Painted Passion

by Latisha Brandon

  He made even the most sullen women smile radiantly. Kevin was a natural born charmer, and females of all ages, sizes, and ethnic groups flocked to him. He was like a beacon of light, with hoards of willing fairies surrounding him. She would walk away if he were not so damn adorable and tasty. That night over dinner they’d had the talk about previous relationships.

  “Tell me about the women in your past.”

  “They vary.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  Kevin couldn’t deny he was a lover of women, from their smell to their coquettish smiles. Because of the way they over-analyzed every eventuality, he considered them more complicated than men. He enjoyed innocent flirtations, exotic evenings. He noticed new haircuts, the way they relied on each other, how they could be ambitious and feminine at the same time. He studied them, enjoyed their banter, their company, the way they could be rowdy one moment and ladylike the next. Yes, Kevin was a lover of women.

  Ashlyn didn’t know whether to applaud that characteristic or try to banish it, because it made him highly attuned to her moods, needs, and desires. If she tried to vanquish the traits that attracted women, then that would affect his interaction with her, and she adored the way he knew her.

  When they were not on the beach, at the boardwalk, playing miniature golf, which she always beat him at, he walked around the condo in towels, low-slung faded jeans, and thigh—and butt-hugging underwear…always shirtless. Ashlyn switched the water to cold. Was relief too much to ask for? He was so comfortable in his own skin, and he damn sure loved to show it off. She loved it most when he came in sweaty from the gym. She sat at the granite counter on those days, waiting and watching.

  He would come in and instantly pull his shirt over his head, throwing it in the washing machine in a room off the kitchen. His shorts and shoes came next. Today he’d done it again. Ashlyn nearly choked on her sweetened dried papaya. The contents in her mouth spewed across the counter, and Kevin pounded on her back. That was the last straw.

  Ashlyn grabbed her shoes and went to hike the dunes for two hours. She came back and took off her shirt and sports bra in the kitchen before heading to the laundry room, where she removed her shorts and sneakers. She walked directly past him, where he sat on the couch watching Serena play tennis. Ashlyn wore only her slinky high-cut red underwear, and her back glistened with sweat. Her bottom was extra appealing. She put an extra-deep sway in her walk just for him.

  Now she stood in the bitterly cold shower, pissed for being such a coward. She was no shrinking violet. Why not let him know? Damn it, she was tired of waiting. She was ready to see what he hid beneath his shorts. Ashlyn turned the water off, stepped out, and grabbed a towel. She added moisture to her hair and a product to combat frizz.

  She turned on the hair dryer, deciding she would turn in early. She couldn’t sit and watch Kevin eat one more platter of barbeque ribs as if he were making love to it and swill beer without gaining a ounce of excess weight. She was sick of him, with his disarming smiles, tight body, and allure spilling out of his pores. She was sexually frustrated, without a vibrator in sight.

  Maybe she should seek one at the sex toy store she’d passed, the one Kevin tried to drag her into. But there was no way in hell she was going in so he could taunt her. If he were so acknowledgeable, then why didn’t he know she was ripe, ripe for the picking, damn near about to fall off the vine. It would be his own fault if someone else plucked her. Well, she wasn’t ready to go that far, but she decided to walk to that store. She would buy the biggest dildo she could find and wave it beneath his nose.

  Ashlyn moisturized her skin with body butter and retrieved her towel, tucking the ends around her. She turned off the light and headed to her lonely bedroom.

  * * *

  Kevin lay in the middle of the bed, waiting for her. From the minute she’d passed him earlier and gone into the shower, he’d lain there. He’d noticed the way her eyes followed him, as if she saw no one else. However, he’d wanted to give her time, time for her desire to grow to such a force that she summoned him to her bedside. He would love to call it simple lust, but he knew that wasn’t true. When he’d heard her speak to her father about him, it had touched him, moved him in a way unknown before. Ever since they’d met, he hadn’t been the same. He went through the motions of flirting, but that was second nature to him. With her, he wanted to linger, and he knew he would even after he made love to her. No sneaking out with his shirt over his arm and his shoes clutched in his hand.

  Frank had to be some kind of fool to leave her. She tolerated Kevin’s flirtations as if she knew they were meaningless, his way of keeping her at a distance. If she only knew, she dominated his dreams. He pounded his muscles for days, trying to eradicate her from his brain, his body, knowing when he came home, she would be waiting in tiny tank tops and the shortest shorts known to man. Yet he was supposed to behave like a gentleman. He was at the end of his rope, a man drowning in a sea of sexual frustration.

  Ashlyn found him lying there, dominating the master suite he’d given her. She held the towel to her chest. “Why are you in my room?” she questioned, secretly titillated, though she kept her facial expression natural.

  “Can I paint you?” he asked with sweet sincerity.

  Ashlyn looked around. “Where’s your canvas?”

  He was deeply intense that evening, his customary light gone, dimmed to darker shades.

  “Can I paint you?” he asked again.

  “I’m going to need you to clarify something for me, Zahir….what do you plan on painting?”

  “Your body is the canvas. So, again I ask…can I paint you?”

  “Yes, of course.” Her voice wavered as she tried to mask her nervousness.

  Kevin rose and turned on music. “I hope it’s to your liking?” He pulled out a small paint set from the dresser. “Recline on the bed…just you…the towel will get in the way.”

  She dropped the towel at her feet, going with the flow. She crawled from the foot of the bed to the head, but not before gazing at him over her shoulder.

  Kevin perused the sensually lovely view, taking gulping breaths. She was already aroused.

  “Where do you want me?”

  “In the center, and lie on your stomach, so I can start with your back.”

  She turned to face him. “Start what?”

  “This is a henna-based body paint. It’s Indian. Mehndi is a five-thousand-year-old form of traditional painting, used for celebration. Your luscious body is the canvas, and our time together the celebration.” He took his time, curling the cool, wet brush across her back.

  Ashlyn closed her eyes and folded her arms beneath her head. He touched her not with his hands, but an extension of them. The experience was a painting foreplay.

  “The paint dries quickly. In the morning it will begin to peel, leaving vibrant colors of orange to deep red…the perfect complement to your skin tone.” Kevin kissed along her shoulder blades, leaving love bites along the way, and blew on her back.

  Ashlyn didn’t know how much more she could take.

  “Turn over.” She rushed to do so.

  He started at her feet, created boldly pretty swirls. He watched as she fought her arresting arousal. Her body called to his, with scent and sound. Her earthy womanly fragrance, uniquely hers, was a telling sign, as old as time.

  “Kevin, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

  Kevin blew on her feet, bending her knees, opening her, witnessing her flower unfurl. She was moist.

  “I have to finish your hands first.” He began with her right hand, up along her wrist and forearm. Hearing her frantic sighs and seeing her head turn from side to side, Kevin slowly walked to the other side of the bed, watching at the foot as she raised her legs in invitation, a sexual pirouette. However, Kevin wanted to draw the time out, extend it for as long as possible.

  He settled on her left and began to paint, sucking and licking her fingers along the way, nipping the ends, a touch
she felt in her core. Kevin watched the nails of her right hand graze along her neck, to her hardening nipples, down her belly, and settling. “Kevin, baby, I need you here.”

  When fingers dipped low, Kevin came unhinged. He frantically stepped out of his pants, but took the time to protect them both. No other touch was needed, he mounted her, wrapping his hands around her waist, and filled his hands with her derrière. He surged into her, forcing her hips up to meet his. She was so unbelievably tight.

  Ashlyn cradled his waist with her knees, taking him as deep as possible, touching her womb. Nothing had ever been this good, shouting good. Ashlyn held his face, kissing him, welcoming him home.

  Kevin’s body went rigid. The end was approaching, too soon. He returned her kiss, playing with her tongue. Her body clamped around him, milking him. He moved and she met him thrust for thrust, her love sounds intensifying the encounter. He looked at where they were joined, the sight hardening him even more. He didn’t know it was even possible. He spoke to her through a haze of mindless bliss, random phrases, “Let go… loose…score my back…me, I’m yours!”

  Deeper, deeper he burrowed, and she chanted, “Stamp your presence on my soul… this is love, Kevin, you are my love!”

  Together, they reached starry outer regions, with Ashlyn hitting Mariah-like notes, and Kevin vociferous, like the leader of a pack. Kevin pistoned her. Never had he accepted words of love, instead ducking and diving from the sentiments with the precision of an acrobat. He rained kisses upon her eyelids, her nose, cheeks, and chin. She was his, his body hardening again, even before he withdrew.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Ashlyn rubbed his back, arching into him, pulling him closer. “You delivered on your word, you really weren’t boasting.” She was boneless, as if she were under sedation. Kevin rose from the bed, making a quick trip to the bathroom. Ashlyn rolled to her side, not bothering to cover with the bedding. She grinned like a loon, wishing she had someone to tell this all to.

  Kevin slipped back into the bed, spooning with her. “You were well worth the wait. When you walked past me this evening, heading to the shower, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. I have to respect your gumption. Was I correct in interpreting that as the signal you said you would send?”

  “By the time I returned this evening, I was so angry with you that I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine. Sending out a signal was the last thing on my mind.” She linked her fingers with his, resting them on her torso.

  “However we arrived here, I’m just glad we did. Are you in love with me?” Kevin asked, surprised by the topic he just brought up. Normally he avoided delving into deeper emotions.

  “How should I answer that, Kevin? If I admit to being in love, and the feelings are not reciprocated, how would I rebound from that?” Denying the words she’d already spoke aloud, she hoped he’d drop the subject.

  “I heard you, and I won’t let you take it back. I believe this may be love, but I’ve never been in love before.” It was easier to speak of it with her back facing him. Kevin hugged her, his fingers circling her nipples. He pinched them both, and Ashlyn draped her leg across his thigh.

  Ashlyn rubbed her bottom into his pelvis, wanting him to surge into her. But he glided in slowly, inch by inch. She used her muscles, sharply pulling him, but still he slowly slid. Ashlyn wound her head like a dance hall girl, while Kevin skimmed along her heat, and pinched her nipples unmercifully. The pleasure and pain combined; Ashlyn desired to flee and remain simultaneously.

  He refused to relinquish his hold on her breasts, while he repeated the same series of thrusts—three long strokes, three short—the repetitive motions bringing her to the brink over and over.

  “Do you love me?”

  Ashlyn tried to escape, but he held her, three long strokes, three short. What was beyond love, because that’s where she found herself, but to tell him was a fool’s task. Kevin bit her neck, tasting her salty skin, licking the burn, administering an elixir with his tongue.

  “Do you love me?” Three long strokes, three short, while squeezing her nipples. “Do you love me?” His tongue traced the shell of her ear.

  She felt the heady rush approach again, so she circled her hips, seeking it.

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes, yes…I have loved you from the beginning!”

  Kevin continually pressed upward, losing track of his tally, until he was empty, his body drained of sustenance but full of her, just her.

  “I love you. You’re the first to hear those words. Believe them, because they’re true.” Kevin kissed her neck.

  Ashlyn peered over her shoulder at him, relishing the truth in his spoken words and the tender touch of his softened lips on hers.

  * * *

  Ashlyn survived without the sun for what seemed an eternity, but in actuality a decidedly stimulating two days. She laid her head upon her folded knees, her lazy fingers raking the surface of the warm brown-sugar-scented bath water. Kevin ran the sea sponge down her back. The silence was a cocoon. She knew eventually she needed to return home and face her responsibilities, but she prayed for just a little more time. How could this last with her in Atlanta and Kevin in Philadelphia? Long-distance relationships rarely worked.

  “What are you thinking about? Your shoulders are tense.”

  “I have to return home soon. I haven’t spoken to my baby in over a week.”

  The slippery sponge slid out of Kevin’s hand, plopping into the water. Never once had she mentioned a baby. He didn’t know if he was ready to be a step-daddy. “Ummm, Ashlyn, you never mentioned a baby.”

  “I know, my mind has been preoccupied with you.” She picked up the sponge and began to wash her legs, never noticing his turmoil.

  “How can you forget a baby? How old is he or she?” Kevin began to pace the floor of the bathroom, his hands running down his face.

  Ashlyn watched him pace, dumbstruck by his reaction. “Fancy is two years old.”

  He knew she was Irish, but who named an innocent child Fancy? She would be teased unmercifully! She would need him to teach her how to defend herself. Maybe he could deal with a child, but Ashlyn should have told him before now.

  Kevin sat on the edge of the tub. “Ashlyn, you should have told me you were a single mom. Is this why you and Frank separated? Was he not ready to be a father?”

  Ashlyn thought his eyes would pop out of his head and roll across the floor. His knuckles were white, grasping the edge of the tub. Ashlyn stood and looked down at him as if he had lost his mind.

  How could she come that far and not tell him about a baby, he wondered?

  She stepped out of the tub, intentionally getting him wet in the process. Ashlyn stomped into the bedroom, searching for clothes, but found only an oversized T-shirt.

  “I’m not judging you, but I don’t think it’s fair to find out this way.” Kevin stood behind her, frustrated by her indifference, and shocked by her laughter when this was no laughing matter.

  “Kevin, Fancy is a dog. A Labrador who digs up my newly planted flowers, chews on my best friend’s thousand-dollar shoes, sleeps in the middle of the bed, and refuses to go to obedience school. So, in actuality, she’s as close to a child as I’ve gotten.” Ashlyn pushed him on the bed and crawled onto his lap, her legs along his waist. “Why do you constantly mention Frank? He’s in my past and best left there.”

  “I find it hard to believe that a person could be interested in two such vastly different men. You take intimacy very seriously, so that lets me know you were anticipating a future with Frank. So, what happened? Why are you here with me and not him?”

  Ashlyn leaned forward, massaging his chest, grazing her nails against his flattened nipples.

  “Are you trying to get me to drop the subject? Because I won’t…tell me about him?”

  Ashlyn sat up straight, meeting his eyes, with her hands folded before her. “Frank and I met at a farmers market. I had been
in Atlanta for less than three years. We connected instantly. Our backgrounds are alike, and we had the same interests. You’re right, I thought he was going to be the man I married, but that wasn’t the case.”

  “Why? What happened?” he asked, uncomfortable with the reverence in her voice.

  “He told me from the beginning that marriage didn’t interest him, but I believed he would change his mind if I made him love me enough. It sounds so silly saying it aloud. Why do you ask about him, when you never tell me about one particular woman from your past?”

  “You already answered your own question. There are women in my past, not just one that stands out the way Frank does. I need to know if there are lingering feelings there.” He held her gaze, pacified by her not looking away, trying to hide.

  “He’s my past, and I dealt with the severing of that relationship a long time ago.”

  “I’m the first black man you have ever dated.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She pondered why he felt the need to say it aloud. “Yes, that goes without saying.” He’d already anticipated her next statement. “I’m the first woman with a Euro background you’ve ever dated.”

  He unfolded her hands and linked them with his. “Yes, as far as they or I know. Do you feel the need to identify yourself as black or white?”

  “No, though during my childhood and college years I’ve lived predominately in one culture.”

  “I’m not going to ask what culture that is.”

  “Does it bother you? I was terribly afraid it would.”

  “Not as much as I thought it would…but I don’t wish to be an experiment.”

  Here was the Kevin she knew and loved. Straight to the point. “How could you think that of me? What can I do to make you believe in me?” Ashlyn asked, unzipping his pants.

  “You can most definitely start there!” Kevin said, letting her do all the work.

  “What we need is honey,” she purred, loving the ecstatic look on his face.