Page 7 of King: Darker Than Romance

He waved her off. “It’s okay, Momma. I know how Eden is.”

Momma changed the subject and started talking about the coronavirus, safer at home guidelines and King’s parole. I guess he was staying with her until he got all his legal issues worked out.

Then she fussed at him about adding more tats to his body and he told her how pretty she looked

They made me nauseous.

They continued to talk while my mind drifted…

Eden: The Story of Us

Past

I met King when I was fifteen years old. At first, he didn’t matter. When I was told I’d have a new brother, it had gone in one ear and out the other. I had more important issues to deal with than a fake brother. I was trying to maintain my 4.5 GPA so I could get into Spellman, my dream college.

I was stressing over how my life would turn out, and I was still resentful and angry at my momma for moving us from Brooklyn away from my friends and family to Florida with no consideration for my feelings.

She hadn’t even given me notice. One morning she woke me up and told me to pack all my shit because we were moving. All because of a man she had known for three weeks. But that was Momma’s modus operandi. She needed men. She would do anything for them, and she always put them ahead of me even though they all eventually broke her heart.

When I met James, I immediately knew he wasn’t any different than the men before him, except he was white and had nice things. A big eight-bedroom house, expensive cars and a nice size bank account. James was a plump, middle-aged, stereotypical looking Italian who sold luxury vehicles. Momma thought she’d hit the jackpot.

She was loving the trips and new clothes, and I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy some of the benefits. We had been struggling back in New York. Momma only worked enough to feed and clothe us. There weren’t any extras. James came with extras – a car, an allowance, shopping sprees. He basically kept my credit card paid and let me be. I was grateful for that because Momma had dealt with some creeps before who thought they could talk and manipulate their way between my thighs like they had done Momma. James turned out to be exactly how I imagined, an abusive cheater, but at least he’d kept all his B.S. between him and Momma and his son.

It was a month after we moved to Florida before I was actually introduced to King. Even though he lived with his father, he seemed to never be home. I found out why at the wedding.

If either one of them breathed hard in the others direction, they’d turn into two snarling pit bulls. At the reception they made a spectacle of themselves. Their family partied around them as if they weren’t about to come to blows, which made me believe it was their usual behavior.

That night Momma had jumped in between them. She said wasn’t about to let them ruin her day. We had family visiting, she was showing off all the new things her pussy had gotten her.

After momma calmed them down and put them in their respective corners, I didn’t see King for the rest of the reception. But I heard a lot about him. His family said he was quick-tempered and could be mean and downright evil. Some said there were rumors that he and his father were criminals, and some said he was married with a secret family. I really didn’t put much stock in anything I heard though. If you asked my mother’s family about me, they’d say I was fast and had a bad attitude because that’s what Momma told them.

Just before the night was over Momma walked King over to where I’d been sitting in the corner all night, being ignored. Our family barely acknowledged me, because Momma rarely took me around them, and there were none my own age.

“This is King,” she said before telling me he would watch me while she and her husband were gone on their month-long honeymoon. Then she pivoted in her expensive heels and walked away leaving us to finish introducing ourselves. I just shook my head inwardly at the fact that she was leaving me with a perfect stranger.

His eyes had been low and hooded as if he were high or had been fucked really good. He smelled like weed and sex, so I guessed both. I’d scrunched my nose up and scooted further away from him. His response was to wink at me from behind his superman glasses. I wondered if he was hiding a different persona behind his glasses like superman.

“Welcome to the family, Eden. My father says you’re a good girl.” He half smirked-half smiled. His voice was deep and smokey. The way he said “good girl” as if he was daring my young ass to tell him or show him different. That made me scrutinize him.

I watched as his eyes trailed from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. There was an appreciative gleam in them, and he wasn’t bashful about me knowing he liked what he saw, either. I was used to it, though. He looked at me the way most men who first met me did. I was a “thick” teenager with more ass and tits than I needed.

My first impression of him was that he was obnoxious, violent, and loud. He looked weird, too. He was tall, like 6”3’ and slim, too slim, like really slim and wearing too tight, hipster black pinstripe dress pants. His tats peeked from under the collar of his dress shirt. He had this rocker-chic look going, with huge gages in his ears, and his tongue was pierced too. Not my type, but I couldn’t deny he was attractive with his messy, thick black hair and pale, tatted skin.

He’d put his hand out for me to shake, and reluctantly I’d shook it.

A spark of electricity passed between. He snatched his hand away and frowned, his eyes never leaving me. His thick, black brows drew together creating a V. His tongue darted out and trailed his lips as he searched my face for something. He either found it or didn’t, I’m not sure, but he eventually looked away. Then he sat next to me in silence until his daddy called a car to pick us up. I could feel him watching me the entire time we sat there, but every time I turned to look at him, he’d be facing forward. Weird indeed. Then out of the blue he asked me how old I was. I answered, “I’m fifeteen.” He shook his head, then he didn’t say a word to me after. Not even in the limo as we sat facing each other. His behavior amused me.

The month he “watched” me while our parents toured Europe comprised of my being in my brand-new home alone until our parents came back.

For the next two and a half years, he avoided me like the plague. It was obvious he was doing it. I’d walk in a room, he’d walk out. I don’t think we had exchanged over ten words, and he was always short with me. But when we were forced to be in a room together, he was always watching me. I was okay with the distance, though. He was five years older and weird. He was a non-factor as far as I was concerned.

I made new friends. I met Ellis. I got accepted to Spellman. I got a reprieve from my Momma’s bullshit because she was solely focused on James.

King and my relationship was non-existent until I caught him fucking one of the many girls he would bring over. I went to the shed out back to grab paint for a class project. I had heard the moaning before I even put my hand on the knob. I knew my mother and James were inside where I’d left them, so it couldn’t be them. I should have minded my business, but curiosity got the best of me.

My heart pounded as I eased the door open. I walked in just beyond the threshold and peaked from behind the shelves that lined the walls. There was King and a girl, but she was calling him Ashford. Not just calling his name but screaming it. Ashford, Ashford, Ashford, repeatedly while, throwing her hips back into him.

King had her positioned so that she was kneeling on his daddy’s work bench. One of her legs was thrown over the top, and he was pistoning in and out of her with his thick, long dick.

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