Painted Passion

by Latisha Brandon

  “You seem tired, Vlad. Are you getting too old to ‘hit up a few clubs’?” Kevin turned and walked down the stairs. Did he feel limited by the relationship he was pursuing with Ashlyn? How would she react if he went out tonight?

  “Vlad, you are leaving? I thought you would stay for dinner,” Ashlyn said, coming from behind the counter.

  Kevin followed the sway of her hips clad in dark denim. “Aaron and Vlad are going out tonight.”

  She knew he watched her, so she slowed before him and wound her arms around his neck. “Do you want to go? I don’t want you thinking you have to curtail your plans with your friends.”

  Kevin looked at Vlad over her shoulder, smirking. “Not tonight, maybe in a few days. How about we turn in early and see where the evening leads?” Hanging out with friends couldn’t give him that. He wanted to hold on to it…peace. For once, he wasn’t looking around the corner.

  “What is it?”

  “Let’s try and make this thing work. If I seem to be distant at times, it’s only because this is all very new for me.” Kevin lifted Ashlyn to her toes, walking to the door. “I’ll talk to you later, Vlad.” He pecked her lips with kisses. “Can you open the door at your back?”

  “It would be a lot easier if you let me down.”

  “I’ll open the door, because I want out. The pheromones are ricocheting off the walls. This is definitely not a PG-13 moment.” Vlad fumbled with the handle for the door, sliding it open.

  “Tell Aaron that Ashlyn and I are going to visit Dad. He should let me know if he wants to go.” Kevin slammed the door before Vlad made a response. “Can I have dessert before dinner?”

  “Where would you like your dessert served? On the wooden floor, a little pleasure-pain…before the windows, with a skyline backdrop…the counter, within access to the fridge…or the bed, me grasping the railing?”

  Lowering her to the floor, nibbling her neck, he said, “Let’s proceed in the order listed.”

  * * *

  Nuzzling his neck, Ashlyn breathed in his distinctive scent. Her body was love bruised. She stretched her elegant arms above her head, the tips of her fingers catching the early morning rays of the sun and the skipping dust mites. The light was radiant and matched the glow of her skin. They made love so early that the air was still cool and crisp. She filled her lungs, while her body was full of him. She sat perched, feeling like she was center stage, gliding up and sinking down. She imagined waking the same way every morning, Ashlyn could only dream.

  Kevin drew her down to him, his forearms locked in the dip between her lower back and her bottom, holding her motionless. His lips devoured hers, but she fought for dominance.

  Again rising, feeling his eyes on her, her inhibitions evaporated. Her hands danced, fluttering across her body, flaming his desire.

  He traced her tattoo, sensually drumming on her abdomen. Was this a dream or reality? She felt boneless sliding down, her cheek upon his chest. She tasted the salt on his flesh. Was this an obsession?

  He forcefully thrust upward, eliciting short pants from her parched lips. Wave after wave seized her. Fragments of luminosity burst behind her lids. It seemed to never end, all coherent thought shattering. He was not through, but she believed she couldn’t move a muscle.

  He turned and she found herself on her back, receiving him, open to him, laid bare. He was animalistic, primal, exhibiting his dominance. In the bedroom he was king, but she didn’t mind. She relished her role. She was intelligent, highly successful, and steadfast, her skills coveted, an independent woman, but in this intimate setting she carried the badge of submission. He offered her insight, a side she’d never known. The harder his thrust, the more she begged. He was so thick she felt him inside and out. What joy she felt, giddiness, sex drunk. Her inner muscles clamped around him, unwilling to let him go.

  He wrapped her in his powerful embrace, seeking fulfillment. It was there, teasing him, so he gave chase, and she fled with him, returning to that never-ending place where they waltzed, clinging together, cheek to cheek, chest to chest, thigh to thigh.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Kevin, it’s beginning to rain. By the time we get there, we’ll be soaking wet.” Her shirt was plastered to her frame, and the fact she wore no bra was supremely evident. She’d allowed him to have his way, giving in when Kevin told her he wanted to feel her nipples graze his back.

  “This is the best part, the unexpected. Open your visor and catch the rain. It’s invigorating,” he informed her, with not the least bit of guilt.

  She loosened her tight grip, leaning backwards, balancing precariously. Ashlyn raised her visor, watching the trees whip by. Rain droplets stung her face, cooling her blood. The sky was gray and overcast. Clouds merged, blocking out the sun.

  “Raise your arms, bellow at the top of your lungs. Who’s to hear you, who will care?” He pushed her, inciting rebellion.

  Ashlyn raised her arms, feeling the cold rain run down her forearms, the inside of her elbow, and past her biceps. She laughed and the water kissed her lips, and fell into her mouth. She trusted him enough to play in the rain.

  Ashlyn felt blessed, so she bellowed. She extended her arms above her head and tried to catch raindrops. The rain plastered to her back, slid between her shoulder blades. How did he know she would feel so grand?

  How endearing, the sight of her braced behind him, free falling. Kevin watched the road and watched her through the mirrors. They traveled scenic roads, the countryside lush and green, the air brisk and exhilarating. She wrapped her arms around him again, leaning into his back. She met every challenge he issued. Far from frightened or timid, she fought, bit, and scratched. Summer was fleeing, but she remained at his side. He was afraid to ask, “What now?” His life was in limbo.

  How could he ask her to uproot her life? He didn’t think he could survive in suburbia. He thrived off the city; it fed him, helped him create. Eventually the hustle of the city would begin to wear thin for her. Could they navigate between both of their worlds? And why had she failed to mention her family again?

  He knew more about Fancy, Makayla, and Dawn than he did about her parents. Yes, he realized she spent more time with them, but they were on the way to his father’s house. Would he ever meet her parents when she never talked about them? She hid from him, grew distant when he asked. He tried not to rush her.

  He wanted her with him, with no time limits attached. She kept referring to home, which he could understand, but would she ever issue her own invitation?

  Sexually they were highly compatible. Age played no part, only heightened awareness. When they were behind walls, she could lay her burdens aside. She loved to be pushed, taking more than she ever thought she could. Her body was just now fully awakening to him. How much time did he have left before she returned to Atlanta?

  Ashlyn shivered with cold. Her hands felt his stomach muscles clinch. Kevin turned into a subdivision with traditional homes dotting both sides of the street, the majority two stories. While some considered the homes large, the home she grew up in was three times the size. Her former life was extremely elite; a person’s family name meant more than a person’s actions.

  Kevin was a self-made man, the best of men, but she knew her family wouldn’t understand her attraction to Kevin. He wasn’t a part of her “class.” Old money married old money, plain and simple. She would have to force the issue. Haile, Dawn’s husband, was a highly respected surgeon, but he wasn’t born into money and his family wasn’t well-known. They had never really accepted him. How should she prepare Kevin for her family? Would he chuckle and brush them off or would he be truly offended? How could she drag him before a firing squad? But here he was confidently taking her to meet his father.

  “Kevin, we’re soaking wet, and I know I look like a drowned rat.” Ashlyn quickly took off her helmet, her hair glued to her scalp.

  “My dad could care less. He’s just happy I’m finally bringing someone home.”

  “What have you told hi
m about me?” she asked, pulling at her wet shirt. She’d let Kevin’s spontaneity make her look less than her best when she was meeting his father for the first time. She needed to find a bathroom ASAP. She prayed the undergarments, shoes, and other items she packed in the carrier attached to the motorcycle were semi-dry.

  “Only the best of things, my little cat. How you like to lick your lips at your peak…how my chest bears your teeth marks…and how my back and shoulders are scored by your nails.” Kevin nipped her pouting lips.

  “This isn’t the time for your dirty jokes.” She gazed at the warm and inviting façade of the house. A porch wrapped around the front and sides. Ferns hung from the ceiling, the plants overly large with age. “Your father has a green thumb?” she asked. They at least had that in common. Her yard boasted colorful vegetation and fruit trees.

  “He started after my mother passed away. He picked up were she left off.”

  A teenager walked out the front door and Ashlyn snickered at his exaggerated slow walk. Ashlyn smiled at him and his eyes grazed her chest.

  Kevin stepped in front of her. “Who are you, young man?”

  “Are you Kevin?”

  “Yes, I’m Kevin, but I asked who you are.”

  “Marcus Russell…your pops is trying to holla at my mom, but I got my eye on ole dude.”

  Kevin was taken aback. Since when had his father started dating? “Watch your mouth—that old dude is my father, and as long as you’re on his property you’ll show the proper respect.”

  “Awight, but I have to look out for my moms.” Marcus longingly looked at Kevin’s bike. “This your bike? It’s real nice. Let me borrow the keys?”

  “You have a lot to learn. Never ask a man for the keys to his vehicle.”

  “This your girl?” Marcus asked, peeking around Kevin’s shoulder, blowing Ashlyn a silent kiss, which Kevin never noticed. She deemed it a good thing. She was far from a girl, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell Marcus so. She wasn’t in the mood to play nursemaid. She was cold and soaking wet.

  “This is Ashlyn. Why do you ask?”

  “Because if she not your girl, I was gonna try and holla at her,” Marcus informed him.

  “Who in the hell are you again?” Kevin had quickly lost all his patience.

  “The way your pops keep inviting us over…” He enjoyed pushing Kevin’s buttons. “Yo, you gonna give me a hug to welcome me to the family or what?” He grinned like a cat that drank the last of the cream. “One big, happy extended family, just like a Dr. Phil episode.” His rant stopped mid sentence when Kevin pulled him up by his collar.

  “Kevin put him down! His feet are barely touching the ground.”

  “Your brother Aaron was way more relaxed. You should follow his lead,” Marcus said.

  Aaron knew about this travesty and let him walk blindly into this nightmare? He couldn’t believe it. He pushed Marcus out of the way. “You better be glad Ashlyn is here, or you would not be on your feet right now. How old are you anyway?” Kevin asked, while walking past him.

  “I’m fifteen.” Marcus slapped Kevin’s arm with the outside of his hand. “You know I was just playing, right?”

  “So was I, but I don’t think you’re playing about my father and your mother.” They both watched Marcus enter the house through the front door while Kevin held Ashlyn’s hand, leading her around to the back door. “My room is the first door on the right. You should find a couple of pairs of jeans I leave in there, and some shirts.”

  Ashlyn stood at the secondary staircase, holding her tongue about arriving looking like a drowned rat. She could tell he was upset about this newest development concerning his father.

  “Kevin, hear your father out before you go jumping to conclusions. Maybe Aaron didn’t tell you for a reason.” Probably because he knew how Kevin would react.

  “I just don’t like walking into a situation unprepared, especially when it involves family. This is a place where I should be at ease.”

  Ashlyn averted her eyes. She knew he would never be prepared for her family. “I’ll be in your room drying off and changing my clothes. Come get me after you’ve talked to your father.” Ashlyn kissed his tense cheek. “Listen to him…maybe he’s ready to move on.”

  Kevin had never believed his father would move on after his mother’s death. He didn’t want to begrudge his father happiness, but a ready-made family was a major step. He watched Ashlyn slowly walk up the stairs before going to search for his father. A little girl sat at the kitchen counter, eating sliced strawberries and bananas. Her short hair was divided into a multitude of afro puffs, with pink barrettes in between. Her eyes seemed too large for her face, and her thick eyelashes fanned her satin-smooth dark-chocolate skin. She batted those lashes at Kevin. “Are you Mr. Paul’s son Kevin?”

  “Yes, I’m Kevin. Who are you?”

  “My name is Allison Jane Russell. My mother and your dad are friends. They work together.”

  Kevin fell instantly in love with the little girl with the big eyes. “How old are you, Allison Jane?”

  She held up her hand, “I’m five-years-old. Mr. Paul grew these berries in his garden. Mama says he has a green pinkie.”

  “You mean a green thumb…and yes, he does. You should try his honeydew melon. When I was your age I ate so much I threw up, but I still went back for more,” Kevin teased. If it were at all possible, her eyes got even bigger. She wiped her sticky fingers on her dress.

  Kevin wet a few paper towels and handed them to her. “I’m sure your mother wouldn’t like you dirtying your pretty dress.”

  “I thought you were too pretty to throw up,” she commented.

  “Boys aren’t pretty.”

  Allison Jane ignored Kevin’s comment about the prettiness of boys. “When I grow up I’m going to have a pretty husband.”

  Kevin poured her a glass of ice cold milk, setting it before her. “Do you know where my father is?”

  She gulped down the milk, leaving a mustache. “They’re in the family room watching baseball. My mom plays on a softball team. She says it keeps her fit.”

  If Allison Jane were five, and Marcus were fifteen, how old was their mother? It was obvious this wasn’t the first time they had visited his father. Kevin had seen his father only with his mother, and he wasn’t prepared for the scene he walked in on. His father sat on the couch with his arm around some unfamiliar woman. Both of their shoeless feet were perched upon an upholstered ottoman. She was very attractive, closer in complexion to his father than his mother. Her skin was a deep, rich chocolate. Her deep-set brown eyes seemed to fill her entire face. She was the first to spot Kevin, and she gave him a genuinely warm smile, cut short by his cold perusal.

  He offered neither greeting nor introduction. “Dad, can I talk to you for a second?”

  Kevin began to exit the room, but his father halted him. “Where are your manners? Come in and introduce yourself.”

  Kevin felt his proud father’s eyes boring into his back, his shoulders slumped with disappointment. Would it always be so? Would his father always have this power over him, making him feel like a boy? Kevin turned and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Kevin.”

  His hand encased hers. She was tall and model-thin, her hair cropped very close to her scalp. She smiled again, as if she understood his position. “Hello, Kevin, I’m Zona Russell, a friend of your father’s. He speaks very highly of you.” She was naturally beautiful, no need for artifice.

  “He’s told me nothing about you.”

  “Kevin, this is my house, and as long as you’re in it, you will treat everyone with the greatest amount of respect. Do you understand me?” Paul demanded.

  “Sure, Dad, I understand. But what about the respect you should show me as your son? Why let me walk into this picture of domestic bliss? Her kids are walking around like they live here and you told Aaron before you did me. Respect goes both ways.” Kevin fumed as he waited for his father to blow up.

  Zona laid her hand o
n Paul’s arm, calming him down. “Kevin’s right. You should have told him before now. Regardless of how you feared his reaction, he deserved to know.” She turned to Kevin. “Your father meant no harm. Forgive us?”

  But Kevin was hurt, not ready for what his father had to tell him, what Zona alluded to. “I don’t need you to speak for my father. He’s never feared how I would react to a decision he’s made.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Let’s go sit on the deck. The rain has stopped.” His father gestured for his father to precede him.

  * * *

  His wildly rebellious son was all grown up. The more he saw him, the more he remembered Adara, her soulful eyes and quiet poise. Was Kevin worried about someone taking her place? Paul stopped by the refrigerator and grabbed two beers, kissing Allison Jane’s forehead. “Go into the family room with your mom. I need to talk to my son.”

  “Your son is very pretty. Do you think he’ll still be pretty when I grow up?” she questioned with the eagerness of youth.

  “Men are not pretty. Why do you ask?”

  “Because if he’s still pretty, I’ll marry him!” she proclaimed.

  * * *

  Ashlyn towel-dried her hair, detesting the fuzzy results. Kevin’s bedroom faced the back yard, and she could see the two sitting on the deck, neither talking, just sipping from longneck bottles. His father was just as tall as Kevin, but his physique was broader. His hair was just now beginning to gray. Kevin had told her his father was forty-eight. He was a manly-man. Ashlyn could think of no more fitting description.

  She could visualize him snatching his son off a corner. Who was the woman they both avoided talking about? She must be someone very special to his father.

  Her son was something else. He must have known Kevin knew nothing about him. Kevin would gain a very mischievous younger brother. Were other kids involved? She guessed she would soon find out.

  Ashlyn turned from the window, thinking of her own family. While she loved them and accepted their outdated quirks, she knew Kevin wouldn’t. He’d pulled himself up and stood starkly proud of his gains. He deserved that right, but her family would view his stance as crassly boastful. She was attracted to his confidence, his artistic insight, his blatant sensuality, and his staunch love of his family. Yes, he could be overwhelming, but he had yet to let her down. She could depend on him. He’d earned her trust.