Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Christina Clark

  I left Jamie to sulk and headed into the Kahale residence, ironically to get some air.

  But as I started to open the bathroom door, it swung back on its own. My lips parted in astonishment as Kingsley appeared on the other end. Seeing him in a dashing dark gray suit and his pressed dress shirt, I knew I didn't stand a chance.

  “Oh. Excuse...me.” I dug my nails into my fingers nervously. I was under the impression that Kingsley and Odell still weren't talking, so I hadn't expected to see him here.

  “Hey, Carrie. Odell never mentioned you were coming today.” Kingsley took a step back with a sexy head tilt. “By the way, wow.”

  “Nellie never mentioned you were coming, either.” I touched my ear and looked away from him. “I think I smell a setup.”

  “It does sound like something they would do,” Kingsley admitted, leaning against the doorway. “So, how've you been?”

  “Fine, I suppose. I'm glad Xiao-Xin finally came forward – better late than never.”

  “Good to hear.” Kingsley took a step towards me. He raised his hand slowly, and when I didn't back away, he slipped his hand behind my neck. “I've missed you, Carrie.”

  “I guess I've missed you, too,” I answered him softly, lacing my fingers together around his back. Standing on my tiptoes, I smacked him on the back of the head. “And you're a dick.”

  “Okay, ow,” said Kingsley, massaging the spot. “What was that for?”

  “I've tried everything humanly possible to get myself to stop thinking about you,” I rasped, gazing up at him seductively.

  “And that's my fault, how?” Kingsley grinned, leaning in to plant soft, sensual kisses on my lips, the type that barely grazed your lips and left you begging for more.

  “I think we've got a couple of minutes before someone starts looking for me.” I checked behind my shoulders, stroking his chest suggestively. “Wanna get in that bathroom and show me how much you've really missed me?”

  Kingsley didn't even bother to answer. He pulled me into the bathroom, slamming me against the back of the door. I kissed him passionately, grinding up against him as I locked the door behind me. As his tongue swirled around my mouth, he handled my breasts through my dress with one hand and eased down the zipper on my back with the other.

  My dress drooped off my shoulders and fell down to my ankles. Stepping out of my dress, I hoisted myself onto the sink counter. Kingsley peeled off my thong, grinning as he stuffed it into his back pocket. He unbuttoned his pants, positioned my ankles over his shoulders, and unveiled his cock.

  My hot cunt throbbed as I eyed his thick pole in his hands. He wasted no time, driving his cock straight into the moist lips between my legs. My head jerked back, knocking against the mirror as I felt his length filling me whole. His thumb found its way over my clit, strumming the bead as he thrust himself in and out of me.

  I clung onto the counter's edge and hooked my feet around his neck. Kingsley took the hint. He slid his hands underneath my butt cheeks and lifted me a few inches off the counter. The angle opened my passage slightly wider, allowing him to venture deeper into me.

  The head of his stiff cock brushed against my shy ridge. At the same time, he leaned forward and pressed my heavy tits together, tasting my deep cleavage greedily. I groaned, biting down on 2 fingers to keep my shattering moans from leaking out the thin bathroom door.

  “Just – just keep doing that. I'm almost there –”

  “Fuck,” Kingsley grunted, doubling his speed. “Me too...”

  Right as a leg-numbing wave of carnal rapture took control of my body, Kingsley pulled out of me. I straightened up my quivering body and leaned forward to receive him. He rammed his cock into my mouth. I could feel his shaft pulsing between my cheeks until a jet of milky cum spurted out of the tip.

  After forcing the thick, salty cream down my throat, I bent over to rinse my mouth in the sink. Kingsley and I quickly got redressed and pushed our ears up against the door. Hearing no one on the other end, we crept out of the bathroom.

  “Alright, I'm gonna go in before Jamie and Jackson come looking for me. Wait around 5 minutes before you –”

  “Wait. Jamie's here with Jackson?” The relaxed look on Kingsley's face slowly washed away, his forehead puckering. “Carrie –”

  “No. We're not having this conversation again.” I made up my mind, strutting away from him. “I'll see you outside.”

  Chapter Forty-Three: Carrie

  “Augh... Kill me now.”

  For what felt like the hundredth time this week, I scrolled through the Twitter feed of pop sensation, Justice Schriever, and the current king of the hip-hop scene, Bolly Wood. Their week-long beef over Arlena Venti was almost surely a publicity stunt. It was a pretty good one, too, with their borderline unintelligible tweets garnering over 30,000 re-tweets each. After all these years, it still never ceases to amaze me how the masses could eat up anything a celebrity does with the slew of real, significant horrors going on in the world. Needless to say, this trivial bullshit was grade A material for The Daily Dirt.

  Deciding I've had enough for the day, I shut my laptop to check on the oven. The only upside to my new position was the new leniency to my schedule and the option to work from home. I hunkered down, peering in to gauge the status of the thin potato slices crisping on the oven tray. With the smell of olive oil and baked potato chips wafting in my face, I reached over to pull the oven door.

  My phone started ringing.

  I turned off the oven and reached for my phone, wedging it between my ear and shoulder.

  “Hello?” I took out the tray and set it on the counter with a pair of oven mitts.

  “Is this Carrie Toussaint?” A woman with a British accent was on the other line.

  “This is she.” I threw off my oven mitts, fanning the tray. “May I ask who's calling?”

  “This is Sydney Chapman, the Bureau Chief of The Veritas Journal. We're the –”

  “Most prestigious news agency this side of the world,” I breathed, finishing her sentence for her.

  “Why, thank you. That's a mighty fine compliment.” Sydney chuckled before she carried on. “I stumbled upon your piece, 'Clubhouse Confidential,' several weeks ago. And I have to say, after looking through your other articles, I'm quite intrigued by your style.”

  “Thank you so much.” My cheeks were starting to sting from the grin I couldn't keep off my face. “I really appreciate that. To be honest, I'm thankful for what I've accomplished over the years, but investigative journalism and world news is where my heart truly lies.”

  “Judging by the quality of your articles, I gathered as much. Which brings me to why I've rung you up in the first place. We have an opening for a full-time columnist with a starting salary of $60,000. Are you inter –”

  “$60,000? Starting? Yes, a thousand times, yes,” I babbled, tugging at my lip excitedly.

  “Wonderful. Let me leave you Tiana's number – she's the secretary here. You can set up an appointment with her for an interview.”

  “Great, thank you so much. I'll see you soon.”

  I jotted down the number and hung up, doing a little victory dance around the kitchen counter. As I slipped a crunchy potato chip into my mouth, my phone rang for a second time. Seeing Kingsley's name on my screen, I quickly answered it.

  “Guess who just got an interview at –”

  “Carrie. Listen to me. My contact just called to let me know that Jamie swung by his place last night –”

  “What?” The smile on my face faltered. “That – that can't be right. Jamie was out with one of her old colleagues from work last night...”

  I stirred, falling silent as it dawned on me. Now that I thought about it, Jamie hadn't uploaded any pictures of her night out last night. Normally, this was no biggie, but Jamie averaged 7 posts a day on each one of her social media profiles.

  “No, no,” I shook my head, trying to convince myself. “That can't be right.”

  “Carrie, you need to kee
p your eye on Jamie –”

  “Everything's fine. We're all fine.” But I couldn't push down the tumultuous feeling in my gut any longer. “I gotta go.”

  “Carrie, wait –”

  I hung up my phone, laid it down on the counter, and set out for the living room.

  “Nurse Abby?” I called up the stairs. “Nurse Abby, are you staying for dinner?”

  When Nurse Abby failed to answer me, I started up the stairs slowly. Each careful step I climbed creaked loudly under my weight. For some reason, I was getting more lightheaded with each step. I had to support myself on the railing to keep from tumbling backwards.

  I crossed the second floor landing to Jackson's room. My mouth opened as I was about to call out Nurse Abby's name again, but I quickly changed my mind. I exhaled a shaky breath, twisting the doorknob.

  “Jamie.” I was aware I was speaking, but my voice seemed so distant. “What are you doing?”

  Jamie was standing over the nightstand next to Jackson's napping figure. She retracted her arm instantly, lifting the syringe from Jackson's bowl of oatmeal and cranberries. My unblinking eyes settled on the amber cork bottle next to the bowl.

  “Carrie!” Jamie stepped in front of the nightstand hastily with her arms behind her back. “Can't you knock?”

  “Where's Nurse Abby?” I took another floating step towards her. None of this felt real.

  “I sent her home.” Jamie was starting to sweat. She turned around, hiding the syringe in her palm and pocketing the vial. “We're both home – there was no need for her to stay –”

  “Answer me, Jamie,” I pleaded with her, my words coming out in a sad whine. “What were you doing to Jackson's food?”

  “What – what do you mean?” Jamie was looking everywhere but at me. “This was – Nurse Abby left this – it's supposed to help with Jackson's digestion –”

  “Let me see the bottle.”

  “What?”

  “Let me see the bottle,” I repeated firmly, extending my hand.

  “N-no.” Jamie glanced at Jackson, her mouth contorting. “Get out, Carrie. You're going to wake Jackson –”

  I reached for the bottle from Jamie's front pocket abruptly, wrenching it away from her. “No! What are you –”

  “Oh my god.” As I inspected the label, my legs wobbled under me. “Kingsley was right. I didn't want to believe him, but it all makes sense now – god, Jamie, how could you?!”

  “Give it back!” Jamie screeched, swinging her arms at me like a rabid gorilla.

  To our right, Jackson sat up on his bed, blinking furiously as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

  “Mommy? Aunt Carrie? What's happening –”

  “Come here, Jackson.” I reached for his small hand and helped him off the bed, pushing him behind me. “It's gonna be o –”

  “Jackson, come here!” Jamie screeched, the syringe in her hands quaking with the rest of her body.

  “Jamie – please, calm down – you're scaring Jackson –”

  “No, I'm not. Jackson, get over here.”

  Jackson looked up at me fearfully, his eyes still pink from his sudden lucidity. He hooked his fingers into my belt loops, cowering behind me. I reached around and opened the door, gently wheedling him out the door.

  “Come on, Jackson, go outside, and let me handle this –”

  “No, Jackson, don't leave –”

  Before Jackson could slip out the room, Jamie leaped forward and seized him from behind.

  “Jamie! What are you –”

  I froze, my heart plunging to my gut. Jamie held the syringe against Jackson's neck, her fingers threateningly poised on the plunger. Jackson whimpered, going limp as he sensed the sharp point of the needle poking into his neck.

  “Jamie – what are you doing?!”

  There was a monstrous, crazed look in Jamie's eyes that I'd never seen before. I held my breath, terrified of moving a muscle. My eyes locked on the needle in Jackson's neck. Just one little slip of Jamie's finger, and it was all over.

  “Please, Jamie –”

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Jamie screamed over me, the whites of her teeth flashing. “Jackson is mine, and I'm not letting you take him away from me –”

  “Jamie, please.” I showed her my palms, raising them over my chest. “I'm not trying to take Jackson away from you. Just put that thing down. Please, you're going to hurt him –”

  Jackson burst into tears, his neck dangerously convulsing with his sobs.

  “Mommy, why are you mad at me? I'm sorry, please don't hurt me, I won't do it again, I promise!”

  As her son's pained, warbling cries filled the room, Jamie stiffened. She looked down at Jackson as if she were seeing him for the first time. And just like that, she let go of him. Jackson keeled over, sniffling as he pushed himself off the ground and back behind my legs. Jamie gazed at the syringe in her hands, then back at Jackson, who was shuddering behind me.

  The front door banged open.

  “Carrie? Jackson?” Kingsley's voice came from downstairs. “Where are you?”

  “Up here!” I called over my shoulder. I pushed Jackson out the door encouragingly. “Go to Kingsley.”

  I turned back to Jamie, who was still staring at the syringe in her hands. Only, the stoic look of shock on her face was now overrun by despair. Silent tears were cascading down her cheeks. Her forehead and the sides of her mouth were lined with tormented emotion.

  “Jamie, listen,” I said carefully, putting one foot forward. “It's all going to be alright. Just give me that needle – Jamie, no!”

  I jumped back as Jamie pointed the syringe to her own neck, raising a hand at me.

  “Jamie, don't –”

  “I never meant to hurt Jackson,” said Jamie, her voice distressingly composed. Her thumb twitched on the plunger. “I was just trying to make him a little sick. I just want the world to see what a good mother I am. I love my son.”

  “I understand, Jamie, I really do.” I clutched my chest with my left hand, reaching out to her with the other. “Just put that thing –”

  “Jackson, no!” Kingsley cried out from behind my shoulder.

  Jackson squeezed through the doorway, clinging onto my hand.

  “Mommy! No! Why are you doing that?”

  “I just tried to kill my own son,” said Jamie, her voice choked. “I don't deserve –”

  “Jamie, please, I'm begging you. Don't do this – not in front of Jackson.”

  “Mommy, please, stop.” Jackson howled, his voice drowning out our words. “I forgive you, Mommy, I do! Please...”

  Jamie stared at Jackson crumbling before her. He wiped away his snot and tears, communicating the rest of his anguish with his watery eyes. After the longest 3 seconds of my life, Jamie finally lowered the syringe from her neck.

  Following the time lag, what came next was just the opposite. In one fell swoop, Jamie fell to her knees, and the 3 cops I had no idea were waiting outside the door barged into the room. Before the syringe could even roll to a stop at Jackson's bedpost, 2 cops escorted Jamie out of the room. As the last cop picked Jackson up and carried him out of the room, the ambulance sirens from downstairs drifted in through the windows.

  I lost all will to stand, collapsing in Kingsley's arms.

  “It's okay, Carrie. It's okay. It's over now.”

  Epilogue: Carrie

  ONE YEAR LATER

  “Hi, Carrie. Everything all set for your dinner party tonight?”

  “Hey, Sydney.” I hit the “Save” button on my document and closed my laptop. “Yup. The new patio equipment's just arrived. And thank you for recommending that catering service again. Really trying to impress Kingsley's folks tonight.”

  “Not a problem. Listen, great job again on that piece about the trans communities in South East Asia. You're proving to be a great fit on the team.”

  “Thank you, Sydney. That means a lot to me.”

  “So, how's your itinerary looking for Phuket?”
<
br />   “Great. Got the flight and hotel booked, and I've set up an appointment with the embassy for my passes to the press conference. I'll pick them up first thing when I arrive on my way to the hotel.”

  “Wonderful. Very well, I won't be keeping you any longer. Have fun at the party tonight.”

  “Thanks, Sydney. You have a good weekend.”

  When I hung up, Jackson burst through the front door. He slammed the door and raced towards me, his backpack flopping behind him. I jumped out from behind the kitchen counter just in time, catching him before he knocked his forehead against the corner.

  “Whoa, where's the fire?” I raised my eyebrows, beaming at the exuberant smile stretching across his chubby, flushed face. “How was your first day?”

  “Being a first-grader is awesome!” Jackson hugged me and tossed his backpack on the floor. Taking note of my raised eyebrow, he quickly retrieved it and set it down on the kitchen chair. “I miss my old classmates, but I really like our new teacher, Mr. Connolly! And you'll never guess who's in my class!”

  “Who?”

  “Faith!”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yup! I showed her my dinosaur book today in class. She thinks dinosaurs are cool, too!” Jackson dragged a chair to the kitchen counter. He climbed onto the chair and reached into the cupboard for a box of cereal with Kingsley's face on it. “But Mr. Connolly told me to put my book away.”

  “That's because you need to pay attention in class.”

  “That's what Mr. Connolly said, too.”

  “Jackson, what do you think you're doing?”

  “Having some sugar-free cereal.”

  “Nope. Put that away – you'll ruin your appetite for dinner.”

  “O-kay,” Jackson sighed. Hanging his head, he put the cereal back into the cupboard and jumped off the chair.

  The front door opened once again.

  “Hey, guys. I'm home.”

  Kingsley cut through the living room, joining us in the kitchen. As Jackson ran up to him for a bear hug, Kingsley chucked his gear bag onto the floor. But when he, too, caught my condemnatory eyebrow, he quickly moved it.