Determining Possession (Connecticut Kings Book 3)

by Christina C Jones

  “Now that, I believe.” I scrubbed my face with my hands, then retrieved my purse from where I’d dropped it on the decorative table beside the couch. “In case it’s not clear, there won’t be a reconciliation. You have hurt me beyond belief. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to move past it before this conversation, and… nothing about this has made me feel any different. I was happy with you, Darius. Loved you. Still love you. But I love myself too much to let you drag me back into this thing.”

  Darius opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of keys in the front door pulled his attention away. I took that as my chance to escape, rushing to the foyer before the realtor could get the door closed behind her.

  “I’m done,” I told her on my way past. “Put the sign up.”

  I didn’t look back.

  I was ready to have this shit out of my life.

  The house, and the man.

  “So tell me, Steven; What will you be bringing to the field as a Connecticut King that will further their legacy – and mark the beginning of your own?”

  I couldn’t stop watching these interviews.

  I’d been playing each one over and over for hours, taking notes to critique myself on the ways I could improve for next time. Talking to the rookies first had been a great idea – it would give me a chance to course correct before I talked to the veterans, and the star players.

  I was happy though. Thrilled, actually, with the way these interviews had gone. The Kings hadn’t had any early picks in the draft this time around, and the five players I talked to today didn’t have the best stats. They had heart though, and potential. We’d pushed through shyness and jitters for five great interviews that were beautifully filmed, and would be edited and compiled into a final cut that would go live the week before training camp started.

  Just thinking about it made me feel good.

  A knock at my door brought my eyes away from my screen, and I frowned. As soon as my gaze landed on the time in the bottom right corner, I gasped. The knock sounded again, and I dragged myself up from my chair to answer the door.

  “Ramsey, I am so sorry,” I said, as soon as I opened the door to him looking… delicious, honestly, in a deep blue shirt, and slacks. His jacket and tie were probably waiting in the truck, where he’d put them on before we walked into whatever really nice place he’d surely already made reservations for. “I got caught up rewatching the interviews from today, and completely lost track of time.”

  Instead of the disappointed reaction I expected, he smiled as he shook his head. “I can reschedule our table for another time,” he told me as I stepped aside to let him in. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just glad you’re excited about your interviews. You look… happy.”

  Yeah.

  Usually, that wouldn’t be notable, even since the breakup. But for whatever reason, since running into Darius at the house a few days before, I’d been in a weird headspace. I’d been able to put on a professional face, like always, to conduct those interviews, but outside of that, I’d just been… off.

  Ramsey hadn’t been happy about that.

  “Not happy” was an understatement, actually. He was even more ready to rip Darius’ head off than he’d been before, and I hadn’t even been completely forthcoming when I recounted the story to him. Only a very, very select few people knew about those two lost pregnancies, both in the year after I’d won my Olympic golds. Both were first trimester, before I would have revealed anything publicly anyway.

  It was before I even met Ramsey, and wasn’t exactly the type of thing that just… came up in conversation, not with a man. I didn’t feel like answering questions about it back then, and nothing had changed. So I simply… left it out.

  The rest of it was bad enough.

  “Do you want to see?” I asked, pointing at where my laptop was sitting on the counter.

  “Do you really have to ask?” He countered, making me smile.

  I was excited as hell to hit the “play” button, and couldn’t help staring in Ramsey’s face as he watched. He seemed really engaged, and interested, even talking back to the computer at some points, responding to what was being said. When that one was over, he turned to me, nodding.

  “Wil… this is really, really good. Not the same old questions everybody asks, and you can tell that you really care about the answers, and the interview subject. And I like the way it’s shot. I felt like I was in the room.”

  “Really?” I grinned. “You’re not just trying to make me feel good about it?”

  He chuckled. “So you can blame me when the internet roasts your ass? Hell no. If it sucked, I would tell you. This is the opposite of sucking… whatever that is.”

  I let out a relieved sigh, tilting my head toward the ceiling. I brought my gaze back to his when he grabbed my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

  “Hey. When is the last time you ate?” he asked, and I averted my eyes. “Damn, that long huh?” he laughed. “You wanna throw something on, so we can grab a bite?”

  I looked down at the faded black leggings and oversized tee shirt I’d changed into when I got home after the interviews. “You don’t like my outfit?”

  “The outfit is fine I guess, depending on where we’re going. But I’m not taking you anywhere with those ashy ankles and elbows.”

  “Oh kiss my ass,” I laughed, shoving his shoulder as I turned to head for my room.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  My knees almost gave out, but I quickly righted myself and continued on, pretending I hadn’t heard his response. At the door to my room, I turned to find him looking at me, which caused my mind to blank for a few seconds again.

  “Um… call the restaurant back,” I told him, trying my best not to stutter. “Just say we need a later reservation. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

  I shut the door behind me, then took a moment to catch my breath before I launched myself into the bathroom. I’d showered when I got home, but I took another quick one anyway, making sure to slather myself in the vanilla brown sugar body butter that always made him comment on how I smelled.

  Because apparently, I cared about that now.

  Out of the shower, I combed my hair down from the wrap I’d done earlier to preserve the style. I gave myself a few minutes for a quick makeup application, then went to my closet, picking out a dress that didn’t need ironing.

  I stood in front of my lingerie drawer for longer than I wanted to, debating what I would wear underneath my dress. I couldn’t remember any time before when that had been a consideration for heading somewhere with Ramsey, but today, in the moment, I just wanted to do something different. I wanted to feel… sexy, while I was out with him.

  And I wasn’t really in the state of mind to interrogate that.

  So I just did it.

  To wear underneath the strappy, form-fitting black and white dress I’d chosen, I put on one of the brand-new bra and panty sets I’d purchased to replace anything I’d worn for Darius. Once it was on, I checked it in the mirror, damn near making myself blush over the fact that you could see my nipples clearly through the dark gray lace, and the “boy shorts” that only covered a laughable amount of my ass.

  It was perfect.

  Twenty-seven minutes after I told him I need thirty, I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped out. Ramsey had his cell phone up to his ear, but as soon as he looked up and saw me, he muttered, “Goddamn. Jordan… nigga I gotta go.”

  I had a smile on my face before I could help it – a direct result of his reaction to seeing me. Self-consciously, I smoothed the fabric over my hips, feeling a little déjà vu from the day he’d picked me up from the wedding. Then, I’d seen the hungry look that he immediately shuttered, purposely keeping his eyes above my neck. Today, he did no such thing. He stood up, pushing his hands into his pockets as he gave me a slow, head to toe perusal that made my cheeks – among other places – hot.

  “Damn, Champ,” he said, bringing his gaze to mine. “That’s quite a dress t
o go eat fried catfish in.”

  I laughed, then grabbed my purse to head for the door. “Don’t play with me Ramsey.”

  “I’m not. It’s cool though. You’ll definitely be the finest person in the building.”

  He joked with me some more as he helped me to his truck, and continued as we drove into the heart of the city. As it turned out, we were not going to eat catfish – he took me to an upscale, lounge-style restaurant called Onyx, that I’d never been to, or even heard of before.

  The lights were low in the whole place, creating a vibe that was distinctly sexy. We were led to a line of booths with a great view of the stage at the front, all separated by curtains. No one was on the stage now, but slow, sensual music pumped through the air, drowning out the hum of conversation in the packed restaurant. Tall, elaborate candles encased in glass provided a little more light at the tables, but once we were seated, I couldn’t shake the thought that this place was… romantic.

  Any other time, Ramsey would have sat across from me. This time though, he slid right next to me in the semi-circle booth, leaning in to speak into my ear.

  “What do you think?” he asked, his minty-cool breath tickling my skin. “Pretty nice so far, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah… and I noticed when we were walking up that Arch & Point is right next door… is that how you know about this place?” He smirked, but didn’t answer, and I laughed. “Uh-huh, I thought so. What, are you trying to drop by after we leave here or something?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You know goddamn well I’m not about to walk into that trap,” he chuckled. “Tonight, we’re about to have some good food, hear some good music… have a good time.” Under the table, he put a hand on my knee and squeezed. “Sound good to you?”

  “Yes,” I answered, in an almost-whisper, before I cleared my throat. “It sounds great.”

  And it was great. About halfway through our meal, a soul singer I absolutely loved, named Dani, came out to serenade the crowd. I’d purposely been avoiding her music because of the way it made me feel – extra horniness on top of the sexual frustration I’d already been having.

  Sitting beside Ramsey, with a glass of wine in my system and his hand back on my leg made it torture.

  That hand had started on my knee, then drifted up to mid-thigh, but hadn’t gone further. No matter how much I shifted closer, leaning into him, trying to send a hint, he hadn’t moved it up anymore. Now, Dani was leaving the stage, the check was paid, and I was staring a hole in the side of his head, on the verge of being pissed off.

  Damn him for being such a gentleman.

  “You ready to head out?” He asked, and I quickly plastered on a smile.

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Back at my parents, he did the polite thing as always, and walked me to the door. The car ride had been unusually quiet for us, but I had so much running through my head that I wasn’t really complaining about it.

  “Auntie P got in my ass about it last time I went in her house all late, so I’m going to go ahead and head that way,” he told me, while I was digging around to find my keys in my purse. My motion stopped for a second, and I licked my lips, trying to keep my tone neutral as I replied.

  “If you’re not driving back to New York, you could easily just… stay here.”

  The silence was deafeningly loud, only broken by the sudden trill of a cricket from what sounded like somewhere in the back yard.

  “I had a rough workout this morning, Champ. The kind of rest I need requires a bed – I can’t crash on your couch.”

  He was behind me, so I turned around, looking him right in the eyes. He was closer than I expected, so much that my breasts were a deep breath away from brushing his chest.

  “Ramsey… who said anything about the couch?”

  His eyes narrowed a little, but he held my gaze, like he was waiting for me to laugh, or say I was joking. When I didn’t, he leaned in a little, closing that little space between us.

  “So… are you opening the door or not?”

  I was definitely opening the door.

  As bold as I’d been about inviting him inside, once we were there, I clammed up. I mumbled something about fixing us drinks, then hurried over to the little bar I’d set up for myself next to the kitchen. My hands were shaking so bad that the corkscrew I picked up, intending to open a bottle of wine, went clattering to the floor.

  I bent to pick it up, and by the time I stood up, Ramsey and his dick were right behind me. I looked straight ahead as he put his hands against the wall on either side of me, pressing close.

  “Wil…” he started, leaning to speak into my ear. “You seem a little nervous all of a sudden. But we’re friends here, right? All you have to do is say so, if your mind is changi—”

  “No,” I interrupted, looking at him over my shoulder. “Ramsey, nobody except Darius has touched me, in eight years. So… yes, I’m nervous. ” I dropped my gaze, turning to face the wall again before I pressed my forehead against the firm surface. “I don’t even remember what another man’s touch feels like.”

  “Like this,” he said, making me whimper as his lips connected with my shoulder. He moved one of his hands from the wall, dropping it to wrap around my waist as he pushed his body against mine. “And this.” His lips brushed my neck, soft at first, then more firm, joined shortly after by his tongue.

  My mouth fell open, panting as his teeth grazed my neck, and then ever-so-slightly sank in, sending a rush of sensation straight between my legs. He soothed the sharpness of the bite with a slow swipe of his tongue from the crook of my neck up to my ear, and then he bit me there too.

  “Does my touch feel okay to you?” he asked, in a tone he’d never used with me before, one that made me shiver as his tongue swiped my skin again.

  “Y-yes,” I whispered, and my answer seemed to serve as a switch. As soon as that yes left my lips, the hand he’d had against my waist began to slip lower, and lower, until it was under my dress, and the only thing between his fingers and my lower lips was the soft, barely-there lace of my boy shorts.

  Really though, it just felt like nothing.

  His dick was hard against my ass, and I reflexively arched back against it as his middle finger ran over my clit. The rumble of his laughter in my ear only made me wetter as he pushed back. “Be patient. We’ll get to that soon enough.”

  A strangled moan tumbled from my lips as he slipped the flimsy fabric of my panties aside, pushing that thick middle finger into me to wet it before he brought it back to my clit. With the base of his hand anchored against my pelvis, he moved that finger in slow, firm circles that had me panting in what felt like seconds.

  With his free hand, he got my dress off, which left me in just my lingerie and heels. I was too wrapped up in what he was doing with his fingers to be self-conscious, and then his mouth was on my neck again, and I was just… gone. I didn’t come back until he was picking me up, taking me off my weak knees as my juices ran down the inside of my legs.

  It was pointless to be embarrassed – he certainly wasn’t.

  In fact, based on the smirk he was wearing when he lowered me to my bed, slid my panties off, then dropped to his knees and buried his face between my legs, he was very, very comfortable.

  He hadn’t even taken his suit jacket or tie off yet, but that didn’t seem to be a deterrent. He licked me from my pelvis to the small of my back, and everything in-between, flicking his tongue in places that made me blush and scream and blush some more. Those soft, coily hairs from his beard were like a tickler against my skin – extra stimulation I didn’t need, but certainly welcomed. And the sounds he was making – Jesus. Slurping like he was trying to suck me dry, moaning like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted… it was turning me on even more.

  My fingers dug into his shoulders as he went after me with his tongue. Back and forth, back and forth, then delicious little circles that made my thighs clench around his head. I moved my hands to his head, keeping him right there
as his mouth closed over my clit. My breath came in short pants, and then not at all as I bit down on my lip, trying not to scream myself hoarse as the orgasm rocked me. My feet pressed into the bed as I reflexively pushed myself up, but Ramsey’s arms around my thighs kept me in place, forcing me to take it as he devoured me until I collapsed.

  Holy shit.

  Holy shit.

  Holy. Shit.

  That kept running through my mind as he stood up, wiping me from his beard. I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to, but I watched as he took his time undressing down to his boxers, then uncovered two condoms from his wallet, tossing them onto the nightstand before he moved to stand in front of me.

  He took me by the ankles, his touch reminding me that my shoes were still strapped on. “How are you doing?” he asked, lifting my feet to rest against his chest as he put his knees on the bed. He brought both hands to one of the straps, then seemed to change his mind, wrapping my legs around his waist before he leaned down, hovering over me. “Are you… enjoying the touching so far?”

  “Are you teasing me?” I asked, and he grinned as he shook his head.

  “Not at all.”

  He brought his hands to my face and neck, holding me in place while he punctuated that answer with a kiss. I moaned as he slipped his tongue into my mouth, teasing and caressing mine for a few seconds before he pulled back, peppering my nose, cheeks and chin with quick kisses that made me laugh.

  That only lasted a second though, because then his tongue was on me again, and he was licking, kissing, biting my neck. My hands went to his broad shoulders, resting there as he took his talents lower, first to my collarbone, and then to the swell of my breasts.

  He stopped there, and then sat back and stared at me, drinking me in.

  “What’s wrong?” I whispered, and he shook his head.

  “Not a goddamn thing.”

  He slid his hands under me, unhooking my bra before he slid it down my arms. After that, he came in for another kiss, then dropped his head to my newly exposed breasts, one at a time. A long, slow lick, then a circle around my nipple before he closed his mouth over it, sucking hard. The pleasure made my back arch away from the bed, as a low whimper left my lips. He did it again, sucking even harder this time, using his hand to pinch the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth. Back and forth, fast and slow, until my nipples were hard enough to cut glass and hyper-sensitive to the touch.