Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (11 page)

I walked up the old porch steps and knocked on the front door. The red-bricked 2-story house was taller than it was wide. A couple of shingles on the gray roof were missing, and like the worn front door, it could use a new lick of paint. Other than that, the windows were spotless, and the porch had been swept clean of stray leaves. You could tell the people who lived here really put an effort into making it feel like home. Colorful potted pants were lined on either side of the door. Christmas lights, snail wind chimes, and decorative beads were stringed around the porch ceiling, which in all honesty, looked like they were just a decade away from caving in.

The doormat under my feet put a grin on my face. It featured a pair of dinosaur prints and the words “Welcome” between them. I stretched my neck to the right, peeking into the dark windows before knocking once more.

“Coming!” came the muffled voice behind the door.

The door finally swung open. Carrie stood at the other end of the doorway, out of breath. She wore a stained, oversized button-up with the sleeves rolled up her elbows and a red bandanna to keep her hair out of her face. I glanced down at the obvious camel toe riding up the crotch of her tight zebra pants.

“Kingsley?” She fixed the bow of her bandanna nervously, her eyes rounded in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this.” I fished the card out of my back pocket and handed it to her. “Found your license under my couch.”

“Oh. Thanks,” said Carrie, slipping her license into the breast pocket of her shirt. “I was looking all over for this! It must have fallen out of my wallet. But you didn't have to come all the way here for that. You could've just given this to me at the clubhouse – I am coming over tomorrow, after all.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” It was just for a second, but I swear I saw a glimpse of a smile on her lips. “What did you want to see me for? I mean, I am pretty busy. I was about to scrub the tub upstairs, and I've got that story on Hefner's knee injury back in '12 to finish later –”

“It'll just take a second.”

“Right. Okay. Sure.” It sounded like Carrie was trying to convince herself. She stepped aside. “Come in.”

“Nice place.”

The place made you feel right at home. It wasn't messy, but it was cluttered in the way you could tell that there was a kid somewhere in the house. The walls were covered with framed photographs and old crayon scrawls about as tall as my knees. Most were pictures of Jackson, including a chronological depiction of his 5 years displayed along the staircase. Other pictures showed Carrie and Jamie as kids and teenagers, as well as a couple of whom I assumed were Mr. and Mrs. Toussaint.

“Thanks. It's not much, but it's the only thing our parents owned when they passed.” Carrie gestured for me to follow her into the kitchen.

“Where's Jackson?”

“Jamie took him out for another checkup. I was going to clean the bathroom while they were gone, but I guess I'll do that later.”

“How is he?”

“He seems to be getting a little better. He hasn't thrown up in 2 days, and his appetite's back. He's been dying to go back to school, and hopefully he'll be well enough to go back tomorrow.”

Carrie bent over to open the fridge. I couldn't help but zoom in on her ass, its shape outlined by the tightness of her leggings. She craned her neck over her shoulder, her ass still jutted out at me.

“Want something to drink? We've got juice boxes in all flavors, some leftover peach tea I should probably throw out, one of Jamie's repugnant diet smoothies, and some water. Yeah, haven't exactly had time to hit the grocery store yet...”

“I'll have an apple juice, I guess.”

Carrie tossed a juice box to me and grabbed one for herself. I caught the juice box in midair. The thing was half the size of my hand.

“Thanks.” I felt like a giant fitting that short ass straw into my tiny drink.

“So, what brings you here?” Carrie pulled up a chair on the dinner table.

“Well, uh, I needed to talk to you about what I may have said to you the other night –”

“That's off the record,” Carrie assured me softly. “I mean, I don't condone it and it goes against every bit of my journalistic integrity not to write about it, but I won't. It's the least I can do after all you've done for Jackson.”

“I...thanks.”

“And for what it's worth, I don't agree with almost everything you do, but I don't think you're a fraud.”

Carrie and I stewed in brooding silence before I spoke up again.

“One more thing. Are we ever gonna address what happened afterwards?”

“Yeah, okay, about that...” Carrie bit her lip, looking away from me. “You were drunk, and my head wasn't in the right place – I should've put a stop to it. It wasn't very professional of me –”

“It takes 2 to tango. I was there, too. Besides, I can't say I regretted any minute of it.” I finished my juice box in one go and set it down on the table. “Do you?”

“No, I mean, yes – I don't know.” Carrie was restless from being put on the spot. “What does it matter? This can never happen again.”

“Why not?” I leaned back against my chair and spaced my legs apart. “I'm just gonna go ahead and lay it out on the table. I couldn't stop thinking about you all week, Carrie.”

“I don't – I don't know what you want me to do with that.” Carrie blushed, turning her head to play with the fold of her bandanna. The speed picked up with every word coming out of her mouth. “I mean, did you annoyingly barge into my thoughts uninvited? Maybe a couple of times, but that's neither here nor there...”

“So, what's the problem?”

“You mean problems? First off, it's irresponsible, and I – I don't. You know, we really shouldn't be talking about this.”

“Ah, so you're saying we just pretend this never happened?” I turned down my lips, nodding. “I don't know why people say women talk about their feelings too much – from what I've experienced, y'all don't talk about what you really want nearly enough.”

“Is that so?” Carrie shot back contemptuously. “And what genius ideas do you have to bring to the table? Right, zero, so –”

“I'll tell you exactly what I'm gonna do.”

I got out of my seat and slid into the chair next to hers. Carrie touched the back of her neck, tightening her lips on the edge of her seat. I inched my face closer towards her and grazed my fingers along the side of her face. My eyes focused to her quivering lips, parted in wonder.

“I'm gonna go ahead and kiss you now.” I licked my lips and looked straight into the captivating greens of her eyes. “You can stop me whenever you want, and I'll leave, forget this ever happened.”

But she didn't. I pressed my lips onto hers, caressing her tender mouth with mine. No tongues were used, but the feel of her velvet lips on mine was enough to stimulate a reaction between my legs.

When I pulled away, Carrie's eyes slowly fluttered open. She said nothing, just staring at me with pink creeping across her cheeks. But as I rose from my chair, Carrie pounced on me, flinging her arms around my neck. She stood on the tips of her toes and mashed her lips on mine, kissing me hungrily. I kissed her back with equal force, slinking my arms around her waist to pull her close to me.

Suddenly, Carrie broke away from me.

“Not here. Come on.”

She seized my wrist and led me up the stairs to her bedroom.

Chapter Thirteen:
Carrie

Before my bedroom door could click shut, Kingsley shoved me up against the wall next to my closet. I flattened my palms against the wall behind my shoulders. My skin tingled with every kiss he planted along the side of my neck, clenching my toes as he started to bite lightly on my earlobe. All the while, he'd grabbed a handful of my right breast, kneading the plump globe through the cotton of my button-up.

“Fuck, Kingsley,” I hissed huskily into his ear. “I wish I could quit you...”

Kingsley's soft, knowing laugh made my panties moist. I pushed him back and pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion. I kissed him once more, wriggling my tongue into his lips to find his as my fingers toured his rock-hard chest and the smooth dents of his ripped stomach.

Kingsley tore through the buttons of my shirt from top to bottom, the second-to-last flying off in the fervor. My naked breasts spilled out from my shirt openings, rising and falling as they implored to be violated. Kingsley buried his face in my cleavage, groping my ass cheeks before unrolling my yoga pants along with my panties. He lowered his head between my legs, probing my dewy lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Mm, yeah, that's nice and wet...” He sniffed, sighing softly. “Smells like you're ready for me, too.”

Without warning, Kingsley hefted me off my feet and tossed me onto my bed. I shrugged off my shirt and chucked it aside, sliding up against my pillows in anticipation. He took off his pants and crawled towards me with his cock in his hands. But as he hovered over me, ready to drive that thick, fat cock of his into my cunt, he paused, frowning.

“What's with this lump under your bed?”

The back of my head sprang off the pillows, my eyes bulging with dread.

“Wait, no, hold on a second –”

My pleas fell to deaf ears as Kingsley pulled out a flat box from under my mattress. He unlatched the lid, grinning at the hot-pink vibrator, remote controlled hula beads, and half-empty tube of my jasmine-scented lube in the lining. I fell back onto my pillows, writhing in a mixture of defeat, guilt, and eagerness.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Kingsley picked up the flat baby-blue remote of my hula beads and turned it on. His grin only broadened as the hula beads danced around the box, the head of the toy twisting in humming circles.

“That's – that's private,” I squeaked, clearing my throat.

“Not anymore.” Kingsley winked, chewing on his lip sexily. He unscrewed the cap of the lube, his eyes skimming across the Japanese print. “Looks like you're gonna need to stock up on some of this pretty soon. Why don't we make the most out of what you've got left in here?”

Kingsley squeezed the lube onto the head of the hula beads, slathering it all over the toy. My bed sheets crumpled under my toes as I waited, my heart thumping in my ears. I gasped, watching as he eased the hula beads into my folds. With the beads filling me up whole, Kingsley activated the toy with the remote.

“Ah...fuck, Kingsley –”

The initial humiliation from my brazen exposure quickly dissipated. What came in place was a surge of electric confidence taking control of my body. I wanted his eyes on nothing else but me, watching me as I succumbed to sensual, eye-fluttering euphoria. The twisting head of the beads vibrated against my tightening walls, sending me squirming against my bed in blissful agony.

Kingsley wasn't finished. He grabbed my 8-inch vibrator and switched it on, pushing the rippling tip of the silicone head against my clit. I summoned everything I had in me to keep my eyes open. Drops of perspiration were clinging to my hairline. He locked the intensity of his narrowed eyes on mine, daring me to cum for him. My increasingly jagged breathing began to drown out the sounds of wet shlicks and buzzing toys.

There was a short burst of panic in my chest as Kingsley lowered his head between my legs for a better look. My shoulders hunched up, twitching uncontrollably along with my body as the sweet tingles of orgasm erupted between my legs. A stream of my emissions steadily trickled out of me, a few drops splashing onto the tip of his nose.

“Damn, Carrie.” Kingsley wiped his nose, licking up the trails running down my thigh. “That's hot.”

When I caught my breath, I pulled out the beads and rolled out from under him, stacking up my pillows on the side of my bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Come here.” I positioned my back on the pillows, allowing my hair to fan out over the side of the bed. I bent my neck backward, aligning my mouth and my throat, looking up at his upside down frame with an innocent smile. “Don't you want me to finish you off?”

Kingsley followed orders with raised eyebrows, his bronzed, powerful frame towering over me. I reached up for his cock and stretched my lips as wide as they would go, preparing for entry. As I played with his balls with the other, Kingsley grunted, almost crooning as I guided his throbbing shaft past my puckered lips.

I relaxed my shoulders and took a deep breath, loosening the passage of my throat. My eyes started to water up as the tip brushed against the back of my throat, but I tilted my head back further and kept my breathing controlled and measured. I kept my tongue consciously flattened, holding his head in my throat for 4 seconds a time.

“Holy shit, Carrie,” Kingsley groaned, thrusting his hips slightly forward. He tested out my control over my gag reflexes, his cock gliding over the bed of my tongue. “Where – where'd you learn to do that?”

Kingsley withdrew his cock, ready to inject himself in once more when we heard the bang of the front door.

“Carrie? Where are you?

“Aunt Carrie! We're home!”

Kingsley pulled out of my mouth. The urgent look on his face was laced with disappointment, but he jumped off the bed and into his pants quicker than I'd ever seen anyone get dressed. It was as if he'd had plenty of practice, which most likely was the case. I staggered off my bed, cramming my toys back in the box and putting them away before throwing my clothes back on.