Chapter 19
TATUM
"I should've never told you shit," I huffed, a deep frown turning the corners of my mouth as Rori adjusted a heated blanket around me.
She looked me right in the face, rolled her eyes, and continued with her task.
I was not about to say it out loud to her, but the heated blanket actually did feel kinda good.
Just a little, though.
"I really cannot believe you are annoyed with me trying to help you," she said, stepping back now that she was done. "I’d think you'd be grateful."
I was grateful.
There was just something else I'd rather be doing right now… like being inside her.
“I already told you exactly what would make me feel better,” I grunted, and she laughed.
"I looked it up, and the overstimulation of sex is probably about the worst thing you could do during a flare-up," she said, eyebrows high, daring me to refute it.
I couldn't because she was right, but still.
Damn.
"You don't feel like you're a little too in my business right now?" I asked, and again, got nothing but laughs.
"Too in your business? No. All in your business? Absolutely. And here I will remain until you are through this flare-up. You have got to take care of yourself," she fussed.
She sounded just like my damn mama, who she'd been talking to a little too much for my taste, actually. I had made it a point to get away from hovering, and here she was doing the same damn thing.
Well, not the same thing.
Rori did her hovering in a Kings T-shirt she’d found in my drawer and nothing but panties underneath, which definitely soothed the sting a bit.
If only I could take advantage of some of the other perks of having her here, instead of her being responsible and shit.
"You could at least come climb up under here with me," I said, and she smirked, backing away.
"I can in just a moment," she said, before disappearing into the bathroom.
With her out of the room and no one looking at me like I was an invalid, I had nothing else to focus on. So, I gave in to the comfortable, soothing heat of the blanket.
Shit really was helping.
Today had been a hard day of trying to push through a flare-up to still have a productive practice session with the team. It had worked somewhat, but I was still paying the price now, with nerve pain that not much of anything could properly address.
Pain relievers, rest, and heat were my best remedies, and we already had all of those on deck now.
So I just relaxed into my bed, waiting for Rori to come back from doing her damn thirty-five step skin routine.
I… was glad she was here.
My family were really the only ones who had been up close and personal with these flare-ups, so having her here was a change of pace. Her visit was planned, just not around me being in debilitating pain. I’d tried to reschedule, knowing I wasn’t going to be much fun, but she insisted on coming anyway.
I hadn't expected her to show up with heated blankets, massage oils, and apparently a whole podcast worth of research she’d listened to on the four-hour drive up for the weekend.
She really fucked with me.
Good to know.
“All right,” she practically sang as she exited the bathroom with her face looking like a glazed donut, her hair tucked away under a colorful silk scarf, and wearing my shirt—looking fine as fuck. “Do you think you want to try the massage?” she asked as she approached the bed. “I know it’s kind of a fine line between helping and overstimulating, but you tell me. Do you think we should try it?”
I moved from my reclined position on the bed to one where she could access my shoulders. “I’ll never turn down a chance to have you rubbing all up on me, girl,” I chuckled. “Come on over here.”
“You’re a fool, you know that?” she giggled, stopping to grab the specific massage cream she’d brought with her. She explained everything that was in it as she straddled my back—magnesium, turmeric, all kinds of herbal remedies that addressed inflammation.
I closed my eyes, doing my best not to tense up.
At first it was painful, but as I relaxed and her hands continued their kneading, the pain began to slip away, leaving behind a pleasant tingle from the cooling effect of the oils in the cream.
“Man, this shit is good,” I commented. “What’s it called again?”
“I’d have to grab the container,” she said. “But I can leave it with you. I grabbed it from a little pop-up in Nectar before I drove down. The shop owner said it was good stuff, so I’m glad to hear it's working,” she added, climbing off.
I quickly grabbed her hand to keep her from getting too far as I turned over. “Where you going?” I asked, urging her to straddle me again, now that I was on my back.
“We already discussed this,” she laughed, but she climbed on anyway.
“Damn, a nigga can’t get a little hunching or nothing?” I asked, raising my hips to lift her up as she gave in.
“Stop it,” she said, planting her hands on my chest. “We don’t want to undo anything now that we’ve got you in a good place.”
“Yeah, I’m trying to get to an even better place,” I told her, grabbing onto the big, pretty thighs anchored on either side of me. “You feel that?”
I was referring to the reflexive hardening of my dick. There were only two skimpy layers of fabric between us—my boxers and her panties. Her pussy was practically calling me.
“How could I not feel that?” she said, leaning in to plant a kiss on my lips.
“Do something about it. I need a massage there too.”
Her laughter was warm against my mouth. “So, you’re just not going to let me do the right thing here?” she asked, and I shrugged.
“Look, if you don’t want to do it, that’s something I’m totally cool with. But if you’re holding back because you think you’re doing me a favor, we can get rid of these draws right now.”
She sighed. “So you don’t think it’ll make your pain worse? You’ve had sex during a flare-up before, and it was fine?”
“I tend to avoid people when I’m in a flare-up, so that’s never happened,” I admitted.
Her eyes went wide. “So you want me to be the test subject? Absolutely not.”
She started to climb off of me, but my hands went to her waist, holding her in place. “Chill,” I urged. “There’s a lot of space between my shoulders and my dick. I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.”
“Pretty sure?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“I love that you’re worried about me, but all I want right now is to be close to you,” I told her. “We’ve got the massage cream, we’ve got the heat, we’ve got whatever we need to do to make me feel better. Whatever we break, we’ll fix. So, stop playing and take off those damn panties.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, we just stared at each other before both bursting into laughter.
“You really want me bad, huh?” she teased.
“That’s all I’ve been trying to say.”
“Mmhmm,” she murmured as she lifted herself up just enough to slide my boxers down, allowing my dick to spring free. “Oh, this is what you wanted,” she said, wrapping her hands around it, squeezing gently. “You said a massage, right?”
“With your pussy,” I countered, making her laugh.
And then she did her very best to swallow me whole.
That shit was nothing to laugh about.
I tried to keep my shoulders relaxed, to talk myself out of getting up on my elbows so I could enjoy the view. But I couldn’t help it; I needed to see the show she was putting on.
Spit lubricated her hands perfectly.
The grip was tight.
The timing on each pump of her hands impeccable.
All while she sucked me off like she was trying to pull me through a damn milkshake straw.
My hands instinctively went for her head, wanting to sink my fingers into her hair, but instead, I grabbed onto the sheets, not wanting to disrupt how neatly she’d put it away. She didn’t need me to guide her head or urge her to take more of me down her throat.
She knew exactly what the fuck she was doing, and she did it well.
She didn’t even stop when I warned her I was about to cum.
Instead, she went even harder, keeping me down her throat as my hips surged with the pressure of the orgasm.
She swallowed it all and then looked up at me with a satisfied smile as she licked her lips and pulled my boxers back up.
“How do you feel now?” she asked.
“Shit… like I could run through a fucking brick wall,” I laughed. “Give me just a few minutes, and then I want you to go ahead and climb up.”
“Don’t be greedy,” she said, moving to lay beside me. “That was the compromise!”
“I don’t know about that.”
She laughed. “I do. We’ll see how you adapt, and then maybe next time…”
“No fair,” I groaned.
“Very fair,” she countered, snuggling against me. “I just want you to be okay.”
There was something in her tone that told me not to make a joke about that. When I peeked at her, her eyes were already on me, filled with concern.
“Why are you so worried?” I asked softly. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It just comes and goes. I’ll be okay.”
“This is my first time dealing with it though. So… forgive me for being a little over-the-top.”
“You’re not being over-the-top,” I said, kissing her forehead. “And even if you were, it’s kind of making me feel good, having a pretty woman worried about me—it’s a nice change.”
She sucked her teeth. "As if I'm the first woman outside your family to worry about you," she mused.
”Seriously," I admitted. "I told you, I usually keep a distance from people during these flare-ups. This is new for me too."
"That's kinda scary, you know that, right?" she said softly.
"Yeah, I agree. It is. But it’s gonna work out like it needs to.”
"Yeah," she murmured, but I couldn't help noticing how uncertain it sounded.
Which wasn't unreasonable, considering what she'd gone through with Monty.
“Hey," I told her, prompting her to turn her gaze back to me. "You know you’re mine, right?"
She smiled. “Yeah.”
"And I don't play about what's mine. So whatever is going on in this noggin of yours… cut it out," I said, giving her a gentle tap to the forehead that made her laugh.
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“It does actually, ’cause I said so. We good.”
She scoffed. “And if we're not good?"
“You gotta get a soccer player next time. Really shake shit up."
"Oh god," she huffed.
"That's what they said about you, ain't it?” I asked, referring to the headlines that came out after she got pictured with Jay, and then back with me. “Baller hopping!”
“This is not at all funny," she said, wearing a smile that directly contradicted her words.
"It's pretty funny, actually. There was a whole infographic," I reminded her, and she couldn't hold back her laughter anymore.
"With you ranked at the bottom," she teased, and my eyes went big as I remembered that part.
"Yeah, you right. Monty and Jay have bigger contracts. Kinda hurt my feelings a little bit."
"Oh well, your dick is bigger than both," she said, and I grinned until?—
"Wait, how do you know how big Jay's dick is?"
"Oh, he sent me a picture." She shrugged. "Like the next day. To show me what I was missing out on."
"I'm gonna put his fucking head through a wall."
The football camps were one of my favorite things the Kings community outreach put on every year.
A bunch of kids running around, smacking into each other, screaming, laughing, learning the game of football. Just that energy—I loved that shit.
Maybe because of the way my life had changed when I was introduced to football, it was always one of my highlights to be able to introduce or nourish the love of the sport at this early age.
For some reason, though, when Cole and Jordan pulled me aside before the event started, there had been a lot of emphasis on me being on my very best behavior.
I didn’t understand the purpose of that until we were out on the field and the event coordinator made the announcement that this wasn’t a Kings-only event.
They’d invited players from other teams.
Including the most recent Super Bowl champions… the Behemoths.
Monty's bitch ass was all smiles as he came out to excited cheers from the kids who recognized him, and the others too, who were just clapping because everybody else was clapping, me included.
I was more than capable of being cool, especially considering why we were there.
I was handing out towels when I felt eyes on me, and looked up to find Monty staring me down.
Here we go.
I didn’t have the time or energy for that shit though. I was just a little more than a week removed from that flare-up but was still kind of recovering from it. There was a dull hum of discomfort radiating through my shoulders, even now, and I didn’t have extra mental energy for whatever the fuck he had going on.
We played different positions, different sides of the ball, so it was easy enough to just work with my group and then send them to the next station.
Work with my group, send them to the next station.
On and on like that.
Just there doing what I was supposed to be doing.
Until the lunch break was called, and I looked up to find Monty heading in my direction.
“Hey Wilder, let me holler at you for a bit,” he called from a few feet away.
“I’ll pass,” I told him, shaking my head. “You ain’t talking about shit.”
He stopped in front of me, jaw clenched. “Just a quick chat. I need to holler at you about something. Something you need to know.”
Now, obviously, I was aware he could be full of shit.
He was probably full of shit.
But there was a chance, however small, he did actually have something important I needed to know related to Rori. Or something she needed to know.
Shit.
“Back there, away from these kids,” I said, then turned and started walking, trusting he would follow me around to the side of the fieldhouse, out of view of the crowd.
I crossed my arms, waiting. “What do you want?”
“You and Rori are getting pretty close, huh?”
I shrugged. “What does that have to do with you?”
“It’s got everything to do with me,” he shot back. “If it wasn’t for me, she would have never given you the time of day. You caught her with her heart broken.”
My eyebrows went up. “And you… what, you think that’s a flex? That you fucked her over so bad that... she was... feeling reckless and emotional when we met?”
"I ain't saying it's a flex. I'm saying it's what happened. So, you're welcome."
"Aiight, I don’t have time for this,” I said, waving him off as I moved to leave.
"Nah, you gonna make time," he said, stepping around in front of me, basically blocking me from moving on.
I scoffed. "I don't know what the fuck you think this is. But it ain't game time, nigga. I will rock your shit."
"No need to even take it there. I'm trying to warn you."
"Warn me about what?”
“Rori. Look, I get it. She’s fine. Got her own business, her own money. She's fun in bed. Dream girl, right? But I’m telling you. She's never gonna actually lock in. We've been engaged six fucking years. She wouldn't plan a wedding. Six fucking years. She swore she wanted kids. But she's so scared about what happened to her sister, she's never gonna have a baby. You're wasting your fucking time."
“Watch your mouth when it comes to her, that’s first of all,” I warned, stepping in closer. “Second, you don’t know me, don’t know shit about me to tell me I’m wasting my time. Do you think I’m dumb? You’re what… trying to make her sound like damaged goods, so I drop her… and you think you’re going to weasel your way back into her good graces or something?”
"You're in the way of us fixing shit. Yeah, I want you to step aside.”
I laughed. “There ain't nothing to fix. She’s over your bullshit, man,” I told him. “She's moved on. Get a fucking grip. Don't you got a baby on the way?"
"Yeah, a baby for me and her to raise."
My eyes went wide. “Oh you’re losing it,” I cackled. “What about the child’s mother? And besides that… you think Rori is going along with that?”
“I think she was content with what we had until the pregnancy news came out the way it did. I think we'll be content again."
"I think you took one too many hits, man. Get out of my face," I told him, and when he still tried to block my way, I shoved him aside so I could walk off.
"Hey, I ain't finished talking to you," he said, coming up from behind me, some shit I didn't even give my attention to until grabbed me by the arm to yank me back.
My fist went flying before I could even think about it…
The first time.
The second time, I was fully aware and just didn't give a fuck.
"Ay, break it up!" I heard as we really started going at it, trading punches back and forth.
It didn't take long before other players were pulling us apart, and we had coaches berating us, asking what the hell we were doing, reminding us that this was a kids’ camp.
"This ain't a goddamn boxing ring," Coach Pierce shouted, stepping in front of me.
I glared right past him at Monty, who was wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. "It’s not, but I damn sure get to defend myself," I said. "There’s a camera right there," I said, pointing at the side of the fieldhouse, which I had purposely taken him to just in case there was some bullshit. "Check the camera," I repeated.
"Fuck you! Fuck you!" Monty yelled, struggling to get away from the people holding him back as a crowd built.
"Nah, let him go," I said.
Coach Pierce put a hand to my chest, backing me up. "Hey. Let it go," he warned. "This ain't a good look. Let this nigga look crazy on his own," he told me.
Reluctantly, I did just that, accepting the corralling from Jordan and Cole, who’d come running up, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
Shit, so was I.
I kept playing the confrontation over in my head as Cole got the fixers on the line, knowing we needed to get ahead of the drama. I was trying to figure out what I could’ve done different, but I kept landing on… nothing.
I should’ve punched his ass sooner, actually.
It was the same conclusion Rori came to, hours later, when we were engaged in our nightly debrief call. She was dumbfounded that he actually believed he might get her back, if I wasn’t in the way, but it actually didn’t surprise me.
Arrogance and audacity were a dangerous, but all-too-common combination.
“I saw that video. How is your shoulder after he grabbed you like that?” Rori asked.
“I’m good,” I told her. “Honestly. The team had me check in with physical therapy, but other than a little tingling, I’m good.”
“Good. All this is annoying enough without you getting injured because of me.”
“It wouldn’t have been because of you anyway. You didn’t make that boy an idiot, that’s all on him.”
“Yeah,” she laughed. “Still.”
“Still nothing,” I countered. “His actions aren’t your responsibility. And stay off the internet,” I chided, already knowing what kinda shit she was probably seeing.
“Yes sir,” she agreed.