AlTonya Washington - Pride and Consequence

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.

He had seemed hooked from the moment they met. The two began dating, and Zakira was very impressed by the smart, young, instinctive businessman. She was even more taken by Malik’s fierce dark looks, his six-foot-plus height, his large, muscular build, and the thick dreadlocks which, at that time, only grazed his cheeks. When he smiled, his grayish-black, slightly slanted eyes crinkled at the corners and his smile instantly triggered deep dimples.

As Zakira got to know Malik, she discovered he was often viewed as intimidating and unapproachable. While his appearance unsettled most people, his wife felt just the opposite. Many marveled that such an overpowering soul could be with so gentle a soul as the sweet and kind Zakira.

For his part, Malik was completely bound to his wife. He didn’t think he could ever become bored or disillusioned with her. Besides Zakira’s fantastic looks, her mind was immensely intriguing. The intelligent twenty-nine-year-old woman had a quick mind for business and her savvy frequently rivaled his. That was one of the reasons he constantly encouraged her to take more of an interest in the restaurant. Badu’s was Malik’s creation, but he wanted to run it with his wife by his side. Perhaps one day, was her usual reply.

“Malik! The airport limo’s here!” Zakira called, as she sprinted upstairs. When she got to the bedroom door, she almost collided with her husband.

“Ready?” he whispered, patting his hand against her waist.