Alternative scene for Princess of Zamibia (Part 1)

The other day I was cleaning up my computer, deleting old files and organizing documents to make them easier to find, when I came across an old manuscript for the previous version of Princess of Zamibia.

I released Princess of Zamibia (Royal Brides #1) in March 2018, but I had written a different version of the story years before, some of which I share below. Under my old ideas, there were still supposed to be three books in the series, but the titles were all based around the princes instead of the heroines. Some of the changes included:

• The original title was Prince of Marunda.
• The hero’s name was Raphael instead of Kofi.
• Instead of going to graduate school in England, he studied in the United States.
• In the manuscript, he spoke French instead of the Zamibian language I made up.
• The original story was also a secret baby plot, but Dahlia had lived in his home country and had an affair with him before leaving and going back to the United States, where he later found her and discovered she’d had his child.

I changed Kofi’s home country from Marunda to Zamibia because an author friend said it sounded really close to Zamunda, the fictional African country in “Coming to America.” Though I hadn’t consciously thought about the film when I wrote the story, clearly my subconscious was at work, and I agreed it sounded way too close.

I made up a new name—Zamibia—a combination of two real African countries: Zambia + Namibia. Crisis averted! Then I reworked the storyline, and the love story of Dahlia and Kofi was born.

The text below was pulled from the old draft (I updated the names to match my published novel). In the published novel, they went from the States, to getting married, and then went on their honeymoon in Mozambique.

In the old version, they didn’t have a honeymoon. Here they’ve been married for a while, and this scene is the morning after they first made love as a married couple. There is some mild (not much) heat in this excerpt. (Be sure to click the number 2 so you can get to the next page.)

Hope you enjoy this “alternative” scene.

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(Unedited)

The faint light of dawn cast a dim glow through the open windows of Kofi’s bedroom. Just enough light to allow him a good look at his wife, lying curled against him, fast asleep. One arm was thrown across his chest, her even breathing ticking his collarbone as her soft cheek used his shoulder as a pillow.

Kofi lifted one of her twists and wound it gently around his forefinger. He stilled as she moved in her sleep, rubbing her soft body against his as she resettled herself more comfortably. He watched her movement until she stopped, his blood surging in his veins as his body came alive with the need to make love to her again.

This was what he’d wanted, what he’d dreamed about when he’d seen her again in Atlanta. This was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life—waking up with her warm soft body pressed against him, her sweet smell clinging to his skin and the sheets. Perhaps he had not gone about it the best way. He felt some guilt at having used his own son as a tool to blackmail her into returning with him, but he’d had little option. If she had chosen to fight him, it could have dragged out for years. This was better, to have them both here, where he could take of them, where they belonged.

He brought her pleasure, even if she didn’t love him, and he knew that desire could blossom into deeper feelings. It was only a matter of time.

***

Dahlia’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she was disoriented before she remembered where she was. In her husband’s bed.

Stretching like a satisfied cat beneath the dark sheets, her movement halted mid-stretch as she winced when she felt a dull pain. Her back was a bit sore from the pounding Kofi gave her against the wall. Her thigh muscles ached, too, from having him arrange her legs into various positions that must have been straight out of the Kama Sutra. Her breasts felt heavy and tingled. They had grown accustomed to the ever present warm sucking of his mouth, his tongue and lips a permanent fixture that now removed left her breasts wanting and achy.

A faint smile hovered across her lips in remembrance, and she turned her head to find she was alone in the vast bed. Disappointed, Dahlia pressed her face into the pillow where he had lain and inhaled deeply, her nostrils filling with the drugging mixture of his male scent and the natural spiciness of his cologne. Heat invaded her lower body as she was reminded of the passionate night—and morning—they had shared.

Kofi had been insatiable, hardly giving her any rest. In true form, he pushed her to the limits of exhaustion, as throughout the night his demanding hands reawakened her body to throbbing life each and every time. After taking a long, relaxing shower together, it was early morning when he finally gave her a break and permitted her the luxury of more than an hour of sleep.

Rolling onto her back and groaning, Dahlia cupped her breasts to alleviate the tingling sensation that had intensified as her thoughts turned to their lovemaking the night before.

At that moment, the door to the adjoining dressing room clicked open and Kofi strode in, dressed immaculately in a black suit, white shirt, and dark tie. His proud face was cleanly shaved, and he looked as if he’d had a haircut this morning, as well. He looked clean, fresh, neat—and temptingly delicious. Like a piece of chocolate candy she wanted to sink her teeth into.

He was fastening his cuff links and looked over at her, the rumpled covers twisted loosely around her waist, her hands still absentmindedly filled with her breasts.

Dahlia watched in a trance-like state, licking her lips in anticipation as Kofi made his way across the room and sank onto the mattress. He smiled indulgently at her, and she was overwhelmed by a ridiculous feeling of shyness.

“Let me,” he whispered huskily, and then he gently removed her hands and replaced them with his larger ones. He began to squeeze and knead the sensitive flesh, the nipples becoming even harder than before, her breasts swelling into palms they knew would bring nothing but pleasure.

“You’re not helping,” Dahlia gasped, arching her body further into his capable hands.

“I’m not?” Kofi asked innocently. He lowered his head, his mouth hovering just above hers, his eyes slumberous as his own arousal began to take center stage. “Do you want me to stop?”

She didn’t hesitate. “No.”

He smiled devilishly then, his eyes shining with amusement, as well as his raw hunger for her. “I thought not.”

As he took her mouth, Dahlia recollected what she had only just admitted to herself last night. How much she loved this man, her husband.

She loved the sense of humor he had just exhibited. But she also loved the solemn side of him, the man who cared deeply for his country and his people, ensuring the have-nots progressed and were able to attain not only the necessities. The project in the rural areas had been initiated by Kofi. It was an idea that had taken root in his mind while earning an MBA in Public Health in the United States. Upon returning home, he had put his plan into motion, using the connections he’d garnered while studying abroad to initiate the multi-year plan.

She loved his hands on her body, the delicious things he did to her with barely any effort. For the past couple of years, her life had been a barren desert, except for her son, Noel. What had been missing was Kofi, and the way he brought her alive. Not just physically, but emotionally, as well. She had pushed away any remnants of feelings for him merely as a means of survival, to avoid going stark raving mad because she felt she would never experience the pleasure of being with him again.