Читать книгу Heated - Niobia Bryant - Страница 11

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Surrounded by the bluest of skies as she lay back naked among a bed of clouds, Bianca smiled mischievously. Kahron knelt at the edge of the clouds between her wantonly open thighs, his lengthy erection in his hand as he massaged the full length of it and then squeezed the thick, smooth tip.

Her eyes devoured every bit of him. From his broad shoulders, to his muscled chest with just the right amount of soft, flat hairs, down to his rigid abdomen. His member was long, thick, and throbbing, just begging to be touched, stroked, and tasted. She found it odd that soft curly hairs surrounding his shaft were ebony—unlike his silver-flecked head.

“Touch it,” he demanded huskily, biting his bottom lip.

Her hands moved from above her head to stroke down the length of her silken body. Hotly, her eyes caressed him as she used her slender fingers to open the moist folds of her core. She loved the way his eyes pierced her as she began to pluck the rose colored bud gently, causing the heat to rise in her belly. Bianca purred like a kitten at the pleasure she brought herself, her hips arch ing to meet her own fingers.

“Oh, Bianca,” he moaned throatily, releasing his tool. It rose to slap lightly against his abdomen as he used his hands to grab her strong thighs and jerk her body upwards until her core sat at his chin and her delicate back pressed against his thighs.

“I wonder if it tastes as good as it smells?” he asked, his words blowing softly against her heated and throbbing flesh.

Kahron jerked her body a bit higher until his mouth fit easily over the whole of her wetness and his chin sat smuggled against the delicate crease of her fleshy buttocks. He used his tongue to lick her lips.

Bianca’s back arched off his muscled chest as he ate her like he was starved.

The cloud began to slowly spin, rotating about the skies whose hues deepened to violet and crimson. Round and round as he suckled her fleshy bud between his teeth and caused her thighs to quiver.

“Kahron,” she gasped. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

Brrrnnnggg.

“No,” Bianca whimpered as the cloud began to disintegrate from beneath them and she felt her body slipping down the length of Kahron’s frame into a blue abyss…

Brrrnnnggg.

Bianca sat up in bed, her hands still pressed intimately between her legs, her heart pounding from being abruptly awakened from a dream. A damn good dream.

Disoriented, she looked around the room feeling like she was in purple hell.

Where am I? Holtsville.

What is that noise? Cell phone.

Bianca climbed out of bed, wiping the moisture on her fingers on her oversized T-shirt before she snatched up the cell phone from where it sat charging on the dresser. “Hello.”

“Bonjour, beau l’un.”

Bianca rolled her eyes heavenward. “Good morning, Armand,” she said, pulling off the satin cap she slept in to protect her curls.

Figures he would be the one to wake her from one hell of a wet dream.

“What time is it?” she asked him, her eyes still squinted with sleep as she moved to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s noon, mon cherie.”

Bianca never slept late. “What can I help you with, Armand?” she asked, ready to get her day rolling.

“Me permettre de faire l’amour à vous.”

She released a heavy breath. “No, you cannot make love to me. But you can se masturber until your hand falls off,” she told him with pleasure.

“Don’t tease me,” he begged.

Bianca actually laughed.

“Okay, I called because there’s an emergency meeting with the United Way and I need a fax number for the admin to send your absentee vote on how to divide the campaign funds this year.”

Bianca rose from the bed to walk over to her still packed suitcase. “I’ll have to get my Dad’s fax number and call you back with it.”

“Good. Oh, and Bianca?”

“Goodbye, Armand,” she said, hanging up the phone before he could spout another lewd comment in English or French.

Bianca didn’t even bother calling to check her office, she had a capable staff who didn’t need her trying to hover over their work via cell phone. Besides, she wanted to catch up with her Dad before he hauled tail for the day.

She locked her bedroom door and then pulled her nightshirt over her head as she walked into the adjoining bath. It wasn’t until she was under the spray of the shower that she thought of her sexy dream about Kahron.

As she lathered her body with her favorite Carol’s Daughter body cleansing gel in Jamaican Punch—a heavenly blend of raspberry, peach, jasmine, nutmeg, and cardamon—Bianca wondered if in fact all of the hair on Kahron’s body had silvered. Not that it mattered one bit. If he was half as good in real life as he was in her dream, well…

The feel of the water pelting against her breasts and the steam rising to press warmly against her skin didn’t help the ache of arousal she felt.

It had been so long since a man drew her attention the way Kahron did.

No matter how badly she wanted to feel his long, slender fingers on her nipples, that’s not why she was back in town. Especially since she didn’t know the reason her father was so angry and rude to the man. Yet another of the gazillion questions she had for her father, and the sooner she got downstairs, the sooner she’d get some answers.

Bianca finished her shower Kahron-free, eventually dressing in fitted jeans and a T-shirt with “SEXY VET” stretched across her ample chest. She didn’t bother with make-up, leaving her face smooth and naturally pretty, but she did put on her large diamond hoops and thin chain with a diamond cross pendant—her first gifts to herself once the clinic was out of the red. She wore them always.

Bianca found her father in the dining room nursing a cup of coffee. His eyes were red as fire as he shifted them away from her. Bianca swallowed all of her reprimands— for now.

“What happened to the barn?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked down at him.

“Strong burnt it down,” Hank growled, his hand tightly gripping his cup of coffee.

Bianca looked confused. “Are you kidding me? Why isn’t he in jail?” she asked, already reaching in her back pocket for her cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”

Hank shook his head and waved his hand. “No need. They said there’s no sign of arson. Fire department says faulty wiring.”

“What did the insurance company say?”

Hank remained quiet.

“No insurance,” Bianca stated, her anger at her father steadily rising.

Bianca counted to ten as she slid her thin cell phone back into her pocket. “If this is the case why do you think Kahron did it?”

“He wants my land,” Hanks spouted, slamming his beefy fist on the dining room table and causing the coffee in his cup to slosh over the side onto the glass.

Bianca sought patience. “And?”

“I don’t trust him. Never did really. Had me fooled before, but I can see clearly now.”

“Because?”

“Around the same time he started making offers to buy me out somebody’s been pulling shenanigans around my damn ranch.”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

“Like what, Daddy?”

“Letting the air out my tires, releasing the horses, contaminating my water supplies, stealing equipment… should I go on?” Hank’s ire was evident as he stuck a Marlboro cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

Bianca remained quiet.

“I ain’t selling my land!”

“I wish you had the same gusto about not drinking,” she drawled.

Hank just glared at her.

Needing a reprieve from his tirade, Bianca just nodded.

“I’m going to take a look at your books today. Is that okay?” she asked, finding it hard to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Hank nodded. “Whatever you want, Bianca.”

She crossed the dining room to reach the swinging door leading into the kitchen.

“Bianca, I’m—”

She left the dining room, the swoosh-swoosh of the door swinging back and forth ate up his words.

Trishon was at the stove, still dressed in a short and sheer mint green housecoat. She turned to look at Bianca over her shoulder, smiling warmly. “Mornin’, Bianca. I’m just finishing breakfast,” she said in a cheery voice.

“Good morning,” she said. Bianca longed for shades as the screaming orange of the walls caused her eyes to ache. She reached for two tall glasses from the red dish rack and moved over to the adjacent corner to fill one with coffee, creamer, and sugar.

“Your Daddy just loves my scrambled eggs,” Trishon said, her southern accent prominent as she lifted the pan to scoop some of the eggs onto a plate.

Bianca carried the glasses to the refrigerator, using the ice maker on the door to fill the empty glass with ice. “Smells good,” she said, walking over to the island as she poured the coffee over the ice.

Trishon carried two steaming plates out of the kitchen, backing out with them in her hand. “Help your self,” she offered.

Bianca sipped her coffee as she peered down into the pan. The eggs looked fluffy enough but there was little reddish-brown flecks in them. Frowning a bit, she used a fork to dig one of the flecks out of the eggs and tasted it. It was a little hard and had a familiar flavor to it… kind of like bacon… more like—

Bianca eyes widened in recognition and her eyes then noticed the large open container of bacon bits sitting on the counter next to the stove.

“Who puts bacon bits in eggs?” she muttered, deciding right then she wasn’t hungry.

Bianca carried her glass out of the kitchen. “Daddy, I’ll be in the study. If you’ll just meet me in there when you’re done with breakfast,” she said, continuing toward the hall.

Hank looked like he’d rather eat nails, but he nodded before scooping a pile of eggs into his mouth.

“Actually, Hank has to help me with a quickie—I mean a quick chore upstairs and then he’s all yours,” Trishon said, reaching over to caress Hank’s hand with her index finger as she licked her fork and gazed into his eyes.

Hank’s broad face broke into a grin bigger than the state of South Carolina and Bianca had to fight not to frown at the thought of their “chore.”

As they shared a kiss over their weird breakfast she gladly left them alone. Mama must be spinning in her grave.

He was paid well for what he did, but even he had to wonder to what end did someone want to see the King ranch ruined. Atop a hill in the distance he used binoculars to look down at the King spread. His gaze fell on the convertible Volvo.

King’s daughter was back in town. His loins stirred at the thought of her. There was no denying her appeal, but he had not intention of pursuing her. Still, he could dream of those big lips pleasing him.

He laughed at the thought, letting his hand drop to roughly stroke his erection.

She had no idea what she just walked into.

Kahron sat behind his massive black walnut desk in his study, his eyes locked on his phone. He leaned forward in his seat to reach for it but paused, eventually drawing his hand back and leaning back in his chair.

He wanted to call Bianca.

He laughed at his nervousness over simply picking up the phone and calling her.

When he got home last night she had been on his mind: the beauty of her eyes, the sound of her laughter, the subtle scent of her perfume.

But there was more to it than that.

He wanted King’s land and although the stubborn drunkard refused, Kahron knew it would be just a matter of time before it was his. So why not sooner than later?

Everyone in town knew Bianca left home for college and never returned. Although Hank bragged on his daughter, the successful veterinarian, it was obvious their relationship had to be strained. Now she was back, and he had to wonder what role did or would Bianca play in all of this?

“Women or money?”

Startled, Kahron looked up to find the oldest of his four brothers, Kade, striding into his study. His square and handsome face filled with surprise and a toothy grin. “Women or money what?” he asked, sitting up in his leather chair.

Kade raked his long fingers through his hair as he folded his tall frame—nearly six foot five—into one of the leather club chairs in front of Kahron’s desk. Like all of the Strong men Kade’s hair had prematurely grayed in his mid-twenties. He wore his in short, thick curls—a testament to their mother’s Native American heritage—that framed his square face. Women liked to say he looked like Rick Fox, N. B. A. player and soon-to-be ex-husband of Vanessa Williams.

“Women or money trouble,” Kade answered, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees in the navy blue Dickies uniform he wore—Kade’s preferred gear for working on the family ranch in Walterboro.

Kahron, like Kade and the rest of the Strong boys, considered himself a businessman who owned a ranch, but definitely not a typical cowboy; so, there wasn’t a Stetson, tight-fitting Wrangler’s jeans, or typical cowboy boots to be found in his wardrobe. They listened to hip-hop, wore Sean John suits for business and Roca-Wear or the like for pleasure. When it came to the necessities of boots for work they all preferred Timberlands or boots of the like.

The Strong men stood out like sore thumbs at the local rodeos and cattle auctions—and that’s just the way they liked it.

“Neither,” Kahron finally answered, even though an image of Bianca smiling up at him drifted to mind.

“That’s what your mouth says,” Kade said—an indication that he thought his brother was lying.

“Where’s Kadina?” Kahron asked, changing the subject.

“At the ranch. Probably driving Ma crazy as always.”

Kahron smiled as he thought of his beautiful six year- old niece. “First grand and she runs the whole family with a smile.”

“Bad ass,” Kade said with a huge loving grin. “She told me to be home in an hour. Can you believe that?”

“With Kadina? Yes.”

“What you getting into tonight?”

Kahron shrugged, thinking he would love to get into Bianca King. “Let’s call up the Deal twins and ride to Savannah,” he offered.

Kade’s handsome face immediately closed up. “Naw, I’ll pass,” he said, throwing his car keys up into the air to catch with ease.

Kahron chose his next words carefully. “It’s been a year, Kade,” he said almost cautiously, knowing the death of his brother’s wife, Reema, was a volatile subject for him.

In just an instant warm hazel eyes froze over. “A year ain’t shit, Kahron,” Kade answered, his tone cold, yet filled with pain.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Kade looked up and met his brother’s stare with the year’s worth of pain he suffered through. “I know you mean well. I even know Daddy throwing every pretty thing between here and Georgia at me is his way of helping, but I’m just not ready.”

Kahron felt sadness for his brother weigh his broad shoulders down. If he could swallow down his brother’s pain for him, he gladly would. That’s how the Strong men were. One for all and all for one.

Last year after his break-up with Shauna, his girlfriend of the last three years, Kahron had to deal with that loss. He took it at his own speed and his family respected that. A break-up was nothing at all like losing someone you love to death. So, if Kade wanted to set his own time to heal, then Kahron respected that.

How could he not? Losing Shauna over foolishness had really gotten to him. He thought he had found “the one,” but soon she let small town gossip and lies turn a good relationship into constant battles, lies, and accusations. Never once had Kahron cheated on Shauna, but she wouldn’t believe him, so she became like Easy Rawlins, snooping and trying to investigate the truth in his words.

When he discovered that she let her lack of trust lead her to the arms and bed of another man, Kahron walked away from the relationship.

Trust was a major issue with him, particularly in a relationship. Without trust their was no foundation to build upon and at that point anything can happen to jeopardize the love.

“King agree to sell, yet?” Kade asked.

“No, not yet.”

“From what I hear it’ll be just a matter of time. It’s a damn waste, but his lost is your gain.”

Kahron his eyes filled with steely determination. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry about last night.”

Bianca didn’t even bother to look up from the ledger at her father’s apology. She had spent the last hour going over his books and right now she wanted explanations more than empty apologies.

Hank rose from the chair, shuffling toward the bar in the corner.

“If you pour a drink I’m out of here. Today. Right now.” Bianca eyes went steely. “I mean it.”

Hank turned and faced her, pointing his finger at her in anger. “I’m your father, Bianca Renee King, or did you forget that when you ran off.”

Bianca met his stare. “No, more like you forgot and that’s why I left.”

Hank turned away from her and settled his hand on the canister. The glass stopper rattled against the glass of the decanter from the trembling in his hands.

Bianca rose from the chair, coming from behind the desk to stand by her father. “This business was failing way before those things started happening three months ago. You’re over a hundred thousand dollars in debt, you’re behind on your property taxes, you have no income coming in right now, and you have a wife who is spending way too much money.”

The rattling increased until the liquid inside the bottle sloshed against the side.

Bianca touched his back. “Things are out of control because you have lost control, Daddy,” she told him softly, fighting the tears because now was not the time.

Hank closed his eyes as his grip on the decanter tightened. “You don’t understand, Bianca,” he told her, his voice tortured.

She released a heavy breath as she licked her suddenly dry lips. “You’re right, Daddy, I don’t.”

His shoulder shook with his tears and Bianca felt like her very soul was on fire. It was never easy to see your parents cry.

“I promise you I will fix this, but I need my Daddy. I need you to be the man you were before Mama died. It’s either that liquor or me and this ranch. The choice is yours.”

Bianca turned and walked away from him. When she heard him lift the decanter she went weak with sadness and she hugged herself as her tears flowed freely. “Oh, Daddy, why?” she cried, turning to him.

Hank flung the decanter into the barren fireplace with more gusto than she seen in her father in a long time.

Relief flooded her body in waves and she rushed to him, burying her face deep against his chest as his arms surrounded her with bearlike strength.

“This ain’t gone be easy, Bunny,” he admitted, his chin atop her head.

“I remember a wise man saying that victory never comes easy,” she told him, leaning back to smile up at him.

Hank grunted. “A wise man, huh?”

Bianca shrugged. “I’m biased, sue me.”

And Hank laughed deep and rich and full in his chest.

“You ready to get to work?” Bianca asked, moving out of his grasp.

Hank released a heavy breath as he moved back to his seat. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Why do you think Kahron Strong is behind the sabotage?” she asked, as she took the seat behind the desk.

“That bastard,” Hank said without missing a beat.

A snapshot of her naughty dream flashed and Bianca literally shook her head to rid it.

“About a month after he came sniffing around asking to buy my land those damn shenanigans started,” Hank roared, leaning forward to slam his massive fist down on the desk. “He had the audacity to tell me I could either sell it to him outright or he’d get it one way or another eventually.”

Bianca’s anger began to stir. Yes, Kahron Strong made her panties moist, but she truly didn’t know the man from a can of paint. How badly did he want the King land?

“Did you tell the police?” Bianca asked.

Hank snorted in obvious derision. “Said there’s no proof.”

“Well, first thing Monday I’m going to pay the property taxes and settle some of these bills,” Bianca said, hating the disappointment she felt that Kahron Strong might very well be her enemy.

“Bunny, you can’t—”

Bianca nodded as she tallied the bills on a calculator. “I can and I will.”

“Bunny—”

Bianca held up her hand as she pierced him with her eyes. “Daddy, trust me, right now you got bigger fish to fry then worrying about how I spend my money.”

Hank look at her with curiosity. “The booze, huh?”

Bianca nodded. “Oh definitely that and you have to tell Trishon there’s a freeze on all outgoing funds effective immediately.”

Hank’s face fell and he looked like telling his wife that bit of news was far harder then giving up the liquor.

Trishon parked her vehicle outside the Belks department store in Walterboro. She went sashaying into one of the few stores in the small town where you could buy designer clothing.

She really wasn’t looking for anything in particular. She just needed to get out of the house. With Hank and his precious Bianca holed up in his study, she felt a little… left out.

She would never admit it to a living soul, but Bianca intimidated her with her smarts and her money. Trishon hadn’t met too many women that made her doubt herself, especially since the day she snagged Hank King. Once she became Mrs. King she finally got the respect she always felt she deserved. Money had a way of getting respect in a small southern town.

When people saw her they saw a wealthy man’s wife, not the picky head little girl who grew up in a 14 X 60 metal trailer that didn’t have running water or nearly enough space to accommodate the six children who lived their with their mother, grandmother, and aunt—all of whom were considered “slow” by the townspeople and the state.

Many a night they had nothing but dreams of food for dinner. When they did have food it was hardly a feast with stuff like fried salt pork and dry rice. Once they ate just the pot liquor that was left from collard greens they had the week before.

She always knew she wanted—and was going to have—better.

The only thing Trishon thought she had going for her was the way men liked to be in her company and tell her she was pretty and buy her nice things. So, she learned from a young age how to get what she wanted with what she had.

Most times she hated the feel of the men’s hands and the sounds of their grunting as they pumped away between her cold thighs, but sometimes—every once in a while—a man’s hands would warm her, soothe her, and make her feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

It didn’t matter if they didn’t have the decency to buy a nice hotel room to fill her with their desire. They would park deep in the woods in their cars and whisper heated words of her beauty in the back seat. Only to ignore her in the light of day.

But that was behind her now.

“How are you today, Mrs. King?”

Trishon looked up surprised by the saleswoman’s voice behind her. She smiled, pushing away her memories. “I’m fine, just fine,” she said.

Yes, she was Mrs. Hank King, and the days of hunger, shame, poverty, and pity were long behind her.