33. Derek's Destiny

Destiny embarks on a solo trip to clear her head, while Derek faces public backlash and rumors of infidelity, his actions painted as a spiral in the media frenzy after their explosive fight.

Author's Note: This chapter is too long to fit in the email format, and I don’t want you to miss a thing. To get the full experience, head over to my Substack and read the story in its entirety here if you are seeing this message from your inbox.

P.S. I’ve included three surprises for you in this chapter! Let me know in the comments what you think—I’m excited to bring more of these moments to your experience here at Urban Love Stories.

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Previously on Derek’s Destiny: As Derek’s mother reflects on her interference in his relationship with Destiny, she grapples with guilt and begins to understand the deep-rooted reasons behind his fierce protectiveness over the woman he loves.

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Are you new to this series? If so, tap below to start from the very beginning…

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Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains themes that may be distressing for some readers, including emotional abuse and the impact of volatile exchanges on the mental well-being of both characters. There are mentions of past non-consensual drugging of a character, as well as implications of physical violence and destruction caused by one character’s actions. The chapter explores toxic relationship dynamics, including themes of control and manipulation, as well as the psychological toll of public scrutiny and media invasion of privacy. Additionally, there are references to betrayal, infidelity accusations, and explicit sexual content with elements of dominance and control. These themes are integral to the narrative but may be triggering for some readers.

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DESTINY

The First Class Lounge at the airport was quiet, save for the murmur of travelers sipping espresso, typing furiously on laptops, and glancing up at the TVs mounted on the walls. I sat tucked in a leather armchair, my sunglasses hiding my swollen eyes, my gaze fixed on the screen in front of me.

And there it was—again.

The screen flickered, and there he was—Derrick, caught in a freeze-frame outside The Westonberry Grande. His gaze was sharp, feral, eyes that knew no peace, and hair sticking up in that way it did when he’d been through hell and back and couldn’t bring himself to smooth it down. I clenched my coffee cup, letting the scalding heat anchor me, trying to burn away the chill settling deep in my bones.

Nobody watching that screen knew the real story. They didn’t know that Derrick had just left my house only hours before, that we were both licking fresh wounds from a fight that cut deeper than any blade could.

They didn’t know he’d been to Arnold’s before that, or the aftermath he left there, how he’d bared his rage in full force, a tornado tearing through every last thing in his path. To the world, he was just another celebrity unraveling in a city that fed off chaos like hungry wolves. But to me? He was Derrick, my Derrick, bleeding out in plain sight, unable to stem the anger, the hurt, the shadows clawing at him from the inside.

The anchor droned on, voice detached, eyes alight with the thrill of scandal. But it was the words that hooked me, digging deep, making the ache in my chest feel like a wound splitting open again.

“Grammy-winning artist D-Truth has allegedly caused $50,000 worth of damages at his penthouse suite in the Westonberry Grande,” the anchor announced, her voice steady, detached. “Sources close to the situation report a fight broke out between the artist and his fiancée, Destiny Boseman, sparking speculation about the status of their relationship. Some sources say that D-Truth was caught texting his former flame, E’Lana, which led to an altercation at the hotel.”

My stomach twisted, the coffee turning bitter on my tongue. E’Lana? Her name felt like a slap, a ghost from another life conjured up just to drag us through the mud. Why pull her into this? Nobody was even thinking about her. But here they were, spinning lies like they were gospel, eager to ignite rumors and watch the flames spread.

It was absurd. I wasn’t even at the hotel with Derek that night. I was miles away in Juniper, sitting in the mess we’d made, barely able to breathe after the fight that left us both gutted and raw. But they didn’t care about the truth. They cared about a story, something juicy to feed the hungry masses. And right now, we were their perfect tragedy.

“Jesus,” I whispered, barely hearing my own voice over the noise in my head.

The anchor continued, the words digging deeper with each one. “This outburst follows his emotional performance in his hometown, where his high school sweetheart was spotted wearing a massive engagement ring. But since causing mayhem at The Westonberry Grande, Derrick has been lying low in New York, spotted only going in and out of a recording studio. No sign of Destiny Boseman, who is reportedly absent from his side during this tumultuous time.”

On screen, the footage cut to an older clip of Derrick looking slick in a suit, flashing that lopsided grin he was known for. But then they switched to a shaky cell phone video, captured in the aftermath of the Westonberry Grande incident—hotel staff and security surrounding the lobby, whispering, glancing over their shoulders as if they were expecting a storm.

“After managing to stay out of trouble for years, it appears the artist might be returning to his bad-boy ways,” the anchor continued, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

My nails dug into the coffee cup, heat seeping through to my fingers, grounding me in the absurdity of it all. It was one thing to feel the distance between us, to feel Derek slipping back into the shadows of his past, but to watch it dissected on a screen, strangers pulling apart the pieces of our relationship like they owned them—it felt like a violation.

I turned my head, pretending I wasn’t watching, but the whispers from a nearby couple drifted over.

"Guess the hometown girl couldn't tame him after all," one of them snickered.

My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the hum of the lounge as I forced my eyes to stay on the screen. Each word felt like a blade, slicing deeper than I’d expected. But I kept watching, jaw clenched, refusing to look away. The screen flickered, cutting to E'Lana, draped in a designer jacket, her hair falling in waves, her lips curved in that easy, practiced smile. She was walking out of a high-rise, her steps light, purposeful, her gaze skimming over the photographers who swarmed around her, shouting questions as if their lives depended on her answer.

"E'Lana, are you and D-Truth back together?"

“Are you the reason for his fight with his girlfriend at the Westonberry Grande?”

“Have you spoken to him?”

She didn’t even need to respond. Just a small smile, a tilt of her chin, a quick look over her shoulder as a man—probably her publicist—guided her toward the waiting car. His hand settled low on her back, steady, claiming. She slid into the car with a laugh, the flashbulbs catching her face, illuminating the unbothered ease she wore like armor.

I couldn’t shake the burn in my chest, the bite of how quickly they spun this whole mess into a spectacle, with Derek and me as the main attractions. It was like they didn’t even need us to play along. They’d take every silence, every glance, every damn word and twist it into whatever they wanted. And watching her walk away, untouchable, while we were left here, bleeding, just twisted the knife a little deeper.

I took a slow breath, pushing down the ache gnawing at my chest, the doubt creeping up from the corners of my mind. Doubt that maybe, just maybe, this was all a game I’d never been meant to play.

Then my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. Eden. I sighed, bracing myself, and picked up.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, light.

“Hey, girl,” she said, her voice warm, familiar. “Just checking in. Ready for your flight?”

“Yeah,” I replied, trying to sound a little brighter, as if that one word could cover the mess inside me.

Eden didn’t buy it for a second. “Des, you know we could’ve had a girls’ night, just you and me.”

I laughed, though it came out more like a sigh. “With Hakeem?”

“He would’ve stayed in his room,” she said, laughing softly. I could picture her rolling her eyes, a hint of mischief dancing in them.

I chuckled, knowing she meant it. Hakeem had been holed up at my place since the fallout with Derek. He tried to leave the morning after Derek stormed out, like he was trying to give me space. But the truth was, he had nowhere to go. He’d blown up his life for Eden, sacrificed his whole income just to see what the future held for them. Where was he supposed to run off to? I told him to stay, and he’d fallen into the background, making himself invisible, a quiet presence I’d almost grown used to. And even though Derek had been calling me constantly, he wasn’t taking Hakeem’s calls or answering his texts. Derek felt betrayed, and I understood why.

“You know he just sits in there watching Osmosis Jones like it’s some kind of comfort blanket,” I teased, shaking my head.

Eden’s laugh rang out, bright and unguarded. “I don’t know what’s up with him and that movie. It’s like his version of therapy or something.”

I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, a tiny crack in the armor I’d been wearing since Derek left. It felt good to laugh, even if it was fleeting, a brief reminder that maybe—just maybe—I didn’t have to carry the weight of this on my own.

Eden’s voice softened. “Have you talked to Derek yet?”

“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of that truth settle around me. “But I’m going to, as soon as I get to Palm Beach. I just...needed to get out of Juniper. It feels so damn small all of a sudden. Like everyone’s eyes are on me, judging me for all the headlines, with Derek’s name getting dragged through the mud, and this whole E’Lana mess... I can’t think straight here.”

Eden paused. “I get that...or at least, I’m trying to.”

There was a silence between us, and I took a steadying breath. “Eden...we haven’t really talked about it yet, but Derek told me what you did. How you put yourself in all that mess trying to protect me. You didn’t have to—”

“Destiny,” she cut in, her voice unwavering, “you’re my sister. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t make me cry in this airport,” I choked out, laughing to keep the tears back, but her words hit deeper than she’d ever know.

“I mean it, Destiny. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but—”

“Whatever it is, you’ll be right beside me, Eden. Unless you decide different,” I said, voice thick with everything unspoken.

“Alright,” she said softly.

“How’s Keem?”

Eden let out a shaky breath. “Destiny… I still can’t believe he did that. Walked away from everything.”

I paused, letting her words sink in. “Well, things must be getting serious between you two if he was willing to give up his whole world on the road to settle in Juniper with you.”

She hesitated. “But… what if—”

“What if what?” I asked, catching the tremor in her voice.

“What if it was a mistake? What if I’m…not worth it?”

“Eden,” I said, firm but gentle, “are you out of your damn mind? Keem wouldn’t have thrown himself into the fire like that if he didn’t think you were worth every damn risk. Besides,” I softened, “I think another part of this…Keem wanted to break free from Derek’s shadow, start something on his own terms. And with you? He’s finally doing that. There’s something beautiful about it—even though, yeah... Derek feels blindsided.”

“Bet he does,” she murmured, her voice tinged with guilt and relief, both of us knowing that nothing about love or loyalty was simple.

The flight attendant’s voice crackled over the speaker, calling for final boarding.

“I gotta go, alright? I’ll shoot you a text when I get to Palm Beach”, I told Eden.

“Ok, safe flight.”

I closed my eyes for a brief second, gathering myself before standing up and heading toward the gate, leaving the whispers, the news anchors, and the weight of the TV screen behind me.

The flight to Palm Beach was short, just long enough for the tension to settle deeper into my bones. I pressed my forehead against the cold window, watching as the world fell away beneath us, a patchwork of green and blue fading into distant lines. The plane cut through lazy clouds, white wisps trailing past like ghosts, and somewhere in the silence, I felt a fraction of peace—not enough to quiet the storm but enough to steady my breath.

When we began our descent, the plane tilted, and I could see the glittering coastline of Palm Beach stretching out below, the water a bright, impossible shade of blue. Palm trees lined the shore, their silhouettes swaying in the breeze, calm and unbothered, a stark contrast to everything churning inside me. As the plane touched down, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, the wheels skidding lightly over the runway, my pulse steadying with the rhythmic bounce of the landing.

A driver from the hotel was waiting when I walked through the terminal, holding a discreet sign with my name. The air was thick and warm, the kind that wraps around you and sinks into your skin, loosening the grip of tension that had settled between my shoulders. I let the driver handle my bag, watching as he loaded it into the sleek black SUV with a practiced ease, his demeanor quiet, respectful. Perfectly professional, exactly what I needed.

The ride to the Four Seasons was smooth, the city passing in a blur of soft pastels and manicured lawns, the type of pristine beauty that felt like another world. I stared out the window, taking in the polished storefronts, the swaying palms, the people moving leisurely as if time bent differently here. The hotel came into view, its pristine facade gleaming in the late afternoon light, an oasis tucked just steps away from the ocean.

Inside, the lobby was everything I’d expected—opulent, serene, the marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Cool air washed over me as I stepped in, a welcome relief from the heat outside. The receptionist greeted me with a practiced smile, her voice a soft murmur as she confirmed my reservation and handed over the key card. The Four Seasons Palm Beach was a different kind of luxury, quiet, understated, the sort of place where you could disappear into your thoughts and let the world fade away.

I took the elevator up to my room, the soft chime breaking the silence as I stepped out onto the quiet hallway. My suite was at the end, and as I opened the door, I took in the sight before me—the expansive windows framing the ocean, the bed draped in crisp white linens, and the soft glow of the afternoon light spilling across the floor. I set my bag down and walked to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass. The ocean stretched out endlessly, waves lapping against the shore in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of my heart.

I slipped into one of Derek’s t-shirts, the fabric soft and worn, carrying his scent—a mix of cedar and something darker, something undeniably him. The shirt draped over me, oversized and comforting, like he was wrapping me up even when he wasn't there. I climbed into bed, sinking into the cool sheets, fully intending for it to be a quick nap. I’d wake up soon, I told myself, maybe order room service, try to shake this heaviness in my chest.

But the quiet settled over me like a weighted blanket, drawing me deeper, lulling me into a peace I hadn’t realized I was craving. Each breath felt softer, the ache of his absence dulled just enough to let me drift, his presence lingering in the fabric, holding me as I closed my eyes. And just like that, the world fell away, slipping into a sleep that pulled me under and refused to let go.

I blinked hard, trying to piece together what I was seeing when my eyes finally opened. The clock glowed a bright 2:00 AM, cutting through the darkness of the room. The ocean outside was a silent, dark expanse, and for a moment, I thought maybe I was still dreaming. But then I caught the faint rise and fall of breathing beside me, and my heart nearly stopped.

I turned, switching on the lamp in one swift motion. Derek lay sprawled out on the bed next to me, looking too comfortable, too at ease for someone who shouldn’t even know where I was. I let out a sharp yelp, and his eyes flew open, his face scrunching against the light.

"Jesus Christ!" he muttered, hand rubbing over his face as he groaned awake.

“Derek! What the hell are you doing here?” My voice came out higher than I’d intended, straddling the line between shock and irritation. And then, with a horrifying realization, I felt the undeniable pang of a full bladder. “Oh my God—I think I just…I think I just peed a little bit.”

He smirked, an infuriating grin pulling at his lips as he propped himself up on one elbow. “Well, Princess, maybe you should go handle that.”

“Are you serious right now?” I sputtered, trying to regain some sense of control over the situation—and my dignity.

“Dead serious,” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Or you could just sit here and let your ‘situation’ get worse. Up to you.”

I let out a frustrated breath, the need for the bathroom outweighing the immediate urge to interrogate him. After a quick dash to the bathroom to gather myself—and throw some water on my face to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination—I came back, more composed, but still buzzing with questions. Derek sat up against the headboard, his face shadowed but those familiar eyes of his were locked right on me.

“Why are you here?” I asked, hands planted on my hips, though the effect was probably diminished by the oversized T-shirt and wild bed hair.

He looked me up and down, eyes gleaming with that barely restrained intensity I knew too well.

“I missed you,” he said, simple and quiet, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Missed me? So you just... flew out and snuck into my bed?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Wouldn’t say ‘snuck.’ You booked yourself into a place I could track down without too much trouble. You used the card I gave you. Thought you might need a reminder that this wasn’t over.”

I shook my head, barely holding the sigh that slipped out, feeling caught somewhere between exhaustion and relief. "Derek, I needed space,” I said quietly, hoping he'd understand just that.

But his gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even blink. “I get it. I get you’re hurt. I get you’re pissed. But we’re not kids anymore, Destiny. We don’t do this back-and-forth, break-up-to-make-up bullshit. We’ve been through too much, and I’m not about to let you pretend I’m somebody you can walk away from, like we don’t have a whole damn lifetime we promised each other."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping low, filled with that grit and ache that only Derek could bring. “You told me you wanted forever. You asked me for that, and you meant it. And I know you still do, even if you’re too hurt to say it out loud right now.”

My defenses started to crack as I looked at his stupid handsome face. The intensity in his eyes nearly undid me, but I held my ground, standing there against the weight of it.

“It’s been almost two weeks, Destiny,” he continued, his words hitting like gravel. “And maybe you needed it. Hell, maybe I did too. But enough is enough. Let’s fix this shit.”

It was déjà vu, like I was watching some twisted replay of a life I thought I’d left behind. I could still remember the last time—the night I was eighteen, heart torn and raw, telling Derek we were done. I’d sworn we were over, that we’d never go back. I remembered the relentless ringing of my phone, Derek’s name lighting up the screen day and night, his voice messages pleading, until finally... silence. Just like that, he’d stopped. And that was it.

But now, at twenty-nine, here I was again, heart bruised, cracked open in places I didn’t even know were fragile. Days had drifted by in a fog, and Derek had been calling—relentlessly, all hours, texts stacking up in a thread of his familiar blue bubbles, his words begging me to pick up, to let him in. I’d see his name flash, my heart stuttering each time, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Couldn’t bring myself to face him... or the way he still made me feel despite everything.

Only this time, he didn’t stop. He didn’t just let the silence settle in or let the time slip away between us. No, he showed up. Ready to fight, to do what I couldn’t, maybe wouldn’t. For us. For what we’d built.

The truth was, I was mad, hurt in places I hadn’t fully healed yet, sadness lingering like a shadow. But no—deep down, I didn’t want this to end.

I sank down on the bed beside him, my body tense, muscles wound tight like I was bracing for impact. I kept my guard up, still holding a piece of myself back, but I could feel the weight of it—the conversation we were about to have, the truth we were both tiptoeing around, heavy as hell between us. This was it. I knew we had to hash this out, whether I was ready or not, whether I liked it or not.

Derek shifted beside me, exhaling slow and steady, his hand resting just inches away from mine, close enough to touch but not quite daring to bridge that gap. I stole a glance at him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. He was struggling too; I could feel it as sure as I could feel the beat of my own heart, steady but aching.

I looked at him, taking in the shadows under his eyes. He looked worn down, raw, like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t.

“You look tired, you haven’t been sleeping”, I said looking at him as I pulled the covers back over myself.

He sucked his teeth, frustration flickering across his face. “How am I supposed to sleep, Des? You told me you don’t wanna marry me no more, that it’s over, like everything we’ve been working on rebuilding was just a game you could walk away from.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes, kept my gaze fixed on some point beyond him, something easier to hold than the weight of his pain. The silence between us felt like it was cracking under the strain, ready to shatter.

His voice dropped, low and rough. “Destiny, what we doin’, baby? I gave you space, tried to respect what you needed. But I’m not goin’ another day like this. I’m not lettin’ it sit here, festering like an open wound.”

I wanted to say something, to tell him how every word I’d thrown at him, every line I’d drawn in the sand, was a test I wasn’t sure he’d pass. But I stayed quiet, the words tangled in my throat, refusing to untangle.

“Look at me, Des,” he said, his tone softened but insistent, reaching across that fragile distance between us. “If we’re really in this for life, you gotta talk to me. You can’t just shut me out when it gets hard. You keep pushin’ me back, like you’re waitin’ for me to give up, to walk away.”

I let the words sink in, feeling the weight of them settle into my bones. A part of me wanted to reach out, to grab onto him and not let go, but that voice in the back of my mind—the one that had learned to protect me, to brace me for the worst—held me back until I finally forced my words to tumble out.

“You promised me, Derek. You looked me in the eyes and said you’d never leave, never judge me. And for a second, I believed you…believed you like I hadn’t believed in anyone in years. But when I needed you to focus on us, to help me deal with what I told you, you turned into something else. It was like you were on this warpath, letting rage consume every part of you.”

He stayed silent, his face a mix of hurt and regret, a shadow crossing his eyes. He looked ready to speak, but I wasn’t finished. I had to say it all, no matter how it tore at both of us.

I took a shaky breath, steadying myself before I continued. “And I get it—I know you wanted to protect me. But Derek… you became a monster. You wouldn’t stop. And the worst part? It didn’t even feel like you were protecting us. It felt like you were at war with something bigger than me, something inside you that I couldn’t touch. No matter how many times I begged you to just stay with me, to just hold me, you were somewhere else… somewhere dark.”

“Destiny, I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry,” he murmured, reaching out to take my hand. I closed my eyes, letting the feeling settle, like breathing for the first time in days. “I lost myself, Des. At the thought of what Jake did, what you had to do to him...the shit Arnold and Johnathon tried to pull. I checked out on you while doing what I felt I needed to do for you, I know I did. Lied about where I was with Keem that night, but...I didn’t kill anybody. Hurt them? Yeah. But they’re still breathin’.”

I nodded, already knowing. My cousin had told me Arnold stumbled into the ER, bloody and broken, saying he’d been robbed, refusing to name names. And I’d known who had done it without a second thought.

Derek took a shaky breath, his hand gripping mine tighter. “I had to get those pictures back. Had to make sure he couldn’t hold anything over you, couldn’t keep anything that belonged to you. And Arnold? He deserved every second of what he got.”

Derek’s hand squeezed mine, grounding me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all some twisted dream. Johnathon and Arnold scheming, Eden dragged into the mess—it was all too much, like the plot of a movie gone horribly wrong.

My mind reeled, trying to wrap around the dark web they’d spun, the way Derek had walked into that darkness to protect me. He’d taken it all on himself, all the fury, the vengeance, the shadows that still clung to him even now. And yet, here he was, breathing steady, his gaze unwavering as he watched me, waiting for some signal that I understood, that I saw him.

“Princess, I have something to tell you about Arnold…what really set me off about him.”

“What is it?”, I asked.

“Destiny, he…he drugged you.”

The room seemed to shrink around me, every breath pulling me deeper into a fog I couldn’t escape. Drugged? My stomach twisted as the pieces I’d forced myself not to examine fell into place, sharp edges digging in where I’d never wanted them. Arnold. A name I’d thought was safe, familiar. I’d trusted him once, or at least let myself believe I could. And he’d used that trust as a weapon.

The words slipped from my lips, barely a whisper, “He… drugged me?”

Derek’s face hardened, jaw clenched tight, holding onto his own rage so I didn’t have to. “Yeah. I knew it the moment you said he used to make you something to drink. I had to hear him say it, had to keep myself from breaking him right then and there. But I got the truth out of him. He drugged you, and then he… he didn’t stop there.”

The disgust in his eyes mirrored my own, a burning shame I could feel creeping up my spine. I felt my pulse hammering in my ears, like my own body was waging a war between the shock and the disbelief, trying to protect me from the weight of it all. But there was no shielding from this. This truth was carved in stone now, every word chiseled into my memory.

“Why didn’t I remember…?” I managed, voice barely a breath, hands trembling even as Derek’s grip steadied me.

He rubbed a thumb over my knuckles, eyes full of a protective fury I’d never seen burn so bright. “You couldn’t remember because he took that from you, that’s what that drink did. He thought he could keep it buried, keep you in the dark, keep me from finding out. But he doesn’t know me.”

He looked up, meeting my gaze with a fierce intensity, the kind that promised he’d dig through every piece of hell to get back what was mine. “He thought he’d won, Princess. But I got those pictures, I made sure he’d never have anything to hold over you again. And I made damn sure he knew what he’d lose if he ever tried. He says he only did it once, but I don’t trust anything he says. There’s no telling how many times…”

I let my hand slip from his, to let the weight of this revelation settle. There was relief—faint, somewhere far back—at knowing I hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t missed something that should have felt wrong. But alongside it was something sharper, more painful, the betrayal sinking into me like ice in my veins.

The tears broke free before I could even stop them, a raw, shuddering sob ripping from my chest as the full weight of what he was telling me settled in. It was like my heart finally caught up to my head, all the fear, the pain, and the love crashing down on me in one unstoppable wave. Derek didn’t hesitate, pulling me into him, his arms wrapping around me with that fierce, unyielding grip, like he could hold me together through the storm raging inside me.

I climbed onto him, straddling his lap, legs pressing tight against him as I buried my face in his shoulder. He leaned back, letting me take what I needed, his body solid and strong against the headboard, his hands warm against my back, steady as an anchor.

He stroked my hair, murmuring soft, low words I couldn’t make out, his voice more a balm than the words themselves, soothing in the way only he knew how. Every time my sobs hitched, his hold tightened, like he was pulling every broken piece of me back together with each squeeze, each stroke of his hand along my spine.

“I’m right here,” he whispered, his breath warm against my temple.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me from floating away. And maybe, just maybe, he was.

Derek’s grip was unrelenting, as if he thought that loosening his hold would let everything slip away. His fingers traced slow, grounding patterns against my back, each press a word he couldn’t bring himself to say. And there, wrapped up in his arms, I could feel the weight of what he’d done, the lengths he’d gone to protect me, twisted with the rage that had consumed him.

“Maybe I went too far with the fires,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “Maybe I am overprotective. But Destiny…” He paused, the words digging their way out as if he had to feel every piece of the truth he was confessing. “It’s like every damn time I let you out of my sight, someone thinks they can hurt you, like they see an opening and try to take it. Can you really blame me for how I move? For what I did to them?”

His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. This man, who’d taken every hit life had thrown, who had fought through his own demons, was breaking himself open, piece by piece, for me. And I couldn’t deny the part of me that wanted to let him fight those battles, to let him shield me from the darkness lurking in corners I hadn’t even known existed.

Through blurred eyes, I looked up at him, and his face—etched in shadows of guilt, pain, and unyielding love—held me captive. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness. He was giving me his truth, naked and unflinching. Every time he looked at me, he seemed to make a silent vow, one he didn’t care if anyone else understood: that no one would ever lay a hand on me again, not if he had breath left in his body.

I touched his face, tracing the tension etched in his features, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath my fingers. “I know you did it for me. But, Derek… what does it do to you? Carrying all of this, feeling like you’re fighting the whole world for me?”

He let out a ragged breath, resting his forehead against mine, his hands slipping to my waist, holding me closer. “It’s not a choice, Destiny. I’d go through hell for you, walk through fire a thousand times if it meant keeping you safe. So don’t ask me to stop, not when I’d do it all over again without a second thought.”

I laughed a little through the tears, my voice breaking. “Don’t you wish this wasn’t so hard? That you could have someone without all this…baggage?” I searched his face, trying to give him another out. “Someone easier?”

“I don’t need you to be easier to deal with, Destiny,” he repeated, voice barely a whisper. “I just need you to be here, with me.” His hand slid to my face, thumb tracing along my cheek in a slow, grounding stroke, like he was memorizing me all over again. “You might see yourself as difficult, but I don’t. I just see you as mine.”

I took a shuddering breath, my chest tightening as I took him in, every scar and bruise we’d carved into each other, every promise spoken and unspoken. For all his rough edges, for the dark shadows he carried, Derek was here—every part of him, with no hesitation, no doubt. He wasn’t looking for an easier path or someone else to walk it with him. He’d chosen me, flaws and all, and was asking me, begging me, to do the same.

A reluctant smile pulled at my lips, the tiniest crack in my armor. He noticed, that spark in his gaze flaring to life.

“Besides,” he went on, “I’m not the easiest to deal with either, Des. But you’re the only one who’s ever known how to handle me, even when I was hell-bent on making it impossible. Been that way since we were kids, and nothing’s changed. We’re cut from the same cloth. And whatever parts of you feel complicated…hell, I know I had a hand in that. So let me shoulder it. It’s not too much for me.”

I shook my head, feeling a mix of exasperation and relief settling in. “You’re really not giving up, huh?”

He leaned in, his voice barely more than a whisper, fierce and certain. “Never.”

His words settled over me like a balm, reaching past every wall I’d built, calming the storm of insecurities that had raged inside me for as long as I could remember. He saw me—truly saw me—and didn’t flinch from the rough edges, the mess. But even as he spoke, the quiet part of me, the one always crouched in fear, whispered that maybe I was right to keep those walls up. Derek lived in a world where he called every shot, where people moved at the snap of his fingers, where power and control were his default. Could I handle that? Could I love him fully without letting his world consume me?

As much as I’d convinced myself walking away would be simpler, safer… a life without him felt like trying to breathe without air. Yet, the fear stayed, twisting beneath the love, asking the question I didn’t want to face: would I always be able to keep up with Derek, or would I eventually get left behind?

"There are things I haven’t dealt with... traumas that stayed buried until you came back. And then, it all happened so fast.” I looked away, the weight of everything between us pressing down on me. "I missed you more than I’d ever let myself believe, and falling back into this... with you... it felt so right. But there’s so much I haven’t faced. So much that I need to work through.”

Derek’s gaze softened, and he reached for my hand, his fingers threading through mine, grounding me. “Princess, I got caught up too. Believe me, I know how fast it all moved. But we can slow it down. The house, the wedding—it doesn’t have to be now. I know you said—”

I cut him off gently, my own voice steady for the first time in what felt like ages. “We can do the counseling, Derek. Separately, together, like you suggested.” My words settled between us, a fragile truce, a plan to rebuild.

He nodded, his voice a low rumble. “Done.”

The silence between us shifted, a new weight settling in—a raw, honest thing that cut through all the years and the guarded walls. Derek’s hand was still gripping mine, grounding me, his gaze steady but bare, leaving nothing hidden. I could feel him searching for the right words, his voice rough around the edges as he finally spoke.

“I know I messed up, hurt you in ways I can’t just erase,” he admitted, his words like gravel, scraping against the tender places. “But Des…you hurt me too. Making me think you wanted the same things right now—a family, a baby. I know I put you through hell, so maybe I deserved it. But damn, it cut deep. Real deep when you admitted to taking the birth control behind my back.” His words landed heavy, hitting truths I hadn’t wanted to face.

I swallowed, the sting of guilt hot in my throat as I held his gaze, knowing he was right. “I’m just… I’m not ready,” I whispered, each word feeling like it held the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. “I wanted to be. I wanted to give you everything, but when I saw those pills in the trash, I realized…I’m not there yet. I’m sorry. I should have said something but, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

He let out a slow breath, the edges of his anger softened but still there, the hurt not quite gone. “All I want is your trust, Des. Your honesty. Don’t hold back from me, even if it’s hard, even if it’s a ‘no.’ You can love me and still tell me ‘no’. Just…don’t lie. Don’t feel like you have to hide from me.”

The sincerity in his voice chipped away at the last of my defenses, and I nodded, the word barely a whisper as I breathed out, “Okay.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment as if to reassure us both. My face nestled into the warmth of his neck, breathing him in. For the first time in a long time, there was no urgency, no rush—just the quiet comfort of being close, rebuilding something we’d nearly lost again.

Yet the guilt twisted inside me, each word a fresh wound. “I know I hurt you,” I whispered. “Every time I feel like we’re getting close, something in me panics. I tell myself I don’t deserve you, that you’re better off without me. And maybe if I make it hurt now, it won’t hurt so much when it finally falls apart.”

He shook his head slowly, a sadness shadowing his gaze. “So that’s it? You’d rather blow this up now than trust that we can make it through the hard parts?”

I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, so I looked down, my fingers twisting together in my lap. “Maybe,” I whispered. “Maybe it’s easier to believe this won’t last than to hope it will and get my heart broken again.”

He moved closer, his hand reaching out to lift my chin until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. “I’m not some ghost from your past, Destiny. I’m here. Flesh and blood. I’m right here, and I’m tellin’ you, I want this, I want us. We don’t have to destroy each other just to prove it’s real.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over me like a balm. It was the vulnerability in his voice, the quiet plea that made something inside me crack. When I opened my eyes again, I took his hand, holding it tight, like it was the only thing grounding me.

“I’m scared, Derek,” I whispered, letting the words slip out, raw and honest. “I’m scared that if I let you in, if I give you everything, you’ll see the worst parts of me, and you’ll decide I wasn’t worth coming back for. That’s the truth. You’ll see me, and realize I’m not what you remember, what you want anymore.”

He pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me, his voice soft but fierce in my ear. “Destiny, I already see you. Every piece. And I’m still here. I’m still here because I love you, all of you. And I’ll keep fightin’ for you, but you gotta fight with me. Don’t run. Don’t push me away. Just be here with me. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise,” he murmured, his voice low and sure. “But you gotta let me.”

I managed a small laugh through my tears. “Just don’t kill anybody.”

He chuckled, a warm, rough sound that settled somewhere deep in my chest. “No promises,” he joked, but then his voice softened, that rare vulnerability slipping through. “I love you, Destiny,” he said, his voice low and certain, like a promise.

I squeezed his hand, feeling him tether me back to solid ground. “I love you too, Derek,” I whispered, the truth of it anchoring us both.

"Destiny," he started, voice rough, steady, "wherever you were, I was coming for you. Again. Every time. But I need you to hear me—when things get hard, don’t run. Talk to me. This is us, our life. You’re in this with me, nobody else."

“As long as you promise not to turn into some crazed man burning down my hometown and mentally checking out on me if things get too crazy.”

Derek’s voice softened, rough edges smoothed with something close to regret. He reached out, fingers brushing mine, grounding me in that quiet intensity only he could bring. “I won’t go there again, Princess,” he said, each word weighted, like he was sealing a promise with every syllable. “I’ll keep myself in check before it gets out of hand. That’s on me. And I’m sorry—for making you feel like you couldn’t count on me to stay steady.”

His eyes held mine, unwavering, steady as a rock, yet vulnerable in a way that almost undid me. “Just… trust me, alright? When I say I’ve got this, believe that I do. I don’t care what it looks like to the world, or what anybody else thinks—when it comes to us, I’ve got control, no matter how it might seem.”

The unspoken plea in his gaze, the raw honesty etched into his face—it was a reminder of the man beneath the armor, the one who was willing to pull back the curtain just for me. And right then, I knew he was baring himself to me, trusting me to see past his hard edges to the place only I was allowed to go.

I could feel it coming, a heaviness settling in the air between us before he even continued. “You talk to your mom?” I asked softly, steadying myself against the edge I saw in his eyes.

He nodded, something dark flickering across his face. “Yeah. She was over there stress-baking a couple days ago.”

I managed a small smile. “I heard she’s been passing out apple pies left and right.”

He chuckled, low and rough, a brief break in the tension. “My family loves you, Des. More than they love me sometimes, feels like.”

“Derek...” I stepped a little closer, like I was preparing to defend her, to explain what she’d done and why, even though I knew he understood. “She wasn’t trying to come between us. She just... she saw me breaking. And she loves you enough to worry about what you might do to yourself.”

He drew in a long, slow breath, like he was gathering up all the anger, the hurt, the loyalty he felt, pulling it in tight. When he let it out, his gaze pinned me to the spot, steady and fierce. “Destiny, what happens between us, it stays between us. It’s ours. Not my mother’s, not your family’s—just ours. They don’t get a piece of it. Nobody does.”

There was a weight in his words, a finality that hit deep, like he was laying down an unbreakable line. That fierce need to protect what we had, to lock it away from the outside world, felt like a desperate plea wrapped in steel. And as he spoke, I felt the gravity of what he was saying, the lengths he’d go to keep us safe, to hold on to what we had, no matter who got in his way.

“What about Hakeem?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

Derek’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. “What about him? He doesn’t work for me no more, Destiny. He quit, remember?” His voice was even, calm like still water, but the tension rippling just beneath the surface, barely contained.

I studied his face, searching for something softer beneath the hurt.

“He’s your friend,” I said, voice steady but pleading, hoping he’d meet me halfway, see the bigger picture. “Someone you trusted.”

Derek looked away, the muscle in his jaw flexing, his gaze darkening with a mix of hurt and something harder. When his eyes finally met mine again, they were filled with something raw, a betrayal that he tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage.

“Is he?” The words hung in the air, quiet but laced with bitterness.

There was so much he wasn’t saying, but I could feel the weight of it pressing down, unspoken accusations sitting heavy between us. I swallowed, knowing this wound was fresh, knowing he felt let down by me too, but was here, unable to let go.

“Derek,” I started, voice careful. “Just like you risked everything for me, he’s doing the same for Eden. Maybe even for himself, trying to find his own way.”

Derek’s jaw clenched, his gaze distant as he shook his head, dismissing the thought with a flicker of anger. “Good for him,” he said, cold and final.

The message was clear—this was one door he wasn’t ready to open. I took a breath, feeling the tension in the room settle like dust.

Derek rubbed a hand over his face, the movement rough, like he was trying to shake loose the weight he’d been carrying. “I gotta get back to work,” he said, voice low and edged with something raw. “But I needed to come down here, look you in the eyes, see where we stood. I can’t focus when there’s all this distance between us. When I left your house, I thought… well, I thought that was it. But I can’t let that happen. I had to see for myself that you’re still here. Still in this.”

A flicker of warmth crossed his eyes, just enough to loosen the knot in my chest. “What are you working on?” I asked, more to keep him talking, to prolong this fragile truce between us.

He let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. “Features piled up while I was out here chasing you down these last few months. Marcy’s working me like a damn dog, payback for the delays I caused. But I don’t mind it. It’s better than…than the quiet.”

I laughed a little, feeling the tension slip just a bit. “Well, according to the tabloids, we broke up ‘cause of E’Lana. Apparently, she texted you.”

He rolled his eyes, a look of exasperation mixed with a hint of humor. “She’s been blocked on everything since before all this, Des. Probably enjoying the attention, though. Good for her streams, I guess.” He shrugged, the irony catching us both.

“So, you haven’t talked to her?”

“Hell, no.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping, soft but steady. “Don’t let the media mess with your head, alright? I know all this—being in the spotlight, hearing your name out there—it’s new, and it’s a lot.”

“Yeah…” I managed a smile, but it felt thin, fragile. “Feels like I’m watching someone else’s life, like I’m standing outside looking in.”

Derek reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re not on the outside, Des. You’re right here with me. And that’s all that matters.” His words held a warmth that melted some of the walls I’d been holding up, reminding me that, despite everything, this was the man who’d always been home.

“Alright,” I murmured, my voice barely steady as he lingered close, his warmth wrapping around me like a whispered promise. “You’re leaving security here, aren’t you?” I asked, catching his eye, half-joking, half-serious.

He chuckled low, the sound rumbling through his chest as he leaned in, his gaze locking onto mine with that slow, simmering intensity that made the air between us feel electric.

“Des, you had security on you since you were on your way out of Juniper,” he murmured, shaking his head like I’d forgotten who I was standing next to. “Don’t forget who you are now.”

I tried to laugh it off, but his words settled into something heavier inside me. “Gonna take me a minute to get used to all this,” I murmured, feeling his presence like a shadow I both loved and resisted.

“Better start now.” His tone was half a tease, half a promise. “I’m coming back for you Thursday,” he murmured, voice rough against my ear, lips grazing just enough to make me shiver. “But if you need me sooner, you let me know, aight?”

I nodded, barely able to breathe, every wall I’d been holding up slipping away in the quiet intensity of his gaze.

He murmured, "Good girl," his fingers tracing along my jaw, setting a line of fire under my skin. Just enough to pull me in, close but not close enough. He pulled back, his gaze dark and steady, like he was peeling back every layer, finding parts of me even I hadn’t seen. “Remember, I got you. Wherever you are, I got you.”

He moved slow, deliberate, his lips tracing a line along my neck that felt like he was leaving a promise on every inch of my skin. Then he shifted, settling in closer, his body pressing into mine, his hardness brushing right against my clit, and a moan slipped out before I could stop it, raw and full of need.

His hand moved up, resting gently on the front of my throat, possessive but tender. He tilted his head, his gaze holding mine, dark and knowing.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” His voice was low, a dark rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. “You need to be fucked?”

I bit my lip, embarrassed at how much I wanted him, at how badly my body craved him like an ache I’d been trying to ignore. Five years without sex hadn’t been a problem, but now? Now, with him feeding that hunger like he had, it was impossible to play it cool. But still, pride had its say.

“I mean…” I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady, teasing, even though I was all but burning under his touch. “I have been stressed.”

A low rumble rolled from his throat, like distant thunder. “Mmmmhhhmmm. You know I don’t make a habit of telling my baby no.”

“Then don’t start now,” I murmured, daring him with that look in my eyes.

His lips curved into a smirk as he reached down, grabbing himself with a possessive grip that made my pulse kick up a notch. “One thing, though…” He paused, the weight of his words hanging between us. “This? This right here is only for my fiancée.”

Before I could respond, he flipped us, his body caging me beneath him, bracing himself just above me, his eyes burning with a mix of question and challenge. He hovered there, close enough to feel his heat, his gaze locked onto mine with that intensity that always undid me.

“Are you my fiancée, Destiny?”

“Yes,” I breathed, every nerve firing with the anticipation of his touch. It’d been two weeks too long, and he knew exactly what he was doing, drawing out every second.

He grinned, fingers skating up under my t-shirt, tracing up my thigh until his thumb pressed just right, finding my pulse through my panties, his eyes never leaving mine. He knew I was his, but he wanted to see it, feel it.

“I know we got a lot to work through still,” he murmured, watching me close, like he was savoring every flicker of reaction in my eyes, every tremble under his touch. “A lot of conversations to be had, a lot to settle…but this? Tonight feels like a start.”

I nodded, barely able to breathe. “Yeah…feels right.”

He grinned, hand teasing, dragging slow circles. “And it’s only gonna get better from here, right?”

“Yeah,” I managed, barely a whisper, feeling like my mind had been wiped clean of every thought but him.

“We work on us. On ourselves. Together.” His fingers pressed harder, bringing me right to the edge.

“Yes,” I gasped, the word spilling out before I even knew I’d said it.

Then, just as I was ready to beg for it, he stopped, pulled his hand back, and grinned like he held all the cards. He moved across the room, sitting down in that armchair, crossing his arms over his chest, the challenge clear.

“Come here, Princess,” he beckoned, his voice soft but commanding, a promise wrapped in silk.

I got up, dazed and drawn, walking to him, feeling the air thicken as I crossed the space. When I reached him, he guided me, turning me so my back was to him as he sat there, his hands spreading my legs.

(listen to an excerpt from this chapter)

“Sit,” he ordered, his voice a low command.

I did, sinking onto him as his hands wrapped firm around my thighs, steadying me, holding me right where he wanted me. His grip shifted, pushing me forward until my hands met the floor, a gasp leaving my lips as he pressed me closer, his hips meeting mine, that relentless pressure sending shivers all the way up my spine. He shifted my panties aside, his hands on me, strong and unyielding.

“It’s been almost two weeks, Princess,” he murmured, voice low, rough around the edges, each word soaked in frustration and need. “Two weeks since you took my ring off…”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, almost breathless, knowing how much I’d tested him, pushed every button he had.

His hand came down hard, sharp, leaving a warmth that lingered, a reminder of just how far I’d pushed him. Then he smoothed his palm over the spot, the touch searing, soothing.

“Two weeks since you told me you loved me,” he continued, another smack landing in the same spot, the sting a warning, his way of drawing the line.

“Derek…” My voice wavered, but I couldn’t deny the way my body answered him, craving that touch, needing him to ground me.

“Two weeks,” he repeated, his voice steady, measured, “since you answered my calls.” Another swat, the force of it reverberating up my spine. “Since you texted me back.” His hand met my skin again, the intensity building, the air thickening between us.

I whimpered, palms pressing against the carpet as I shifted forward, instinctively trying to escape the tension, the weight of his anger mixed with his need. But he was relentless, pulling me back, his grip unyielding, anchoring me to him, to us.

“And now,” his voice took on a dangerous softness, “you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, Derek,” I begged, my voice small, broken, but every fiber of me wanting nothing more than to be right there, in his hands, wherever he wanted me. “Please fuck me”, I heard myself say, shocked at my own words.

His low chuckle rolled over me, dark and indulgent, sending a shiver up my spine. I felt his thumb trace a slow, torturous circle against my clit, his touch light, teasing, like he was testing the limits of my resolve.

"So spoiled,” he murmured, voice low, wrapping around me like smoke. “But that’s on me, isn’t it? I give my Princess everything, she wants. Whenever she wants it." His voice held a rough edge, that familiar grit of his that was equal parts affection and authority, reminding me who he was in my life.

I could barely breathe, let alone answer, my mind swimming, body arching into his touch. “Yes… it’s your fault,” I managed, my voice a whisper, a confession laced with both defiance and surrender.

He smirked, pulling back just enough for his fingers to leave me, and I felt the loss keenly, a pang of frustration building alongside the need that was coursing through me.

“What I want,” he said, each word measured, deliberate, “is for you to remember this, Princess. Not just now, but every damn time you think of trying to leave me, of shutting me out.” His tone softened, but his gaze was steady, intense. “You’re mine. No running, no hiding.”

I nodded, barely able to process anything beyond the feel of his hands, the way he anchored me, the way he made every second, every touch, feel like it was etched in fire.

“So, tell me,” he said, his voice a low growl that brushed against my skin, “are you done fighting me? Are you done running?”

“Yes,” I breathed, the word leaving my lips before I even realized I’d said it, surrender woven into every syllable. “Yes, Derek.”

His hands moved over me, rough, his fingers pressing into my skin, molding me to his rhythm. Each slap echoed in the room, sharp and steady, a beat only he knew, like he was shaping me into something—someone—that belonged entirely to him. It was like I was a song only he could play, the notes of my need hitting a pitch I hadn’t reached until now.

I gasped, my body arching, desperate, raw, each strike sending a shiver through me that was half-pain, half-pleasure. The fire between us was stoked with every touch, every motion, each one harder than the last.

“You need this, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat pooling through me, his tone commanding but laced with something deeper, something that felt like devotion and fire all at once. He wasn’t just touching me; he was pulling me back from the edges, back to him, grounding me in the only way he knew.

“Yes,” I choked out, barely recognizing my own voice. “Only from you.”

His hand came down again, his grip steady, and in that moment, I felt more his than I’d ever felt before, and he knew it.

“You’re soaked, Princess. So damn wet for Daddy.” The words hit like a spark on dry tinder, igniting everything inside me.

He brought his hand down again, harder this time, a stinging reminder of just how far I’d pushed him.

“Missed me this much, but couldn’t pick up the damn phone,” he murmured, each word laced with that dangerous edge. Another smack, sharper, each one grounding me, breaking through my stubborn pride and leaving nothing but need in its place. “Such a little brat, aren’t you?” His tone was low, rough, but there was something possessive threaded in it—a claim only he could make.

I felt myself melt under his hand, every nerve sparking, the sound of his voice and the weight of his touch pulling me back to him with each smack.

His fingers traced slow circles over my skin, his touch both a demand and a promise. “Tell Daddy how much you missed him, Destiny.”

“I missed you, Daddy,” I whispered, feeling every inch of myself laid bare under his touch.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied me, unsatisfied as I tried looking back at him, as he looked down at me.

“Missed me how, Destiny?” His hand traveled slowly, claiming every inch of me as he went, making sure I knew he was in control here, that there was no running from him, not now.

“Missed everything,” I admitted, my voice barely steady. “The way you make me feel… the way you take what’s yours.”

Derek’s chuckle deepened, a dark, possessive sound that wrapped around me as he let his fingers explore, each movement deliberate, testing me, savoring every inch of my surrender. His fingers found me, claiming me, pulling a gasp from my lips that echoed between us like a confession.

“I protect what’s mine, Destiny,” he murmured, voice rough, unforgiving, before his hand came down on me again, sharp and insistent. I bit back a cry, feeling the sting of his touch melt into heat, into something I craved more than air. Just as the sensation spread through me, his fingers slipped inside, filling me, working me with a control that made my whole body tremble.

“I know, Derek,” I whispered, breath shaky as he found his rhythm, my body moving to meet his touch, to surrender to the one place I felt both claimed and safe.

He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “I’d kill for you, Destiny. Anyone who tries to hurt you, tries to take what’s mine? They’re gone.” His words were a promise, dark and fierce, a vow that sent a shiver down my spine, melting my last bit of resistance.

“I know… I know,” I gasped, tears welling as his touch sent waves of heat through me, his power a steady pulse, anchoring me to him in every way that mattered.

Derek’s fingers slowed, his touch unrelenting, holding me right on the edge where pleasure blurred into something wild, almost unbearable. He pulled me up, turning me to face him, leaving me dazed, my chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Just as I started to understand his intent, his fingers slipped inside me one last time—a brief, maddening taste—before he withdrew, leaving me aching, caught in his tease, his control.

Derek tilted his head, a dark smile curving at the edges of his mouth, watching me with a kind of possessive satisfaction that sent a shiver down my spine. He held me there, his gaze heavy, knowing, like he could see every vulnerable part of me laid bare, trembling, waiting.

“Please,” I whispered, voice breaking as I reached for him, my body humming with the need he’d built up like a storm. “Derek…don’t stop.”

But he just leaned back, studying me, the faintest, wicked smile tugging at his mouth. “Oh, I think you’ve had enough, Princess,” he murmured, pulling his fingers away, leaving me empty, aching. His hand lingered on my thigh, the promise of his touch hanging heavy in the air between us. “You got two weeks’ worth of lessons to make up for, remember?”

I whimpered, my whole body on fire, the lingering sensation of his touch ghosting over me, mocking my need. “Derek, don’t leave me like this,” I pleaded, breathless, frustrated, my skin electric, every nerve screaming for him. “You can’t just—”

“Watch me.” His voice was low, a challenge, a dare wrapped in that dark, delicious tone, and he pulled back, letting his hand trail away from my thigh, leaving me cold. “Consider this a reminder, Destiny. A lesson in patience.” He stood up, pulling me with him, brushing a kiss across my forehead, as gentle as the rest of him was fierce, his hand resting on my cheek for a moment. “Let it settle, Princess. Thursday’s coming.”

“Derek,” I said, my voice half a plea, half a growl, my frustration bubbling over.

“Thursday, baby. I'll be back for you then.” His lips brushed just below my ear, voice low, molten, wrapping around me like a promise and a challenge. “Until then… I want you to feel this—every second of it. I want you aching, craving me, until that need is all you can think about.”

“I can’t… I need you—”

His hand found my chin, strong but gentle, guiding my gaze to his, locking me in. “Thursday,” he repeated, voice dark and smooth, leaving no room for argument. “You wait till then. Think of it as anticipation…a reminder of exactly who you belong to.”

The intensity in his stare settled over me, a smoldering ember that wouldn’t burn out, and he knew it. He was leaving me on the edge, a place he’d created, a hunger only he could satisfy.

Derek guided me onto the bed, his movements deliberate, a careful tenderness woven through the intensity he always carried, that fierce grip that grounded me, even in moments like this. His hand lingered against my cheek, brushing away a stray strand of hair, his touch like a soft, steady weight pulling me into calm.

“Sleep now, Princess,” he murmured, voice low, his thumb tracing slow circles along my jawline. “And don’t you dare touch yourself,” he added, his voice dropping even lower, laced with that commanding edge I craved. “That pussy is mine, you hear?”

A shiver ran through me, but his words and touch pulled me under, into a deep, steady sleep, until morning broke quietly through the blinds, sunlight spilling golden across the room. I blinked against the light, half-expecting to feel him beside me, his warmth close, his arms wrapped around me. But the bed was empty. Only the faintest trace of him lingered, like a shadow of last night, the memory of his scent and touch woven into the sheets.

As I stretched, my fingers brushed something cool, something familiar. I looked down, my heart stalling.

My ring. He’d put it back on, its weight solid, unbreakable.

A rush of emotions filled me, flooding past any barriers I’d built. The small, glinting reminder was more than just a ring—it was a promise, a reminder that through all our storms, we were still bound together, still in this fight. The ache of his absence was sharp, but it couldn’t touch the certainty I felt now, the assurance that Thursday would come, and with it, Derek.

With the ring catching light and throwing it back in delicate flashes, I felt the calm settle deep in me. No matter what lay ahead, I had him. And in this quiet moment, that was everything.

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.

to be continued…

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© 2024 J.T. Westonberry. All rights reserved. This chapter is a work of fiction and is protected under the copyright laws of the United States and other countries. No part of this chapter may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, J.T. Westonberry, and Urban Love Stories. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author is strictly prohibited.