Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  I was still amazed by her talent to sew together fifteen foot high floor-to-ceiling curtains using some insanely expensive material she bought from a high end thrift store a friend of hers from high school owned. Jade was so excited to show me two nights ago when I came home.

  “Thanks, Trent,” she whispered in a manufactured baby voice.

  “That got me to thinking. Why don’t you decorate the house?”

  “Me? I can’t afford…what type of decorating are you talking about?”

  “Official.” I kissed her shoulders, still stretched out over her little frame. “I didn’t like the way it was decorated the last time. That’s why I sold everything in here before reporting for lock up.”

  Jade tried to swing her head around to face me, but I wouldn’t look at her. I didn’t want pity. It was my past that I was learning to accept responsibility for every day.

  “Trent—” she started when she realized I wouldn’t let her move from beneath me.

  “Anyway, I know you know how cheap I am, but I’m going to give you a budget and salary to make sure you stay on the job.”

  “You don’t have to pay me.” Her eyes widened.

  “I do. I don’t want you hustling anymore. I know you like what you do, but I would like it if you thought about leaving the salons and just sticking with the private gigs to keep up with your passion. Kyree could use you here, not the after school program.”

  Jade didn’t speak right away and that concerned me. It had taken me a while to decide on this. It was something I wanted to offer her months ago, but was still struggling with letting go with her.

  “And what about what you need from me?” she asked quietly.

  I had to tread with caution. Jade was still demanding things from me I didn’t understand. We were good. I was settled on her. Totally. I just hoped I could keep her busy while I was away fighting for my life on the field. My only concern was her lack of patience with me while I figured it all out.

  “I need you to arch that spine for me one more time and let me get in you,” I growled in her ear, stroking the head of me against her slickened lips below.

  Jade moaned. “Don’t you have somebody downstairs waiting on you?”

  “Yup. I’m thirty minutes over time. Another thirty…won’t hurt,” I could barely get out before sinking into her.

  There comes that time in your life when no matter how much you ask for it, no matter how hard you beg God for it, you never see it coming. That moment that you barely experience because although you petitioned Him for it for years, when it happens, you’re in a daze from His power. Have you ever experienced God? Have you ever had that time when He proved He wasn’t a mythical Being in the sky that looked down low over people, but hardly showed His hand or face?

  Well, I experienced all of those and most of them in one week of my life. It was a moment I would never forget, but felt so surreal that I thought I was dreaming. Hell, I was dreaming! It was a moment mixed with a bitter and sweet concoction that had me experiencing God in a new way, something Ezra preached about earlier this summer. It was the first week in October, my first game as second string. Todd’s scandal had just broken the week before. We played the Falcons at home and the sweet was the win we were able to have at home, on our field. The bitter was the homie, Mayfair’s career altering injury. It was a player’s worse nightmare. Even the commentators felt the gravity of it all.

  “… sure the mood is probably somber in the Kings’ Locker room right now. Not a pleasant way to end a game. That last play wasn’t pretty.

  “Not at all. The way Mayfair’s knee twisted when he took that hit… I think it’s fair to assume we may not see him for the next few games. He seemed to be hurting pretty bad when they took him off the field.

  “Hopefully it’s just a few games, instead of the season. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that in all the years I’ve been watching this game.

  “And you can’t help but feel for the team as well, wondering what Mayfair’s absence will do to the team, especially after the controversy last month around Todd Browning.

  “A stressful situation indeed. They’re going to have to pin their hopes on their third backup, who had some controversy of his own a while back. If Trent Bailey isn’t ready to play, he’s going to have to get that way soon.

  “Trent Bailey has been waiting on a chance for a comeback. He was one of the best this league has ever seen, and if he can pull it together, his could be the jolt of electricity this team needs after the way they’ve been playing this season.

  “But it hasn’t been all bad. I’m sure that somewhere, if he’s not pumped full of painkillers right now, Mayfair is grateful for a gem like Jordan Johnson, who was able to get across the field and save the throwaway pass Mayfair made right before he got knocked down.

  “And he didn’t just catch it–Johnson ran the hell out of it. A thirty-six-yard touchdown to end the game with a win before anybody realized Mayfair was hurt.”

  We watched the rerun of the last play that got Mayfair caught up. It was a sobering moment for our W, so much that no one spoke in the locker room as we dressed, the glaring reports echoing from the screens playing in the background. Just as I was about to pack up my bag, Coach Lou called me into his office. Automatically, my regard went to JJ across the room. His eyes were already on me, communicating. I swung the strap of my duffle over my shoulder and followed him and Larry Kline, our assistant QB coach, into his office where they named me first string.

  It all came down to this moment. My sweat, tears, weathered shield from the doubters, vows against my haters, making good on the assurance I’d echo to myself on my flimsy cot as Inmate Number 34332-468. All of those forces and more were on my shoulders while out on the field against Tampa. The crowd was buzzing, but my pulse beat louder, drowning out all but my focus and determination. We were lined up near the thirty-yard line as I waited for Thompson to hike the ball. We were in shotgun formation with a back on each side of me. The second the ball was snapped, I was ready. It was a zone read. I faked to the running back and the defensive line bit. Then a hole opened up like the Red Sea and I took off. Up the sideline I flew, slowing just a bit to allow JJ to take out the safety. Then I pushed on my speed and somersaulted into the end zone. As I jumped to my feet, feeling supernatural and high on victory against the crowd’s glaring bursts of praise, I didn’t forget to thank God for the game-winning touchdown.

  While I pounded my chest, demonstrating my warrior-like spirit, I gave God all the glory. He made good on the prophetic word he’d given Ezra a year ago concerning my life. Not only did He not forget about me, He forgave me, and restored what I thought was stolen from my foolish actions. He healed me from the black hole of depression, and placed my cleats back on the ground I owned: the field.

  I pivoted and saw the one and only teammate who believed in my talent like no one else. The dude I betrayed, thinking my allegiance to niggas I had no affiliations with except for the place we grew up was more important than what we’d built together on this field. JJ ran up to me and froze. We paid a few moments of private communication in silence and still bodies. It was unscripted, but definitely clairvoyant when we broke out in a victory dance that hadn’t been performed in over three years.

  “Goddamn!” Thompson shouted, balancing on one leg, mimicking a fetal position as he stared at my legs. With his fist to his mouth he ribbed, “You ain’t been first string but for one day and you got them bitches mauling you like that, TB?”

  The locker room went up within seconds once everybody’s eyes caught Jade’s message to my invisible side-pieces.

  “Damn, TB!” JJ joined in, grabbing his sac. “You ain’t tell me Jade was a damn freak, bruh! Daaaaaaaaaaaamn!” he cried, giving me dap.

  I couldn’t help the annoyed smirk on my face as I flipped them all the bird. That goddamn little busy ass sneak! She’d left hickeys on my thighs…again. For some reason, when Jade took her time kissing and sucking on my thighs befor
e blowing me, I came faster and harder. She would laugh at me afterward, smug with it. Usually, I didn’t give a damn; there was nothing she could do to turn me off. But today, that talent of hers was inconvenient. I’d seen them earlier when I suited up, but had been too zoned out, preparing for the game tonight. It would definitely be an act of our sensuality that I’d have to set damn parameters for. I couldn’t be getting clowned in front of my team.

  Save that shit for the rookies on the roster.

  This would be a Monday night I’d never forget, thanks to the Most High…and Ms. Matthews.

  ~Thirteen

  “He’s wearing the running QB hat tonight, folks! There’s Winston rushing to Bailey! Oh! And he winds right past Winston! Bailey now on the sideline! This is impossible! Ooh! And here’s Stevenson gunning for Bailey…looks like they’re going to meet on the twenty yard line! He’s about to take Bailey— Oh! Oh! Trent Bailey hesitates, making just enough room to miss the block set up for him! Johnson takes out the Safety! Bailey’s still on his feet!” The guy narrating the game was going bananas.

  “Uuut!” I leaped on one leg, holding curled over in front of the television, watching Trent do some martial arts type of flip and roll onto the area of the grass shaded with the name Kings.

  “Touch Down! Kings! What a play! This is the NFL! What the fans want to see!” The commentator screamed with unbridled excitement.

  “Wait! What does that mean?” I yelled into the phone.

  “Bitch, that means they won!” Lashawn screamed in my ear.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, dancing around the television room where Trent and Kyree played video games.

  “And look at him turning up out there!”

  I turned back to the cinema style screen and caught Trent pounding his chest. JJ, just as animated as him, walked up on him and they bumped chests mid-air. When their feet touched ground they stared at each other for a few seconds while their teammates, coaches, and field staffers were approaching, jumping, and/or screaming their victory. Out of nowhere, Trent and JJ jumped into the air and landed in an in sync two-step dance. That move had their teams’ excitement turned up another notch.

  “What the hell?” I breathed, brows meeting.

  “And there you have it, folks. Here’s the TB/JJ tag team victory dance,” one of the commentators explained.

  Their movements mirrored each other’s from shoulder swings, to hip thrusts, down to foot stomps. They did it all while scowling at each other. I stood in the middle of the room shell shocked, watching their mini show. These two big, gracefully agile, muscular, and incredibly masculine figures. How sexy! Trent did some hip movements that appeared festive and light-hearted to an outsider, but to me, his lover, seemed inappropriate for public display. It upset and turned me on, impossibly, at the same time. I mean…Trent got so wrapped up in it, JJ stopped and hurled over in laughter. Over little breaths he cheered Trent on along with the crowd.

  “Damn!” Lashawn yelled in my ear, reminding me I was on the phone. “I don’t know who the hell is sexier: Trent with his light and pretty ass or that goddamn chocolatier—‘cause I know he can shoot out chocolate babies—Jordan! Girl, when you gonna introduce me to my future husband?”

  Slowly, I pulled my lip from in between my teeth, ogling Trent on the screen. He was so damn sexy when wrapped up in the happenings of the field. He was focused, fixed, and in control. He was dressed in fitted clothing, outlining his unbelievably strapping frame that was curled and carved with dominant masculinity. So damn virile with bawse status. I’d watched the entire game because it was his first back on the field. At most, I was excited for him being out there getting the practice and familiar feel of the ground he lived for. Trent told me the difference in being in an actual game was the energy of the fans and the pressure of the win.

  “He got it,” I murmured.

  “Got what? Married? JJ married and I didn’t know?”

  “No.” I shook my head, my eyes squeezed shut. “I was talking about Trent—all of them, really. They got the win. I’m so happy for them and proud of Trent,” I spoke ghostly, wide eyes on the screen as they left the field. The television station rolled flashbacks of the final play.

  “And his first game back! BAM!” Lashawn yelled into the phone.

  My eyes bounced around the room, my mind churning the same speed.

  “Shawnie, I gotta go!” I started shutting down the system. “Tell KyKy I’ll be there first thing in the morning to pick him up for his game and he better be ready!”

  “Girl, bye! Ky’ll be ready. I think we gonna go with y’all.”

  “Okay! See you around eight! Bye!” I jogged down the hall to the master suite.

  “Peace!” she called out before hanging up.

  I grabbed one of his duffle bags and took long lunges to the dressers to dump a few things inside that would get me to Ky’s game in the morning. On a swift but inspired thought, I grabbed a gray bikini and the football Trent tossed in his bedroom at night. Twenty minutes later, the house was locked up and I was pulling out of the garage en route to Connecticut. I stopped for gas before leaving town. As I waited, I decided on the music that would carry me for the hour and a half haul to Kings’ city. I also decided on how I wanted to celebrate Trent’s first win.

  In a manner that will make him not want to celebrate with any other woman after me…

  The place was crowded from the main hall of the gated property. Thank god Tyheem was outside and could vouch for me because I would’ve had to call Trent to let me in, ruining the surprise. The beefy guards glowered at me like I was a hardened criminal. Of course, I threw them nasty scowls in return. This was Trent’s place, not a damn club! Some of them were holding plastic cups I knew weren’t filled with juice, soda, or water. Tyheem led me into the condo and I felt overdressed the moment I stepped in. The place seemed way bigger tonight than it did empty. There were at least fifty people in the living room and dining room, standing, sitting, and a couple lying on the same couch Trent and I had sex on once, appearing to be doing the same thing, only with clothes. Women hung loosely around men with slanted eyes, I knew it was from their inebriation. They whispered or laughed seductively being sure to touch.

  Music blasting, Rich Homie Quan rapping about ‘bitches squirting’ on him. If finding all these half naked women in here struck the match of my temper, that one line from those lyrics lit the flame. Trailing behind Tyheem, I took a deep breath, inhaling while biting my bottom lip. Suddenly, I was happy I made a surprise trip up here. I needed to see all of this groupie action. No wonder no one in the league could stay monogamous! We kept stopping and going, threading through drunken bodies, overdosed on the Kings’ victory. This was trouble waiting to happen and probably why Trent ran home to Alpine every chance he got. It was the prequel to a damn orgy! The music changed to a slow pace, just a guitar playing with a solo male voice. The sudden unhurried melody added to the sensual atmosphere.

  I glanced up when I felt Tyheem’s hand on my shoulder. He was pointing to Trent, engaged in conversation near the open kitchen. He was standing next to a woman—or should I say he had a desperate wench at his toes! She was average height, making her taller than me with long relaxed, shoulder length hair. Her clothes looked expensive, but I expected nothing less from groupies conversant with this circle. What boiled my blood more and had my fists clenching at my sides was his comfort level with her. He smiled with kind eyes as he spoke to her. He nodded with his head angled to the side in agreement with something she said.

  And at that very delicate moment, the male playing on the track sang, “Tell me that the pussy is mine…”

  My pulse banged against my skin that was now growing clammy. I steeled in place. The duffle bag was clutched to my side, the strap dug into my arm. I felt my whole body heat with jealousy, mouth turning dry. She tossed her head back and let off a soft laugh, genteel. I felt a dagger to the heart when Trent tapped her with his hand that held a bottle of b
eer then joined in with her.

  I didn’t feel my feet when they glided me over to the joyous pair. I couldn’t even feel when I pushed crudely and abruptly between them, putting my back to her and facing Trent, peering up his tall frame for answers. I actually wanted to make a statement of busted first then demand answers to who this bitch was and how soon I could start beating her ass.

  I heard her gasp behind me when the duffle dropped from my arm. I didn’t move, waited for Trent’s response to my seething glare. I wanted to hear him explain. He didn’t. Trent rolled his eyes, a smirk playing in the curve of his supple lips as he dipped forward and lifted me with one arm. My body flipped horizontally under his shoulder as he held me effortlessly in the air. That tugged at my raging ego. No one wanted to feel light weight when they were about to whoop some groupie ass! Trent placed his bottle on the counter and bent to pick up the duffle from where I dropped it on the floor.

  “Pardon me, Cole,” he offered apologetically. “I need to go handle this.” He turned to leave, and I caught “Cole’s” expression that was a mixture of shock, anger, and humor. The bitch had the nerve to be pretty! “Maybe I can formally introduce her when she’s behaving!” Trent continued over his shoulder.

  He called out for the people ahead to make way. We seamlessly made it to the back of the condo without my feet or head hitting an arm or wall. I didn’t land on my feet until we made it to his bedroom and the door was closed and locked.

  His heavy and loaded balls hit the backs of my cheeks as he pounded into me savagely. With each punitive thrust, Trent grunted his animalistic position. One big hand palmed my ass while the other gripped my misted shoulder to keep me in place. I was just coming down from my second orgasm and felt my third stirring. He lunged and lunged, forcing me to take every inch of his thick quivering muscle, buried deep inside. The beds of his fingers pressed deeply into the flesh of me were sure to leave an impression. Sweat slung from his laboring frame, every muscle was strained and tight, delivering the message he didn’t need to speak.