28/09/2024
❤️🔥❤️🥰Loving Deviant ❤️🔥❤️🥰
(I know you know I know you know U LV ME)
Genre: Forbidden Teacher Student student Romance
Rosy Johnson
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All rights reserved, no part of this book should be copied or reproduced in any form without my permission!
EPISODE 31&32
(MOAN MY NAME)
"How can you be so possessive when you're not even her father? We are simply having fun...."
"I'm her everything." Jamal cut him off.
With one last deadly glare, he began pulling Maeve away while the guys stood and watch none of them making any attempt to stop him.
They got to the middle of the club and she yanked her hand off his forcefully.
"How can you be so possessive when you're not even her father? We are simply having fun...."
"I'm her everything," Jamal cut him off with a voice so cold it sent shivers down Deckard's spine.
With one last deadly glare, he began pulling Maeve away while the guys stood and watched, none of them daring to intervene.
They reached the middle of the club, the throbbing beat of the music a stark contrast to the storm brewing between them. Maeve yanked her hand away forcefully, her eyes filling with tears as she recalled the horrible words he'd once said to her.
"I'm not going home with you," she declared, her voice quivering but determined.
"I told my grandmother I'm doing an assignment at a friend's place." She added, refusing to let him use her however he wish.
Jamal's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening.
"Why did you lie to your grandmother just to come here and get wasted?" He asked, ignoring the fact that they were at the middle of a club.
Maeve's defiance sparked.
"I'm doing what teenagers do, Jamal. Leave me alone." She snapped rolling her eyes
He reached for her arm again, but she shifted away, her voice rising.
"I said I'm not going anywhere!" She yelled out loud.
Jamal paused, folding his arms.
"Fine," he replied
Maeve scoffed, incredulous.
"That's it? You're just going to give up without a fîght?" She couldn't believe it.
She'd thought he will fîght for her, as she didn't want to go he was supposed to make her go but he was just gonna give up, really?
He took a deep breath, stepping closer, the intensity in his eyes unwavering.
"I know exactly what you want. You wanted my attention, and now you have it." He replied casually.
Deckard appeared beside them, his expression pained.
"Don't fîght here. People are watching." He said loud enough for them to hear it.
Maeve turned to him, fury in her eyes.
"Did you tell him where we were?" She asked, glaring daggers at her friend.
Deckard opened his mouth to speak but Words couldn't form in his throat, he glanced at Jamal then back at her.
Ashamed of betraying their friendship, he lowered his head, unable to look her in the eyes.
Deckard's silence was all the answer she needed.
"I thought you were my friend. I hâte you for bétrayîng me." She spats.
Jamal took her hand again, but she broke free, her frustration boiling over. He grabbed her arm, this time faster, and despite her struggle, began pulling her away.
"We're not going to your family’s house. We're going to mine." He said assuring her
Maeve resisted but eventually followed reluctantly, casting a final, seething glance at Deckard.
"Stay far away from me," she spat.
•
Jamal dragged Maeve inside his grand but cold mansion, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the marble floors.
In the hallway, he stopped, his eyes piercing into hers.
"What's your problem? Why don't you want to stay here?" He asked.
She was still struggling even till now.
Maeve's voice trembled with emotion.
"I want to be anywhere but here." She nearly yelled or maybe she did cos an elderly maid entered, her confusion evident as she glanced between them.
Jamal dismissed her with a curt nod.
"Go back to sleep. There's nothing here." He said in his commanding tone.
The maid hesitated.
"Shall I prepare a room for her? Sir," she asked respectfully.
"No," Jamal said firmly.
"She'll sleep on the couch." He replied.
The elderly maid nodded and bowed her head in respect again.
"Yes sir,"
As the maid left, Maeve's tears spilled over, her voice a broken whisper.
"You have no human sympathy. You're so cruel to someone who did nothing to you. All I did was love you, and now you've brought me here to finish breaking me. Of all the places, you're just gonna pity me and let me sleep on the couch." She said all in one word.
Jamal ran a hand through his hair, struggling for words.
Maeve poked his chest, her eyes blazing.
"Does it make you feel better to break me? After everything we did, do you feel better?" She asked.
She wasn't gonna let him step all over her, she was hurt and it's all his fault and he doesn't even feel it, he only pity her.
He called her name softly, but she wasn't finished.
"Why am I always the one trying to fix things between us? Why are you so cruel?" She asked again, her tears streaming down her eyes.
In a swift movement, he scooped her up, carrying her up the stairs to his room. He didn't have any answers, didn't know what to say, the only thing that came to his mind was taking her to his own personal space and that's what he did.
Jamal set her down gently, locking the door behind them. Maeve scoffed.
"What am I doing here? I didn't plan to sleep on the couch." She said sarcastically.
Jamal didn't respond but she prodded him again.
"Why aren't you talking now? You had so much to say when you broke me heartlessly," she said to his face, hoping to get a reaction.
Still silent.
Maeve Scoff, she'd thought he would at least feel a thing but unfortunately he's not human.
She turned around to leave but rushed after he, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his head resting on hers.
"Wait, don't go..... I'm sorry," he murmured.
For the first time in his life he apologized, he wasn't that guy to throw apology around, he'd rather eat shît than admit that he's wrong at anything or apologize.
He's never even wrong, he was Jamal and Jamal is never wrong nor does he apologize but here he was.
He didn't know what she did to him, she brought out the part of him that is hidden away and he didn't know he could actually feel a thing
After years of torture and torment, he didn't know it was in him, to feel, emotions was actually part of him? Wow!
"I didn't mean for things to turn out this way." He said again, his tone husky yet soothing.
Maeve stood still, shocked by the unexpected hug.
Jamal continued, his voice thick with regret.
"If I had been more sane that night, everything wouldn't have turned out this way." He said seriously.
Slowly, he released her, and she turned to look at him. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.
"Thinking about your parents, your grandmother, my best friend who's your father, and my ex-fiancée who's your mother... it's chaotic." He admitted
Maeve's eyes softened.
"Why do we have to care about what other people think? It's our love story." She replied, bashing her lashes.
"It's not that simple," he sighed.
"I'm old Mae, and have seen so much. You're still young and haven't seen anything yet...."
"I love you." She cut him off, her voice fierce.
"You might say that today," Jamal countered
"but you might not say it tomorrow when you meet someone younger..."
Maeve placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.
"The person I love is right in front of me, and that won't change." She replied determined to make him stop seeing himself as old or thinking of other people's opinion about them.
He inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly.
"Things aren't always how we see them, and often they don't work out how we want." He replied.
"I really do love you so much," she repeated, her eyes unwavering.
Her eyes not leaving his as she stared directly at his soul.
"I'll hold onto that and know how long you're gonna keep saying that," he whispered
Jamal pressed his forehead to hers, kissing her nose softly. His right hand caressed her neck as he kissed her cheek delicately, as though she were a priceless jewel.
Jamal's lips met hers, the kiss tender yet filled with unspoken passion. Maeve responded immediately, but shortly after, she pulled back, staring up at him.
His eyes, full of questions, searched hers.
"If we do this again," she asked, her voice trembling.
"will you break my heart again?" She asked to be sure.
He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice hoarse.
"It's because of me that you lost your confidence." He replied, stroking up and down her back
"I'm so sorry, I will make it up to you," he said
They parted, and Maeve held the tip of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. He raised his arms, lowering himself to help her remove it.
She tossed the shirt to the ground, reaching for his belt next. Jamal watched as she undid his belt and button, then removed his trousers, leaving him in his tight boxers.
Despite her anger, she couldn't help but want him. He seemed larger and more imposing than ever.
Jamal lifted her chin, his eyes dark with desire, and kissed her hungrily. She responded with equal fervor, wrapping her legs around his torso as he carried her to the bed.
His hands roamed over her body, his touch igniting a fire within her. He laid her on the bed, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
"You weren't that good last time, but I'll teach you a lot of things tonight. But first, I want you to come three times." He said teasingly.
Maeve, unsure of what he meant, simply lay there, watching him with anticipation.
What can she possibly do, even though a part of her was screaming at her, yelling that she shouldn't give in to him again, at least not so soon again.
Maeve's body couldn't help but react to his every touch, she wanted him, a part of her wanted him and she didn't know if she can breath without having him.
"Ohhhhhhhh!!!!" She arched against the bed, feeling his fingers around her wonderland.
His other hand was on her brêâst as he squeezed then sucked like a six months old, hungry for milk.
"Moan my name...."
•
Same night.
Deckard stumbled out of the club, the heavy bass of the music still pulsing in his ears.
The neon lights flickered above him, casting a garish glow on the rain-slicked street.
His mind raced with the events of the night, replaying Jamal's cold gaze and Maeve's tearful anger.
He hailed a cab, eager to escape the chaos. The vehicle pulled up, its dark windows reflecting the city lights.
Deckard opened the door, sinking into the worn leather seat. The driver, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, gave a curt nod.
"Where to sir?"
"Just take me home, here my address is written there," Deckard muttered, passing a piece of paper with his home address written on it over to him.
He closed his eyes and leaning back. The cab lurched forward, merging into the late-night traffic.
Deckard's exhaustion began to take over, his mind drifting as he stared out the window at the blur of lights and shadows.
Minutes passed, and Deckard noticed they were heading in the wrong direction. He leaned forward, his brow furrowing.
"Hey, this isn't the way to my place. Where are you going?" He asked instantly.
The driver didn't respond.
Deckard's heart pounded, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach but he stayed calm.
"I said, where are you taking me?" His voice rose, harsh and high.
The driver remained silent, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Deckard's pulse quickened as he fumbled for his phone, only to realize he'd given it to Manchester cos he needed to borrow it and call his parents.
Panic set in.
"Let me out!" Deckard shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
He reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. The locks were engaged. He pounded on the window, hoping someone outside would notice his distress, but the streets were deserted.
The driver took a sharp turn down a dark alley, the cab's tires screeching on the wet pavement.
Deckard's heart raced, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Please, just let me go. I'll give you whatever you want!" He pleaded, trying not to break down and start sobbing.
The cab came to a sudden halt. The driver turned slowly, his face now illuminated by the dim glow of a streetlamp. There was a sinister glint in his eyes.
"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and menacing.
Deckard's blood ran cold as the driver reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a length of rope. He lunged for Deckard, who tried to fight him off, but the man was too strong.
How can he be old and yet strong? The struggle was brief but intense, the interior of the cab filled with the sounds of grunts and muffled shouts.
The driver pinned Deckard down, binding his wrists tightly with the rope. Deckard's vision blurred with tears of fear and frustration.
"Why are you doing this? Who are you?" He asked
The driver ignored him, securing the knots with practiced precision.
He dragged Deckard out of the cab, the cold night air hitting him like a slap. Deckard stumbled, the rough pavement scraping his knees as he was forced to walk.
They reached a rusty, abandoned warehouse at the edge of the city. The driver pushed Deckard inside, the heavy door creaking ominously as it swung shut behind them.
The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of damp and decay.
Deckard's heart pounded in his chest as he was shoved into a chair.
The driver secured him with more rope, binding his ankles to the chair legs. He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he surveyed his handiwork.
"Who sent you?" Deckard demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.
"What do you want from me?" He added
The driver smirked, pulling out a phone from his pocket.
"You'll find out soon enough," he said, dialing a number and holding the phone to his ear.
"Yeah, I've got him. What do you want me to do next?" The driver asked Into the phone.
Deckard's mind raced with possibilities, his thoughts a chaotic whirl of dread. He strained against the ropes, but they held fast. The driver paced the room, speaking in low tones, his words inaudible.
Moments later, he hung up and approached Deckard, a malicious grin spreading across his face.
"Looks like you're in for a long night," he said, his voice dripping with menace.
"Better get comfortable." He said and began walking away.
Deckard's heart sank as the driver walked away, leaving him alone in the cold, dark warehouse.
He struggled against his bonds, his mind filled with thoughts of Maeve and the terrible realization that he might never see her again.
"Was he being kîdnapped?" He thought silently.
Fear of being left alone such a warehouse was enough to send him going insane.
"Wait!!! Let me out? Anyone there?!!! Hello!!!! Somebody!!!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs till his throat ran dry.
•
Maeve's grandmother's mansion.
Leonard paced the dimly lit living room, the small velvet box feeling heavy in his hand.
He'd gotten an engagement ring and just can't wait to propose to Calliope.
The engagement ring inside the box glinted under the faint light from the streetlamp outside, a beacon of hope and despair.
He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, glancing at the clock. It was past 2 AM, but he couldn't wait any longer.
He'd been sitting around and waiting for morning to come but is taking so long.
With a deep breath, he picked up his phone and dialed Calliope's number. Her phone rang but she didn't pickup, he waited as it began ringing again and....
"Leonard?" Calliope's voice was groggy, clearly pulled from sleep.
"What's wrong?" She asked impatiently.
"I couldn't sleep," Leonard admitted, his voice trembling with a mix of excitement and anxiety.
"I was thinking... what if we surprise Maeve at school tomorrow? You and me, we can make it a family thing." He suggested, hoping and wishing she would accept.
There was a pause, long enough for Leonard to hear the soft rustle of sheets on the other end.
"I won't be chanced," Calliope finally replied, her tone flat and distant.
Leonard's heart sank. Disappointment written all over his face.
"But what if it was Jamal who needed you? You'd make time for him, wouldn't you?" The bitterness in his voice was palpable.
"Leonard," Calliope sighed.
"I can make out time for Jamal, but not now. Not for this." She replied.
"Why can't you give me another chance?" Leonard's voice cracked as he stared at the ring, his vision blurring.
"Why does it always have to be Jamal?" He asked.
"Have you checked the time?" Calliope's voice was now tinged with irritation.
"It's past 2 AM, Leonard. I need to get enough rest, I don't have time for this,"
Before he could respond, the line went dead.
Leonard stood there, the silence of the room amplifying his pain and disappointment. He wanted her, needed her, but she wanted Jamal. Even their daughter, Maeve, seemed closer to Jamal than to him.
Jealousy, anger, and rage surged through him. His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white.
He threw the phone onto the couch and sank down beside it, the engagement ring still clutched in his other hand. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.
The room seemed to close in on him, the walls pressing in with the weight of his unspoken emotions.
He sat there, staring at the ring, the symbol of a future that felt increasingly out of reach, the night stretching endlessly before him.
He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to get jealous or be like this but why? Just why does it always have to be Jamal? WHY?
Jamal took his daughter's time and attention and now he can't even get the woman he loves because of the same Jamal?
What is is it about him? Why do they want Jamal and not him? Huh? Why??
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All rights reserved, no part of this story should be copied or reproduced in any form without my permission!
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As e dey hot 🥵
