Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (22 page)

Like Mom always said, “When in doubt, kill them with kindness.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine:
Kingsley

I locked my car doors and looked both ways before crossing the street, heading for the 3-story house. The crib was packed. All the lights were on, and music blared out from the rooftop deck, bustling with activity. Kids were splashing around in the backyard pool. Footballs, basketballs, old kid's scooters, a baby stroller, and other junk could be seen through the gaps of the fences, scattered around the yard.

I jogged up the front steps and knocked on the door. Through the door, I could hear upbeat gospel music and the thumping of footsteps. I waited patiently as the door unlocked. My eyes fell to the little girl with dreadlocks in front of me, dressed in a miniature Taekwondo uniform and a yellow belt around her waist.

“Uncle King!”

“Hey, Faith,” I greeted her cheerfully, extending my arm for a fist bump. “Is your dad around?”

“Yeah, he's right –”

Odell's voice boomed down the hallway.

“Faith? Who's out there? What'd I tell you about answering the door –” Odell pulled back the front door and held onto Faith's shoulders gently. “Why don't you go back inside and show your cousins what you learned in class today?”

“Okay. See you later, Uncle King!”

“Later, Faith.”

“What are you doing here, King?” asked Odell curtly. “I'm busy – got the whole family over– ”

“This isn't going to take long. I needed to talk to you about something. Shit's urgent.”

“We ain't got nothing left to say to each other.” Odell started to close the door.

“It's not about me, man.” I jammed my foot in the doorway, holding the door open. “Carrie's going out with Val.”

“Val?” Kingsley pulled back the door, his brows snapping together. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I ran into the them a couple of days ago. She came around after practice.”

“So that's why it's been smelling like Justin Bieber's cologne up in the locker room lately. That motherfucker's a phony. First you, now Val. Carrie's got a questionable taste in men.” Odell shook his head, sighing. He peered over his shoulder, then looked back at me, his face going dark. “I'm sorry to hear that, but I ain't trying to concern myself with those that put my family –”

“That's another thing. I don't think it was Carrie –”

“Babe? What's going on out here?”

Nellie squeezed her way through under Odell's arm. She was a naturally beautiful woman with strong, handsome features. Her face brightened when she saw me, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

“'Sup Nellie, how you doing?”

“Hey, King! What are y'all doing out here? Why don't you come in and join us? There's plenty of food to go around.”

Odell and I exchanged strained looks.

“I'd love to, but I've gotta be somewhere soon.”

“Oh, no problem.” Nellie slid an arm around Odell's waist, smiling up at him lovingly. “So, what are we talking about?”

“That reporter, Carrie Toussaint – King here says she's been going out with Val.”

“Not Carrie?” Nellie's jaw slacked open in horror. “That smart, beautiful woman? Why on earth would she be going out with Val Presley?”

“The dude's an arrogant prick, but he can really turn on the charm when he wants to,” I grumbled. “He's also an unoriginal asshole that buys cheesy packages from this company called Dream Dates Inc – some lame setting, fancy ass meals, live music, the works. But more importantly, the fucker's nothing but a piece of shit that beats women.”

“Thank Jesus Xiao-Xin finally came to her senses. Can you imagine that? Living with that emotional and physical torture for 3 whole years...” Nellie looked up at her husband for confirmation. “You remember when she used to come over whenever Val had a little too much to drink? A swollen lip, a black eye, broken ribs and bones – she's had it all. Once, she let slip that the bastard locked her in the guest room for 2 days when she was 'caught texting another guy' – and get this, it was her cousin!”

“He belongs in prison so his bitch ass can get knocked around by horny thugs double his size,” Odell chimed in darkly. “What's fucked up is that his asshole's still intact, but again, look what the white man can do with his money, am I right?”

“It's more than that,” said Nellie disapprovingly, sneaking a deadly look in Odell's direction before looking back at me. “I've tried so hard to get her to to report him to the authorities, but Xiao-Xin was afraid of getting deported, and she was stupid in love with Val. Thankfully, she's in Tennessee now, and she's doing well. I check in on her from time to time through Facebook. She's doing her master's degree in psychology and is hoping to open up a practice of her own someday.”

“So, where do we go from here?” I swallowed, rubbing the kink out of my neck. “Carrie's not exactly jumping up and down to see me right now –”

“You do what you have to, but you talk to her. You can't keep this from Carrie. She's got a right to know.” Nellie glanced over her shoulder, sucking her teeth. “I need to go check on the ham. It was great seeing you, King. Let me know if I can do anything. Drop by some other time, okay?”

“Great seeing you too, Nellie. Take care.”

When Nellie hurried back into the kitchen, Odell started closing the door on me.

“Good luck with Carrie, but this doesn't change nothing between us.”

XXX

“Oh, crap!”

Carrie stood near the top step of The Daily Dirt entrance. She had her hands frozen in front of her like someone had just yelled out “Red Light.” Her stuff spilled out of her purse, which lay by her feet with a broken strap. She squatted down and started sweeping her things back into her purse.

I jogged up the steps, retrieving her book for her.

“Thank –” Carrie paused, her nose wrinkling when we made eye contact. “What are you –”

“Doing here?” I finished her sentence. I checked out the cover of her book, raising my eyebrows. “'The 50
^th
Law'? You reading a book written by 50 Cent?”

“And Robert Greene,” Carrie retorted. She grabbed her book and stuffed it back into her purse. “Not that 50 Cent isn't a veritable author on his own; the guy's got some interesting ideas – never mind, why am I even explaining myself to you? To what do I owe the pleasure, Kingsley?”

“We need to talk about Val.”

“Not this again.” Carrie rose to her feet, dusting the dirt off her knees. “I'm not interested in your little rivalry with Val. And why in the world would you think you'd have any say in who I decide to associate myself with –”

“He ever tell you he was married?”

“Yes. The keyword being 'was.' They've been divorced for 2 years–”

“And did he tell you why Xiao-Xin left him?”

“I – something about a green card,” Carrie stammered, caught off guard. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“Val isn't who you think he is. He was downright abusive to Xiao-Xin their whole marriage –”

“Whoa, what are you talking about?” There was a flash of fear in Carrie's eyes. She clutched the broken strap of her purse. “That can't be right. I did a background check on Val and he's got a clean record, other than that DUI a couple of years back –”

“I'm telling you, Carrie. I don't think you should see him anymore.”

She swayed back, her eyes widening as if she'd just come to a realization.

“No, no, you don't get to tell me who I should and shouldn't see,” Carrie breathed calmly. She was standing perfectly still, and her voice was steady, but I caught her lip trembling. “You've got some frickin' nerve to show up around here after what you did. I'm sorry it's so hard to believe that the great Kingsley Kelly's actually getting rejected –”

“What? No, I'm not talking about getting back together with me. I mean, you know I want that, but I know what it looked like –”

“The irony is insane,” said Carrie, taking another step back from me with her hand out. “I suggest you take a closer look at that lovely, and mind you, still-married woman you're currently boning, and let me know what you come up with – yes, Lisa? Can I help you with something?”

Carrie stuck her hand on her hip, glaring at the pudgy woman behind me. The scowling stranger raised her hook nose in the air, sniffing before she scampered up the steps and into the building. I stepped towards Carrie, sighing.

“Listen, Carrie, that's not where I was going with this, let's just talk –”

“You worry about your bullshit, and I'll worry about mine, kay? Kay. Wonderful. That's settled. Bye, Kingsley.”

Carrie swung out a leg and flounced off in the other direction.

Chapter Thirty
: Carrie

How I cherished these stolen moments of precious solitude. All the problems, stress, and crap that came with life had come to a standstill. I was the only thing that mattered at the moment – just me, myself, and I. I was in tune with my body, and my body to the secret thoughts bouncing to and fro in the safe cave of my mind.

I sunk deeper into my pillow, turning my head to the slideshow of images playing on my laptop screen. Ripped hunks in fake football uniforms filled my screen in unique poses and states of undress. Some bared their sculpted, oily torsos, smirking at the camera as they touched themselves suggestively. Some wore nothing at all except for a helmet, holding up their fully-erect cocks next to footballs to show off their length and girth.

One of my favorites was a tall, sexy god with a clean, geometric fade cut and a groomed beard. He had on a black-and-red jersey, but his bottom half was naked. Veins popped out of his clenched biceps as he held onto his big black cock and sack like a tommy gun. The arrogant, slightly wayward grin on his face as if he was daring me to come and get it was annoyingly familiar...

Twisting my nipple, I reached for my vibrator and switched it on. The hot-pink vibrator pulsed in my palm, causing the hairs on my body to prickle with anticipation. I groped myself between my legs, emerging with sticky fingers. As I relaxed my head and shoulders, I propped up my legs and lowered the humming vibrator. I teased myself, brushing the curved head of the dancing pink cock along my slit. The extra finger-like appendage on the vibrator grinded against my clit, my body shorting in a brief spasm.

I turned back to my laptop, my chin quivering as I eased the vibrating shaft through my pussy lips. My restless toes creased the bed sheets, my body's desperate way of getting a grip as it processed the powerful rippling sensation between my legs. I grabbed my left tit, violently molesting myself as I pushed the vibrator deeper into me. The curved head probed the walls of my pussy, searching for that one spot to trigger that temporary but worthy moment of heavenly bliss. The extra finger on the vibrator stimulated my clit, driving me even closer to the goal.

I smashed the space bar, pausing the slideshow. The slideshow froze on an image of a tanned, blue-eyed cutie with unruly brown hair. He had a slightly smaller build and was free of any ink on his body, but he looked as close to Kingsley as I could get. Now that I had this thing with Val, I wasn't proud of it, but I knew it was the only thing that could bring me to completion. The model's lips were parted alluringly as he extended a hand in a come-hither pose. He gripped his mouth-watering cock with his other, pulling back the skin of his cock to display the faint, raw pink of its moist head.

I pumped my vibrator in and out of me, my eyes poring through every crisp detail of his strong, strapping body, imagining my lips sliding down the shaft of that thick, beautiful cock...

When I heard the bang of the front door, my fluttery eyelids snapped right back open.

“
Mommy, stop. Why are you so angry at me
?”

I pulled my vibrator out of me and sprang off my bed, cleaning myself up in record time. As I pulled an old shirt over my head and stumbled into a pair of pajama pants, my ears pricked up in alarm at the sound of Jackson's tearful voice. That little boy's been to the hospital more than most do in a lifetime, and I couldn't remember the last time I heard him cry. Jamie's heavy footfall thumped around the house, knocking things over and setting things down with some serious attitude.

“
Jackson! Get the hell out of my way!”

I threw the door open and raced down the steps. Jackson was still standing by the front door, his watery eyes trailing after his tantrum-throwing mother. His red face was distraught, with his glasses starting to fog up and his eyebrows and chin shaking with emotion.

“Jamie, what is your problem?” I demanded forcefully, flaring up in anger. I looked down at Jackson anxiously, placing an arm on his quavering shoulder. “You okay, Jackson?”

Jackson pushed up his glasses and wiped across his eyes with the back of his hand, nodding. He pointed to his shirt, which bore a cartoon “Tea-Rex” in a top hat and monocle, sipping tea. There was a track of grape juice running down his neckline, seeping into the white fabric.