King's Pleasure (7 page)

“Everybody, meet the Naked Malibu Burglar—fresh outta the joint!” Quentin barked bitterly.

Jeremy’s jaw dropped open as he chased after his cousin. “Yo, man. You don’t broadcast something like that in a place of business. Like I said, the whole thing is just a misunderstanding.” He puffed up his chest

Q stopped in the middle of the main club. “Yeah. Let me make sure I got this straight. Your imaginary future baby momma broke you two into a house, sexed you up, scrammed and then left you in a trashed bedroom where you then got up and paraded around naked until Malibu Barbie started screaming her head off and a sumo wrestler raced in and knocked you unconscious before calling the police. Did I get all of that straight?”

Jeremy blinked. “Well…I admit that it sounds a bit far-fetched when you say it like that.”

“Then how would you like for me to say it?” Quentin folded his arms and waited.

“Look, I don’t know why the girl broke into the place, but I swear I thought she lived there.”

“…Because she was
sooo
forthcoming with her name?”

Jeremy ground his teeth. “Fine. Maybe it was a little lapse in judgment—a little one—because I can’t say that I’m at all sorry for hooking up with Baby Girl. I mean…” He shook his head as erotic memories scrolled through his head.

“Damn, are you going to start drooling now? You take thinking with the wrong head to a whole new level.” Q rolled his eyes and resumed his march toward the offices on the other side of the club.

“Whatever,” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes behind Q’s back. “You need to climb off your high horse. It’s not like you’ve never been led astray by a big butt and a smile.”

Quentin held up a pointed finger and opened his mouth to rebut the charge, but then clearly thought better of whatever lie he was about to tell and admitted, “We’re not talking about me. What’s with you Kings always flipping the script?”

Jeremy smirked. “Stop preaching and there won’t be a problem.”

“The only problem we have right now is your mouth,” Q said, charging into Jeremy’s office. “We’re going to put an end to this right now.” He started jerking and slamming desk drawers.

“Mind if I ask what the hell you’re doing?” Jeremy closed the door, and then folded his arms.

Q ignored him for about a full minute until he found what he was looking for. “Ah! I found it.” He jerked out a ruler. “How about we put some money where your lying mouth is?” Before Jeremy could answer, Q started unbuttoning his pants.

“What the hell?”

“Hundred dollars says I’m bigger than you.” He unzipped his pants.

Jeremy’s laughter exploded in the room, but just as quickly, he had to clutch his throbbing jaw. “Man, don’t make me laugh. I don’t want to take your money. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby.”

“Scared?” Q’s confident smile stretched wider. “Two hundred.”

“Q, man—”

“Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

“You’re clucking?” His face twisted. “Man, you sound like a chicken on crack.”

“C’mon, big boy. There’s two hundred dollars on the table. Put up or shut up.”

Jeremy caught the greedy gleam in his cousin’s eyes. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“A’ight. Bet.” Jeremy unbuttoned and unzipped his pants as he moved closer to the desk. “Time to shut you down.”

“On the count of three,” Quentin said. “One, two…three!”

The cousins whipped out their cocks at the same moment Delilah burst through the door. “Jeremy, I heard that— What the hell!” She turned her head away.

Jeremy and Quentin quickly crammed themselves back into their pants.

“Uh, sorry about that, Dee,” Jeremy said sheepishly, as his face burned with embarrassment.

Delilah peeked back over her shoulder to make sure that the coast was clear. She turned around with her hands on her hips. “Let me guess—another bet?”

“Hell, while you’re in here, maybe you can just be the judge,” Quentin suggested, reaching for his zipper again.

“Uh-uh-uh. Don’t you dare,” Delilah warned before Q whipped it out again. “What the hell is wrong with you two? Does everything have to be a damn competition?”

“It’ll just take a second,” Quentin said, unmoved by her outrage.

“No!”

Jeremy laughed. “I guess it would be considered unprofessional.”

“You think?” Delilah shook her head and then finally took a good look at her boss’s face. “Ohmigod! What happened?” She rushed over to Jeremy and grabbed the sides of his face so that she could take a good look.

“Ssss.” Jeremy winced. “Careful. I’m not sure my jaw isn’t broken.”

“Then why aren’t you at the hospital or something?”

“Because Q thought it was much more important for us to measure his dick.”

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Whatever, cuz. You owe me two hundred dollars—
plus
your bail money.”

“Bail?” Delilah said, astonished.

“Are you crazy?” Jeremy’s chest puffed out indigently. “You didn’t win.”

“I most certainly didn’t lose.”

“Oh, my God. You two are giving me a headache. Why is it every time you two get together you start acting like children?”

“Because he always starts it,” Jeremy said, pointing.

“Nuh-uh. You started it,” Quentin countered.

“Geez Louise.” Delilah rolled her eyes. “Just shut up before I put you both in a time out.”

They both clamped their mouths shut and exchanged heated glares.

“Now tell me what the hell happened to your face?” she instructed.

“Yeah, Jeremy.” Quentin leaned a hip against the corner of the desk. “Tell good ol’ Delilah how half your face caved in.”

Jeremy knocked Q’s hip off the desk and threw his head back in a hearty laugh when his cousin went tumbling to the floor.

Delilah counted to ten. “I swear you two need constant supervision.”

Quentin pulled himself off the floor. “That’s all right. Chuckle it up. Next time you need to be bailed out of jail, call one of your Boy Scout brothers so you can get the tongue lashing you deserve.”

“I’m still waiting to hear the story,” Delilah reminded Jeremy.

“There was just this misunderstanding yesterday morning.” He shrugged, but saw that his mother-hen employee was going to need more than that if he wanted to get her off his back.

“What sort of misunderstanding?” Q prompted as he settled his elbows on the desk, cupped his face in his hands and proceeded to give him the innocent puppy-dog look.

Jeremy was beginning to think that he would’ve been better off if he had just called someone else in the family—anyone else.

“There was this woman,” Jeremy started.

“I figured that much,” Delilah said. “The question is, did she or her man give you that shiner?”

“Oooh. Good question,” Quentin leaned in closer—until Jeremy gave him a look that made it clear that he was in danger of receiving a matching black eye.

Jeremy quickly gave Delilah the abridged version of what happened at Dylan Freedman’s bachelor party. However, every time he referred to Baby Girl, a smile kept spreading across his face. When he finished, Delilah was laughing and Quentin looked horror-struck.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Q asked, his brows dipped toward his nose.

“Smiling like what?”

Quentin jumped up onto his feet and started waving his finger. “Don’t play stupid with me. I
know
that look. That look is trouble. Have you forgotten our deal? No more weddings.”

“What? No. Who said anything about weddings? I’m just saying that I had a nice time with the girl.”

“Wait a minute,” Delilah interrupted. “You two have a deal about not getting married?”

Quentin bobbed his head. “Yep. And I even got it in writing.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a crumpled-up piece of paper.

Jeremy frowned. “You carry that thing around with you?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s my American Express card. I never leave home without it.”

“You have issues.”

“Whatever.” He slapped the paper down on the desk and pointed. “See? It’s right here in black and white. I…you…‘Jeremy Jorell King, do solemnly swear that I will not get married
or
sell my shares in The Dollhouse Enterprise.’ That is your signature, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jeremy acknowledged, rolling his eyes. “Now will you please put that away? I’m
not
getting married.”

Q’s eyes narrowed as he carefully studied his cousin’s face.

“I’m serious. It was just a wild fling. We met. We had fun. No big deal.” He laughed. “Hell, chances are that I’ll never see Baby Girl again.”

“I
was a bad girl this weekend,” Leigh confessed. She’d kept her secret from her best friend for two days. In her mind, that just had to be some kind of record.

Ariel snatched out one of her iPod earplugs without stumbling during their run through Torry Pine State Park. “Who was bad?”

“I was,” Leigh repeated as a rush of heat coursed through her entire body.

“Bad how?” Ariel asked, dubious about her friend’s confession.

The corners of Leigh’s mouth felt as though they were just inches from touching each other in the back of her head her smile was so wide. “I had a one-night stand.”

Ariel finally slowed down as doubt gave way to shock. “Get the hell out of here.”

Leigh bobbed her head. “I know. I know. I can hardly believe it myself. But I did it and I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it. I don’t.” She shook her head and accelerated past her friend.

It took Ariel a few seconds to process that Leigh was serious. She rushed to catch up with her again. “But what about DeShawn?”

“What about him?”

“Uh, is he cool with your suddenly liberated take on your relationship?”

“Screw DeShawn. We are
soooo
through.”

“Again?” Ariel laughed. “What did he do this time?”

“What does he always do? He cheated on me—again.”

Ariel’s amusement didn’t falter. “What, with another groupie or some miscellaneous ho?” her friend continued. “C’mon, Leigh. You knew what the deal was when you hooked up with a pro basketball player. These trifling women out here are no joke. You’re expecting a lot from a man—especially a man in his position—to resist that kind of temptation 24/7.”

“Gee, thanks. Silly me, I thought that you were supposed to be on my side.”

“I
am
on your side! DeShawn is a good man. And faults aside, he’s crazy about you. A blind person can see that.”

“Well if he loved me, he’d keep his damn pants zipped,” Leigh shot back as she slowed her pace. “I can’t believe you think I’m being unreasonable because I expect my man to be faithful to me.”

Ariel shook her head. “Look, if he was Joe Schmo with a regular 9-to-5, then yeah. I feel you,” Ariel said. “But any guy who’s a celebrity has women conniving and scheming to get them into bed around the clock. And most of these men are in the prime of their sex lives. Their testosterone is through the roof and they’re on the road all the time. Sure they’re going to slip up. It’s the law of averages.”

“Then he can just go and find him some other woman that’s gonna give him a pass with these skanks. I’m not putting up with it anymore. I’m tired of every time I call and he doesn’t pick up the phone I’m thinking that he’s screwing some trick. I’m tired of seeing lipstick on his collar or smelling perfume on his skin. That’s no way to live.”

“What’s different now than the past five years?”

“The difference is I’m tired of it—sick and tired of it, as a matter of fact,” Leigh said, picking up the pace.

Ariel pulled up beside her. “Leigh—”

“Look, if you’re going to defend DeShawn, then I don’t want to hear it. I’ve already heard a million excuses from him. I didn’t expect to hear them from my best friend.”

Ariel kept quiet for about five seconds. “I just think that you’re making a big mistake.”

Leigh huffed and rolled her eyes.

After another five seconds, Ariel said, “Sooo…you don’t love him anymore?”

“I didn’t say that I don’t love him.” Leigh sighed. “I just don’t know if I’m
in
love with him. There’s a difference.” From the corner of her eye, she could see her best friend shaking her head. “You just don’t understand.”

“You’re damn right I don’t understand,” Ariel said. “Do you know how hard it is to find a good man out here? DeShawn is a nice guy. He’s funny, charming, handsome and
rich.
Hell, I’d settle for one out of four on that list. The last date I had, the brother rolled my ass through the drive-thru at Taco Bell and caught a serious attitude because I wanted extra cheese on my taco.”

Leigh snickered.

“Laugh if you want to. But if you jump out here, you’re going to find out quick, fast and in a hurry that the difference between mangy dogs and dogs is that you can
potty train
dogs. Trust me. I’ve been out here longer than you have. When you finish picking off all the fleas and ticks, you’re going to be pissed that DeShawn’s next chick is rockin’ a Maybach and VVS stones. And I’m going to be on the sidelines with a big-ass sign that reads I Told You So.”

Leigh stopped running and bent over to catch her breath.

Ariel stopped and glanced back at her.

“Are you through?” Leigh said.

“Look, I’m just keeping it real—and trying to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I was never with DeShawn for the money,” Leigh countered. “Everything I floss, I bought and paid for myself.”

“All right, Ms. Independent. There’re still plenty of little boys out here looking for a good sugar momma, too. And when you get tired of letting them always borrow your car, eat your food and run up your credit card, you come holler at me.”

“Damn, Ariel!”

“What? You can’t handle the truth? Or are you one of these women who thinks
Sex and the City
represents what the single life is really like out here? It’s rough. Just because you had
one
one-night stand with a brother that put a smile on your face doesn’t mean that you’ve found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

Leigh shook her head, still not wanting to buy what her friend was selling.

“Just promise me that you’ll think about it some more before you go out and have too many one-night stands.”

Leigh was on the verge of telling her that she was through thinking about it. She and DeShawn had been riding the same roller-coaster ride for five years. When do you just toss in the towel and say enough is enough?

“Leigh?”

“Fine,” she said defensively. “I’ll think about it.”

Ariel smiled. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

Leigh straightened up and then forced herself to resume their five-mile run. Gone were her good mood
and
the instant replays in her head of her one steamy night with a handsome stranger that did more than just put a smile on her face.

An hour later, Leigh returned to her West Hollywood condo feeling more confused than ever. Was she throwing a good thing away? Were her expectations too high in this day and age of sexual liberation? It pained her to admit it, but Ariel was right. Women threw themselves at DeShawn nonstop—a lot of times right when she was hooked on his arm.
What was it Ariel said about the law of averages?

After slamming her front door and kicking off her Nikes with her toes, the blinking red light on the answering machine drew Leigh’s eyes. As she peeled out of her sweaty tank top, she walked over and hit Play.

“You have twenty messages.” Beep!

“What?” She glanced down at her watch. She’d only been gone two hours.

“Hey, Leigh, it’s DeShawn.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I was just calling to see…you know, if you’ve calmed down a bit so we can actually talk about this situation. I know—I know that I screwed up. But, baby, I said I was sorry, and I meant it. Now, surely you’re not about to just throw away these past five years. I mean, call me crazy, but I think this relationship is worth fighting for….”

“Then you should have fought a little harder to keep your pants zipped,” Leigh argued aloud at the answering machine.

“You mean the world to me, Leigh. I love you. You gotta know this by now…”

Leigh closed her eyes and tried to untangle her raw emotions.

“All right. I guess you’re not there. When you get back, please hit me on my cell. We need to talk about this.”

Beep!

Before Leigh could draw a breath, her mother’s booming voice rattled the answering machine’s speakers.

“Leigh, are you there? Pick up!” After a long pause, she continued. “Chile, when you get home, give me a call and tell me why DeShawn is calling my house every ten minutes. What the hell happened between you two?”

Leigh groaned. It was a typical DeShawn Carter move. When he couldn’t get Leigh to budge on something, he went through her mother.

“I mean it, Leigh. You better call and tell me why I have this boy sounding like Keith Sweat on my phone. Whatever this chile done did, you two need to work it out. You know that you two belong together. Y’all need to stop with all this foolishness and go on ahead and get married. You don’t want to be like all these other career women who wait until their forties and then start wondering why all their eggs done dried up. Your father and I have been wanting some grandbabies for a while now. You need to give us something to do before we kill each other up in here. You know, ever since he sold the company and retired, he’s been rocking my last damn…”
Beep!

Leigh chuckled at the way the answering machine had cut her mother off. Of course, the answering machine always cut her off because the one thing her mother was not blessed with was the gift of brevity.

“Hey, Leigh this is Cathy. I, um… I know this may sound crazy, but, um, did you happen to come by and use the beach house this past weekend? There was this sort of incident when George and I came up Saturday. You won’t believe this, but there was a naked guy parading around the house—”

“Oh, shit.” Leigh’s eyes widened. Cathy hardly ever used the beach house and had always extended an open invitation to Leigh—which she hardly ever took advantage of, until this past weekend. She needed a place to go and just clear her head. She left the one-night stand guy a note—and hoped that he would just see his way out.

“I’m asking because George found this note and it sort of looks like your handwriting. Anyway, just give me a call. It would really clear up a lot of confusion.” Cathy laughed. “And we probably should drop the breaking-and-entering charge if this guy is in fact a friend of yours.”

“Ohmigod.” Leigh slapped her hand against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She sighed, trying to figure out how she was going to fix this one.

Beep!

To her complete shock the next message was from her father.

“Leigh, honey. Are you home?” he asked, suspicious that she was just screening her calls. “Well, this is Douglas, your father….”

Leigh shook her head—like she wouldn’t recognize her father’s voice.

“Anyway, sweetheart, I just wanted you to know that I just got off the phone with DeShawn Carter.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She blinked. “He’s going through my father now?”

“Now, Cupcake, I’m not trying to get up in y’all’s business, but I got to tell you whatever this boy has done, I got a feeling that he’s real sorry.”

“Unbelievable,” she mumbled under her breath, as she stormed toward the adjoining bathroom in the master bedroom. “First Ariel and now my own parents.”

But as much as DeShawn’s tactics disgusted Leigh, they were beginning to work. Maybe she was being too hard. Maybe she was asking for too much from a man in his position. Groupies, gold diggers and just down-and-out hos were always a problem for
any
woman dating or married to a pro athlete. Ariel was right. She’d been warned countless times by her family and friends that this was just simply the life of being with a celebrity. The only question was whether she could deal with it.

No.

She stepped into the shower and lowered her head so that she felt the full force of the hot-water spray. There was a time when DeShawn, at least, put up an effort to convince her that he wasn’t like other pro athletes. That he
could
resist temptation. Was it ever true, or had she merely wanted to believe the lie?

While her troubling thoughts circled inside her head, another image began to penetrate the chaos: a tall, milk-chocolate brother who had taken away her troubles with a simple smile. Never mind all the other stuff he did. She closed her eyes while she soaped her body, which only brought more erotic memories to the forefront. He was the only other guy she had slept with in five years—and quite frankly she couldn’t have made a better selection. She couldn’t have dreamed up a more handsome, virile man if she tried.

Leigh didn’t crash the party looking for a one-night stand, but when the chance presented itself, she threw caution to the wind—and even now she wasn’t sorry about it. How could she be?

She remembered how strong and large her mystery lover’s hands were when they roamed up and down her body. Plus, how could she ever forget how muscular his chest and arms were? The man must have been performing bench presses and ab crunches in his sleep. He was as hard as a brick wall—
everywhere
. And he personified the term “hung like a horse.”

Leigh felt a flush of heat recalling vivid memories of her one-night stand. Where on earth had she found the courage to do the things she did with him? Lord knew she had never been so brazen and uninhibited with DeShawn or the others before DeShawn—that she’d slept with.

That night was different.

She was different.

Her soapy fingers squeezed and pinched her breasts. Relishing the twinge of pain, Leigh’s head dropped back while her jaw sagged. With barely any effort, her thin, delicate hands had transformed into the strong, masculine ones that had haunted her last night. Then, as now, her fingers slowly fell away from her breasts and descended over her flat belly before dipping through the soft curls shielding her sex. Parting her legs, she discovered her clit was swollen and pulsing. It was no surprise that it throbbed in time with her hammering heartbeat. When the pads of her wet fingers slid over the tip, it was lubricated from her body’s dripping honey. But she knew just where to stroke.