by Mia Madison
My trainer worked the shit out of me. Lunges, squats, and drills. I was a half decade out of the game, but I still trained as if I would be called back any second. I didn’t plan to return; I just didn’t want to lose the elite body I’d built.
I wanted Raquel to enjoy looking at me when I pumped in and out of her.
Yeah, I thought about her while I worked out. She was fucking gorgeous, sexy, and coy. I would enjoy my time with her. I didn’t mind taking it slow with her either. She was worth taking time with.
But when the time was right, I would relish every moment of sliding in and out of her tight canal. I knew it was tight, just by the way she carried herself, ankles crossed at all times, remaining composed on what had to be the worst night of her life. Or was until I came along to save her.
I don’t think that girl understood how celestial she was. I’ve come across so many women in my career, from models to celebrities, and even rare beauties in places most people had never heard of. I’ve seen it all, and they didn’t hold a candle to Raquel.
There’s an innate sense of self-confidence most women lack, especially when their careers are in the limelight. I’d dated women who refused to consume more than ice water and frozen grapes because they were addicted to this unhealthy model of Hollywood thinness.
I liked a healthy woman, one within a proportionate size, but if forced to pick, a few extra pounds was preferable to starving for skinniness. It would be nice if women were happy with their bodies, period. At least a woman with a few extra pounds wasn’t killing herself to fit an image that didn’t traumatize her. She could exercise and get the weight off.
Last night, when I got home, I showered and went straight to bed. Angela called several times, but I didn’t answer. Could I have used that blow job? Sure, who could ever get tired of a good blow?
At the same time, I knew it wouldn’t feel right. Angela would be looking to spend the night, sink her claws in, solidify her place in my life. I was already thinking of ways to create distance so I could get next to Raquel.
“Kenny, can you come in here and help me with the groceries?” My mom called out from the kitchen. “Your sister refuses to get out of bed this early.”
I chuckled. Gibson was sixteen years old, and every bit the spoiled teenager. My parents had her when I was twenty-three, so I didn’t have any of the sibling rivalry issues I would have experienced if we were closer in age. By the time she arrived, I was already well into my career, a full-blown adult on a mission to win.
“Sure thing, Mom.” I walked into the large kitchen. Mom stood at the island in the center of the kitchen, surrounded by a ton of groceries. She could have had her assistant, Tracey help, but she wasn’t here yet.
I kissed Mom on the cheek. “How’s my favorite woman?”
“I’m good, sweetie. How’s everything going?”
“We closed on the parking lot. Construction will begin in a couple months. We’re getting the permits in place.”
“That’s wonderful!” Mom wasn’t big on business, but she understood a parking lot was consistent revenue that would add to the bottom line.
“I’m making you partner,” I added. “You and Dad automatically receive a cut of the split.”
“Honey, that’s not necessary. We’ve already got more than enough from the apartment complex.” She gave me a knowing look. “You know your sister could use some help getting herself established.”
“Gibson is sixteen, and trust me, she’ll be more than set once I get the next complex acquired. I’ll even give her a loft with a private elevator.”
Truth be told, I wanted to make sure my family was completely set for life. NFL players made a lot of money, but they spent even more than they made when they weren’t careful. I paid attention to my financial advisor when he told me to invest and divest my funds wisely.
It paid off. I wasn’t a household name like Tom Brady or Tony Romo, but I wouldn’t have to scramble to pay debts now either.
“Gibby is sixteen and that means it’s the perfect time for her to learn about fiscal responsibilities.” My dad walked in on the tail end of that conversation. He rolled his eyes as he sighed. “If I see another credit card bill that’s overrun with online shopping, I’ll choke her. We could have stock in Sephora with the amount she spends.”
“Why are you giving a teenager access to a credit card anyway?” I asked Dad, giving him a hug.
“We told her it was for emergencies,” Mom said.
Dad’s eyes furrowed. “Apparently, it’s an emergency anytime Kylie Jenner has some kind of sale.” He shook his head. “All that lip gloss won’t give her those lips. They look ridiculous anyway.”
I snickered. My dad was an accountant. He always made nice money, but he made a bad move giving my baby sister a credit card. I marveled at the fact that my mother got pregnant when she was in her forties, but I loved baby sis all the same.
“Yeah, and you guys think I should just throw her in a situation where she gets twenty-five grand a month without knowing the value of work? Plus, an apartment before she’s eighteen?”
“She’ll grow into her responsibility,” Mom countered, but Dad stopped her.
“Lorraine,” he said. “She needs to get a job first. Know what it’s like to make minimum wage and start from the ground up.”
“As if.” Gibson appeared in the doorway, sleepy eyed and grumpy. “I’m more than happy to receive twenty-five thousand dollars a month. Where do I sign?”
“Good morning to you too, kid.” I mussed her hair as she walked over to hug me. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, yawning.
We finished helping Mom unpack and store the groceries as Dad cooked breakfast. The enticing scent of eggs, bacon, and pancakes filled the kitchen. Gibson and I set the table as Mom went to shower.
Once breakfast was served, we prayed over our meal and ate. I thought about Raquel and the way she stopped to pray and bless the food the night before.
I wondered if she was thinking about me right now. We’d just exchanged numbers the night before. Could I could text her without being a creep?
I shook my head for thinking like a damn geek. I’d only met her last night. Now would be too soon.
Then again… I’m a desirable man. There was no such thing as too soon, was there?
Damn, I wished I had her Instagram account. I would have loved to take a look at her, digest her beautiful smile with my bacon and eggs.
“What are you over there daydreaming about?” Gibson asked, elbowing me. “You’re so quiet.”
“Just some business stuff,” I lied. There was no way I’d talk about Raquel at the breakfast table.
As if she read my mind, Mom chimed. “You need to be thinking about some family stuff. Kenny, I want grandkids. When are you going to stop working so much and get married?”
Dad said nothing, but I could see his eyes glance from his wife to me as the question permeated the air between us.
“When the time’s right.”
“Kenny, you’re thirty-nine. You’ve had a great career. You make great money. You’re always running around with business. What more do you need? The time is right now.”
I would have groaned, but I had too much respect for my mother, and I was also too used to this conversation. My mother’s been daydreaming about grandkids from the day I retired.
I wanted a wife and children. I wanted heartwarming moments, family trips, romantic anniversaries—and I wanted the more antagonistic disagreements, sibling rivalries, and teenage angst all the same. It was all what blended together to create love and family.
“Kenny, you can’t run from commitment forever.”
“I’m not running from commitment, Mom. I’m simply making sure that my first wife is my last wife, which means she’s my only wife.”
Mom continued to go on and on about life being short, and how I needed to pick up my speed. She couldn’t see that I wasn’t afraid of commitment. I just hadn’t come across a woman who inspired me t
o abandon the freedom of having multiple options and invest myself into her.
“Mom, I’ve got plenty of time. There’s no rush. My biological clock’s not ticking.”
“My grandma clock is!”
Gibson and Dad snickered as she ranted. Mom loved kids. I’m sure she would be a great grandmother, but I just needed her to relax.
“Mom, Mom,” I interrupted her. “I promise you, you’re going to have grandkids. But can I have some time to get a wife first?”
After breakfast, Nick and Dom met me at my place. I had a penthouse on the highest floor in one of the buildings we owned. We all had a penthouse, each in different buildings that we co-owned downtown.
Miami’s blue waters sparkled as I gazed over the balcony and took in the beauty of it all.
“Man, you missed out!” Nick slapped his palms, rubbing them greedily as he recounted their night. “We had the baddest ladies in Miami grinding on us for these stacks. I’m talking Michael Jackson bad. One girl’s ass was so juicy, I wanted to take a bite. Shawty was ready to give me the number, but I wasn’t in the mood to have to kick her out after.”
“You’re such a dog,” I laughed. Dom was a former NFL athlete also. The difference was he played here in Miami, and he was six feet two, and black with medium brown skin and blue eyes. He didn’t make it big with the Dolphins—they sucked. But he was handsome and locally known, so women loved him.
“Oh, please. You’re no better than we are,” Nick chimed in. He took a swig of his beer and looked over the city. “You were just wrapped up in that high-falootin’ girl at the restaurant last night.”
Nick was never in shape, but he grew up with us. He worked as our accountant, so he never needed to struggle with women either. The difference was Nick had low self-esteem. Women weren’t that interested in him when he stood next to us, and over time, he chose women who were remarkably average to downgrade his chances of rejection.
“Yeah, speaking of, how did that go?” Nick shoved his iPhone back in his pocket. “Did you smash?”
“Nah.” I shook my head.
“Nah?” Nick repeated, incredulous.
“It wasn’t like that.” They didn’t notice what happened. They only saw me staring at her. My boys were cool, but they weren’t as perceptive as they would have believed.
“Well, what was it?” Dom inquired.
“She wasn’t having a good night. I simply wanted to make her smile.”
My lips curled at the thought of her. I wanted to see her again. Tonight. But my schedule today was full. The guys and I were going right back out tonight.
… And I still had yet to reply to Angela’s text messages. I’d woken to a phone full of texts, missed calls, and scathing voicemails.
I felt bad, but then again, I didn’t. She knew she’d messed up with me. And even though I admit I still got head from her here and there, something about her was completely pointless since Raquel stepped on the scene.
“So, what happened?” the guys asked me.
“We enjoyed a lovely dinner of surf `n turf, several glasses of wine and whiskey, and enjoyable conversation,” I said casually. I didn’t want to give away too much. Something about Raquel made me want to protect her from any covetous energy from my friends.
“Bruh, so no digits? No booty? Did you at least get some head?” Nick was incredibly surprised, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t pressure women into sleeping with me on the first night. It only happened when they made the decision and insisted on seducing me.
Lord knows Raquel was fine. I would fuck the shit out of her without even thinking twice. She was so fine I’d even take my socks off. The guys and I had a rule; you only got ass-naked without socks when the girl was elite.
“We exchanged digits, but no.” I shrugged. “Little mama is bad, but I wasn’t really after the sex. I was just taking advantage of the moment. She wasn’t in the headspace for that kind of action.”
“What you mean?”
“She was actually waiting there because her date stood her up. He never showed. She was leaving when I stepped in and offered to get her dinner.”
“Awwww,” Nick mocked. “Look at you being the knight in shining armor for the damsel in distress.” He and Dom chuckled, and I gave them the finger.
“You guys still act like we’re in college.” We were all close to forty and they still had their mind in the gutter with women. Not to say I was purely innocent, but my dick didn’t jump ahead of me like it used to.
“Don’t put me in this,” Dom said. “That was all Nick. I already told you she was too much for me.”
“You need better self-esteem,” Nick said. “You’re crazy. No woman is too much or too good for me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dom countered. “Tell us whatever. You’re only fooling yourself, you know. You think a lot of them are out of your league. You just sleep with as many of them as possible just to prove to yourself they’re not too good for you.”
Dom’s sobering insight left us speechless.
“You know,” Nick finally said, “Inside that little pseudo psychologist brain of yours is a man who will one day know what it’s like to bed a woman most men find unattainable. It’s an addiction figuring out how much sexier, better, and badder can you get with each one.”
“But that shit gets old, does it not?” Dom asked. “I stick with the average women because they’re down to Earth and want what I want—a family and someone to come home to at night.”
I agreed. “I do too.”
Nick looked at us like we were crazy. “Y’all wild. Variety is the spice of life. Unless I met a woman who would be down to bring home a new woman every night, ain’t no way I’m settling. I love my freedom.”
“Yeah, okay, Nick. I hope you can afford a pretty little thing to wipe your ass when you’re old, wrinkly, and on your deathbed.” Dom shook his head in disbelief.
“I’ll be old, wrinkly, and rich!” Nick snickered. “That won’t be a problem. I got plenty of money.” He began rapping Plies lyrics, sending Dom and me both rolling our eyes in unison.
Dom never really understood Nick, but I did. When I was younger, I explored women. Hell, I still explored my options; I just didn’t take them home as much. Well, not home, but to whatever hotel I could slide into for the night. I rarely allowed women in my home; they didn’t feel genuine.
Variety was intriguing, but when I was weary of the same basic shit in a different package, I stopped sampling everything on the menu.
I knew multiple options were fun, but I’d seen my parents firsthand to know a real woman could change my entire universe. My father was a rake himself, dibbling and dabbling in multiple women and committing to none. He made a nice amount of money, and wasn’t even considering marriage until Mom crossed his path.
To hear her tell it, she refused to date him. He wasn’t good enough for her. Sure, he had money, but she had her own, designing clothes and working towards her own boutique. There wasn’t a fine wine or bouquet he could give her to win her over.
“I had to stop the bullshit,” Dad once confessed. “I didn’t even get a kiss on the cheek until I’d eliminated all the other women vying for her position.”
They had forty-two years of marriage under their belt. It was enough to let me know she was worth it, even when things weren’t perfect.
In my heart, I knew the woman who would stop me in my tracks was out there. I’d meet her when the time came.
Until then, I resolved to focus on the present, not letting any fun opportunities pass me by. That way, I’d have all my playtime out the way. I’d be ready and prepared for her the moment she crossed my path.
My phone buzzed.
Good morning. I just wanted to say thank you again for last night.
My heart beat. She had texted me first.
Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?
Angela started calling, as if she knew my attention was elsewhere. I hit decline. I hated to do it, but I wasn’t worried about
her at the moment.
I watched the grey bubbles as Raquel wrote her message.
I slept good. I have to thank all that delicious wine and food. OMG. That steak.
She added heart-eye emojis to emphasize her love of the meal. My mouth watered; we’d had a damn good meal.
I’m glad you had a good time. I know I seemed crazy at first. LOL.
I’m sure I barely got away with being written off as crazy to her. Especially when I kissed her. That was different for me. I’d done that without even really knowing her. And that’s all I wanted. That kiss.
I’ll take crazy over asshole anyway. :)
What are you doing today? I texted. It was a beautiful day, and I honestly couldn’t care less about hearing tales of Nick’s conquests. They were all the same, essentially. Take cute chick out, buy her drinks, take her home, bang her, and send her home in an Uber.
I was in the mood for fresh vibes. Energy that came with genuine laughter, interaction, and the company of an alluring young woman who loved steak as much as I did.
Raquel
Kenny waited under a palm, facing the water as I walked up. Even with his back turned to me, I was jittery. He was so handsome. The more I looked at his Instagram pictures, courtesy of Dilayla, and replayed Friday night in my head, the crazier this all was.
How could I be so damn lucky?
It was early in the evening. The sun already started its descent, giving the Miami boardwalk a less intense glare. I was happy. I loved the sun, but I didn’t want sweaty armpits staining my ombre dress.
“Hey.” I hated how nervous I sounded. He turned around, and gave me a lazy smile that was perfect for a summery Sunday like this.
“Hey, beautiful.” He wrapped me in his embrace and I felt my heart speed up and burst into waves of pleasure. His chest was hard and sculpted, I could feel it through his shirt. The intensity of his hug made me feel covered and protected. He wanted me against him, and I went woozy with delight at the scent of his crisp Bond cologne.