Thandiwe Mpofu

“I’m a king yes but she? She was a star not of this world. She had the whole earth and everyone in it beneath her, shining bright and high. So fucking untouchable. And so fucking coveted and wanted by so many. I’m a king but I knew she would make me bow before her throne. I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”
― Thandiwe Mpofu, Vicious Hate

“You.” Hard thrust. “Go.” Another thrust directly to my spot, my pussy walls clenching and holding his fingers but he doesn’t let me. “When. I. Say. So.” He fucks me with his fingers so hard and I come just as hard, so loud with a scream that pierces my ears. I literally hear a buzz and see color behind my eyes. Maybe it’s the bitter taste of the truth on my tongue, or the answering silent, yet volcanic anger from Ace. Maybe it’s the grief that slices the room into uneven dimensions of breathless agony—but for whatever reason, my orgasm is hard and intense. It’s the type of climax that I knew Ace could easily give me, but we both knew it was heightened by misery and grief. A kind of grief that we both refused to face. Grief heightened by orgasm. Orgasm heightened by grief. . . My entire body shakes, Ace flips me over to my side and somehow in the darkness of my room, our gazes connect and I can see the blues like I do in my nightmares and my dreams. I see them as much as they see me. I know these eyes belong to the devil, the spawn of my hate. But they still see me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. To be seen and he has, since the very first day we met. “You will fucking die when I say so.” He growls, like a solemn vow. “You will fade away like the kind of nothing that you think you are, when I say so. But for now, you fucking stay here and you fight that shit for me. I fucking need you to fight it.”
― Thandiwe Mpofu, Reckless Hate