Just for you

Chapter eight

Joanna’s pov

Lagos,Eight Months Ago.

The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, doing little to cut through the heavy, suffocating humidity of the Lagos night. I was lying across my bed, scrolling idly on my phone, when the screen suddenly lit up with an incoming call from an unfamiliar UK number.

I paused, staring at the digits. I didn't recognize them, but a strange, quiet tug in my chest made me swipe the green icon and press the phone against my ear.

"Hello?" I said softly into the silence.

Before I could even add another word, a heavy, raspy breath blew into the microphone, followed by a voice so thick and dangerously familiar that the world around me instantly ceased to exist.

"I miss you," the voice slurred through the receiver, heavy with alcohol and raw, unrestrained longing. "I miss you so much, Joanna."

The words hit me like a physical blow. A violent wave of shock crashed through my chest, sending cold shivers cascading straight down my spine while simultaneously making every single one of my internal organs feel as if they had been thrown into a burning fire. My breath caught in my throat, my fingers tightening on the phone until my knuckles turned white.

Seven years. Seven long years of silence, of being banished, of forcing myself to pretend he was a ghost. And now, in a single, drunken second, his voice was vibrating through my speaker, shattering every wall I had painstakingly built around my heart.

"Are you drunk?" I asked bluntly, my voice cutting sharp and cold through the static of the line. "I am not doing this with you right now, Favour. Call me back when you're sober."

"No, don't hang up! Joanna, wait—I am not drunk!" he pleaded, his heavy breath rasping against the microphone. "I'm not drunk, okay? Just listen to me."

I stayed frozen on the edge of my bed, holding the receiver tight against my ear.

"Answer me one thing," Favour begged, his voice dropping into a desperate, hollow murmur. "In all those years... in those six years we were apart, did you ever think about coming back? Did you ever want to come to me?"

Hot, heavy tears swelled instantly in my eyes, blurring the dimly lit room into streaks of shadow. A lump formed in my throat, so thick and painful it made it hard to breathe. All the buried hurt, all the humiliation I had locked away in Nigeria, rushed back to the surface in a single, agonizing surge.

"No, Favour," I whispered, tears tracking hot trails down my cheeks. "I definitely didn't. Because why would I ever want to come back to a man who looked me in the eye and called me a mad person in front of my own family?"

"It was a mistake, Joanna," Favour stammered out, his voice cracking. "I had to say those things back then... I had to call you crazy just to get you away from me, to keep everyone from tearing us apart! I didn't mean a single word of it."

"I had to cool off my head," he slurred on, completely unhinged. "Maya and I are getting a divorce... We had this massive, heated argument, and I just... I remembered you, Joanna. I remembered how you treated me. She could never be like you. Have you seen my wife?"

"No," I replied coldly. "I haven't seen her, and I don't want to see my worst enemy. I'm perfectly cool hating a faceless stranger."

"I missed it, Joanna," Favour rattled on, his voice dropping into a thick, filthy whisper. "I missed hearing you call me oppa... God, I missed how those words sounded coming out of your mouth while I was going down on you, listening to you moan my name."

I glanced at the digital clock glowing on my nightstand—2:00 AM.

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Out of all the cities in the world, Favour was in Lagos. At two in the morning, on the exact same soil as me, calling my phone to tell me how much he missed my touch. It was fate catching up with us.

I kicked off my blankets, shoved my feet into the nearest pair of Crocs I could find by the bed, and grabbed my house keys off the dresser.

"Where are you?" I demanded into the phone. "Favour, where are you right now?"

The yellow taxi cut through the quiet streets of midnight Lagos. I stared out the window, my mind racing. Was I doing the right thing? But I couldn't just leave a drunk Favour all alone.

When the cab pulled up at the lounge he texted me, I stepped out into the humid air and walked inside. I scanned the dimly lit room until my eyes landed on him sitting in the corner. My heart rate raised to a hundred beats per minute. I was standing, facing a man who made all things perish whenever I was in his arms. I didn't care about the world at all when I was at this sight.

I reached out and tapped him. Favour looked up and smiled drunkenly at me. He stood up, swaying slightly, and pulled me into an overwhelming hug. My breasts pressed against his chest, my n*****s responding immediately like they knew their master.

"I don't want to seem like a bad person by leaving you," I murmured into his shoulder. "Have you paid? We need to go."

"The Continental..." he slurred. "In Victoria Island."

I helped him into a taxi, and when we reached the hotel, I practically dragged him through the lobby and up to his room. I opened the door, and he sat down heavily on the bed.

"Favour..." I said, stepping toward him. "I want to go."

"Joanna, no..." he mumbled, shaking his head. "It's late. It's way too late."

"It's too late," I agreed, stepping back toward the door. "I'm going home, Favour."

"Joanna, no!" he called out, stumbling off the bed and slamming his hand against the door to block my exit. He cupped my face, his breath warm against my forehead. "Don't go. Please... don't you want to be with me?"

"You know I do," I wept softly. "God help me, you know I do."

He didn't say another word. He gripped my waist and lifted me off my feet, pinning me against the wall. His mouth came down on mine—hard, hot, and completely unhinged. He yanked my shirt off and stripped my trousers away, leaving me exposed in my bra before dropping to his knees. His hands slid up my thighs, his tongue stroking my swollen flesh until my knees buckled.

"Say it," he growled against my skin, his fingers slipping inside me. "Tell me who this belongs to."

"Yours..." I sobbed out, my hips rolling uncontrollably into his face. "Oppa, it’s yours... ah!"

Favour stood up, unbuckled his belt, lifted my right leg around his hip, and plunged straight into me in one hard, deep thrust. A breathless scream tore from my throat as he set a relentless, punishing rhythm right there against the wall. His hand wrapped firmly around my throat, holding me steady as he hammered into me.

"Harder, oppa... please, harder!" I wept, my nails digging deep into his back.

He growled, carrying me to the massive king-sized bed while staying buried deep inside me. He threw me onto the mattress, pinning my wrists above my head as he resumed his forceful thrusts.

"I'm close," I sobbed out, my body tightening around him like a vice. "Oppa, I'm going to—"

"c*m for me, Joanna," he ordered, his voice dropping into a dirty, guttural whisper. "c*m on my d**k right now."

My climax hit me like a violent explosion, my inner walls convulsing around him in tight spasms. Favour gave three last deep thrusts, groaning loudly as he spilled his hot seed deep inside me. He collapsed heavily on top of me, spent and thoroughly ruined by each other once again.