Hoops Limited Edition Box Set, page 108
“Oh, God.” My head drops to his chest as a tingle begins in my toes and flutters through my calves, my knees, my legs, and converges to the spot he is still ruthlessly, methodically possessing. And then I can’t fight it. With one hand on his zipper, the other clenched around his bicep, I come. The orgasm runs rampant over my body, leaving no part of me untouched. A scream rips through me—rips through the apartment. Dry sobs tear at my throat and, wracked with pleasure, I bury my face in his neck, open my mouth over the muscled curve, and bite down. He tenses, growls, his muscles tight under my hands.
We go still. I draw back enough to look into his eyes, and our labored breaths collide between our mouths. Not releasing his gaze, I lower his zipper, slip my hand into his jeans, and pull on him through his briefs.
“Lotus,” he mutters, his eyelids hanging heavy, his pupils blown wide with lust.
I don’t wait for whatever he’ll say next, but push on his shoulder, coaxing him to his back, to the marble floor. I urge his shirt up and lick my lips at the sight of his torso, a slab of sculpted muscles. And those nipples.
My weakness.
I straddle his belly and bend to take one into my mouth. I moan at the taste of him—the smooth and rough texture on my tongue. I reach down and pull his dick out, rubbing up and down in rhythm with my head bobbing over his chest, sucking his nipples. He emits gruff, strangled sounds and plunges his hand into my hair, urging my head downward. I yield, leaving kisses as I descend. I whisper “yes” over his pecs, the sturdy cage of his ribs, the contraction of his abs.
His belt is already undone. His zipper, down. I glance up, ensnaring his eyes when my mouth reaches the most vulnerable part of him. I gulp. Kenan is a big man. I assumed he’d be no different here, and I was right.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I tell him, not even trying to keep the reverence from my voice. He’s perfectly formed, chiseled, massive.
Mine. For tonight, for as long as I can keep him, mine.
I take his dick down my throat and swallow, relishing the wild sounds he gives me as a reward. I lick up and down, from root to crown, not overlooking an inch. I dip lower, taking his balls into my mouth one at a time, lavishing them until they’re shiny, wet, slick.
“Fuck, Lotus,” he moans, both hands fisted in my hair so tightly it stings. I don’t care. I just want to feel with him. I slip my tongue into the slit at his tip, and at the first taste of the salty milkiness, I lose control. I’m a starved beast, gripping his powerful thighs with my hands, the rough hairs abrading my palms. I’m manipulating his balls and taking him so far down my throat I choke, saliva pooling in my mouth and running from the corners.
“Baby, I’m coming.”
I nod jerkily, holding his hips in place and taking him down farther. My throat contracts around him with every hard-won gulp.
“Jesus, Lotus.” His handsome features twisting with agonizing pleasure, he caresses my jaw as it works around him.
The first warm spurt coats my tongue and the roof of my mouth, and rushes down my throat. I moan at the taste of him. Voracious, I hollow my cheeks to milk him of every drop. When the stream finally stops, I lick from the base to the tip, gathering all of him that I can. Saving the taste, savoring him. When I’ve licked him clean, I crawl up his chest and tuck myself into the crook of his arm, my ear pressed to his heart seeking its reassuring thump. His fingers sift through my hair, and one large finger traces the blossoming zipper tattooed up my spine.
We lie there for a long time, heedless of the fact that the marble floor of his foyer is cold and hard. Heedless of the messy stickiness we coaxed from each other’s bodies. It’s quiet, except for our slow, calming breaths filling the air. Our bodies are teaching us the scope of true intimacy. It’s another’s pleasure over yours. It’s hunger unique to one other person—satisfied only by him. Only by her.
“That was . . .” Kenan’s words fail, trail away, but I don’t need them.
I touch his ridged torso and sprinkle kisses over his chest.
“I know,” I whisper, my eyes wet with emotion. “I know.”
CHAPTER 27 - KENAN
The events of last night, after we gorged on each other in the foyer, are murky. We were both exhausted. I picked Lotus up in her skirt and top, leaving her purse, panties, shoes, and my jeans right at the door. We barely made it to the bed, collapsing in the center and falling asleep almost right away. I wake with her back spooned to my chest, and her soft roundness hardens my cock even beyond the typical morning wood.
“Someone’s happy to see me this morning,” Lotus says, her voice husky with sleep and, I hope, arousal. She turns to face me and slides one slim, toned thigh between my legs. My arms tighten around her, and I wish we could wake this way every morning. Is it too soon to think like this? To start exploring scenarios where we can be like this, together, all the time?
“I am very happy to see you,” I murmur into the velvety sweep of her neck. “I want to see you all day. Is that possible?”
“All day?” She lifts her head and props herself on her elbow to peer down at me. “It’s a Sunday, but JP still may need something being this close to the show. Can I check with him before we make plans?”
“Sure.” I’m distracted, dotting her jaw with kisses and rubbing her thigh beneath the tulle skirt. I roam higher and find the firm, naked curve of her ass. We look into each other’s eyes, and last night’s memories, the fiery moments, resurge between us.
“I didn’t get to really see you,” I tell her, my voice deep, scraping bottom with desire. I find the tiny button at the back of her skirt. “Let me look at you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
She shifts to make it easier for me to get the skirt off. With her panties in the foyer, I have an uninterrupted view of shapely, copper-toned legs, subtly curved hips, and a plump, bare pussy.
Grooming goes a long way.
I tug at the hem of her shirt, wanting to see her breasts, the bar that pierces one of her nipples. The shirt is almost over her head when she starts to struggle, to pull away.
“Kenan, no,” she says, her voice pitched high.
“Baby, it’s okay. I’ll stop,” I start reassuring her, but lose track of my thoughts when I see dark bruises on her upper arms.
“Kenan,” she whispers, completely naked in my bed, her eyes wide and worried. “I can ex—”
“Who?” I cut in, slamming my teeth together to contain my fury. “Who did this? How did you get these?”
“It’s noth . . . it’s nothing,” she says. “Let it go.”
“Tell me right now who put their hands on you,” I clip out. “Do not lie to me.”
“Kenan, you’re making a big deal out of—”
“Dammit, Lotus.”
“Okay. It was Chase,” she says in a rush. “Geez. It was Chase, but he didn’t mean to. He just grabbed me rougher than he—”
“Chase grabbed you when you went to confront him? You said you handled it, and that he didn’t give you any trouble.”
“I did and he didn’t,” she says, sounding slightly defensive. “I was fine on my own.”
“These,” I say, lightly touching the dark marks on her arms, “say otherwise.”
“Please don’t blow this up into a thing.” She rubs her eyes and releases a frustrated breath. “I can take care of myself. I kneed him in the balls and threatened legal action. It’s done.”
“Why’d you have to knee him in the balls?” I ask, my voice low and my frustration high. “What’d he do?”
She blinks at me, her gaze opaque, giving nothing away.
“Look,” she finally says. “Kenya told me you overreacted at the gallery.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She levels a wry look at me. “If it was anything like how you acted when you came to the studio . . .”
She leaves the rest unsaid, leaves me to replay it all in my head. Kenya did have to say I had PTSD to keep me from getting sued or arrested.
“Okay. I may have overreacted a little,” I admit. “But these bruises? I can’t let this go.”
“I told you I handled it. I already talked to him.”
I watch her in grim silence. I’m not going to talk to Chase. I’m going to punch him in the face. I don’t make any promises, don’t say a word, which seems to worry her even more.
“Kenan.” She drops her head, crazy curls all over the place, into her hands. “Please leave it alone.”
Impossible. First, he takes a photo of her partially nude without permission. Then he has the balls to display it without a release. Then he leaves bruises on my girl?
My girl.
God, that feels right. I called her my girlfriend last night without even thinking about it. It rolled right out of me and felt as natural as breathing. As right as anything good I’ve ever had.
“I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Her brows pinch and her lips press together. “You have a lot to lose, Kenan. I don’t want drama in my life putting you in the news for anything other than how amazing you are. You said Bridget ruined your life. I don’t want to do that.”
“Don’t even put yourself in the same hemisphere as Bridget,” I say impatiently. “What she did is nothing like this. She betrayed me and got me caught up in a media circus.”
“Here’s a headline,” Lotus say sardonically. “NBA player arrested for assault and battery. Would that be circus enough for you?”
“You’re right about one thing.” I frame her face, tracing the delicate bones with my hands. “I have a lot to lose.” I kiss her forehead, her temple, her chin. “I have you to lose, Lotus,” I say, pulling back to hold her troubled stare. “No one will hurt you and get away with it.”
Something flickers in her eyes, and she glances down at her hands. “Only two people in my whole life have ever protected me,” she says, her voice wobbling. “Iris and MiMi. I haven’t trusted anyone else to.”
I know someone hurt her badly in the past. Her childhood trauma. I can’t think too much about how it connects to the struggle she’s been having with sex. If it’s anything like what I’ve imagined, I’m going to lose my shit when she finally tells me. Even the thought of someone harming Lotus, my tough, tiny girl, sets bloodhounds loose inside of me.
“You trust this ring to protect you,” I say, taking her hand and stroking the ring she never takes off, “because MiMi gave it to you.”
She nods, her head lowered, linking her hand with mine.
“What if she gave me to you?” I bend to whisper over her lips. “What if I’m your gris gris now?”
Her head jerks up and her eyes, darkened with emotion, fill with tears.
“I don’t believe in spells or potions or voodoo.” I put my hand over her heart, between her bare breasts. It covers most of her torso. “But I believe in this. I believe something special is happening between us, Lotus, and yeah, I’ve been hurt before. Lied to. Cheated on, but I’m not running away from this, from you, because of it. I won’t let what happened in the past keep me from giving us a chance.”
I kiss her nose and she shifts so our lips meet and cling briefly, sweetly.
“Let me protect you,” I whisper into our kiss, my hand still covering her heart.
She nods and scatters kisses over my jaw, my neck. While we were disagreeing, I didn’t pay attention to her nudity, but it pierces my consciousness now until I can’t focus on anything else. I want to explore all her body’s secrets. To inspect the gift I’ve been given.
“I wanna look at you,” I breathe across her pierced nipple, a dusky delicacy, and walk my fingers down to the lotus flower blooming around her navel. I glance up to find her studying me studying her, her grin indulgent. I trace the French lace filigreed at the tops of her thighs. My knuckle brushes her pussy, and her breath catches. Her throat moves with a deep swallow. My cock was so far down that pretty little throat last night.
“You sucked my dick, and I almost lost my mind.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she promises with a lascivious laugh.
I grin and slide my hand between her legs. “You’re wet,” I pant, my mouth watering.
“You have that effect on me.”
I tongue the smooth skin of her belly and lavish kisses between her breasts and suck the bar in her nipple between my teeth. I look down, and she’s dropped her legs open and is rubbing her clit. Her eyes are closed. Her neck arches.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps.
Hell, no, I won’t stop.
We work together—her between her legs, me at her breasts, conspiring to bring her pleasure. She’s writhing under her own hands, under my lips. I want her to come all over my sheets. The scent of her hair, the sweetness of her body—I want them to linger in this bed for days after she’s gone.
“Fuck,” she says on an expelled breath, her mouth falling open and her head pressing deep into my pillow while her body quakes and shudders.
When she quiets, I turn her over gently to feather kisses down the zipper decorating her spine, and the small flowers running along the sides.
Damn, her ass is perfect. I squeeze both round, firm globes and she gasps. I slide my finger between her cheeks and down to her pussy, spreading the juices she just poured out over the lips and then over her asshole, not daring to stick my finger in. We haven’t even had sex yet, much less anal. Lotus may not even be into that, though judging by the way she pushes her ass against the pressure of my finger and moans, she may be open-minded.
“You eat ass?” she asks suddenly, and I know she’s trying to throw me off.
“I’d eat yours,” I reply truthfully. Because there is no part of her that would not be good to me.
We both seem to find that really funny and crack up laughing. I flip her back over and pull her into me so I can feel the vibration of her happiness. I’m tickling her sides when a noise catches my attention.
“Did you hear that?” I ask, pausing, my fingers poised over her stomach.
“Yeah. Like a door?” She sits up. “Sounds like someone came into the apartment.”
“Nobody has a key, but . . .” I hop off the bed. “That has to be Simone. She’s the only one with a key.”
“Crap,” Lotus says under her breath, scrambling to get her top and skirt back on. Horror dawns on her face. “Kenan, my shoes and panties are still at the door.”
“And my pants,” I groan. “Dammit.”
I slip on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and make my way quickly to the front room. Dr. Packer had a family emergency and cancelled our last session, so we still haven’t talked to Simone about Lotus. I’d almost rather find a burglar than my daughter in the apartment right now, but it’s Bridget and Simone standing beside the pile of clothes we discarded in the foyer. Simone stares at Lotus’s panties, purse, and shoes. Bridget looks smug and furious.
“I don’t remember you being quite this sloppy, Kenan,” Bridget says, kicking our things out of their path. “Or having feet quite this small.”
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my own anger out of my voice in front of Simone. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I walk over and kiss Simone’s forehead.
“Morning, Moni,” I say, love-swiping her face. “I thought you had dance.”
She nods, her eyes still on Lotus’s things. “I skipped because I wanted to see Aunt Ken play.”
“I called,” Bridget says with a note of defensiveness, “but it rolled into voicemail.”
“When?” I frown at her. “I didn’t get any message. When did you call?”
“Earlier,” she says vaguely.
I’m sure she’s playing games again. I’m so sick of it.
“Whose things are those, Daddy?” Simone asks, her voice subdued, her eyes downcast.
I’m kicking myself. Yes, Bridget shouldn’t have barged into my place, but the weight of Simone’s sadness presses on me. I wish I’d pushed to have the conversation with Dr. Packer sooner, or waited to move forward with Lotus, though that’s hard to imagine given how badly I want her. My daughter is once again caught in her parents’ crosshairs—Bridget’s spitefulness and my carelessness, my lack of control. However we got to this juncture, we’re here now, and I can’t lie to her. She’s fourteen, not four. I need to respect her intelligence and the fact that she’s been exposed to a lot more than I had at her age.
“Do you remember the woman I introduced you to at the restaurant?” I ask, watching her face for signs of recognition.
“Lotus,” she says, meeting my eyes and nodding.
“Yeah. She and I are dating, Moni. She’s my girlfriend.”
Bridget gasps, and her frustration and anger grip me like a hand at my throat.
“She’s here.” I reach down to grab Lotus’s belongings. Scoop up my jeans. “I’ll be right back.”
When I walk into my bedroom, Lotus sits on the bed, the tulle skirt flared out around her, an anxious look on her pretty face.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. “Is the coast clear?”
“Yours, I believe,” I say, offering her the panties.
She grimaces, slipping them on and her feet into the red shoes.
“The coast is not clear.” I reach for her hand and walk toward the door. “There was a, let’s call it a mix-up, to give Bridget the benefit of the doubt, and Simone is going to the game today after all.”
Lotus stops, tugging on her hand. “What are you doing?”
“Babe, she was standing beside your purse, panties, and size-six shoes, which obviously weren’t mine. She’s not stupid, and I didn’t want to lie to her. I told her you’re here, and that we’re dating.”
“Is she okay?”
That’s the question I ask myself every day. I wonder what goes on in my daughter’s quick mind—how she’s processing the changes in her life. Huge sea changes that have come in waves and thrown her world into chaos.
“She’ll be okay,” I say with more confidence than I sometimes feel. “Lying to her won’t help. Come on.”
After a brief hesitation, Lotus nods and follows me.
