blush was speaking.
‘What do you think they have that you don’t?’
Ana’s gaze had dropped to her lap. It appeared as though she was not listening but all she could manage was to dance to his utterances.
‘Is it your comely forehead that creases like the waves of the ocean each time you look up at me?’ What soberness conceals, drunkenness reveals. Surprised he had noticed the crease of her forehead to a lovely effect, she looked up at him.
She watched his stare move from her eyes to her forehead in sheer admiration. He returned his gaze, which forced Ana to drop hers.
‘Mm? Tell me. Or you think someone has more spellbinding eyes than yours?’
At the sound of this, she went wide-eyed. Not because of the nice treat, but because of the sameness. All her life she had come close to only two men: her late husband and Kwame. What just slipped off his lips was sweet yet terrifying.
Spellbinding eyes.
She recalled her late husband using these exact words on her just a week before he passed away.
Oh no, he will not cheat on me, will he?’ Her face was as stoic as possible.
Ana, after her late husband, had likened any similarity to sameness. If anyone came close to sharing something similar to her late husband, that person was branded heartless, a cheat, a big liar, and other names in her world of bad men. For Kwame, she resorted to sheer coincidence and coiled into herself. He pressed her into himself to shelter her from the chill in the breeze.
‘Maybe someone might come close to your pretty little nose but certainly not your lips.’ At the mention of her lips, a reflex twitched her upper lip. She was tempted to touch her own lips but declined. She realized he spoke living words. Words that had the power to touch her physically. His words were already caressing her. A fight had begun between herself and the effects of his words. It needed not to be said that her losing prospects were becoming clearer.
He spoke of her lips again, which run her mouth dry. She swallowed the unadulterated lust that had come to hang on her lower lip.
‘How do you bring that to fruition?’ he asked.
‘Bring what to fruition?’
‘Keep me glued to your lips each time you are talking.’
Oh boy! Stop talking, please. The voice in her head was close to a whisper. She twisted her lips to succumb the effect of his words. He watched Ana toy with her fingers like a kid. Ana loved the feel of his heavy breath on her forehead each time he breathed. She knew if she looked up at him again, she would not be able to withstand the sweet temptation. She was bound to kiss off every compliment on his lips just to spare her the word ‘tease’ if he looked up.
But it was the last move she wanted to take; kiss him when he was intoxicated.
He could be mad at me when sober.
She buried her face into his chest to battle the compulsion. She used just a little make up so his suit was safe. Her breath had switched temperature to warmer.
‘Do me another favour please?’ his baritone tasted like Japanese jollof rice. This time she actually thought she had been kissed because the vibrations were palpable. The vibrations that buzzed in his chest as he spoke, had electrified her completely unexpected. She then realized burying his face on his chest so that her lips touched him was the worst idea. She licked her lips in pepper-hot relish.
Ana wanted to utter the word ‘Go ahead,’ but each time she tried opening her lips to talk, the words ‘Go ahead and want me,’ wanted to come out all at once. She tried ‘ok,’ but ‘ok touch me tenderly,’ had taken a shortcut to his lips. ‘Ok,’ was now descending. Ana was giddy. She had forgotten she could go for a simple nod. Eventually she did, but even that, she nodded to his request three to four times more than the number she decided.
‘Would you please make me have a feel of your chin?’ he gestured with his thumb and index finger.
Petrol wanted to touch fire, and fire was itching to flare up. Her head felt like bursting. His pamper was majestic and royal. It had this unique treat to it that only he could make her feel. If this was the closest he could come to telling her he loved her chin, then Ana thought she also had the right to ask for a feel of his lips. Though she felt asking for that was too manly for a woman. It was men who asked for that so she dragged that idea under the rag. She took a breath, pouted, and looked straight ahead, so that he could see her looking.
‘Feel free.’ She closed her lips fast to prevent herself from saying something like ‘Feel free to tease them with your basket balling fingers.’
When he had almost touched her, Ana’s lips were quivering horribly. The effect his fingers wielded on her jaw was none but magnetic. She was not a land so hers could be called something like a jaw slide. The lips of a kid who has craved for a particular candy the whole year would not shake this much when he finally had a candy as Ana’s did.
When he held pointed chin, the quivers reduced slowly. Her body had found an antidote to aloneness. He felt it recede to a quick calm. Just feeling it, he was not satisfied, he wanted to taste them. He then went ahead without permission. With his fingers, he toyed slowly to have a feel of its smoothness and cuteness.
She could not help but flower her lips into a smile and savour the feel of his fingers right beneath them. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest as they took each other in. If the night could go on forever, she would want to be there until thy kingdom came, especially when the breeze had almost disciplined itself to a corresponding slow.
‘Which one is it? It is either God forgot he had spent enough time on you or you were created in his leisure time.’
He creased at the forehead, squinted at her, and waited for an answer. She could see in her peripheral that he was staring at her. She bit her lip and shot him a lightning glance. She was beaming like a firefly. All that Kwame saw was the flash of beauty in her big eyes.
Under strict reflex, she rested her palm on her chest. Kwame needed not to be a prophet to know that that hand was telling him he was such a sweetheart. Silence ensued after this. She wondered if he was sleeping. In the silence, she would intermittently glance up at him to meet his fixed stare at her. She would always giggle after each glance, which caused her body to buzz, sending vibrations into Kwame.
‘Hey, say something!’ she said, after his stare went robotic.
When his words were alive and could touch her, Kwame, that night, left her whole body in a state of excited confusion. His words never failed to have effect on her. When his conversation drifted towards certain places, she could not handle it. When he was finished with her, her chest and bra were in fierce riot. Some other undergarments had begun a protest to go on strike effective immediately. The lovey-dovey mood had erased and replaced all the negatives in her. Hope hang in the air.
Behind the wheel, she was a driving peak. She needed to go as slow as she could, else, the arousal could make her speed beyond the appropriate limit. Almost home, Kwame wanted to dance again. Vodka was not satisfied for the night.
Chapter 15
She turned up the volume of the woofer just so they could hear Lionel Richie. Her home seemed to have given her some comfort and freedom, as she pulled up a move or two that impressed Kwame a lot.
The smirk on his face was a silly tempt.
Now that they were in the confines of a house, Ana’s body was going out of control and she asked herself if he felt the same. She needed to keep her legs close. Her heaviness was weighing her bra down and she fought miserably not to take them off. Her waist and thighs did a great job holding down the position of her intimate things. At a particular point, she looked up at him in total defeat, she had failed miserably to her feelings and emotions.
‘Ana,’ Kwame zeused and collided his forehead gently against hers. She felt like Hera all of a sudden.
Their noses kissed.
‘Up there in your room, awaits a chaste bed that has never squeaked to any intimate deed, neither has it heard your moans in decades.’ She thought she heard him talk. ‘Baby girl, let me take you upstairs.’ Ana wanted to scream HALLELUJAH! She was losing her mind.
Her lungs were failing her badly, but cold air from nowhere passed on her nose, which reminded her that reality and trance were worlds apart. She had left the world to non-existence. When she emerged from her disorganized thoughts, they were still dancing. Lucky for Ana, he was not staring. A killing disappointment engulfed her.
What in the world is happening to me?
Vodka had after sometime become uncontainable. Kwame needed to retire to bed. Too weak to move a leg, she helped him to his feet. Kwame was a building. She did not have that strength, so she decided to plonk him on Joe’s bed. At least his room was closer than any room in the building.
When she finally did, she removed his shoes, loosened his tie, and a few buttons. After his tie, Ana was stuck. She could not move her sight from light pink colored, parted lips. He was fast asleep. If she went ahead to taste the rarity that hang on his lips, he would not sense a stimulus.
She swallowed and scanned around, forgetting she was in her own house and they were the only people. She passed her hands on her face and settled them on her lips. She shrugged and left his side. She looked at him for the last time before she turned out the light and exited the room.
She made herself some tea, with a couple of glances at the direction of Joe’s door. She could not believe that she could feel how she felt after all these barren years. She buried herself in her thoughts a few times and only realized that time was far spent when she emerged from them.
When she was about sleeping, she recounted all the euphoria that she shared with him. She went bananas with laughter all alone in her bed, wriggling and turning in her recollected peaks of their thrill.
She felt in love again after a long-time.
Lost time enjoyably been made up for. She prayed nothing went wrong between them. The last thought on her mind before she fell asleep was him. She convinced herself that she was the last image on his mind before he also slept, though he was drunk.
That night was fast, probably because she did not sleep early. She woke up and the first mental picture on her mind was Kwame. She needed to check him on if he was fine. She descended the stairs in high spirits and elate, the sources of her state, most obviously from the previous night.
She knocked but there was no response. It was first light so it was possible he was still not up. Maybe she should not have forced him to drink, but would he have been that romantic and crazy if not for the drink? She just wanted to know if he had no headache or serious hangover.
She knocked again and it was just as silent as the first. After the third unresponsive knock, she decided to enter. She opened the door and the first sound she heard was music. Kwame had turned on the radio. Apparently he was up already. She cocked her head in and found that he was not on the bed.
Has he left to his house without a goodbye?
She came in and closed the door but did not lock it. She now took inquisitive steps.
Blinded by love and ecstasy from the previous night, she turned to the right.
What her eyes saw bounded her to the spot. Sweet fruits of Eden! she exclaimed in thought. Her mouth run dry and the muscles of her stomach clenched in spellbinding reflex. She was looking at the eighth wonder of the world.
It was a golden opportunity on a silver platter.
And from her position, she needed to leave before he turned around; in the stew stood Kwame, with suds skating down every sinew and muscle of his. The golden lights made him gleam like a god, and she wanted to worship him with her all. Coincidence had also brought her to the room braless.
There were abnormal fluctuations in the pleasure centres of her brain. Her nightie appeared as if they were being drilled at the breast region. A voice told her to tear her dress apart and join him. She moved a step closer, her eyes were seeing stars and golden clouds.
Kwame stopped the shower…
Author’s Bio
N.O. Bekoe writes mystery, suspense, and romance. He is currently working on Haywire, an educative mystery/suspense that you don’t want to miss. Comments, reviews, and suggestions are welcome at ‘Author N. O. Bekoe’ on Fb, Tw, Lkin, and IG. Hearing from you will mean the world to him.
Shadows Don’t Lie is a Self-Published endeavor. The book is available for purchase at https://www.amazon.com/Shadows-Dont-Heartbreak-kings-Book-ebook/dp/B07CJ3CGP7/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1527355120&sr=8-1&keywords=shadows+don%27t+lie
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