The Rhythm of Blues (Love In Rhythm & Blues Book 1)
Page 25
But she lied about insinuating I fucked him, too. So, yeah, she has decorum, but she was out of line on so many levels!
My face tightened as I searched for the right words. “Grandmother McKinnon…”
“Yeah, baby?” she answered eagerly.
I twisted my neck, turning my head down toward my right shoulder, unable to look at her and come up with non-offensive words.
“Just please pray for me. I want to do what’s right by God.” My eyes traveled up to her.
It was the best I could do to stay in the right “lane” with her grandson.
Pastor McKinnon’s eyes lit and relief washed over her face. “It is my duty, baby…for you and Gee-Gee!”
I found myself nodding. “Thank you.” I forged a smile.
“I have a savory rendition of baked banana pudding for you, Pastor McKinnon.” Earl appeared, collecting our plates. “You just say the word.”
She giggled. “Sounds good.” She nodded with a smile. “But I’m tired. Old knee done swelled up on me today from praying too long this morning. I think I’mma turn in early, son.”
Earl made the tsk-tsk sound while he worked his way around the table. “Okay, but if you get one of those late night itches, a scoop will be in Tupperware with your name on it.” He winked at her, stopped, and held a stack of soiled plates with one hand in the air. “Mrs. McKinnon, for you, I have frozen yogurt bars. Inside each is fresh strawberries, raspberries, or blueberries—just one fruit per bar.” He finger-kissed the air. “Exquisite!”
“Ummmm…” I hesitated. “I think I’m going to skip out on dessert, too, tonight.” The air in the room seemed to have frozen.
It wasn’t like me to pass on food, especially with this sucky diet plan I’d been on. But I’d been pushed too far today, and was still processing Pastor McKinnon’s false accusation. I knew with just a few minutes, I’d bounce back, but right now, I had no appetite.
“Okay, Grandmother,” Ragee’s tone screamed distraction. If Earl was clueless as to the tension in the room when he waltzed in, he certainly was in the know now. “Let me walk you to your room.”
Earl quietly excused himself. Pastor McKinnon pushed away from the table and Raj was at her side in a flash, politely assisting her from her seat. He followed her to the door behind me, leading to the main corridor. I took a deep breath, sitting back in my seat. Relief from being alone began trickling over me.
“Aye, Wyn.” At that call, I leaped up, spine erect in my chair. I turned to the side to acknowledge him, though I couldn’t exactly see him. “I’m viewing footage of the first leg of the tour tonight to see what changes I’ll make for the second. Be cool to have your input.”
That invitation jarred me. Here I was thinking about which of my favorite porns I’d download and watch while soaking in his gargantuan tub. Now, I was being invited to contribute to his work? That changed everything.
I turned completely around, peering over the side of the wingback chair.
“Sure,” I uttered.
Raj nodded before prompting his grandmother to proceed into the hall. “I’ll be in the media room.”
The room was dark. Pretty much the only light came from the projection screen that was almost half the size of the wall it hung from. Raj took a sip of his Mauve then scribbled something on a writing pad while holding the small glass to his mouth. His eyes held at the screen. It was…cute. He was caught up in what he was doing as I sat next to him with my legs folded underneath me.
“So, you rising in the air is called stage hydraulics?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Are you going to do that again? Like with the whole stage?”
He put his glass down and sat up at the edge of the sofa. “I’m thinking to have a few of them this time. Maybe one for the band, one for the background singers, and one for me.”
My head bobbed as the visual for this developed. “Yeah,” I delivered slowly, unfurling my legs to place them off the seat. “That way you can control the attention of the audience.” Then I reached over for his glass and took a sip. Shit… As smooth as it was on my tongue, it burned like hell going down tonight. Damn diet! But I guarded my expression, wouldn’t let him know. “Like if you want to do a wardrobe change like you did after the “DM Unavailable” track, you could raise the other stages and leave the light on them, fade yours, and exit without them missing you right away.”
At first Raj didn’t answer, his eyes were fixed on my mouth as I braved another sip, just smaller than my last. With my regard glued to his for a response, I handed the tumbler back to him.
While gaping at the tumbler, slowly, his head nodded, processing my advice. “Yeah…yeah. I like that.” He went back to his writing pad.
I sat back further into the cushioned sofa and tried catching my breath. I’d quickly developed a relish for Mauve. Only being a wine drinker and occasionally beer, I’d never even heard of that brand of brandy until meeting Ragee. When he sipped it, Raj would hold it in his mouth, sometimes swished it around, before swallowing. A trace of liquid would remain on his bottom lip until he swiped it with his tongue.
Whoa…
My palms gripped the material of the couch as my brain literally whooshed. Then a warm impression coated every limb and extremity. It was the brandy effect. The Mauve had that quickly reached my bloodstream. When I opened and focused my eyes, I saw Raj was peering back at me, the glass in his hand. Then he went back to the screen, and I was grateful because another wave hit. It wasn’t painful, just…embarrassing if he knew what I was feeling.
Bed. It was time I called it a night, and seeing he didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon, now was a good time to do it. God forbid, I fall asleep in here, wake up in the middle of the night, and try getting into bed then. He’d probably knock my ass out cold. No. I needed to hit the sack before Ragee.
I shifted my legs from beneath me to sit up. “I’m going to turn in.” Gingerly, I took to my feet.
Before I could right my spine, Raj was standing in front of me—over me. My mouth fell. His eyes bounced between mine and my mouth. His fists curled and uncoiled over and over. He took a deep breath that appeared to be involuntary. Then he stepped closer, our chests hardly a foot from each other. As I peered up at him, his regard kept with that repeated fashion: my eyes then lips. Ragee was big, solid. His muscles, bold and pronounced were even more conspicuous as they flexed in his sleeveless L.I.T. Music t-shirt. His flared nostrils shot a dangerous fusion of Rage for Men and Mauve.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was going to attack me by the tightness in his jaw. But I’d seen him fight, knew he maintained a distance from his opponent to block and throw. No. Raj wanted the distance eliminated, which only meant one thing.
An uncontrolled snort left my nose and my shoulders caved before I could even think.
“You wanna…kiss me?” I felt the V between my brows tighten.
He didn’t speak, but his breathing became audible, the miscellany of scents blown more harshly on my forehead. His chest heaved a little and that’s when my regard fell. Something was so wrong about this scenario. In all the wild thoughts I had of Ragee and me hooking up, none came with this weird vibe. He’d never had this…fence between our chemistry. I could feel desire vibrate from his tight skin as much I could fear. This was some shit.
I gazed back up at his shadowed face. My head nodded once, softly.
“You can kiss me…” I whispered, breathlessly, “…if you want.”
His hand lifted to my face, his thumb brushed tenderly over my bottom lip—so faintly it teased me. I pushed on my toes and raised my chin to prompt him. As he lowered his head, I realized never had I shared the same air as him. I breathed in what he pushed out. Greedily took what he unintentionally shared, which subconsciously infuriated me. Nothing good Ragee McKinnon had ever done for me had been intentional.
And now, when he brought the softest, plump lips with a pungent taste of brandy and honey to my mouth, I
couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. It was slow, delicate, explorative—a stark contrast from his inability to ask. Prickles of his beard tickled my skin, but not enough to disrupt the strong stir in my groin, the pounding of my heart. Warm pillows pulled my bottom lip back, paralyzing my jaw, and his fluffy tongue slipped inside my mouth. It wasn’t timid, neither was it aggressive. He was gentle yet expressive. He moved at a pace that had my throat locked tight, holding back a moan shooting from my stomach.
His tongue moved about my mouth, slithering over mine, tasting my damn teeth, teasing my gums. Raj took his time probing every inch of my mouth. And…he breathed for me. I swear, I’d never had anything like it happen to me before in life, but Ragee breathing into me compensated for my inability to do it myself. His tongue licked the roof of my mouth adoringly.
The. Fucking. Universe. Fucking. Back. Flipped.
I couldn’t feel my feet, but I damn sure could feel the slither of his tongue. I could damn sure coordinate my mouth to suck on it feverishly. I could feel when he relaxed his lips to let me. Somehow, I realized he was holding me up, my legs having given out on me. And that’s when I mustered every guard, each ounce of distrust I had, regained my balance, and let go of his tongue.
But Raj didn’t release me. His tongue dragged in my mouth more, goaded mine to continue, and I did. This time with more dignity and skill rather than helpless longing. And we did. We did the oral dance for a spell. Tasting and feeling, an intimate part of our bodies meeting. It was Raj who pulled back first. While it was neat, the end wasn’t expected. He backed away, wiping his mouth, at first, with his lips then hand. At some point, I lost his eyes, but that didn’t sting as much as it used to. My gut told me he’d had enough, and not of my mouth. Raj had had enough of the intimacy that involved my mouth. He’d reached his capacity—one I didn’t know was so great for me.
I took a quick breath, one not as deep as my body needed after going so long without the function. The light from the big screen danced over and around us as we faced each other, but couldn’t somehow look at one another. My feet made the first move backward.
“Ummmm…” I swallowed. “I’ll—goodnight,” I murmured en route to the door.
My movement was casual, but when I hit the main hall of the second floor, my pace turned impatient. This place was huge—colossal, but my feet were on express to the master suite on the other side of the mansion. The moment I was there, coolly, I closed the door behind me. When I could hear the sound of it shut, I collapsed against it.
“Who. The. Fuck. Kisses. Like. That?” I whispered, throat painfully throbbing.
It damn sure wasn’t a man, who preferred men to women.
Fuck that!
“What you and that lil girl be doing?”
My eyes go to the foot of the bed while I lay on my bed. “Huhn?”
She turns to look over her shoulder, away from the television.
“You and that Heather girl from the church. What y’all be doing?”
I shrug.
She swipes her nose as she sniffles back snot. She always rubs her nose. Then she turns her body to the side, getting a better look at me.
“What you…twelve?” I nod. “And how old is she?”
“Eleven.” I go back to beating the air with my drumsticks.
“Shiiiiit,” she swears and chuckles. “That girl’s a damn baby.”
“Not to me,” I challenge.
“What you know about making a woman feel good, Gee-Gee?” Her mouth balls to the side. She don’t believe me.
My shoulders lift again. “Lots of stuff.”
She lifts from the foot of the mattress and before I know it, is squatting next to me.
“Show me.”
My sticks stop. “Huhn?”
One side of her lips curl in a smirk. “Go on. Show me.”
I scoot over toward the middle of the bed just a little.
“Nah.” I try beating the air again, but my mental rhythm’s gone.
“I ain’t gone tell nobody, Gee. I just wanna make sure you know what the fuck you doing. You gone be around here getting girls pregnant if you doing it the wrong way.”
“I be knowing what to do.” I try ignoring her, but don’t want to be rude.
That would be bad. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Boy, if you don’t get yo lanky ass over here and do what I say!” her voice is low, but commanding.
My heart begins to pound. She’s different this time. Everybody says she needs time, but maybe Grandmother letting her stay with me in the basement until a room opens upstairs ain’t cool. But she’s been cool with me. She brings me food downstairs and don’t tell nobody when I sneak on the phone after bedtime. Like tonight.
“If I have to tell you again to get over here and show me how you be kissing that girl, I’mma get a belt and whoop ya big ass good.”
I swallow hard, my arms tremble as I scoot back over to the edge. I know how to kiss girls. I’ve kissed four already. Why do I have to do this?
“Okay. Now sit up straight.”
I do.
“Show me.”
I can’t move. Even though I’m trying, I can’t even push down on my feet to leave out of here. She don’t wait either.
She leans into me, her breath smells like tobacco and that beer she likes to sneak down here. Her lips are soft, though. But it’s gross. None of the girls I’ve kissed smelled like this. I move back to disconnect from her.
She smiles. Her lips spread, showing where the missing teeth were. They weren’t missing before she left this last time, though.
“That’s all you be doing?”
I lie with a nod.
“Little ass, stay lying just like you do when you be telling that lil heffa you gone give her a ring after she let you touch her booty.”
My heart bangs in my chest at that. She’s been listening to us. She’s going to tell Grandmother!
I try to think fast…to say something that’s going to make her keep quiet. When I open my mouth to say something—anything, she moves forward and her tongue’s in my mouth, swirling. I take a deep breath, surprised by her closeness. Her stinking tongue. My head flies back and again, we disconnect. A sharp smack cuts my face.
“Don’t you move!” she screamed this time. “Don’t you fuckin’ move before I tell you. That’s how you gone get one of ‘em pregnant.” I’m out of breath now. I feel lightheaded, but my body is wound so tight, I can’t move again. “Now, let’s do it again. You hold still this time. You hear me?”
I can’t move. Can’t answer.
I don’t have to. She moves in on me again, blinding the lamp light from the nightstand, covering me in darkness.
“Was it love at first sight?” Pastor McKinnon giggled with such school girl innocence, it made my damn teeth hurt.
Raj’s head shot up from his phone.
I couldn’t help my laughter at the dining room table. “Absolutely not.”
“Pastor, what you talking ‘bout…love at first sight?”
She continued to giggle, this time behind her chubby hand. “I forget. You kids are more into flesh at first sight.”
My amused eyes flew to her grandson. He chuckled scratching his eyebrow.
“Grandmother, I don’t know what Earl put in your sweet tea tonight, but we ain’t having this conversation.”
She laughed, sitting up at the table and going for that very tea. After gulping a few swallows, she murmured, “It’s important, you know?”
Pastor McKinnon’s voice, when she wasn’t preaching or singing her gospel, was so petite and demure, it was almost easy to miss her.
My eyes roved up from my fingers as I was pushing back my cuticles to kill time. We’d just finished dinner.
“What’s that?” Raj asked.
Her lashes batted under those “barely there” brows. “Lying together.” Her chin dipped and eyes widened for emphasis. “As man and wife. It’s needed in a marriage. Even I know about the perils of ma
rriage. If there’s one thing needed to keep that connection, it’s…” She lowered her chin again. “…lying together. Problem is, men are led by their groins. And we women… Well, we’re controlled by our hearts and understanding of the need to nurture and be nurtured. When we feel neglected or our emotional needs are not being met, we shut down.” Her eyes flashed at her grandson. “When there is no heart flow, there’s no…womanly flow.”
“Grandmother!” he shouted.
Pastor McKinnon giggled in response, not the least bit slighted by his warning. This woman was strange, but benevolent. She may miss the mark often, but I was convinced her motives were pure. I didn’t know how a non-married person—pastor or not—could provide marital advice, but I didn’t balk. Hell, I wasn’t really married anyway. At least not in the commitment sense.
“Well, with that being said, let’s forego praise and worship tonight and give you two some time to…” She cleared her throat and giggled shyly. “…lie.”
Before either Raj or I could respond, she pushed her chair back from the table and stood. Raj, being the attentive and respectful grandson I’d been observing, stood along with her while tossing me concerned eyes. Absent was the millionaire entertainer, sought after by countless people. Here was a young boy, endeavoring to honor his grandmother.
I took to my feet, too. It was still early, hardly eight o’clock. What the fuck was I going to do until the morning?
“So,” I snuggled onto my side, pushing my arms underneath the pillow as I faced him, “who entertains the entertainer?”
“Huhn?” Raj halfway rolled his head over to me with hiked brows.
“It’s always evident how popular the entertainer is. Just look at the numbers. But most don’t know who impresses the entertainer when they want recreation. Who do you listen to?”
“Ah, man,” he breathed, finally processing the question. “Like music-wise?” I nodded and hummed my answer. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Umm… I like anything raw: vocals, instruments, dance—anything natural creatively. Lately, I’ve been stanning over Ameerah. Think she’s dope. Chick’s changing the game with string instruments.”