SEDUCTIVE WHISPERS | THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GAME SERIES (BWBM)

TWENTY-SIX

K A Y A

Today was the day of the party and after much contemplating about what to wear and how to do my hair, I was soon out my front door. I was about to approach my car that I had parked outside, but I stopped myself when I saw him in a nice tailor suit, standing in front of a familiar black Negus car.

Present.

"What is you doing here?" I questioned Dakari with furrowed brows as I travelled towards him.

"I'm here to pick you up." He informed me, keeping his eyes on mine, but I could tell by his very brief glances at my red dress that he wanted to further examine my attire.

"I was planning on driving." I revealed while pressing a button on my car keys to open my car, causing his eyes to take a walk towards the red vehicle behind his.

"You don't think people gon find it weird if we drive in separate cars? We are married."

"Then you're coming with me." I told him, leaving no room for argument as I made my way towards my car.

"Okay." He answered, clearly deciding protesting was out of the question since he was already following behind me.

"How do I look?"

When I posed this query I turned my head to spare him a look, half expecting that he would realise this question wordlessly granted him the permission he obviously craved to have his eyes travelling to my lower body, but this man evidently had restraint because he was looking everywhere but me as a response escaped his mouth.

"Good."

"You are allowed to look further than my eyes, Dakari," I assured him while halting my journey and turning to him the minute I arrived beside my car.

My verbal confession and consent had his eyes slowly and reluctantly dropping to my attire—my body that his hands once held like it was his own and his fingers once dug into to forever engrave the intensity of his touch in my mind, because on the days he was not here I found myself feeling him, if that made sense.

"You look just as beautiful as you did on our wedding day." He complimented me, restoring his attention back onto my eyes after a good minute passed.

"Not you sounding like an actual husband." I remarked, pulling a smile onto his lips as he stepped in front of me with a look that I believed was admiration in his eyes that only grew when his orbs moved to my hair that was done in a low puff. This simple transition of attention made me feel more conscious of myself. "How does my hair look?"

"Beautiful...you know whenever I see yo hair, it makes me miss having my natural hair out like that."

His sudden confession had my eyes travelling to his locs to see he decided to cover them with a scarf that matched his dark suit.

"Really?"

This ask stemmed from the fact that not many wanted natural hair because of the 'struggle' having it caused.

"Mhm, to me there is nothing more beautiful than natural hair, and a black woman—a melanated woman embracing her natural hair in all its forms."

Nothing more beautiful than natural hair.

That sentiment was something I rarely heard because it was never a popular opinion in my household, well at least not for my mother since she hated the sight of me embracing my hair without gel or heat. And she wasn't the only person I met who felt this way as a few days ago I went to a salon and was faced by the same judgement, the same hatred.