Zira Simba Novels & Stories

Lantern light flickered inside the opulent canvas suite with its king-sized bed and private deck overlooking the water. Isabella Langford, a 26-year-old British-Zimbabwean wildlife philanthropist heiress with sun-kissed skin, golden-brown hair, and a toned, curvaceous body, stood on the private deck in a thin linen dress. The warm breeze pressed the fabric against her hardened nipples and the growing heat between her thighs. She had come for conservation meetings. She stayed for something far more primal. The tent flap opened. Tafari, a 6’10” Black Zimbabwean ranger and elite tracker with a powerful, battle-hardened body, stepped inside. His dark skin glistened under the lantern light as he

She's eating, but she had that grimed face as if she wanted to say something, but then, didn't want to voice it out. I looked at Simoun, and he's talking with the old man. And even though he's talking with the old man and other people around him, he's just staring at me right now. I feel like I'm about to melt. This time, I thought that he would look away, but he didn't! Instead, he looked at me teasingly. As if he's waiting for me to look at him again. Damn! What is this, Viviana?! Wake up! This guy brought some girl to the hotel, right in front of your eyes! Don't be deceived by his stares! Dammit!