Love's Ineligible Receiver (Connecticut Kings Book 5)

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Love's Ineligible Receiver (Connecticut Kings Book 5) Page 18

by Love Belvin


  I lay my hand on my chest as I looked up to her while she organized my place setting. “That wounded me. I’m no chauvinist. I eat pussy, just not pork.”

  A howl let loose from Parker’s belly. “What?” She laughed.

  “The only meat I discriminate against is what goes into my mouth. I love ass, but pork gets no play from me.” I grabbed my fork. “Neither do beef no more.”

  She cracked the hell up, going back for her plate. When she settled in across the table from me, I waited for her to say her grace.

  She glanced up. “Do you always do that?”

  “What?”

  “Use humor to deflect confrontation.”

  I shrugged. “Who am I having confrontation with? A female?” I put the first forkful in my mouth and paused to let my tongue absorb the flavors. “I ain’t conflicting with no chick, so maybe I use other means to diffuse the situation.”

  “With all women?”

  I shrugged as I chewed. “I don’t argue with females.”

  “Women, Rut. Yes, we are female in terms of human species but the more appropriate and dignified term for us is women.”

  I shook my head disagreeing. “All females ain’t women.”

  “It’s no different from calling a grown man a boy because he runs around sleeping with multiple women and breaking their hearts along the way. It’s a respectful and dignified title that leaves the judgement out.”

  My phone lit and vibrated next to me on the table at the same time.

  CC: But wut that tong game like tho

  I busted out, laughing my fucking ass off with a full mouth. Because my head was back and eyes closed, I didn’t see when Parker grabbed my phone.

  “Sheesh! Is that how women request sex?”

  “See!” I slowed my laughing. “Perfect example of her not being a woman. That shit ain’t ladylike.”

  “Requesting sex instead of repressing your desires is very womanly, I’d have you to know. Society has progressed in terms of women’s expression. If you can beat your chest and demand we come to please you, we can do the same.”

  But Parker wasn’t Chestnut Cherries.

  “Before Wright got sick, you used to send shit like that to him?”

  “Like what?”

  “Look at how she types.”

  “It’s text. Nothing wrong with shorthand.”

  “Is that what you do, though?”

  “No, but there’s nothing wrong with how she—”

  “Y’all ain’t cut from the same cloth. Period.”

  “But we can sleep with the same kind of man.” My eyes shot up to Parker scrolling through my text thread with Chestnut Cherries. “Apparently, we have.” Her eyes were now on me as she gently slid my phone back over. “You can’t judge women and not judge yourself. If she’s trash because she doesn’t type eloquently or because she allowed you to let another woman get her off because you couldn’t, that means you’re the dumpster who carries her. And if she slept with you casually and I slept with you casually, what does that make me in your eyes?” She scooped a piece of fish into her mouth and popped her fork back.

  Her eyebrows were lifted; Parker was challenging me. Instantly, I hated the shit. She didn’t get the point. She was nothing like Chestnut Cherries.

  But I don’t argue with fema—women, sooooo…

  “Why don’t you kick it with ya moms?” I asked with my eyes to my plate.

  There was a pause before she answered.

  “What makes you think I don’t?”

  “You told me last week you got the degree you have to spite her. And tonight you said she showed uninvited. Who don’t keep in touch with their Earths if they’re alive?”

  Parker sat back and took a deep breath. “We’re not programmed the same. It took years to get. I get it now and stay away.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Of course, not! It’s just… She’s everything I’m not. Undeniably confident, highly educated, driven with purpose, and…solitary.” She shook her head. “She doesn’t seem to mind living alone. My mother has always said she doesn’t need a man, and if it wasn’t for a silly mistake as a kid herself, she would have never had children. Proof of that is me being an only child. But on the other hand, she was strong and went through school from her Bachelor’s, to Master’s, all the way to her Doctorate’s without complaining or breaking a sweat.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “She wanted—wants—the same for me. She wants me to journey down the same path she has. She wanted me to take on women’s studies in college, but I had no interest. Each time I dated a guy, she turned her nose up. She’s the reason my whole goal game in life has changed. I mean, the list of things I wanted to accomplish by thirty was vastly different than they are now. And that’s because I spent years trying to fight her reputation. Fighting her lofty and unoriginal expectations of me. I’ve been told more times than I can count I’m the typical cookie-cutter, American girl, believing having a man completes half of their purposes in life. Do you know how difficult it is growing up with that type of energy over you as a kid?”

  I shook my head. Those things she described as her mother’s life didn’t sound at all like the Parker I’d been getting to know.

  “It turns them into Mother Teresa. I’m caring for a man I accepted an engagement ring from knowing he didn’t love me…I didn’t love him. I just wanted to be chosen. It has me at twenty-eight years old with a degree in chemistry, working part time for a football team’s corporate office just to keep my mind. But to make some type of living, I craft soaps, candles, and moisturizers. That is the closest I’ve come to using a degree I barely got because the classes were way over my learning curve.”

  I had no idea she did all that. When the hell did Parker find the time?

  She shook her head and let go of a sigh as she went back to her food. “I told you there were a few things I called my therapist about. The other was…us.”

  “What about us?”

  “Well, for starters, the fact we had sex.”

  “Told you I could handle this. You coulda called me for that. What made her more suitable?”

  She took a sip of her tea, ignoring me. “That ties into my mother’s visit.”

  “How so?”

  “When I opened the door, she just…gaped at me. Like… From head to toe, she paid a scrutinizing eye to me. But it was different than what I’ve seen of her in the past; those times where she was clearly disgusted because I had a broken heart or when I struggled in my science courses, going for a degree I knew was far from the one she wanted me to pursue. This time she seemed…dazed. She paid a lot of attention to my face. Yeah, it was clean of makeup. I’m sure I looked a mess; I’ve been home with Jimmy. I didn’t go out of the house today so I had no need to put any on…” Parker hesitated.

  “Go on…”

  She bit that bottom lip before she spoke again. “I know I’m not the young, spritely teenager or adolescent I used to be. And…” her voice morphed into a whisper. “I wonder did she see that. Am I really pre-aging?” Her eyes squinted.

  Even then I saw the light in her eyes I noticed the first night we met. It didn’t matter if Parker was expressing confusion, anger, happiness or sadness, there was the glow deep in her eyes. And when her face was naked from make-up and the natural tan circles showed like they did as I stared at her, I could still see that light I could get lost in. Those brown circles gave off that mature and wise vibe to her. It was like a promise of…unconditional commitment that turned me the fuck on.

  I was willing to bet two stacks when her mother was staring at her as she described, she was remembering how beautiful this girl was. I probably should have shared that with her while she was in this vulnerable place. But of course, I wouldn’t tell her right now. I wasn’t on that corny shit. This was no romance story.

  “Anyway,” Parker spoke up. “No need for me lamenting over something I get and something I’ve been delivered from.” She leaned in
to the table. “That’s church folk talk.” Parker giggled.

  I didn’t. I wanted her to get to her point.

  “Whachu mean?”

  “When Eli paired me with this therapist, one of the things we tackled first was my ‘inside’ and how I felt about myself. She recommended understanding me spiritually. Now I know what you’re going to say. I know all people should not look to Christianity and, for sure, not the church as their first attempt at exploring spirituality. But she recommended Redeeming Souls in New York, and it’s one of the best things I’ve done for myself in years.”

  “I thought Jade Bailey put you D with that church?”

  Parker nodded her head. “Ironically, her too. We’d seen each other in the front office a few times and she invited me. The wives club hadn’t been accepting of her, so she took another method to find friends in the organization. Anyway,” She waved her hand, obviously and excitedly wanting to move on. “The second thing we took on was letting go of people who didn’t appreciate being in my life. I got the memo too late with Jimmy, but he was one of those I could have applied that rule to. Jimmy didn’t want a wife. He’d been sleeping with other women after I moved in.” She leaned into the table again as though she was being secretive. “Rule numero uno: don’t leave dirty trysts on your cell phone before you’ve been diagnosed with ALS.” She found that funny.

  Again, I didn’t.

  “It’s funny now because I’m a different woman. I thought Jimmy wanted something serious. I didn’t focus on the fact he was twenty-three years older than me and possibly past his prime. I saw he was fit, handsome, and charming. But he saw me as easily manipulative arm-candy. Then he got sick.” She shrugged. “But my mother…” There was a pause. “She rode me hard about me being with him—as she should have, in retrospect. But what I couldn’t take was her continuing to make me feel isolated when I decided to stay. She was an energy I could dismiss. She didn’t accept me so she couldn’t stay. So now, I’m able to let people who don’t want to be here go.”

  “She wants you to have a kid. Sounds like she didn’t want to go.”

  “Everything isn’t black and white. I’m sure she loves me and has always. But if I was never able to make her proud being who I was, which was a kid simply trying to figure it out, she wasn’t happy in my life. That made me unhappy, so I chose for her to go.” Parker finished the last on her plate. “I’m done.” She looked at my unfinished food. “You?”

  I shook my head, sure it was cold by now but agreeing I was done would have meant saying goodnight. I wasn’t ready to end the night with her.

  Parker stood from the table and took her plate to the sink. She cleaned the stove of the pots and pans, loading them in the sink, too. I halfway watched as I nibbled on my cold food.

  “Well, I’m going to make sure Jimmy’s down for the night. Don’t worry about the dishes tonight. I can take care of them,” came out so softly—nervously but gentle. I knew the questions running through her mind. It was awkward wondering if I’d stay again tonight or if I’d leave like she was now inviting me to. But that was the thing: my gut told me Parker didn’t want me to go. Welcoming to leave was the appropriate thing to do. “This was nice. Thanks.” And she moved behind me to leave the kitchen.

  “Park,” I called after her, my back to her.

  I could hear her footsteps stop right away. “Huhn?”

  “I’m not going home tonight.”

  Then Parker backed up into my peripheral. “Hmmm!”

  I shook my head to make clear. “Nah. I’m not going home tonight. I’m going to bed upstairs. In your bed.” I wanted to make clear.

  The whole room was so silent you could hear a pigeon shit on the roof.

  She backed up more so we could easily see each other. “Can we unpack that?”

  “I don’t get a lot of sleep. And now with B-Roc—” It hurt to say his name. “With my mans gone…” I shook my head, not believing those words. “Being in this new state. New place…like my life now. I swear—” I remembered her crying in bed last night and wanted to make it clear. “You know this ain’t about sex. It’s just…” Fuck it… I groaned. “I feel at peace when you’re on top of me sleeping.” Parker’s eyes fell to the floor and I panicked like a motherfucker. “If it’s not cool, you can let me know. I won’t be happy about it… I’m not the type of man used to being told no, but…” I rambled on.

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I suffer from insomnia. I have for the past few years.” She paused again, fingers threading through one another. “I’ve dangerously gotten longer than four hours of sleep on your chest.”

  I let out the longest quiet breath, hoping she didn’t hear it. But… That was all she said. Shit just went quiet.

  “But what?” I knew there was one.

  Her eyes finally rose to mine. “It’s not my house.”

  “But it is your home. You’ve made it one. I know it, Wright knows it, and you do, too.” I shrugged, wanting to convince her. “If I had it my way, I’d scoop you up, put you in your own place, and give you all the independency you need just so I can rest, but…” I swung my arm in the air. She knew where I was going with this.

  “I may not be inga grayson, but I am very much independent and I would not go from one dependent situation with a man to another.”

  I nodded, not surprised at all at what she said. And that bothered me.

  Parker left me alone in the kitchen with my conflicting thoughts I was sure my head doctor would get a damn kick out of.

  Jimmy was tucked in and hopefully comfortable for the night and I was showered and in my bed with another man, one who was becoming less and less of a stranger. He stretched out over my small mattress like he owned it and been resting in it for years. In silence of the darkness, I began to think that was exactly how I met Rut. His first interaction with me was as though it was with experience.

  “What about ya pops?” his thick chords vibrated.

  “What about him?”

  “He do anything to offset ya mom’s feministic views?”

  I wanted to laugh. “He never got a chance to.”

  The whole mattress vibrated when he hummed, “Huhn?”

  I licked my lips, brows furrowed as I decided to go there. “I never knew my father. Never met him.”

  “Damn,” he breathed.

  “It’s okay. I hope my bluntness didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.” I felt my shoulder lift as I lay on my side away from him. “That was a huge piece of my therapy, too. My mother was so rigid in her expectations, but she never allowed my father in my life. I asked about him a few times just to be told she didn’t know where he was. My grandfather lived close by and we had a pretty good relationship so there weren’t just women in my life. But it all caught up to my mother one day. My father’s sister showed up to my grandfather’s house saying my father had passed and I needed to be at his funeral. I was…maybe a junior in high school and could perceive her anger clearly.

  “My grandfather fought with my mother and won that battle. I went to his funeral but the opportunity had been lost. He had other children—a family at that point. Being there was awkward for me, so I never kept in touch. What hurt worse was my mother. I was told in so many words at his funeral, by his mother and sister, how he wanted to keep in touch with me but my mother didn’t allow it.”

  I giggled. “When I met Jade Bailey, it was probably our third conversation when we realized we shared the same experience of never having met our fathers, thanks to our mothers. Sad, but it made for great bonding with another woman.”

  Rut didn’t speak, and that was okay. I understood how unusual that story could be for someone who had known their parents all their lives. Within seconds, I learned his response was better than anything I expected. He pulled me into him then lifted me like doll and arranged me to straddle him, just as he’d done before.

  I hummed into his fragranced, lightly dusted
chest. My arms found comfort astride his thick wings. Everything about this position screamed peaceful and…protective. Everything accept my sex laying against his raised abdomen. But Rut had proven himself to be a gentleman and never made this sexual.

  “What’re your new goals?” his chest rumbled as he muttered.

  “New goals?”

  “You said earlier ya moms going so hard made you change your original goals coming up.”

  Oh…

  My eyes narrowed. “Well, I still desire to have a successful career, maybe using my craft. But I used to want those traditional girlie things like a husband, a house, and children.”

  “What do you want now?”

  “Everything but the husband.” He didn’t ask why, but I felt comfortable sharing. “I think this thing with Jimmy tarnished my ideas of companionship, but I want a baby. Motherhood is the essence of a woman. It gives us our war scars in terms of the functionality of our bodies—those of us who can bear children. And as children grow, it sharpens our existence because we have all the tools needed to create and groom little people into big people. I’d love to have that job.”

  Then that big, hot hand was at the small of my back, soothingly rubbing. I didn’t know if Rut was telling me to shut up or encouraging my day dreams, but in the end, once sleep fell upon me, it didn’t matter.

  ~Ten

  Just when it felt like I’d just come back to bed from checking in on Jimmy at my usual three am run, I felt my body being rolled over onto my back. Wonderfully scented heat instantly replaced cool air. This was the part of the deal I hated. When Rut left at the crack of dawn to prepare for his day, I eventually rose for mine. My restful sleep seemed to go out the door with him in the mornings. Then, between traces of his masculine aroma and my full bladder, my groin stirred viciously. It had been a torturous but worthwhile tradeoff, having his big body here as my mattress and pillow.

  I moaned and stretched my arms over my head when I landed on my back. Hating having to open my eyes, I knew it was inevitable. I had to disarm the house for him to leave. That hot, heavy weight was on me. Soft, moist lips were on my neck. My pulse beat against my skin as my toes curled toward my backside. His mouth worked down my chest and over the thin slip. When his torso descended, I lowered my leg to not break his downward glide. My belly constricted when his hands lifted the material up my hips, gathering into his hands.

 

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