Any Man I Want (13 page)

“Now that's what I'm talking about,” Belle said. “I've been starvin' lately.”

“Girl, will you take the test already?” Jewel said with a fork hovering over the pot.

Madere slapped her hand. “Belle will take the test when she's good and ready. Jewel, I put out bowls for a reason. Kit-Kat, get the bread out of the oven.”

When were gathered around the table, she said, “Now
mes enfants
, tell me everything!”

Carter—Friday, July 2—7:03 p.m.

 

 

I
t had been a long week. No new drama, thankfully. We were making progress with our investigations. I still wasn't 100 percent sure what Katrina and the girls had cooked up, but I was letting it go for now. Tonight, we were heading to the foundation headquarters for a talk with the kids and to serve a meal. We were late. It was my fault. When I walked past the closet, she was perched on the bench rubbing some sort of scented cream all over her naked body. She looked and smelled like dessert. Whatever good intentions I had were gone in an instant. I am a man. I had to taste. She was so open to me, it was addictive. All I did was walk over, lay her down, and kneel between those vanilla-scented thighs. Having her come apart against my mouth while calling out my name? It was so damned satisfying; I had to take her up and over once more. In my mind, that was just worth the twenty-minute delay. I left her to get cleaned up and headed downstairs. I stood at the kitchen counter, ignoring my insistent erection begging me to go back upstairs and be an extra thirty minutes late. The flat-front khakis didn't seem like such a good idea with the obvious tent I was pitching. Untucking the T-shirt was not an option and it was way too hot for a jacket.

Katrina swirled downstairs in a bright pink short cotton dress with strappy sandals on her feet and a glow on her face. Her hair was up in a curly ponytail and her lipstick matched the dress. She kissed my check. “You're so much awesome. Let's go, Sexy. We're late and Gramps will give us hell.”

“Ain't that the truth?” I readjusted myself and snatched up the keys to the Range Rover. I followed her out to the garage, locked the back door behind us, and pressed the unlock button on the key fob. When I went to move past her to open her door, I felt my belt loosening.

Before I could figure out what she was up to, my pants were unbuttoned, my shirt was pushed up, and my briefs were yanked down. “Katrina, for Christ's sa—” I ground out as she wrapped both hands around my shaft and squeezed. Good lord, that felt good. My penis twitched happily in her hands. “You know we do not have time for this!” I reminded her. She responded by dropping down to her knees, mindless of the garage floor, and peered up at me through her lashes.

“You want me to stop?” she purred, reached out with her tongue, and licked the tip delicately. Short, pointy laps. Again and again, like a cat with a bowl of milk it was determined to get to the bottom of.

“Hell no.” I placed one hand against the car door and the other in her hair while I braced my knees. Carefully, I pulled the band out of her hair that was holding it up so it spilled down around her face in curls. “Woman, you are going to be the death of me.”

“So you keep saying, C. So you keep saying.” With that, she swirled her tongue along the length before nipping me with her teeth from root to tip, up one side and down the other, while pumping slowly with her hand.

I looked down at her beautiful face with those shiny pink lips and the delight she derived from giving me pleasure and groaned out her name: “Katrina.” I dug my fingers into her scalp as she took me deeper and deeper. Her hands and her mouth worked in tandem to pull every sensation out of me. I wanted Audelia Katrina Montgomery with a greed that stunned me on a regular day, but right now in this darkened garage with those gold eyes glittering up at me? I was gone. She sped up the tempo and moaned her enjoyment. Jesus, I was not going to last. Discarding all my usual stamina and finesse, I flung my head back and pumped my hips. The climax ripped through me as I jetted into her mouth. “Oh, heavenly father,” I whispered, running my hand through her silky hair.

Carefully, she leaned back and grinned up at me. She licked her lips. “Good to the last drop, C.”

A shudder racked my entire body and I concentrated on staying upright. What this woman did to me . . . “Give me two minutes and I'll thank you properly,” I rasped, still trying to catch my breath.

She tucked me back into my boxers and pulled up my pants. “I was thanking you for earlier. As much as I'd love to hop aboard and ride that delicious beast, we don't have time for that. Once you get to thanking me and I thank you in return . . .”

“All right, all right.” I pulled her to her feet and checked both of us for dust and wrinkles. “But I need a rain check on that beast-riding thing.”

“Any time, Mr. Carter. Any damn time.” She pressed a soft kiss to my lips and I returned the pressure. We both groaned and pressed closer to each other, her hands snaking around my waist and mine dropping down to her hips. “We are already late,” she muttered against my lips and twisted her hips against mine.

“Swear to God, Katrina! Don't move like that right now,” I said and then contradicted my own statement by sliding my hands under her thighs and lifting her up against me. Those long, silky legs wrapped around my waist and I backed her up against the car.

“This is ridiculous!” She exhaled. “I can't keep feeling like this about you.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what exactly?”

“Hungry, needy, humid.”

I snorted. “Humid?”

“Carter, you make me wet just looking at you sometimes.”

I rested my forehead against hers. “If you figure out how to stop feeling hungry, needy, humid, tell me. So I can stop feeling hungry, needy, hard.”

“It's not just the sex, is it?” She stared into my eyes, looking a little overwhelmed.

“It's not just the sex,” I answered truthfully.

“Dammit, we're a fine pair.”

“I like to think so.” My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. “You know that's Gramps.” I set her on her feet and held open her door. This conversation would have to wait.

“Tell him we hit a traffic jam,” she suggested, sliding in and fastening the seat belt.

I walked around the car, climbed in, and started it up. “Last time I did that, he pulled up the traffic cam on his iPad and we were busted.” The phone stopped ringing for a second before buzzing urgently again. “I'll tell him we had a problem in the garage. Some wildlife got loose and we had to take care of it.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. “What's the wildlife? Me or that beast between your legs?”

I opened the garage door and put the car in reverse. “Woman, call it a beast one more time and we'll never make it out of here.”

“I'm sorry, Big Daddy; do I need to be punished for my naughty mouth?” she singsonged in the sexiest voice I'd ever heard as she slicked more pink gloss on her lips.

I slammed on the brakes and swiveled my head to look at her. “You are really asking for it.”

“Yeah. I am. But later,” she teased and pushed the button on the console to answer the phone. “Hey Gramps, we're on the way.”

 

 

As luck would have it, there really was some traffic drama on the expressway. The Parks Foundation offices were housed out of a converted community center that the city abandoned over near the Hamilton Park area of North Dallas. The facilities were split down the middle with the kids' facilities on one side and the veterans on the other. Kitchen, gym, and assembly hall in the middle. We weren't two feet in the door when a voice called us out.

“Hey, look who decided to show up!” My brother Chris stepped down the hallway. He had on white linens pants and a navy blue T-shirt that I recognized as one he had “borrowed” from my closet. I had to admit my brother was a taller, more muscular, better-looking version of me. He knew it too. If I wasn't so damn proud of him, I'd have to really dislike his young ass. Moving me out of the way, he swept Katrina up before placing a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Hiya gorgeous! I keep telling you that you're wasting time with last year's version when you could have Parks two-point-oh right here.” I raised a brow at the both of them.

“Tempting.” Katrina kissed him back and then stepped over and took my hand. “I'm going to work with this one for a little while longer.”

“Is that right?” Chris smiled and called out over his shoulder. “Gramps! I owe you a hundred bucks. Looks like she's gonna keep him awhile.”

“Boy! Leave your brother alone, quit drooling over his woman, and get out here to round up your teammates before they eat up all the food.”

“Gramps, I warned you about showing them where the kitchen was!” He hustled toward the back rooms.

Gramps looked from Katrina's face to mine and then dropped to our clasped hands. He pulled her into a hug of his own. “You two looking mighty happy with yourselves. I can only imagine why you are late. What's done is done. Let's get going.”

“Who made it?” I asked him.

“Chris brought two guys with him. And your boys Kendrick and Spaulding made it.”

I nodded. “Let's get started then.” I walked over. Katrina and I were introduced to Paul Staley and Marcus Goings, two of Chris's teammates. I thanked them for coming and motioned for them to follow me. I headed into the main area of the assembly room with Katrina by my side.

There was a group of about forty boys ranging from age twelve to eighteen, seated around the tables. We had younger kids that came to the center, but the nighttime events were for the older boys. They were already excited to have professional football players in their midst, but the appearance of Katrina in all her short-skirted glory set the place on its ear. Jaws dropped, eyes widened, and murmurs started. They looked like those cartoons where the person's tongue fell out of their mouths and their eyes popped out of their heads. I was used to her being the best thing to look at in any room she entered, but seeing her through the eyes of teenagers was amusing. They'd never seen anything quite like her close up.

“Damn, homie, Mr. Parks got
all
the luck. She is da bomb!” one of the boys said.

Katrina walked over to him with some extra sway to her hips and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, handsome, but you should know—it's not luck. He works hard to hold onto this.” She looked over her shoulder and winked at me.

“
Whoa!
” The boys shouted, high-fiving me as I walked past.

I got to the front of the room, where we had a podium and a microphone set up. I stopped to greet Kendrick Morris and Spaulding Hall. Kendrick and I were drafted in the same year and Spaulding had been a first-round draft pick two years later. We'd been friends ever since.

“I see life is still good for Big Sexy.” Kendrick jostled me and tilted his head in Katrina's direction.

“I have no complaints,” I said honestly. Life was good.

Spaulding shook his head. “Only took you a decade to close the deal.”

“Don't hate the player . . .” I said, smirking, before turning serious. “Ready to drop some knowledge on these kids?”

“Most definitely. Which two are the knuckleheads?”

Two of the older kids had been slacking off on their schoolwork because they were being courted by colleges and assumed that meant they were destined for a life of fame, fortune, and glory. I pointed the two of them out and then stepped to the podium.

“Men, I promise we are going to feed you shortly. Tonight, I brought some special guests to speak to you. You all were chosen for this program because you show extraordinary talent both in academics and athletics. There are one hundred thousand high school seniors playing football this year. Only nine thousand of them will make it to the college level. Out of that nine thousand, only three hundred and ten will be invited to the NFL scouting combine. That is point-two percent, gentlemen.”

I could see the impact those numbers had as the boys began to understand their odds and the long road ahead of them.

Chris's teammate Paul stepped up to the mic. “If you are blessed and gifted and hardworking enough to be among that point-two percent, the average shelf life of a professional football player is a little over three years.”

More eyes widened as reality started to sink in.

Marcus joined him. “The minimum salary for rookies last year was three hundred and ninety thousand dollars.” The boys hooted and whistled. He put his hands up to quiet them down. “That sounds like a lot, right? But now assume that ten percent is going straight to your agent. You need somewhere to live, something to drive, you are required to wear a suit on game day and for travel on most teams, and you haven't even talked about the ladies.”

Kendrick stepped up. “CP here got a woman who has her own bank. She's a rare woman. Ladies will be coming at you with their hands out and their legs open.”

Spaulding added, “And you haven't even kicked a little something back to Mama, Pop-Pop, your cousin Ray-Ney, and 'nem. Money evaporates faster than you can make it if you're not careful.

“You haven't played one down of football and most of your first check is gone. Now you are playing catch-up all year. If all you got is this salary for three years and then you're done? You are retired by age twenty-five and then what are you going to do? What's your mama gonna do? Ray-Ney and 'nem got used to eating good on your dime.”

The room was silent as the young boys absorbed the harsh truths.

Paul spoke. “My best friend from high school was a better athlete than me. I was a better student, but he was naturally gifted. I worked hard and still was not as good as him. We played college ball together. After junior year, he declared for the draft. Agents were coming out of nowhere offering him advances and houses and jewelry. He took a lot of it because he was supposed to go high in the first round. Two nights before the draft, we were running to catch a plane. It was raining and the sidewalk was slick. He fell down a flight of stairs and in a freak accident, shattered his hip. Nobody wanted to take a chance on him. He had six surgeries, but couldn't get the strength back. He's back in school now, trying to finish up his degree, but at twenty-three years of age his football career is over and he's had to declare bankruptcy to get rid of the debts from all the stuff he bought and borrowed, waiting on that payday.”