Promised to a King

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  Samar's head hangs low as he continues his story.

  "Now I see how foolish I've been. Once she finished grad school, I should have married her. Now everything she's worked for is in jeopardy. She wanted a life here in the states with me not in India. She's going to have to work twice as hard to earn half as much there as she could here."

  "Damn, you couldn't bring the mother here?"

  "Her mother is dying. She wouldn't survive the trip. It was a risk, but Anika had to go there. It was bad timing. You're suppose to leave the US sixty days after you graduate on a student visa. She'd been here four months. We knew it was a risk that they wouldn't let her come back. The plan was for her to get a job and apply for a work visa, but she still didn't have a full-time job yet when her mom fell ill. It's a tough market."

  I must be getting softer, because after that story I actually consider hiring Samar to work with me on this job. Provident Law Group is a large company with a lot of employees and a huge network. There would be plenty for us both to do.

  Nobody's going to like it, especially Roman, but that's the thing about me. I've never cared too much what people think.

  Speak of the devil. It's Roman calling me on my cell.

  "One second, Samar. I've got to take this."

  "Hey, what's up. I'm in the middle of work."

  "Come home now."

  "What is it?"

  "Jade collapsed."

  ARIANA

  I'm burrowing my head into the muscles of Stone's back as deeply as this fiberglass helmet stuck on my head will allow. We are riding a five-year-old Triumph Bonneville across the Pennsylvania Turnpike, pushing it way over the legal speed limit, or as Stone would say "airing the shit out".

  I'd love to squeal with delight or even scream my head off in exhilaration like I've seen so many people do in the movies. Women who are riding on the back of some guy's bike. With the wind blowing their hair back. Laughing like they're having the time of their lives.

  Not me though.

  While I see why some people may like cruising the open road on a Harley (I've ridden on the back of my dad's bike many times), riding a sports bike is a completely different matter. The point of a Harley is to cruise. The point of this bike is speed. What started out as a good idea in theory, has turned into the ride from hell. I'm petrified that we're going to crash into a guardrail and end up paralyzed.

  My heart stops racing a mile a minute when we finally slow down, clearing the final toll booth and veering onto a much slower local highway. We stop at a local mart, where we pick up a couple of food items before we head to our final picnic destination.

  "I thought you were going to squeeze every vital organ out of my body back there." Stone chuckles quietly while he lays out the Native-American themed blanket we've brought along for our picnic.

  "I think you left one of mine on the road a few miles back."

  "Your father owns a bike shop."

  "And your point?"

  "I figured you were an experienced rider."

  "I'm a nurse not a biker bitch."

  My words seem caustic, because I don't get anything out of being frightened. I don't like horror movies, roller coasters, or jumping out of planes; and I damn sure don't like speeding across the highway on a bike.

  "Told you I was airing it out today, babe."

  I fluff out my helmet hair.

  "I should have gone to work," I huff.

  Stone slides one of his hands through my hair at the base of my scalp, pulling me into him, and kissing me softly on the side of my face.

  "Take that back," he growls playfully in my ear.

  "You never listen to me," I retort but I can feel myself faltering.

  Stone's demanding growl sent an instant rush of moisture in between my legs.

  "I thought I heard you giggling behind me on the bike."

  "Those weren't giggles."

  "They weren't?"

  Stone takes a seat on the blanket and makes a patting gesture to sit next to him. I plop myself down and stretch completely out with my arms held high above my head.

  "They were screams of terror."

  He begins to kiss the side of my hips. Slowly sliding my t-shirt up. Not far though. Just enough so he can taste my skin.

  "Well they both sound very similar. I thought you were having a good time back there."

  "I'm sure the purple bruises that are going to show up on your ribcage tomorrow will prove my point."

  He pops his head up. "Oh, I'm used to those." His words dripping with sexual innuendo. I do admit that I hold on a little tightly when Stone brings me to orgasm. It's possible that my nails may have inadvertently left a scar or two behind during our time together.

  "Just pass me the bag of pretzels."

  He taps my lips gently with his pointer finger as a signal to give him a kiss first. I willingly oblige. His lips are soft and lush. The complete opposite and compliment to the hard edges of his angular jaw.

  He wraps one of his hands around my neck as he continues to explore my mouth with his tongue. Kissing me like it's the first and the last time. Making me desire more, but eventually pulling back.

  "Now you can eat," he says playfully.

  After I eat a handful of pretzels and swallow them down with a few swigs of bottled water, I lay face up on the blanket with my head resting on top of Stone's chest. The early afternoon sun warming my skin. Neither of us say anything for a moment, as we listen to the rise and fall of each others breaths.

  Stone has mentioned many times how this was the type of the thing he missed most while in jail. Being free of the wall to wall concrete and simply enjoying the natural beauty of the outside world. That's why I've made it a point to find something for us to do outside, even if it's very small things like this, as often as possible.

  He's the most laid back I've seen in weeks, so I decide it's a good idea to ask him about a subject which has been on my mind lately– work.

  "So who's bike did we just air out?" I ask.

  "Some new guy in the MC."

  "What's his name?"

  "Clint."

  "Looks like you did a lot of work to it."

  "I did. I'm hoping if he likes this one that he'll order a complete custom job."

  "One that you build from the ground up?”

  "Yeah–would love to do that shit."

  I wring my hands together as I ask my next question.

  "But wouldn't a project like that interfere in the work you're doing with Camden and Cutter?"

  "They don't need me yet. I might be able to work both jobs for a while."

  "But you don't need to. The Kings...they pay you a lot right?"

  "I tried talking them out of it, but they won't listen. They say I'm blood, that I'm a King, and that they're not going to pay me a salary like some stranger."

  "So why haven't you left the Riders?"

  "I like working on bikes. Gotta keep busy until the brothers need me."

  "So this new client of theirs, it's a law firm right?"

  I need to be careful how I word this.

  "Yep."

  "So...what would you do for a law firm?"

  Stone starts playing with my hair, winding my curls around one of his fingers.

  "What do you mean, Ariana?”

  "I'm just asking what you would be doing. They aren't just going to give you a third of their money for nothing."

  "Are you worried about me?"

  I’m not going to lie.

  “Yes."

  Stone slides one of his hands under my shirt at the collar and inside of my bra.

  "Stone, we're outside,” I half-heartedly protest.

  "You worrying about me makes me want you even more than I already did."

  He starts pinching one of my nipples until I start to squirm. First softly then hard. He continues alternating the pressure that he uses until I don't give damn that we're in a public park. Hell, it's a weekday. Kids should be in school.

  "Have you ever ha
d a fantasy about me making you come in a public place, Ariana? So loudly that people aren't sure if you are in need of assistance. So shrill that even the birds can hear you. So high that even God can hear you."

  "Stone."

  My breath quickens.

  "Answer me."

  "No."

  “But are you thinking about it right now?"

  He moves to the other breast.

  "Yes-s-s."

  "If you're a really good girl we can make those fantasies come true in under five minutes, or if you're a bad girl I can draw this whole thing out for thirty."

  "I want to be good. I want to come now," I say somewhat panting.

  "Do you want bystanders to watch you come?"

  "Ummm, no."

  "Then wrap part of the blanket over top of you."

  I follow Stone's instructions. My head still on his chest. His hand down my shirt. The bottom half of me covered by part of the blanket.

  "Slide your hand inside of your jeans and touch yourself. Check if your wet."

  "I already know–"

  "I said to check."

  I pause for a moment making sure that there's no one around. Even though we've selected a pretty secluded spot in the middle of a weekday, you never know. Anyone could be out here.

  "Good girls don't hesitate, Ariana. Spread your legs."

  "Stone!"

  "You can keep the blanket on."

  "I don't–"

  Stone acts as if he can't hear a thing that I'm saying and slips his hand underneath the blanket. Working several of his thick fingers under the waistband of my jeans and inside my wet panties.

  "You're soaked," Stone growls as he flicks my clit back and forth with two of his fingers.

  I squirm harder.

  "Put your hands under your shirt and take over for me. Play with your tits. No one can see you. You're with me. You're safe."

  I don't care about anyone passing by at this point. My sex aches. My body is winding tighter and tighter. I want to come just as much as I want to breathe at this point.

  Stone's fingers move with deft swiftness. Bringing my clit to life. Encouraging it to swell with desire.

  "Stone!" My pleas come quicker now.

  I beg for relief.

  I beg for more.

  I beg him to keep going.

  I beg for him to stop.

  I'm going to come very soon, and it's going be loud as hell.

  "Come for me, Ariana."

  My body contracts into a tight bow, and then I explode.

  So loudly that I'm afraid even God hears.

  STONE

  I’m laying in bed, beside the woman who means everything to me, as I contemplate the fact that bad shit happens to people who get close to me.

  I'm not wishing that on myself, but that's been my history. When Ariana asked me about what I'd be doing to earn my way as part of the King Brother trifecta yesterday, I couldn't answer her. I didn't want to.

  The truth is that I'm probably going to be asked to do shit that I don't want anywhere near my girl. She's pure. Sweet. A nurse. A good daughter. Plus she's been through enough shit involving me.

  What my brothers do for a living isn't for the faint of heart. They're paid to make bad shit go away or to make sure that it never happens. Unfortunately there's more jobs of the making problems go away variety than there is of the prevention jobs, which means they have to get their hands dirty a lot. As the business grows and they take on more elite clientele, not everyone can get their hands dirty. Which is where I come in.

  Someone has to make the connections and solidify the fixes. That's Roman. Someone has to be the day to day voice of the company and run the fixes. I call him the show runner. That's Camden. Someone has to come in and negotiate when things run amuck. That used to be Cutter, but now that he's the primary manager of Club Lotus and the Tapas Lounge, he only comes in for certain cherry picked cases. The rest of the negotiations are going to be my responsibility. In other words, I'm the one who's going to get my hands dirty the most.

  Now don't get me wrong. I have no problem with keeping dirtballs in line. Especially if I'm getting paid for it. I'm just grateful that my brothers have accepted me into the fold like this. It's a huge deal that they are bringing a virtual stranger into the business. Into their lives. I plan on showing them that they didn't make a mistake in doing so. So if that means I need to knock a few heads together. I'll do it. Hell, I might even enjoy it.

  The only problem I have is that this new job arrangement doesn't make Ariana happy. It makes her nervous. I'm on probation. If I slip up, I can easily get sent back to the clink.

  My job repairing bikes for The Chosen Riders is a safe gig. She knows half of the men in the club. Her father knows the other half. She trusts them. If they are involved in any sort of illegal activity (which I imagine they are), it doesn't touch me. My partnership with my brothers though is a very different arrangement.

  If I'm honest with myself, I know she's right. Taking on the job of negotiator and enforcer isn't the smartest thing to do in my situation, which is why I do my best to avoid discussing it with her. The less we talk about it the better. Talking is not my strong suit anyway.

  I pull my head from between Ariana's legs to look at her. I'm checking to make sure her body's arched, her face is flush, and her pupils dilated. It's important that she's fully relaxed, before I move her on to other sorts of unchartered sexual territory. I am the man who took her virginity, and I take the responsibility of that shit seriously. I need to make sure that I'm careful with every new sexual experience I expose her to.

  "Stone–" she pants.

  "Yes, baby."

  "Are you trying to sex me to death?"

  I laugh.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean it's been three days straight of mind blowing sex, but I'm starting to think that it's some sort of stall tactic."

  "Nah, baby. It's just good sex."

  "Nothing with you is exactly as it appears."

  "I promised you that I'd never to lie you again."

  "I didn't say you were lying. You're stalling. Every time I ask you about working with your brothers, you commence with giving me an orgasm."

  "Complaints?"

  "Obviously I enjoy it but–"

  "There's more where that came from. Now do you want me to finish what I started or not?"

  "Stone."

  "Shh, just tell me, what's your ultimate fantasy?"

  "I want to talk about your new job."

  She's not putting up with my crap today. Maybe I'm not putting in enough effort.

  I lick closely around her clit. Blowing on it lightly. Making sure not to directly touch it with my tongue. Hoping this will drive her crazy. Crazy enough that she won't start asking for answers that I'm not ready to give her. My brother Camden asked me to come by his carriage house tonight. There is a lot going on, and they're ready to pull me in sooner than they anticipated.

  My dick grows hard as a rock as Ariana's moans gain intensity. I want to love her. I want to protect her. I want to consume her.

  "I need you, Stone."

  "I know, baby. I need you too. Here I come."

  I grab her hips, flip her over, and enter her swiftly. Usually I'm more careful when we fuck doggy style. Ariana always needs a moment to adjust to my girth when we do this position. It's her favorite so far, but I feel my lack of transparency with her about what I'm doing is creating distance between us. Distance I need to close. I guess that's why I'm claiming her body like my life depends on it.

  Because it does.

  "Ooh–" she coos almost reverently.

  I close my eyes in bliss as I continue to stroke inside of her. Her body clenching and squeezing me like it never wants to let me go. If I was a crier, this would be the moment. That's how good it feels.

  I slap her ass in approval and almost come when it jiggles.

  "Fuck!" I roar.

  I can't hold off too much longer. It's kind of embarras
sing. I'm coming like a sixteen-year-old newbie who’s whacking off to porn. I'm going to need to do better if I want to put off this conversation.

  We both fall over in orgasmic bliss into the bed.

  Panting.

  Sweating.

  Smiling.

  "That was fantastic!" she says with a wide grin.

  "Glad you approve, but I'm not finished. Come ride me, baby."

  "Stone your phone has been buzzing nonstop."

  "Leave it."

  "It could be important."

  It's obvious that she's not going to get on top of me until I check.

  "Fine, give it here."

  It's a text from Cutter.

  Meeting location change.

  Come to Penn Hospital cafeteria ASAP.

  NEWS

  NBA LEGEND FALLEN FROM GRACE

  http://phillycelebmedia.com

  * * *

  LOCAL SPORTS LEGEND MURDER SUSPECT

  * * *

  An unidentified 20-year-old Massachusetts University college student was found dead in a Boston hotel room at approximately 2:45 this morning. According to sources, her partially nude body was found lifeless in the room of 52-year-old, legendary Philadelphia Basketball star and point guard, Dan Pearson.

  * * *

  Pearson was in Boston with five of his ball players from LaNova University where he is the head coach. The players were throwing a party in the hotel room where, according to sources, the woman was allegedly assaulted. Sources allege that the student, and one of the players ended up having a verbal dispute that turned violent when Pearson intervened. While Pearson is not in police custody at this time, sources tell us that he is a person of interest.

  * * *

  Pearson is married to former model Patricia Pearson and is the father of two daughters, Sloan and Dawn Pearson. None of whom could be reached for comment...and gurl can you blame them?