Zamageda his heart

Chapter 20

I am woken up by the warm breath trickling to the hair on my back, the warm hands softly caressing my moist folds, my leg being lifted softly and the love of my life inserting himself in me as he takes control of every part of me, his strokes slow intentional and gentle. I moan out in pleasure, he pounds deeper and harder, reaching his hand on my now tender chest he circles his hand making me cry even louder. He gently turns  me over over and fucks me senselessly my moans driving him further into me.  I let him have his way  with me, my stomach churns a I indulge in  pleasure a stark contrast to the familiar feeling of an orgasm I place my hand on my mouth trying to cover what is boiling inside of me while I let pleasure consume  me.

'Stop!' I shout, and he immediately halts, his arousal dissipating as I try to extricate myself from his grasp. I rush to the bathroom, my stomach churning, and hurl my guts out. He follows me, concern etched in his voice as he gently brushes my back. 'Baby...' he whispers. Once I've composed myself, he hands me a glass of glucose. 'Will you be able to attend dinner later?' he asks, his tone laced with worry. My stomach turns at the thought of meeting his parents and siblings. I know mothers often have an ideal image of umalokazana, and I'm the antithesis of that- dark-skinned, bald, short, and petite, unlike the quintessential Pearl and Xoli. 'I don't know,' I respond, my voice laced with pain, silently pleading for a reprieve. 'We'll have to thug it out, nhliziyo yami,' he says, his words firm but gentle, as he walks towards the shower, leaving me defeated by the toilet.I gather myself and join Zipho in the shower, where he tenderly helps my hungover self get ready. We enjoy a comfortable silence over breakfast, but my mind soon returns to his request to bring 'his child' to dinner. 'I should go home,' I say, prompting a simple 'okay' from him. He gestures towards a stunning red Range Rover Sport outside, adorned with a red bow. The car's sleek design and luxurious features - a 3.0-liter V6 engine, 20-inch alloy wheels, and a panoramic sunroof - leave me awestruck.' I hope you didn't think I'd let you drive my kids in a Mini Cooper,' he says with a smile, dismissing my shock. I know Phili would soon complain about petrol and mileage, despite the generous allowance I provide. Overcome with emotion, I hug him tightly, remembering the last time someone bought me a car - my father on my 21st birthday.

'Ngyabonga, Mbulazi,' I say, tears streaming down my face. 'I did say I would spend the rest of my life thanking you for breathing life into me, gwabini,' he replies, opening the driver's door for me with a gentle smile. As I drive home in my stunning new Range Rover, I think to myself, 'Yaze yangithanda indoda' . My mom and sister are overjoyed when they see the car, and Nkanyezi exclaims, 'Now that's a push gift!' We ignore her teasing as my mom insists on taking the car for a spin, as if she's never driven a Range Rover before.The day flies by, but by 5 pm, my anxiety spikes as I prepare for dinner with my 'in-laws.' I wear a elegant long foschini pleated dress, sandals, and Nkanyezi helps me style a curly wig and a small doek-like headband, transforming me into a modern makoti. With Iyana, mom, and Nkanyezi by my side, we head to plantations, while Phili stays behind, focused on her med school exams

Xoliswa, beaming with joy, introduces us to the Mabaso family matriarchs: Makhumalo, mother to Nkosi, Zipho, and Thando ; Magasa, mother to Lwazi, Mayenzi, and Wandiswa; and Kagcaba, mother to Nsika, Manqoba, and Hlobisile. My mom can't help but chuckle at Kagcaba's less-than-welcoming demeanor towards us.After we exchange pleasantries she swiftly whisks me and Nkanyezi away to the kitchen, where we meet Nkanyiso and Noluvo, Nkosi's wives, as well as Lusanda, Nsika's wife. The kitchen is abuzz with warmth and conversation, a stark contrast to the formalities of the main gathering.

 When dinner is served, I meet Mayenziwe and her husband Phelelani, Wandiswa and Thandoluhle, who seem inseparable, and I'm reminded of how their brother scolded them for calling him 'my love' in my presence. Then, there's Hlobisile, the golden child. However, dinner can't commence without the head of the household, who arrives with Tyrone, Nkosi, Lwazi, and Zipho, all looking tense.The atmosphere becomes even more strained as we await the start of dinner, the tension palpable as we wait for the head of the household to take his place.