Whisper After Dark

Morning on the coast was a scam.

The sun poured through the curtains like nothing wicked had happened hours before. As if the room didn’t still reek of sweat, gin, and sin.

Karanja sat shirtless at the edge of the bed, lighting another cigarette. His back glistened with leftover heat. The sheets behind him were tangled , Alisha lay half-covered, breathing slow and naked in the afterglow of chaos.

“You smoke like you’re running from something,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

Karanja didn’t turn. Just took another drag and stared at the ocean, restless and blue, like it knew things.

“I don’t run,” he said. “I just stop caring faster than most.”

She chuckled softly, stretching like a lioness. The red silk dress from last night was on the floor, inside out and wet at the hem.

Alisha slid out of bed and walked, unbothered, confident, still naked toward the minibar. She pulled out a bottle of tonic water and drank it straight from the glass, eyes on him.

“No regrets?” she asked.

Karanja finally turned to face her. “You mean besides the fact that your husband might shoot me through the window?”

“I told you… he has eyes. But he doesn’t always see.”

Karanja stood, slow and deliberate. He walked over to her, his bare chest still heaving with traces of last night’s rhythm. He took the bottle from her hand, drank the rest, then placed it on the counter.

“Tell me why you really fucked me,” he said.

Alisha leaned in. “Because I wanted to. Because I like how danger tastes. And maybe... because you looked like someone who could match me stroke for stroke.”

He stepped closer. Their bodies were nearly touching now.

“What if I wanted more than just your body?” he whispered.

She smiled, running a finger slowly down his chest. “Then I’d lie to you… beautifully.”

Later That Day: Oceanfront Restaurant, Private Booth

Karanja wore a crisp white shirt now, the top two buttons undone. His sunglasses were back on. Opposite him sat Brian Muema clean, calm, with the energy of a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make people disappear.

“Did you sleep well?” Muema asked, sipping his black coffee like it was communion.

Karanja nodded. “The bed was good. Firm. Expensive.”

“Room service treat you well?”

“Yeah. Even the view was unforgettable.”

Muema paused, eyes narrowing just enough. “Did you… see anything interesting last night?”

Karanja smirked. “A few drunk tourists. A girl passed out by the pool. A couple arguing about who cheated first.”

“Typical Mombasa night,” Muema said, watching him.

Karanja met his gaze without flinching. “That’s the thing about the coast. It shows everything. And hides even more.”

A silence settled between them.

Then Muema leaned forward. “I don’t like messes, Mr. Karanja. I don’t mind mistakes. But messes? They attract flies.”

Karanja stirred his drink slowly. “You called me here to fix something. Maybe you should start by telling me exactly what needs fixing.”

Muema smirked. “Let’s just say… someone got access to certain offshore accounts. And now the EACC is circling like vultures.”

Karanja nodded slowly. “And you think it’s coming from inside.”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“And you want me to trace the leak?”

“No,” Muema said coldly. “I want you to plug it. Silently. Permanently.”

That Evening: Back at the Hotel

The sun was bleeding into the sea again. The room smelled faintly of Alisha’s perfume that sharp, floral blend that clung to skin like a secret.

She was waiting for him, curled on the bed like she owned it. Wearing his white shirt, unbuttoned, no bra, thighs exposed.

Karanja closed the door behind him and stared.

“I thought you were married to a billionaire. Why are you still here?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Just stared at him with unreadable eyes. “Because billionaires buy things. They don’t love them.”

He walked toward her slowly.

“I’m not here for love,” he said.

“I know,” she replied. “But fuck me like I deserve it.”

Next Scene:

This time, there was no urgency. No need to prove anything. Just raw control.

Karanja unbuttoned the rest of the shirt on her body, peeling it away. His hands ran across her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples as she exhaled sharply.

She arched into his touch. Moaning, soft at first.

He kissed her neck, lower, dragging his tongue down to her stomach then down to the soft flesh between her thighs. She was already wet, glistening.

Karanja took his time, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. She gasped, grabbed the sheets, begged in whispers.

“Karanja… please…”

He slid two fingers inside her while sucking gently, curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot. Her back arched. She clenched around his fingers. Her moans filled the room.

“Fuck...yes...yes…”

She came hard, trembling, thighs shaking, breath lost.

But Karanja wasn’t done.

He undressed fully, climbed over her, and looked into her eyes.

“No games tonight,” he said.

“Then ruin me properly.”

He slid inside her slowly, deeply, making her cry out. Their rhythm built slow at first, then faster, rougher. She wrapped her legs around him, nails digging into his back.

Karanja grabbed her hips and flipped her over, taking her from behind, pounding into her until the bed frame thudded against the wall. She screamed into the pillow, then turned her head, biting her own arm to muffle the sounds.

“More,” she begged.

He gave it to her.

Harder. Deeper. Until she squirted again, body jerking beneath him.

Karanja pulled her up, wrapped an arm around her neck, and whispered into her ear, “You like being destroyed, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted. “Don’t stop..don’t fucking stop....”

He didn’t.

He held her tight, riding her until she broke again then filled her, both of them collapsing in a sweaty, breathless mess.

Aftermath:

Alisha lay on her back, chest heaving. Her lips were swollen. Her thighs glistening. Karanja

lit a cigarette.

She turned to him. “So… what happens if Muema finds out?

Karanja exhaled smoke into the ceiling.

“He’ll wish he hadn’t.”