Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) (26 page)

T
ears are filling my eyes
.

But they're not tears of sadness, they're tears of powerlessness. Of anger. Emotions that I have felt a number of times. Emotions that tend to make me feel cornered.

I don't want to feel that way toward Nicholas.

Adisa,
comes a voice in my head.
What would you have done, if you were saddled with this debt?

I know that voice; it's the voice of my mother. A voice that I wish I could count on, in person, right now. I miss her so much! I don't want to have to be so strong, it's too hard. I can't always be the one to take care of everyone. I need someone to take care of me.

And that's what he wants too,
says my mother's voice.
That's what he's trying to do, and he's able to do it. Not too many people can say that. And he is a kind man -- a good man.

But what is he going to expect in return? I don't know that he can be what he wants me to be. And if I can't, how am I supposed to repay him?

You repay someone like that by living well, by thanking him, and by doing your best to care about him, and be good to him. You repay him by being yourself.

But I don't want this to hang over our heads, I counter.

Then don't let it. Just take it one day at a time.

Yes, I think. Just one day at a time.

I don't want to feel obligated to Nicholas, but to be brutally honest, I don't want to feel that way toward my father, though either. I'm not sure how long I sit outside his room in the hallway to the sounds of Chikae and Darius in his room playing on the floor by his bed, but I know it’s a while.

The ding of the elevator's arrival rouses me from my reverie, and I look up. Out comes a breathless Nicholas, looking around a bit wildly. Then he sees me, and his lips press together and his head tilts to the side. The mere sight of him makes my heart jump.

"Adisa," he says, voice a little hoarse.

I don't say anything, I just go up to him and wrap my arms around him. I can feel the muscles in his back soften a little as he envelops me into his embrace, and I am surrounded by him, the softness of his flannel shirt, the woodiness of his scent, the feeling of being, well, I'll say it. Being loved. I can breathe again.

"Oh Adisa, I'm really sorry," he murmurs into my curls. "I should have asked you if it was all right to pay that kind of money for your father. But I just wanted to help you so badly."

"It was very generous of you," I say. I tilt my head back, and look into his blue eyes, seeing tiny flecks of gold in them in the light of the hospital waiting room. "It was very kind."

"That's all I wanted, that's all I need for you to say," He says. “I don’t need anything more. I just want to help you, to be there for you, that’s all.”

I clear my throat.

"Not everything," I say. "Thank you Nicholas, from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome," he says, his hand coming under my chin and tilting it up further. He leans down and aims to kiss my cheek, but the magnetism between us makes me turn my head so our lips meet, and the feeling in my heart is aflame. Where is my resolve? It all melts away as I see the care and concern in his eyes. It does feel like he wants the best for me. It feels like he isn't trying to use his money as some kind of manipulation tactic. It feels good. It feels like love.

As I pull away from him gently, I look at his soft chambray shirt, the blue close to the blue of his loving eyes, the dusting of hair at the top of his shirt collar, the little pearl buttons closing the soft fabric at his neck. I just want to fall into him and let him take me away.

Why don't you, I hear in my mother's voice.

I want to, I answer her silently.

His arms tighten around me as I let my head rest against the soft warmth of his chest, the gentle rise and fall of his pectoral muscles as he breathes. The thud of his heart beating, a little faster now. The room falls away from my mind, and I feel a sense of... peace. Of course there's excitement to be this close to him, and if we weren't in the hospital I wouldn't be able to hold myself back. But here, it just seems like it's just us, and everything is going to be all right. Daddy's going to be all right. The kids are going to be all right.

And I'm not sure if I dare to believe it, but I think that Nicholas and I are going to be all right as well.

"How are you holding up?" Nicholas' voice breaks the silence and I can not only hear it but feel the rumbles through his chest.

I pull away a little and look up at him. "Up and down, to be honest."

"Well that's completely understandable." His arms tighten around me once more and he kisses my forehead. "And how's your dad?"

"He's enjoying the room," I say. "Thank you. It’s much nicer, with a view and a TV, so he can watch his programs in peace. Also the kids are in there playing, so they're making the most of it as well."

He grins, and I melt at the flash of his white teeth and the warmth of his smile. "Glad to hear it." The Texas is in his voice now so I know that he is feeling comfortable with me again. "Look I want to say again, I'm really sorry that I didn't clear it with you that I was going to take care of your father's bills. Maybe it was because I knew you might say no, and I really wanted to make sure you were going to be ok. I have the means to do it. I'm not trying to brag here, but when I can see a problem for someone I care about, and I know that it can be fixed with money, I want to take care of it. And money may not make sure that your dad gets better, but it sure can help him feel more comfortable and take some pressure off of you along the way."

"I do know that, and I really do want to thank you. But I can't say it doesn't worry me at all," I grab his hand and leading him back to the melamine chairs outside my dad's room. We sit, and he puts his arm around me. "We're just learning what is between us, you and I, and I care about you. I think you care about me too, and I don't want to put any pressure on that."

"There isn't pressure, Adisa," he says, as he plays with my fingers. "Really. I knew that I wanted to do this, and the only reason why is that I want you to be able to relax a bit and concentrate on your own life, and to be able to make it all it can be. If I were to stress you out by pressuring you for this or that, in any way, that would really defeat the purpose of what I was trying to do. Which was to help."

"I guess that makes sense." I watch his tanned hand play with my darker skinned one, and can't help but admire the muscles in his forearms which are deliciously revealed by the rolled-up cuffs of his chambray shirt. "But if that's so, we need to keep our lines of communication open."

"I know," Nicholas says. "And to be honest, nothing would make me happier than to keep the lines of communication open with you, Adisa."

I think we are just about to kiss, but then I hear a clatter in my dad's room, and have to go open the door to investigate. Chikae is crying. Her doll is upside down with her head stuck in a glass of water, and my dad's tray is on the floor. He looks at me helplessly.

"Hi there Addy," he says. "I think it might be time I get some rest now."

"Sure dad, no problem." Poor man. I’ve left him alone too long. Still, they’re his children and they need him. So am I, so do I for that matter. I quickly grab the kids coats and scarves and start to dress Chikae as Darius pulls his on.

“Darius dumped my doll in Daddy’s water,” she says, eyes flashing and wet.

“Darius, don’t do that,” I say mechanically as I do up the zipper of his coat.

"What's Boss doing here?" He says, catching a glimpse of Nicholas waiting in the hallway.

"He came to visit me, nothing you need to worry about." After I run over to give my dad a kiss goodbye and an assurance that I would be back the next day, I grab the little ones by the hand and almost drag them out of the room. Chikae clutches her sopping doll and wipes her tears.

"Love you dad," I call, as I'm shutting the door, and the kids blow kisses.

"Boss Man!” Darius runs up to Nicholas. "What are you doing here? You look funny. Did you pay for my daddy’s room? Are you in love with my sister or something?"

"Hush now, Dar," I shush him and we get to the elevator, my cheeks flaming.

"Are you two going to get married and have babies and live happily ever after?" Chikae asks as Darius pushes the elevator button.

"This is going to be a fun elevator ride," Nicholas turns to me and says, with a twinkle in his eye.

"That's one way to describe it..." I barrel into the open door, completely mortified, and the kids run in as well. Hopefully they'll drop this soon, but the mirrors on all sides make me feel even more in the spotlight than I did before.

A
disa asks
me to go to her house for dinner, so I follow them home, happy to see that she seems to be enjoying the BMW that we are calling a 'company car' for the moment. But what was even more fun, if I'm honest, was watching her walk to the car. The woman is like a goddess. Her hips, her ass, her legs, all measure up to one extraordinarily beautiful creature in my eyes, and as luck would have it, she also has a beautiful mind. But that's not exactly what I'm thinking about as I try not to get distracted driving home with the image of her body in my mind. I don't want to get rear-ended, but what a rear end she has.

I hope she really has forgiven me as far as the this situation with her father's care goes. Seems like she has. If she and I were married we wouldn’t have to argue about this sort of thing. I wonder if that might happen one day. My mind drifts off to imagine her in a wedding dress, luscious lips mouthing the words “I do,” driving me wild.

After she pulls into her driveway, I see a neighbor looking through her curtain at Adisa, before shutting her curtain with a little flash. It brings me back to reality; in this neighborhood it's not so often that you see a car like mine, so I decide to just take my car up the street a little bit and walk back to her house. It's difficult when you realize that your best intentions can cause complications in another person's life, but it seems that I am beginning to run into that issue with Adisa. I guess no matter how much you might care about someone, there's always that doubt that you aren't sincere.

But I do feel more for her every time I see her, and especially when I watch the way she lives, how she deals with a situation that has been thrust upon her.

She's my new favorite person. I hope I can become hers...
without
causing her additional heartache and turmoil along the way.

I get to her door and ring the bell. Even after such a short time, seeing her takes my breath away. She's so beautiful,her soft lips, her cute nose, lovely warm brown eyes and glowing mocha skin. The way her hair curls and she pushes it out of her face, and it springs back right where it was. The smile that stretches across her face, and the little edge of pain in her eyes that makes me want to hold her and soothe it all away.

"Come on in," she smiles. "I didn't know where you had gotten to!"

"I just parked a little down the street, because I saw one of your neighbors looking out their window, and I didn't want to add to the gossip."

Her face darkens for a moment. "Yeah, I get that. I can't say that the BMW hasn't ruffled a few feathers in the school group either. Ah well." She closes the door behind me and again I am welcomed by the warmth and comfort of their home. The lighting, the cozy blankets thrown over-stuffed couches. The kids laughing in front of the TV as she leads me into the kitchen where she is chopping some vegetables.

"Mmmm," I say. "What are you making and can I help?"

"Well well, how are you in the kitchen?" Her dark mood dissipated, she is playful now.

"I know my way around a little," I say with false bravado. "Well actually I'm pretty terrible. But I'm willing to learn!"

She laughs. "Ok then, how about chopping these carrots?"

She shows me how she wants them done, and I love to see her hands move so gracefully at the cutting board. I can't help myself, with her standing so close to me, and I let my hand graze the small of her back as she chops. Her hands soon falter, and she lays the knife down and turns to me slightly. I gather her up in my arms, freeing one hand to brush her hair out of her face, and touch her soft cheek with my thumb. Her lip trembles slightly as I lean in, and as her eyes close our lips meet, and we stay still for a moment, both enraptured by the incredible softness, the sweetness of feeling close and connected, the depth of the feeling. But before long our kiss deepens and her hands are in my hair, and I can feel the curve of her soft body as my arms hold her tighter.

When we finally pull away from each other we are breathless and all I want to do is carry her upstairs to the bedroom and make her mine again and again.

"We should probably finish dinner," she murmurs.

"I know," I say, and give her a lopsided grin. "But you are the most beautiful woman in the world, and I'm finding it really hard to keep my hands off you."

She looks away suddenly, her smile huge. "I know how it feels," she admits. "Let's get this dinner done and I'll put the kids to bed, and we can have some alone time."

"That sounds perfect. Let's get this show on the road!" I’m tingling inside, from hearing that she feels the same as I do.

We start to work like a team, both of us wanting to clear the obstacles that stand between us having more of that precious uninterrupted time together, and before long dinner is on the table and the kids are happily munching, none the wiser. I think. Of course there have been a few knowing looks from Darius, but nothing said out loud.

When Adisa goes upstairs to put the kids to bed, I settle down on the couch with a cup of tea. Under the coffee table on a little glass shelf lies a photo album,  and I decide to flip through it. Inside I see an elegant woman who more than likely must be her mother. The old Polaroid photography shows a young and stunningly beautiful woman, very much like Adisa, but in a kind of late 80's low cut flowing pantsuit with shoulder pads, and her dad looking ridiculously cool in his fade haircut, thin lapels and black tie. It's hard to imagine that the man he is now is the same sharp man appearing in this photograph, but it is easy to see how the love between him and Adisa's mom was something legendary. The way he looks at her in the photos, the fact that they are always in contact, always touching,

No wonder there's so much to her character, coming from a family and a set of parents like this. It’s rich ground for a person’s personality to see this kind of love every day.

Just then she pops her head in the door. "Little ones are in bed." She catches sight of the photo album and squeals. "Oh Lord I forgot that was there!" she cries. She runs and plops down next to me on the sofa. "I’m so embarrassed! What have you seen?"

She looks mortified, but so far I haven't seen any pictures of her. Just her parents and their cars, standing proudly in front of a house, inside the house with cocktails in hand, sitting at a table laughing and touching.

I hold the book away from her reaching hands. "Is there something in here I shouldn't see?"

She's laughing. "Just my awkward ages, from let's say, age 5 to 15!"

I'm overcome with laughter and softened by a warm feeling of love. I put the arm that's not holding the photo album around her as she reaches for the book. I hand it to her and pull her to me so our faces are aligned. I can feel the heat between us and I'm already getting hard just looking at her, gently holding the side of her waist in my hand.

She stills, and drops the album on the couch. It's forgotten now -- all that I can think of is the way her lips, gently parted, shining, would feel against my mouth. She surprises me then, and kisses me first, with an insistence I can feel down to my feet, and then pulls away. I guess she may have surprised herself too.

"That was nice," I grin. "How 'bout another?" I start to say, but before I can finish the sentence, she's back in my arms, hands running down my body, kissing me furiously. "Adisa..." I murmur, in between kisses. "You're so beautiful."

"Nicholas," she breathes. Her hand reaches down to my belt buckle and before I know it I can hear it clanging open. She pulls down my pants, and slides down to kneel in front of me on the sofa. It's almost like I am paralyzed with desire, my cock harder and thicker than it's ever been. She looks up at me with her doe eyes, before taking it in her hands, causing me to shudder with pleasure, and then leisurely licking the swollen tip.

"Oh Adisa..." I'm struggling with the dual drives to lean back on the couch and not to lose eye contact with her. She's so beautiful and seeing her wrap her beautiful lips around my cock, is something that I only allowed myself to imagine when I couldn't help it. To have it happening in real life is making me want to bust right now, but I also want to feel every moment of what she’s doing to me. And what's more, there's an equally strong desire in me to kiss and lick her until she squeals.

Her head gently bobs up and down as her hands sweetly and skillfully massage my thighs as her tongue encircles me, making me quiver and shake with pleasure. Her lips give me untold delight, the softness of her mouth on the heat of my cock unbearably thrilling.

An involuntary moan escapes my lips. She's drawing all this pleasure from my core as she licks and sucks my length. It was never this way with Stephanie... never this way with anybody. Adisa's mouth is the holy grail to me. I know I love kissing her, and having her tongue around me is almost more than I can bear. I want her so badly, I want to stop her, and return the favor, or plunge myself inside her warmth, but I am powerless to do anything. She's got me hypnotized with the long slow strokes of her wet tongue. Before long I can't take it anymore and I feel the pleasure and tension building, building until I’m about to finally explode. I manage to whisper, “Adisa, I’m coming,” and then writhe and convulse in the throes of orgasm, not wanting to be too loud in case the kids might awaken.

She looks up at me, eyes almost catlike, smiling, as she delicately wipes her mouth. Then she grabs a box of tissues from the side table and passes them to me. "Here," she says gently.

I take them, lay them over the opalescent drops that decorate my stomach, but then collapse again. I feel like I’m still coming, the excitement so strong that it takes a while to fully disperse. I can hardly stop writhing, until finally I have the energy to extend my hand out to her, to pull her to me.

"You're exquisite," I say as she snuggles up beside me and kisses my neck. "That was amazing. The best."

"You're amazing," she says, getting even closer. I know that she probably wants and needs some release too, and if I’m honest, there's nothing I want to do more than give it to her any way she likes. I just need another minute to get back my energy.

"Adisa, Adisa," I whisper into her hair, breathing in her scent, filling my nose with it. "I love being with you," I say softly. I want to tell her I love her, but I don't want to overwhelm her. I'd rather just show it. As my energy returns, I lean over and kiss her, softly and deeply. Then I let my mouth trace down the side of her cheek and to her neck, the vulnerability of her throat turning me on. Am I getting hard again? Is it possible?

I love her body. No, I worship her body. I pour my adoration through my kisses down her neck, and pull her shirt a little to the side to expose the tops of her tender breasts, licking and sucking the skin.

My hand encircles the swell of her breast and I run my thumb over the hardening nub. Her breathing is getting harder, more urgent, and I pinch the nipple from over her shirt, and she bucks a little in response. That's it, I need to see her naked. I pull the shirt over her head and her beauty is further revealed in a soft black lacy bra, which I admire for a moment before reaching around to undo the clasp.

Her breasts bounce and settle as I take off the bra, and her womanly shape drives me wild. I want her so badly, but before I take her, I want to tease her -- to make her feel as much pleasure as I can give. I trail my lips along her silky skin, before taking the dark nipples in my mouth, one at a time, and sucking and licking them as her hands tangle in my hair. She makes sweet sounds as I kiss her -- gentle, high, and urgent. I reach down to undo her jeans and she reaches around to help me slide them off. Quickly forgotten they fall off off  the sofa into a puddle on the floor, and my hand slips under her lacy thong to her tender folds. She feels hot, wet, and unbelievably welcoming. I kiss down the curve of her stomach before parting her legs, and stroking her soft warmth with a single finger. Then I enter her gently, as my lips and tongue press into her clit, continuing to suck and lick at the core of her. Her femininity makes my cock jump, and as I kiss and lick her, I get harder and harder at the thought of us coming together again.

She's almost squealing now, but quietly, breathing ragged. I steadily enter her with two fingers, sliding in and out of her wetness, as I lap up her juices. She couldn’t be more enticing than she is at this moment -- sweaty, shaking, wrapping her legs around my head and letting them fall apart as I lick and suck her.  Her taste is amazing, and she feels incredible. Her hands get wilder as her voice crescendos and she grasps my hair and thrusts into me. Then the telltale contractions make me wild and I try to make her peak last as long as I can.

When she finally stops moving, I climb up to her and kiss her all over, her breathing subsiding. I can feel my cock, rock hard, press against her tenderness and before I know it she guides me inside her, and we both buck and glide, staring into each other’s eyes, in our own world. We move in sync until I can feel her peaking again, and her warmth wraps around me, the gentle pulses putting me over the edge. We cry out together and don’t stop moving until we are satisfied once more.

“I love you,” I finally say, breaking the silence, the stillness. It’s a whisper, so quiet I imagine she won’t hear, but I have to tell her. The feeling is as clear as day, and I want to let her know, to make her see just how strongly I feel about her. How I want to hold her in my arms forever.

“I love you too. Nicholas,” She breathes.

“Oh Adisa.” I cover her face with small kisses, savoring the feel of her soft skin, the smell of her hair, her closeness. The sound of her voice alone drives me wild, but hearing those words from her fills my soul in a way that I never knew it could be.

She pulls an afghan down from the back of the couch and covers us gently. We lay there for a long time, eyes closed, savoring the sweetness of just being together, being at peace. I listen to hear breathing, and mine unconsciously syncs with hers. I wonder if our heartbeats sync as well. I can feel her fingers trace my arm, back and forth, sending shivers down my spine.