Hook'd

HOOK’D

A NOVEL

By: Taisha Ryan

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without author’s permission.

Cover Artwork by:  Aija M. Butler

Copyright © by Taisha S. Ryan

All rights reserved. 

November 14, 2013

"Aye, ya'll give it up for the heavy weight champion, Cameron Lewisssss!!!!"

Roars filled the air as Cameron made his grand entrance in the night club. Camera lights flashed as everyone snapped pictures. Excited fans reached out to touch him, only to be blocked by the heavyset bodyguards following his every move. Cam strolled with his usual edge of confidence, basking in glory.

The fame.

The fortune.

He loved it all.

Dressed in his navy blue button up top, dark denim jeans, designer shoes, with his glistening canary diamond studded chain adorning his neck, he made sure to look his best. His low cut fade was tapered to perfection and the trimmed hairs of his beard sharpened his clean, yet rugged look.

He felt like a king.

Fuck it, he was a king.

Five championship belts, ten wins and zero losses, he was unstoppable. And after winning the close fight with his arch nemesis, Rafael Chavez, he was celebrating his victory at a Vegas nightclub. With nothing but music, expensive liquor, drugs and women, life couldn't have gotten any better.

"The muthafuckin' champ, baby!" His manager, Slick cheered, draping his arm over his shoulder with his bottle of Champagne raised in the air.  "This is your night! You the king, you hear me?!!"

Cam grinned at his drunken stupor. Slick could barely hold himself up as he leaned against him for balance.

Early 40's, and a well-respected manager in the business, Slick had been with him since the beginning. He first met Slick when he was just 15 years old. Back then, Cam thought he was the smoothest cat ever. With his sleek designer suits, fedora hats, gold medallion chains, looking like a don of his own empire, his whole aura embodied power and success.

After one of his amateur fights, the lean built, dark toned man, approached him. With a hand on his shoulder, he said,
'You got a killer inside of you, son...don't lose that
.'

Since then, Slick had gone to all of his fights. Watching from the shadows as the young fighter traveled up the ranks. Eventually, Slick had approached him again and handed him his business card, claiming that he should give him a call. And he did.

The rest was history.

Over the years, Slick had become his mentor, a father figure, and friend. Before he had even gotten to the position he was at now, back when he was just a broke young kid from the projects, Slick had been the one to open his eyes and show him life outside of poverty. He showed him around, gave him money, showered him with expensive things, gave him a taste of the good life. A life he had always wished to have. He showed him the ropes, the ins and outs of the shady business.

Had it not been for Slick, his career wouldn't have gotten to this point. With major endorsement deals, movie deals, campaigns, and prominent fights that renovated millions, he was on top of the world. And now 10 years in the professional league, there was nobody else he would rather have by his side.

Cam sat in VIP, a private area sectioned away from the main crowd with only people of his echelon were awarded access in, from his closest friends, entourage, his business team to  A list celebrities. Everyone deemed important came out to celebrate his special night and he couldn't be happier.

"You know you gettin' some victory pussy tonight, right?" Slick yelled in his ear.

Cam laughed, nodding in agreement. He was definitely taking something home after this.

Bobbing his head to Rich Homie Quan’s song,
Some Type of Way
, Cam lifted his own bottle of Champagne and chugged it down. He planned to get wasted tonight. No doubt about it.

*

Cam grasped his crotch as he staggered down the hallway of the hotel, following after the young, long haired, Latina beauty he had brought back from the club. He stared hungrily at her plump ass through the red, skin tight dress snugging her curvaceous frame. She was thick in all the right places. Just like he liked it.

She had approached him in VIP. Bold. Determined.  Like a seductive serpent yearning to wrap its body around his. With those green eyes firing with lust, she demanded to get him alone. He was used to women fawning over him.  But she was different. The way she did it, had him lost in her aura. He didn't know who she was. Or how she managed to force her way into VIP.  But he didn't care. He wanted her. In the worst way.

He slapped her butt and she jumped, giggling. "Sexy ass..."

When they arrived at his door, he slid the card key in the slot and opened it. Before she entered, he stopped her.

"No phones."

"What?" She lifted a brow.

"No phones. Give it to Polo," he ordered, referring to his hefty bodyguard standing behind them. With hesitance, she handed him her phone.

He had to be cautious.  He had seen too many dumb ass men get caught with groupies snapping pictures during their most intimate moments, causing nothing but humiliation. Not him. He would be damned if he got caught slipping.

They then entered the room, as Big Polo guarded the door.

"Wow," she whispered, gazing around in awe.

The presidential suite was nothing less than luxurious, with a spacious living room, dining area, master bedroom and bathroom. The large glass windows encompassing the suite, displayed the beautiful view of the brightly lit city of Vegas from above. This was nothing new to him. He was used to staying in many prestigious hotels around the world.  But he could never get enough of the looks on women's faces whenever they got a glimpse of his life. It stroked the hell out of his ego.

"This is really nice..." She roamed around, the heels of her red stilettos clicking the wooden floor.

"Want something to drink?"

"What do you have?"

He led her to the bar across the room, filled with the myriad brands of liquor and wine.

"Pick your choice."

She approached the bar. "I'll take a glass of Dom
Pérignon
."

He handed her a fresh glass and poured her some. She thanked him and took a sip.

"So, what’s it like to be Mr. Cameron Lewis?" She sat on the stool.

"Whatchu think?" His gaze trailed her olive toned legs.

"I think it's...everything."

"It is."

"Must be a lucky man."

"I am."

He placed the bottle down and stepped closer. He didn't have time for the chit chat. They both knew what she came here for. Biting her lip, she slowly opened her legs, inviting him in. He nestled himself between her, running his hands up her smooth thighs.

"Hold on for a sec," she whispered. She dug in her purse and pulled out a compact case. She opened it and showed him the colorful pills. "You want?”

He glanced at it. "Nah."

He liked to indulge, himself. But one thing he learned in this business: Never take anything from a groupie. No matter what it was.  He had heard too many stories of athletes waking up with their stuff missing, or their memory gone. He didn't trust these hoes as far as he could throw them.

She popped the pill in her mouth. When she finished the last of her drink, she placed the glass down.

"You good now?" He licked his lips.

She nodded. "Mhmm, very good."

He placed kisses across her neck, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She unbuckled his pants, allowing them to fall to the floor. Before he could even blink, she got on her knees and pulled out his erect manhood. She made a pleased sound as she caressed the hardened muscle with her soft hands. Weakening from her hypnotic touch, he bit his lip with arousal. She took him in her mouth, and he melted in pleasure. He clenched her soft hair and delved himself deeper into her warm mouth, reveling in the stroke of her hot tongue on his flesh. He shut his eyes in bliss.

The life.

Cam jumped out of his sleep at the loud bang.

"Open up, police!"

He frowned, confused.

Police?

He slowly sat up, only to be blinded by the sun's piercing glare. He winced at the sudden sharp pain in his skull and rubbed his eyes. The heavy feeling of nausea arose in his stomach and he groaned, turning over in the king sized bed. Fuck. He shouldn't have drunk so much last night.

"For the last time, Mr. Lewis open up! Or we’ll be forced to open it ourselves."

"Holdup! Shit," he replied groggily, forcing himself out of bed. He placed on his sweatpants and staggered to the door. He opened it to find 3 police officers dressed in uniform.

"The hell ya'll want?"

"You are being arrested for the rape of Sonya Valdez. Please turn around and place your hands behind your back."

"Rape?!?"

He stepped back as they approached him.

"Aye yo, holdup! The hell are ya'll talking about? I didn't rape anyone!"

"Mr. Lewis—"

"Don't touch me!" He pushed them away and they grabbed him by the neck, slamming him to the floor. He shrieked in pain.

"Fuck! Polo...Polo—ah, shit!" He winced as they tightened the handcuffs on his wrists. They grabbed him up and forced him out of the room.

Crowds of people bombarded them when they stepped outside. From news reporters, journalists, to screaming fans, surrounding him like a plague. His eyes pained from the flashing lights, the loud uproar only deepening his headache. He lowered his head, trudging through the crowd as the officers escorted him.

"Mr. Lewis, is it true that you raped a young woman by the name of Sonya Valdez?" A reporter asked, shoving the mic in his face. He ignored him.

Countless questions darted his way. Police shoved people out of their path, demanding everyone to step back. They quickly led him into the patrol car and sped away.

*

He was charged with first degree rape and sexual assault. He was then booked and taken into police custody, where he had obtained bail the same night. Since then, the news had spread worldwide. His story plastered all over the media with his PR team scuffling desperately to salvage his tainted image. Within a matter of moments, his entire life had ruptured. To be on top of the world, to now his rep tainted with rape allegations, the devastation was insurmountable. Distraught, he immediately contacted his most trusted lawyer, William, to discuss the situation.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Cameron. This is not looking too good," the white haired, middle aged lawyer spoke, seated across the table within his office. "I mean, look at these..."

William opened the manila folder. "These are copies of the pictures obtained from the police report."

Cam lifted up the pictures, staring in disbelief. The photos showed the battered woman's face with her eyes black and blue, her nose bloodied, and lips bruised, as though she had been beaten senseless. He couldn't believe it. This bitch actually framed him.

"Listen, I just need you to be honest with me. Did you do this?"

"No! For the last time, I didn't touch that bitch!" He pounded his fist on the table. "We just went to the hotel room and had sex. That's it."

"So, explain these bruises. Where did they come from?"

"I don't fucking know. She probably did it herself. But I didn't touch her. You think I would do something stupid like that? With all the pussy in the world, you think I would have to rape a bitch? You really believe that?"

William sighed. "No, I don't."

He leaned back, fuming.

"Listen, these are some serious charges. Rape cases hardly work in the favor of men. And if convicted, there's a big chance of you facing some serious time. And as much as I want you to fight this, I can't guarantee that this will fare well in court."

He rubbed his aching scalp. He couldn't believe this was actually happening.

"So, what do you think I should do?"

"Well, the D.A is offering to reduce this to a misdemeanor. If you accept the deal, you'd get a year of community service and 5 months of anger management classes."

He scowled. "So, whatchu saying? Plead guilty?"

"Well, with the way things are looking, it won't hurt to consider it."

"And have everyone thinking I'm a rapist? Fuck that."

"It's either that, or face the possibility of jail time."

"Then so be it."

There was no way he could have the world thinking he was a rapist. He would die before he let that happen.