A little Valentine’s Day gift to our readers!

A fan fiction erotica of Chimamanda Adichie’s block buster novel about the feisty Ifemelu and her love affair with Obinze.

Enjoy!
abbensetts5Obinze sat in a darkened corner of the restaurant, his gaze flitting between his wristwatch and the entrance.

An elegantly dressed couple stepped in and waited to be ushered to their table. Low jazz music piped out of hidden speakers in the top notch eatery. The low lighting provided a kind of cozy intimacy without coming across as seedy.

Eager to make the meeting on time and avoid suspicion, he’d arrived fifteen minutes earlier than the appointed time. Moreover, he knew Ifemelu. If he turned up late, she would have his head on a platter again. Besides, he really wanted to see her. Since her return to Nigeria he’d been unable to keep her out of his thoughts or his dreams—asleep or awake.

He took a gulp of neat whisky, the liquid burned his throat, made him feel alive and took the edge off his nervous agitation. As a successful businessman, very little fazed him these days.

Except her. He was mad about her.

Without looking up, he knew she’d walked in. The hairs on the back of his neck stood erect. The air around him seemed to shift, displaced by her aura. He glanced up, and his breath caught in his throat.

Beautiful. The one word whispered in his mind.

Their gazes met. Mesmerizing brown eyes made him sit up straight. She waved at him before saying something to the maître d’ who ushered her in his direction.

The Ankara shift dress she wore flattered her slender body, and her hips swayed with catlike grace as she maneuvered around the tables toward him. Her legs seemed elongated until he noticed the tan leather pumps she had on.

A picture of those legs wrapped around his hips while he pounded into her wet heat had a cinematic effect on his mind. His dick went from ‘zero’ to ‘flag-pole hello!’ in a heartbeat, aching with his need for her. He stood up, glad he wore loose-fitting trousers.

But regret made him grimace. He shouldn’t have agreed to meet her here in an open restaurant where they had no privacy and where he couldn’t slake his lust so readily. But he’d wanted to show her he wasn’t the same struggling immigrant man she’d known. He’d made a good life for himself in Nigeria, could afford the finer things in life. And he’d wanted to treat her to some of the finery and show her that he was as civilized as his counterparts in America.

But right now, all he wanted was to satisfy a more basic need. Polite conversations can come later.

“Obinze,” she greeted him with the air of a haughty princess bestowing her benevolence upon him.

Hugging her, he basked in her feminine scent and softness—albeit awkwardly—and placed a kiss on her cheek in the way he knew she was used to greeting friends.

“Ifemelu, you look beautiful,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Her lips widened in a smile, she nodded at her seat. He took the hint and pulled out the chair, waited for her to sit before settling back into his chair.

“Would you like another drink?” she asked, lifting her hand as if to wave the waiter over. Her soft voice seduced him.

He could do with another drink to shore up his courage. He shouldn’t be here. Yet he couldn’t not see her.

“What am I doing here?” he asked instead, his gaze flitting from side to side, in line with his conflicted mind.

“We are going to have dinner,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Really? Is that all we’re going to do? Kwuo ezi okwu.” He glared at her, daring her to tell a lie.

“I want you. I can’t deny it.” She reached for him, grasping his callused hand in her soft one. Her lips parted, and he saw his lust reflected in her dilated eyes.

His mouth dried out and he swallowed hard, tugging his hand out of hers.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he said and shoved his chair back.

“Stay.” She grabbed his arm.

He stilled, unable to move. Her touch always had an arresting effect on his body. And she knew it. He could tell from the smirk that curled her lips.

“Stay,” she repeated in a low voice that had a soothing effect on him. He complied, not wanting to attract unnecessary public attention. He had so much to lose. And yet it hadn’t stopped him from coming here.

His muscles tightened at the thought of a night with Ifemelu. He responded to her on an elemental level, one that didn’t seem concerned with the fact that he was married and not to her.

He leaned in so that she could hear him over the pulse of the music and spoke in a low voice, “Don’t touch me like that in public. You know I’m married. We shouldn’t be together.”

“I know that,” she said but didn’t release her hold on him.

“So what was it then? Curiosity? A death wish? What would my wife say if she saw you now?”

His heart thundered heavily, his stomach churning.

“You are right,” she said. “You shouldn’t be here. But I hate that I can’t be with you. Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Of course not. You mean a lot to me. You know that’s why I’m here.”

“Then let’s get out of here. I’ve got a nice surprise for you.”

He grinned. “What is it?”

Suddenly he wanted to taste her more than anything else. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Tossing notes on the table to cover the tips and his drink, he said, “Let’s go.”

***

Her moan rang out, echoing in the hotel room. It felt like forever since he’d tasted her.

“I want to give you so much pleasure, Ifem.” He’d purposely shortened her name. Literally translated it meant, ‘My thing’ or ‘Mine’ qualifying his claim on her.

His hot mouth plunged onto her clit making her gasp. She grabbed the white sheet beneath. Her body quaked as he drove it to a state of madness. Her skin felt hot to the touch as his tongue glided over the layers of her wetness.

She moaned long and low.

He smirked at her response. One of the things he’d learned in his sojourn abroad was how to use this mouth of his expertly and for climactic effect. He circled his tongue around the sweet bud of her clit, wanting to raise an orgasm out of her. Gentle spasms erupted from her core, spreading over her body announcing the arrival of sweet euphoria.

She exploded, her scream of pleasure rending the air. Obinze grasped her trembling hips as her body quaked in violent motions. He didn’t let up. Instead he sucked her hard, licking relentlessly around her labia, stretching out her orgasm and intensifying it as his grip held her down against the bed.

As the pulses of her pleasurable high lessened, Obinze moved his mouth away from her sex. He watched Ifemelu, admiring the gentle curves of her dark skin, while trying to keep his aching desire in control.

She looked up at him and smiled. He leaned over and covered her mouth with his, letting her taste the delicious flavor of her wetness. Her pleasure.

He lifted his head. The dim light in the room made her lips glisten where he’d painted her wetness with his mouth. His cock swelled, throbbed at the erotic picture.

“You taste so good.” He nipped her bottom lip.

“We taste good together,” she whispered against his lips.

“Yes we do,” he muttered. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me.”

A soft moan erupted from her throat. “What are you waiting for? I want you inside me.” She held out her arms and spread her legs apart.

His moan vibrated through him at the sight of her inviting nakedness. Her eyes brightened.

Lowering his hulking body down onto hers, he rested his arms either side of her and positioned himself against her. His throbbing shaft brushed against her slick opening.

Leaning in toward the curve of her neck, Obinze fluttered soft kisses along delicate smooth, mahogany perfection of her skin.

He plunged his hard shaft into her. She shrieked, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. He stilled for a moment letting her get used to his girth as the muscles of her sex tightened around his hardness.

Her hands gripped his shoulders as he started a fierce, rhythmic pumping, driving his powerful pelvic thrust into her.

She dug her nails into the skin on his taut back. Her lips widened in a coquettish smile at the deep groan that erupted from his lips.

His plunged his cock into her again and again, her hot, slick channel clamping around him like a tight vice. A comforting sense of erotic pleasure coursed through his body. He knew he wouldn’t last long as his climax built.

He angled his motion, wanting to hit her sensitive G-spot with each powerful thrust and set off her orgasm first. He wanted her to remember this experience with him, even if it was going to be the last time.

She cried out as she hit another climactic high, her body rippling beneath his.

Her unrelenting spasms pulled his pleasure higher as his pounding became more powerful, more demanding. His body strained against hers, his muscles wound tautly.

His muscle tightened and heat flashed through him as his orgasm pulsed through him.

He collapsed against her with one final pulse of his shaft, his body completely spent. She wrapped her arms around his trembling body and held him in a tight embrace as he glided back down from ecstasy.

She strummed her fingertips along the contours of his chiseled back as he basked in the afterglow of the most incredible sex he’d had in a long time.

Raising his head away from her chest, he looked down into her eyes and smiled. He loved this woman. Still loved her even after all these years.

He brushed his fingers against jumbo Havana braids, enjoying the tantalizing sensation its course texture sent through his body.

“Be with me,” he whispered as he rested his chin on her sternum.

“What?”

“Ifem, be with me,” he repeated.

“How is that going to work exactly? You are not free to be with me.” She met his gaze, her expression pain. It broke his heart.

“I know that. But I will work to make myself free. Just promise me you will wait for me.”

She stared at him for several long seconds. His heart thumped against his ribs. His hands turned clammy. He feared she would reject him. She had every right to.

“I will wait.”

No three words pleased him more at that moment.

 

READ our Things Fall Apart fan fiction erotica HERE

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Post image by Kwesi Abbensetts. Click HERE to see more of his work. 

About the Author: 

Kiru Taye is the award-winning and best-selling author of His Treasure. Born in Nigeria, she currently lives in the UK with her husband and two children.She writes historical, contemporary and paranormal romance. She is a founding member of Romance Writers of West Africa and also an associate member of Romance Writers of South Africa. She is currently published by Breathless Press.