She gave him a wary glance.
"21 questions."
She listened, wondering where he was going with this.
"Each time someone makes a shot, that person has to ask a question. It could be whatever they want. No boundaries. And the person being asked, has to answer it with all honesty. Deal?"
She hesitated, uneasy at the set of rules. "No boundaries?"
"Nope."
"So, you can ask me anything, no matter how personal, and I'm obligated to answer it?"
"That's the rule."
She bit her lip, contemplating.
"I mean if you scared then..." He shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.
"Shut up and let's play."
He chortled. "Iight, just warning you. I'm a pro at this baby, so if you ain't ready to answer some questions it's ya chance to back out now."
"Please. I'll just beat your ass like Chavez should've did."
With a gasp, he placed his hand on his chest. "Oh, no you didn't..."
She giggled at his effeminate reaction. "Yeah, I did. What?" She dared, boldly.
He nodded, licking lips. "See, you foul for that one. But it's cool. Just wait."
He placed the white ball on the table, before removing the rack.
"Ladies first, since I'm a gentleman. But after that, all gloves are off."
"Whatever, move." She nudged him away, and he laughed, stepping out of her space. She then bent over the table, aiming the stick at the cue ball.
"Damn."
She rolled her eyes, disregarding his gaze on her ass. She struck the ball and it collided into the rest of balls, breaking them out of formation. When two solid colored balls rolled into the pocket, she jumped with joy. He huffed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, um what was all that stuff you were saying before? Sorry, I didn’t hear you," she teased, cupping her ear.
"Whateva. Just ask the question."
She twirled the stick, thinking of something to ask him.
"Okay, here's my question. What do you really want from me, Cameron?" She stared at him.
"I just wanna have a good time with a real woman."
She frowned at his vague response. "A good time meaning what?"
"Gotta hit another shot, baby."
She rolled her eyes, annoyed, and focused on the board. Biting her lip, she circled the table, assessing the best angle to make her shot. When she found it, she leaned over and hit the cue ball. She groaned when none made it in the pockets.
"Damnit."
"Aww, how unfortunate." He lowered his head with faux sympathy. She flipped him the finger and he grinned. He picked up his stick and stepped to the table. "It's game time baby."
He leaned over the table, aiming the ball with such focus. After a moment, he struck the ball. And like magic, 4 striped balls rolled into all pockets at the same time.
"Shit," she cursed.
He drew out a breath, standing straight. "Could do this in my sleep."
Cocky sonofabitch.
"Now, here's my question for you."
He stared at her for a long moment, rubbing the hairs on his chin. Her heart raced, as she anticipated his next words. She didn't understand why she so nervous all of a sudden, but she was.
"Are you attracted to me?"
She paused. "What?"
"Are you attracted to me?" he repeated.
"What kind of question is that?"
"It's a question I want you to answer."
Arrogant ass.
Shutting her eyes, she forced out, "Yes, I think you're attractive."
"No, that's not what I asked you. Are you attracted to me?"
She twirled the stick anxiously between her fingers. He clearly wasn't going to make this easy for her.
"Yes...I'm attracted to you."
A cool smiled eased his lips and he nodded, stepping to the board. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere."
Her face burned at her confession. She instantly regretted agreeing to this game.
He struck the ball once again. And just her luck, he made another shot.
Fuck!
"Next question..." He faced her. "Do you really think I raped that woman?"
She sighed. "No, I don't."
He nodded, satisfied. He stepped to the table once again and struck the ball. When he missed the shot, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God.
She picked up her stick, approaching the table. She examined the board for the proper angle, then made her shot. When a ball rolled into the pocket, she rejoiced.
"Now, it's my turn." She faced him, and his eyes rose to her face. "Is the only reason you're interested in me, because you want sex?"
"No, not the only reason," he said in a cool tone.
"So, what's the other reason?"
"I can't answer that. You gotta make another shot."
She groaned, facing the table. "You get on my nerves."
He chuckled. She stared at the cue ball, praying she made this one. She jerked the stick, only for it to barely graze the ball.
"Shit."
"Welp! Sorry baby, my turn." He stepped to the table.
"No! That's not fair, that wasn't even a real shot."
"Yeah, it was. You just suck."
"Fuck you." She turned away and he mumbled something under his breath. She faced him, only to meet his devious gaze. "What was that?"
He licked his lips with a cool smile. "Nothing, sweetheart."
With a focused stare, he walked around the table. When he found his spot, he struck the ball. The cue ball collided into the rest, forcing two balls into each pocket. She groaned with frustration. She couldn't understand how he was so good at this.
Shaking her head, she leaned against the table, preparing herself for another grueling question.
"So, here's what I wanna know..." He walked toward her in calculated steps. Her heart raced in her chest and she forced herself to suppress it.
"Do I scare you?"
She chuckled at his odd question. "What?"
"Do I scare you?"
"No, of course you don't scare me."
His dark eyes fell to her breasts before trailing up to her lips. He stepped even closer, now invading her space and her breath left her throat.
"So, If I were to kiss you right now, what would you do?"
At a loss for words, she fumbled for a response. He rested his stick on the table, then pressed his palms against the edge, trapping her body within the confines of his brawny frame. The intoxicating whiff of his cologne mixed with a hint of vodka assailed her senses and she swallowed the dry air in her throat. Despite herself, her gaze fell to his lips. The memory of their soft touch caressing hers ignited fiery desire within, and she fought the brewing urge to draw her lips closer. She wanted to blame the effects of the liquor for her highly aroused state. But she couldn't. The truth was, she had long sobered up now. And the heat stirring within her loins had everything to do with him. His aura. His scent. His godforsaken good looks. Everything about him emitted waves of…sex. And despite her screaming rationale to leave, her body craved him insatiably.
"You didn't answer my question," his husky baritone arose chills through her.
"You didn't make your shot," she whispered.
"Just did."
His lips collided into hers and she weakened at their touch. She kissed him yearningly, missing their caress. Since that night, she couldn't get their kiss out of her mind. She longed for it. He nestled himself between her legs. As his tongue slipped in her mouth, a soft moan fled from her lips. Their tongues intertwined, as breathless moans escaped their lips. She rubbed his thick jaw, as his firm hands caressed her frame. He grasped her waist and lifted her on edge of the table. With a groan, his lips trailed to her neck. His hot tongue danced across her skin with each brush of his moist lips, arousing moisture in her loins. He kissed certain spots that pushed her body into overdrive. She forgot what it felt like to be kissed like this. Touched like this. And with each kiss he blessed her with, t
he more her desire for him overpowered her senses. She couldn't think straight. The pounding arousal between her legs began to get too much. His lips dipped to her cleavage, and her heart raced as he kissed the curvature of her breasts. He ran his hand up her thigh and she gasped when he arrived at her clit. He rubbed it softly, and she cursed under her breath, moistening just at his mere touch. He tugged her lace thong, pulling them off. A brush of cool air caressed her now exposed womanhood and she snapped out of her trance.
"Cam, w-wait..." She panted.
He widened her legs, getting on his knees.
"This is a bad idea."
She promised herself she wouldn't sleep with him! What the hell was she doing?
"Shh..." He lifted the hem of her dress, tracing his lips up her inner thigh. Her womanhood ached the closer he neared to her treasure. Her desire for him pained her.
She gasped when his hot tongue brushed her clit.
"Fuck..."
Pleasure flourished through her and she reveled in pure bliss. His tongue danced to the rhythm of her moans as she drowned deeper into the whirlwind of ecstasy. Her body writhing, she gripped his scalp, pushing his face deeper into her dripping womanhood. She had been so used to her vibrator all these years, she had forgotten what it felt like to be pleasured by a real man. It had been so, so, long.
He placed her legs over his shoulders, reclining her as he cleared the table. She laid against the woolen covering, her legs now in the air as he devoured her without mercy. Each stroke of his tongue sent electrifying shocks through her body, and she arched her back with heavy gasps. He slid his fingers through her opening, and she flinched at his sudden touch. He groaned, drenching his fingers in her moisture as he pleasured her pearl with his tongue.
His fingers moved in a circular motion, before sliding in and out in a rhythmic pace. Her heart pounded the base of her throat. Her pulse rapid. She could no longer hold it in. She was going to cum.
Reese sat upward and grasped his head with force, pushing his tongue as deep as she could. He feasted on her vigorously, pushing her closer to the edge. Within an instant, juices spurting through her gaping womanhood. She arched her back, bellowing out a tearful cry. Her body jerked, as she rode the waves of her orgasm.
When she finally descended, she gasped for air. On the verge of passing out. She flinched as his tongue brushed her sensitivity, and watched as he licked his lips, the sight arousing her. He met her gaze. The intense lust smoldering his dark irises. He pulled away and licked his fingers. Plagued with exhaustion, she laid against the table, gazing at the shimmering rays across the horizon.
She was definitely going to hate herself for this.
Chapter 16
"A rematch."
Slick tossed the contract on the oak desk.
"You. Chavez. Next March. $100 million dollars in your pocket."
Cam leaned forward, flipping through the thin, paper clipped contract. Slick leaned back in his leather chair, and hiked his feet on the desk as he took puffs of his cigar. Not even bothering to read the rest, Cam pushed the contract away.
"I'm not doing it."
Slick choked on his smoke, sitting upward. "What?"
"I'm not doing a rematch," Cam repeated firmly.
"What do you mean you're not doing it?"
"I said I wanted Dionardi."
"Fuck Dionardi," he spewed. "He's not gonna draw in the big numbers like Chavez can."
"I don't give a shit about numbers. It's about winning."
"And you will! Just like last time. Think about it, Cam. 100 mill! The most you've ever gotten in your career. Fans want to see the rematch. Why would you pass on a deal like that?"
"'Cause I already beat his ass fair and square, that's why. You already know it ain't about the money with me."
He didn't need to draw up a rematch to prove his greatness. Dionardi was who he wanted. He was another great fighter in his weight class with titles already under his belt. He had been winning fight after fight, and Cam wanted him.
"I want Dionardi. Set it up." He ordered, then stood up to leave.
"I'm sure this will change your mind, then."
Slick placed something on the desk, and Cam stopped in his tracks. He turned around, glancing at the manila folder. With suspicion, Cam approached the desk and picked up the folder. He opened it, and paused at the documents inside.
"What is this?"
"Take a look." Slick put the cigar to his lips
Cam skimmed the paperwork, only to stop at the familiar name plastered in bold letters.
'Sonya Valdez'
The same woman that had framed him.
With a puzzled frown, he read the document carefully. Information such as her age, sex, religion, marital status, social security, and other personal information were printed on the sheet.
"How did you get this?" he asked, flipping to the next few pages filled with more detailed information.
"C'mon, this is Slick baby. You know I got my ways."
"But, what's the point of this?" He closed the folder. "What do I need this for?"
"You didn't look carefully. Open the folder back up."
With a sigh, he opened the folder. Slick was really wasting his time with this shit.
"Look at the front sheet, where it says Family History."
He drifted his gaze to the particular part. "Okay, and?"
"You see the name. Where it says Jose Ramirez?"
"Yeah?"
"Now, take a look at this."
Slick turned to his computer, and typed the name into Google. When he clicked search, the bolded keywords, ‘Ex-body guard’ and ‘Chavez’, popped up on the page. His frown deepened, and he peered closer at the screen.
"So, apparently these two muthafuckas work together." Slick explained, clicking the first link. It then led them to an old 2012 article, titled: 'Chavez Bails out Bodyguard after DUI Arrest'. Pictures of the thick built, Latino man’s mugshot were displayed on the page.
Cam glanced down at his folder, noticing that Sonya Valdez and Jose were cousins, according to the records. He stood there in disbelief as it all became clear.
"So, you saying Chavez's people set this up?" He clenched his jaw.
Slick gave him a knowing look, his face saying it all.
His anger heightened at the thought.
All this time...
"Give me that contract. That muthafucka just made a death wish."
Slick smiled, sliding him the contract. "Now you're talking."
*
The ink hadn't even dried yet, and the upcoming fight had already made headlines. Both parties had agreed to the fight, with hundreds of millions now on the table. After learning the truth, Cam was more fired up than ever to fight Chavez. His previous fights had always been for the sake of the sport. But this...this was personal. For years now, there had been an ongoing feud between both camps. Mainly due to the issues with the management teams. But Chavez had crossed the line with this one. To set him up for rape, nearly costing his entire boxing career, all bets were off. If this were the streets, he would've gotten his ass handled. But since it was boxing, they would take it straight to the ring. And he would be sure to attain his victory once again.
"Aye, ya'll give it up one more time for the homie Cam Lewis!!!!!"
The crowd cheered with exuberance.
"All night, he 'been rocking with us. So, we gon show him nothing but love. And best believe he gonna whoop Chavez’s ass in the next fight, ya heard!!!"
The cheers blared louder. Cam smirked, nodding as the DJ played Biggie's Victory in honor of him.
Tonight he was partying at Club Kisses, one of the hottest clubs in NYC. He had been offered $70, 000 to make an appearance, which as a result drew in a large crowd to the club. He remained in VIP with his crew, surrounded by a group of beautiful women who flocked to him like bees to honey. He stood by the balcony, peering over the entire crowd within the darkened vicinity as they basked in his presence, cheering and snapping
pictures. Nothing but the most expensive bottles had been sent to their section. And Cam indulged, sipping on his bottle of Ace of Spades, while pouring the liquid down the group of women's throats who gladly opened their mouths like birds for worms in the early morning.
A tap on his shoulder made him turn around, where he found Bryson with his arms around two women.
"Aye, I'm a get up witchu lata, bruh. I'm a head on outta here and handle some business, if you know what I'm saying."
Cam grinned. "Iight."
"I could take some off ya hands too, if you don't mind. Shit, sharing is caring." He hitched his chin to the women surrounding Cam.
He laughed, shaking his head. Just like Bryson to be greedy with the hoes. Sometimes he wondered if Bryson was really the star.
"Aye, go ahead. Take some."
"Oh word? Shiiit. C'mon baby. You could ride with me." He reached out to the Brazilian beauty with a thick ass, who had been amongst the group. She glanced at Cam, who simply gestured her to go ahead. She shrugged and tagged along with Bryson.
"Aye, ya'll go ahead too," Cam told the other two women.
"I'll rather stay with you daddy," one purred, rubbing his chest seductively.
He rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'm good. Go ahead with my boy."
"But I want you."
"Deuces." He flicked his two fingers to dismiss her.
Her face fell with disappointment, but he ignored it without a care.
"Fuck you then." She spun around, switching her hips as she strutted out of VIP. And he didn't give a shit.
Disposable ass bitches.
"Man, forget that droopy booty hoe," Bryson waved her off. "Shit, I'm good with what I got. Good lookin' bruh. I'm a check you later." He extended his hand and Cam gave him daps.
"And wrap it up, nigga."
"Of course fool! I ain't tryna wake up with my shit burning."
Cam laughed. He was a trip.
When Bryson left, Cam pulled out his phone and scrolled for her number. She had been on his mind all day. He wondered what she was up to.
*
"I really think dickmatism is a disease."
Laughter filled the room. Reese patted her chest, choking on her wine.
"Dickmatism? Really, Yas?" Reese replied.
Hook'd Page 9
