“Now Daddy, that’s not fair. Charmaine was looking out for me. She just doesn’t want anyone to hurt me, she’s protective.”
“She’s also nuts.”
“She is not. You just don’t like her because you and she are too much alike. That’s all,” she said, massaging his shoulder.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I am.” She winked.
“But that doesn’t excuse your behavior, does it, babygirl?”
Her eyes grew wide. “No, sir.”
“I think somebody needs a spanking.”
Carmen gritted her teeth.
“C’mon. Down with the panties. Over the knee.”
She stood up and slipped her panties down to her ankles, then kicked them aside.
Obediently, she draped herself over his lap and held his leg. He loved how she liked to hold his leg during a punishment. He could tell how much it hurt by how tightly she gripped him. And he could tell when she let herself float away under the magic stream of endorphins.
“How many do you think you’ve earned?”
“Ten,” she answered meekly.
“Ten? Girl, you burned my shit! Try again.”
“Twenty?”
“Twenty-five,” he said firmly.
“Yes, sir.”
He started out with a light hand covering every inch of her ass cheeks with his huge palm. The resounding thwacking sounds reverberated through the room alongside Carmen’s little grunts and groans. After fifteen strokes, her cheeks were hot to the touch and as pink as cotton candy. He rubbed her rear to ease the pain, and Carmen purred under his gentle touch.
“Ten more,” he said, striking her backside again. This time the noise that arose from her was not so pleasant.
Her muscles tensed and he reprimanded, “You know it’s only going to hurt worse if you do that. Relax.”
She slowly seemed to give herself over to the process, the tension easing out of her muscles with each blow.
“Good girl. We’re almost done.”
She mumbled that she was sorry for burning his clothes.
“I know, baby,” he said with a final swat to her hindquarters, which were a brilliant red now. “All done, and you’ve been such a good girl, Daddy’s going to make you come.”
She wriggled underneath him.
“Be still,” he commanded and inserted a finger into her slick, wet channel.
She moaned and pressed her pussy against his hand. Normally he would have fussed at her, but tonight was about patching things up, not causing more conflict.
He added another finger and fucked her with them, hard and insistently. Her vaginal muscles clenched around him and her hips bucked, indicating her hunger for deeper thrusts.
Giving her what he knew she wanted, he increased the speed and curled his fingers to where they hit her sensitive g-spot. This brought a howl from her throat. He responded by flicking her clit with his thumb. He thrummed that spot with each thrust and within minutes he felt her convulse across his lap, her orgasm overtaking her.
He continued his ministrations until her body stilled and she brushed his hand away. He knew sometimes she could get so sensitive down there that it almost hurt if he kept fiddling with her.
Hoisting her up, he switched her to a seated position on her lap. Her face bore the glorious blush of being freshly loved. Disheveled and adorable as hell, she asked him, “Daddy, aren’t you going to fuck me?”
He smiled wanly. “No, babygirl, not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I’m exhausted. Had a tough practice today, then Jack and I lifted, worked on some more footwork. And I can’t stay.” He kissed her on top of the head. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go home. Have to be at practice early tomorrow.” He was tired. In fact, tired didn’t even begin to describe it.
“No more being late to work in the morning?” she giggled.
“No. Coach chewed my ass out for that. I’m on thin ice anyway with all the negative publicity. It’ll be a miracle if he lets me play in the game.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Babe, my career is in shambles,” he said, placing a hand on her knee.
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is. My endorsements have all dried up. I can’t move the way I used to be able to, and I’m probably not going to play in the Super Bowl even though I’ve practically killed myself to be able to come back this year.”
“Daddy, I had no idea about your endorsements. Why didn’t you tell me?” A mask of concern covered her face.
“Didn’t want you to worry.”
“But Daddy, we’re partners. I’m here for you. No matter what.”
“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he said, his emotions threatening to get the best of him.
“Like what?”
“Floundering. Out of control. Baby, how can I be a good daddy for you if I can’t even control my body or my own career?”
“Control? Control is an illusion. Nobody has control. Natron, you are an incredible athlete, an amazing man, but you’re human.” She touched his bald head lovingly. “Just remember that. You’re human, not Superman.”
He heard what she was saying, but he didn’t agree. People expected him to be Superman. He was Natron Dakers. He wasn’t supposed to fail.
“Whatever happens,” Carmen said, “I’ll be here, right by your side.”
“Thanks, baby,” he said and held her tight, needing her now more than ever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
On Thursday, the team doctor cleared Natron to play. The team would be leaving for New Orleans on Saturday. The following week would involve practices, a few sightseeing tours and events, in addition to media day.
Friday morning Coach Morrison asked to see Natron in his office.
The grumpy look on Coach’s face reminded Natron of a bear who’d missed his last meal and was eager to find some poor suspecting creature to pay for it.
“Hello, Natron, how’s it going?”
“Going well, Coach.”
“Working out those personal issues like I told you? I don’t want any of those distractions following us to New Orleans,” Coach said as he glared at Natron.
“All taken care of, Coach. Just a misunderstanding.”
“I hope that’s the truth. You’ve got a wonderful girl there, I’d hate to see you fuck that up.”
“I agree.”
“Okay, if I have your word there won’t be any shenanigans, we’re taking you with us to New Orleans. Doc cleared you, you can go.”
“Thank you, Coach!”
“I’m keeping you on injured reserve for now. I can’t promise you’ll play. Probably won’t start.”
“Alright, I just want the chance to get out on that field, Coach.”
Coach scratched his head. “I know, Natron, and truth is I know you’ve been working really hard. You are a valuable member of this team and I hope you’ll be back in the lineup like before. But we’ll just have to see. That was a big injury, son, and it may take the off-season to get back 100% from it.”
“A chance, Coach. That’s all I’m askin’ for is a chance.”
“I hear you. Keep working and keep your nose clean. Got it?’
“Got it.”
* * *
With his relationship with Carmen on the mend, Natron made arrangements for her to attend the big game with their friends James and Marley. It meant everything to him that Carmen would be in the stands watching the game.
Natron had also gotten tickets for his mother and her new boyfriend. She’d followed his advice and met a guy online. While Natron wasn’t sure he wanted to meet the guy right away, he was glad his mamma had found someone to spend time with.
Now he just needed to have a chance to play. As difficult as it was to push his thoughts of Carmen to the side even for a short period of time, he had to focus on his performance in the Super Bowl.
The week leading up to the game was packed ful
l of meetings, events, and plenty of film study. On media day he plastered on his most charming smile and answered questions about his injury:
“No, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to play.”
“It depends on if Coach thinks I’m ready.”
“Yes, I’ve been cleared by the doc, but I’m still not 100% yet.”
The Vipers’ head coach had made it clear that he wasn’t going to make a public decision about whether or not Natron would play until the last possible minute. The hope was that the Raptors would think he was still hurt so they wouldn’t prepare for Natron to be on the field. Whether or not the tactic would work, they’d find out soon enough.
Team activities kept him busy most of the time, but he found time to text Carmen several times a day. She was supportive as always, but if he couldn’t play he wouldn’t feel whole, and he wondered what kind of man he would be for her.
He reminded himself that Carmen had faith in him before putting all thoughts of her out of his mind in order to focus on the game. He put on his headphones and tuned out everything else. That night instead of counting sheep, he pictured himself catching touchdowns in the end zone, one after another.
* * *
Natron had played in big games before. He knew what it was to be a champion.
But today, standing in the Superdome, his hand on his heart, listening to the national anthem play, things were different. He was different.
Last year he was still a reckless kid with nothing to lose. This season he had dealt with adversity, and it was time to see how what kind of man he was. To see if he would rise to the challenge or buckle under the pressure.
Natron watched as the Vipers’ offense ran out onto the field for the first possession without him. Coach had said he might not start, but hearing that and experiencing it were two different things. A hollow pit formed in his stomach and he paced the sidelines trying to walk off his anxiety and disappointment. He turned his energy to pumping up his teammates and tried to have faith that he would get his chance. On the field, the Vipers were held to three plays and were forced to punt.
The Raptors struck when their mammoth running back launched himself over the pile of bodies lined up along the goal line, the culmination of a thirteen-play drive led by their quarterback. The extra point put them up over the Vipers 7-0.
To Natron’s surprise, one of the coaches waved him into the game for the Vipers’ next offensive series. His pulse thumped loudly in his ears as he snapped on his chinstrap and took the field.
A roar arose from the crowd. Normally, Natron would have acknowledged the fans, waved, maybe even taken a bow. But not today; today he’d have to earn the cheers of the fans, and it wasn’t going to be easy.
The first couple of plays, his job was to block for other players, and he executed the task well. He felt a difference in his strength, just as Jack had told him he would and that gave his confidence a boost.
On third down with fourteen yards to go, he ran a fade route to the outside. Clay Davis sent the ball flying in his direction, and the ball soared two feet above his head. Somehow he mis-timed his jump and while he got a fingertip on the football, he wasn’t able to come down with it. As he got up off the ground, he kicked at the turf in frustration. He knew it was only his first game back, but it totally sucked being so rusty.
Clay came over and patted Natron’s rear. “My bad, man.”
Natron nodded as they ran off the field and the punt team came on.
On the next possession, the Vipers’ defense held the Raptors to almost no gain and the Vipers got the ball back quickly.
Back in the game, Natron found he was having trouble with the cornerback jamming him up at the line of scrimmage. Out in the flats, the press coverage was also giving him fits. His legs weren’t as explosive as before, so the defender was able to jam him up for the first five yards, which slowed him down and impeded his route running. All that was throwing off the timing he and Clay had been working so hard on for the past few weeks.
After another few times getting beaten one on one, he was sent to the bench. He tried to console himself by thinking of Carmen and her support for him. Rather than distracting him, her belief in him calmed him and boosted his confidence enough to help him focus. Fortunately, the Vipers’ running game was beginning to roll and they scored a touchdown on a fifty-two–yard run up the middle, tying the game.
Right after that the Raptors got the ball and marched down the field to score another touchdown, making the score 14-7. And with that, all the momentum that had belonged to the Vipers shifted back to the Raptors.
During the next possession, Natron was back on the field. By now he had made some much-needed adjustments, and he knew he needed to use his newfound strength if he wanted to break open on a route. In the past he’d had such explosiveness that he’d accelerate to top speed much quicker than the defender and he easily ran past the defensive backs.
But his explosiveness disappeared when he was injured. Without it, he was slower coming out of his cuts and less crisp than he wasn’t accustomed to. His own body behaved like a foreign entity. In the past he’d always been able to create separation between himself and the defender, but not now. He remembered Jack telling him he’d have to use his strength, he’d have to be aggressive and fight the defender for the ball.
The Raptor’s cornerback, Rick Isaac, was one of the best in the league, and his job for the day was to make sure Natron was not a factor in the game. Isaac ran stride for stride with him after every jam, every cut, and every play. Hell, it felt like the guy was super-glued to him.
After several series in which the ball didn’t come his way, Natron approached Clay. “Man, you can throw me the ball. I know I missed that first one, but I’ll catch it. Promise you I’ll catch it.”
“Isaac’s got you jammed up at the line, and then he is covering you stride for stride. You’re not beating him.” Clay shook his head.
“That’s cuz my cuts aren’t what they used to be. I’m not able to accelerate like I used to, but if you throw the ball up, I will come down with it. Trust me, man.”
Clay nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.
Natron slapped Clay’s shoulder pad and found a cup of Gatorade. Drinking it in one gulp, he took a seat on the bench.
The game unfolded in front of Natron, but he barely paid attention. His mind puzzled over a solution to the problems he was having on the field, and everything Jack had told him came back to him.
When they’d worked together, Natron only half-listened to the personal trainer. Honestly, he’d expected Jack to be wrong. It was inconceivable to Natron that he might not be quick and explosive once he regained his health. He’d always figured Jack was ‘over-correcting’ and he hadn’t expected to need it. While Natron had done everything Jack asked of him physically, but he hadn’t paid enough attention to what Jack said.
Jack wanted to talk about all the things Natron would no longer be able to do this season and Natron’s brain had been unwilling to absorb the man’s advice. Now, sitting on the sidelines, he recalled Jack’s advice.
You’ll have to use brute force. That had been the message. He’d have to do this thing old school, take it to ‘em. As he sat on the sidelines, his heart began to beat faster, and adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He needed to do this. For himself, for his team, for Carmen.
He watched as the Raptors score another touchdown. Damn, those fuckers made it look easy. What was happening with our defense? Natron banged his helmet on the turf, then checked himself. He had no business blaming the defense when he’d done little himself to contribute. With the team down 21-7, Natron knew they’d have to pass the ball if they wanted to catch up. He wanted to get back on the field so badly that his hands itched to feel the ball between them.
Instead, the Vipers’ return man caught the ball at the two-yard line and ran it back 98 yards for the touchdown, eluding the entire opposing team. The Vipers bench went wild, and the stadium erupted in a cacophony of ch
eers. Being that New Orleans was closer to Dallas than Baltimore, there appeared to be more Vipers fans represented in the stands. Not exactly a home crowd for the Vipers, but close.
Even though the score brought them closer to the Raptors, Natron was still nervous, his leg shaking like it had its own motor as he waited impatiently for the Vipers’ next possession. The player next to him placed a firm hand on Natron’s thigh. “Chill, dog. You’re shakin’ the whole bench!”
Natron got up and trolled the sidelines, trying to calm himself. Fortunately, the Vipers’ defense held the Raptors to a three and out. The place went wild again and the momentum had clearly shifted in the Vipers’ favor.
There were only two minutes left in the first half and the Vipers desperately wanted to tie up the game before halftime. Natron and the rest of the offense took the field and went to work. A completed pass to Stalcup was followed by two long runs, resulting in the Vipers having the ball past mid-field at the forty-yard line. Then an eight-yard run set up a second down with two yards to go. On the next play, Clay threw the ball to Stalcup. The ball was tipped and fell to the ground, bringing up a third and two.
Natron released the breath he’d been holding. They’d been lucky the ball hadn’t been intercepted. He crouched down at the line of scrimmage, waiting for the ball to be snapped. Every nerve ending in his body came alive as he poised himself for the battle in front of him.
When Isaac came to jam him, Natron’s hands came up and blocked Isaac’s attack so hard that it looked like he’d been struck by an upper cut from Mike Tyson. Isaac stumbled backwards, off-balance.
That was all the opening Natron needed. He ran the seam route down the middle of the field between two other defenders. Just as he turned and leapt for the ball, one of the safeties also went up for it. Both players’ hands locked onto the ball at the same time. In that split second, Natron summoned all his strength, all his power, all his will and ripped the ball out of the safety’s hands.
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