After a month apart, Kela needed more than a hard pounding. She wanted to be held, kissed and loved. She missed the sensual evenings of lovemaking she and Roland had once shared.
She turned around, catching a glimpse of Roland’s body as he straightened his clothing and zipped up his pants. His skin was so pale.
“That was a bit intense,” she said, pulling down her skirt. “I don’t crave domination. Got it?”
“Seeing you bent over the sofa with your ass in the air did something to me. I really got into it. Did I hurt you?”
“You got a bit rough.”
He reached out and caressed her arm. “I’m sorry. Knowing you were coming here tonight really got me worked up. Your ass really looks good, baby.”
“Maybe you should come home for a few days. We could relax and go to the beach. You could use a little sun.”
He withdrew his hand. “I am home.”
Kela glanced around. His apartment was smaller than a motel room. “How can you work in this cramped space?”
“I like it here.”
“The master bedroom at home is twice this size. There’s no light here.”
“Andre inspires me.”
That’s what he used to say about her. “All you talk about is Andre.”
“Andre is important to me. Without him, I have no career.”
Kela wished Roland had never met the man. Three months ago Karr had shown interest in Roland’s work but hadn’t offered to display his seascapes in the Karr Galley. She’d encouraged Roland to keep trying. Following her advice, Roland had shown Karr a painting he’d done of her.
She was sitting on the wet sand, looking at the sea. The viewer’s gaze was drawn to her green eyes and the silver-and-ruby cross hanging between her breasts. Karr bought the painting and wanted to see more of Roland’s nudes.
“Your career is important, but I don’t like what’s happening to you. To us.”
“I’m fine.” Instead of gathering her close and reassuring her, he sat down on the sofa. “I’m selling my work and for the first time in my life I’m really happy.”
He might as well have slapped her in the face. “So the last two years meant nothing?”
“Come here,” he said. “I want to look at you.”
She sat next to him. “Are we okay, Roland?”
“Of course we are. I’ve been so wrapped up in my work and the show I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry.”
“I miss you, Roland. I love you. I want to be with you.”
“Take off the cross and climb on my lap. I want to suck on those lush nipples.”
The cross was about four inches long and hefty. During vigorous sex, Roland had been hit in the face with the cross on more than one occasion, but Kela never took it off. She’d never break her pledge to her father.
Kela adjusted the chain and hung the cross down her back, hiked up her skirt and straddled Roland’s lap.
“I can smell the heat of your pussy,” he said, slipping his hand between her legs. “Baby, you’re still wet.”
The point of one nail stabbed her. “Ouch. Your nails are sharp.”
He fisted his hand, rubbing his knuckles along her slit. “I want to please you. I want to make you come.”
Her pussy tingling, Kela rocked her hips.
“How does that feel?”
The sensation was new, the friction of his hard knuckles against her pussy oddly erotic.
“Come for me, baby. Come so hot you sear my flesh.”
Roland latched on to her nipple and suckled. Damn, that felt good.
She rode his hand, reveling in the rivers of heat streaming from her breast to her pussy.
The old Roland was back, the lover that took his time and did delicious things with his lips and tongue. Her heart swelled, pounding with love.
Moaning, Kela dug her nails into his hard muscles. When had Roland become such a hard body? The question slid away in the heat of her climax.
“I’ve missed that.”
Roland released her nipple and pressed his forehead against her breast. “Your heart’s pounding so fast.”
“You excite me.” Kela put her arms around him, burying his face between her breasts. His skin was cool against her warm flesh. All was not lost. Once Roland had his show they’d get back on track. “I want our life back.”
Roland raised his head. “Move to the city.”
“This place is too small.”
“You’d have to get your own place, but we’d get to fuck every night.”
Her emotions were jumbled. They’d often made love with the smell of paint permeating their nostrils, but Roland was thinking only of his needs. He didn’t want her with him. He wanted convenient sex.
What was happening? The gentle, loving artist she’d fallen in love with was morphing into a self-centered asshole.
“I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about us. Time alone, to talk and just be together. We used to take walks and hang out at the beach. We had breakfast at dawn so you’d catch the morning light.”
“I’m not that guy anymore. I’ve changed. My art has changed.”
“Changed? How?” She glanced at the covered canvas. “I want to see.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I love your work.”
“It’s not finished, but you can look.”
Kela climbed off his lap and pulled down her skirt, then carefully lifted the cloth cover off the canvas. Her breath caught.
“I think it’s my best work. Andre loves it.”
At Karr’s request, Roland had switched from seascapes to nudes. He painted beautiful human forms. His recent works included embracing couples and clasped hands, emotional images of love and affection that touched the heart. This painting shocked her to the core.
The image of three naked entwined bodies, two male and one female, was blatantly sexual, lacking joy and warmth. One man, his erection visible, was poised to penetrate the center male figure. The man in the center was taking a woman from behind. Her face was contorted with pain instead of pleasure.
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t get who I am.”
“This isn’t you. There’s no passion here.”
“I didn’t think you’d like it.”
“This is what has kept us apart? This is what Andre wants you to paint?”
“It’s my art.”
She studied the faces. “The figure in the middle, is that Andre?”
“It is, and the female is Jenna.”
Kela saw the resemblance. “Jenna posed for this?”
“Andre was posing and she insisted. They’re a couple, of sorts.”
Her friend had never been into older men or shown an attraction for guys like Karr. Jenna loved country music and handsome cowboys. Young cowboys. “Jenna and Andre? I don’t believe you.”
“Let’s go upstairs to the party and you can see for yourself.”
Like Roland, Jenna had ceased to be part of Kela’s daily life. Recently, her friend had been too busy to get together for lunch or catch a movie. Their relationship had dwindled to text messages filled with excuses. Kela stopped texting and hadn’t heard from Jenna in close to two weeks.
“She’s here?”
“Every night.”
Kela stared at the painting, wishing she could see it in normal lighting. The pain on Jenna’s face tore at Kela’s heart. It looked so real and Karr appeared downright evil. Nothing made sense. Not the painting or Roland’s new look. “I want to see Jenna.”
“Let’s go upstairs. Andre will be upset if he finds out you were here and didn’t stop in to say hello.”
Kela didn’t care if she upset Karr. She wanted to speak with Jenna. She plucked her bikini underwear off the carpet. They were ripped beyond repair.
Roland snatched them out of her hand and tossed them aside. “Knowing you’re naked beneath that short skirt turns me on.” He reached out and flicked her nipple with a nail. “Make me happy. Forget the bra and the top.”
“Think again.”
“Andre shows off your painting at every party. I want everyone to see the real thing. Living art.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t joke about art.”
“I’m not going to walk half naked into a room full of strangers.”
“They’re not strangers. They’re clients and friends.”
Kela scooped up her top and slipped it over her head, then adjusted the cross to lie between her breasts. “Your friends will just have to use their imagination.”
He opened the door. “You’re so old school.”
Just a few months ago, Roland had been old school. Kela understood Roland’s desire for success, but he’d let himself become too influenced by Karr.
His hand at the small of her back, Roland escorted her down the hallway to the elevator. They stepped into the car. The ride was brief.
“Don’t act shocked,” Roland said.
“Why should I be shocked?”
Her question was answered the moment the elevator doors opened. Heavy-metal music blasted and naked people filled the penthouse. Bathed in red light, Karr’s guests were having sex in every way, shape and form with multiple partners.
She froze in her tracks. “This isn’t a party.” She raised her voice to be heard over the music. “This is an orgy.”
Roland leaned down and put his face close to hers. “Come on, Kela. Keep your cool. Everyone is having fun.”
Kela believed consenting adults were free to engage in their preferred tastes, but this wasn’t her scene and Roland knew it. Angry, she looked at Roland. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
“It’s sex. No big deal.”
It was a big deal. Roland hadn’t considered her feelings. “It’s not them. It’s you.”
“Please don’t make a scene. Stay. Have one drink. You want to see Jenna, don’t you?”
“I can’t believe Jenna is here.”
“See for yourself.”
Kela nodded. She clung to Roland’s arm as they entered the living room. Everywhere she looked she saw naked people, fondling, kissing, sucking and fucking. On one sofa, a woman with long hair was going down on a guy who was having oral sex with another guy. On the floor nearby a middle-aged man was having anal sex with a young man wearing makeup and dangling earrings. Another woman was hanging onto a tasseled rope mounted to the ceiling. Her legs were draped over the shoulders of a kneeling man while another man, hips grinding, stood behind her.
“Ohmigod.”
Roland laughed. “You’ve seen people fucking before.”
“In movies.”
“Watching people fuck is a turn-on. Real is better.”
Roland had mentioned Karr’s penthouse parties during their too-brief conversations. Was this how he was spending his evenings? Was he participating?
“We should join the fun.”
Kela glanced around, her senses assaulted by the smell of smoke from burning incense, the throbbing beat of the music and the writhing bodies, glowing red from the lighting. Everywhere she looked were entwining legs, moving arms, bobbing heads, humping butts, jiggling breasts and jutting penises. Every guy in the room had a hard-on.
She swallowed. “You can’t be serious?”
“I’m not asking you to fuck anyone else, just me.”
Kela enjoyed the thrill of sex in public places. She and Roland had made love at the beach and in the woods, but they hadn’t been exhibitionists. “Make love in front of all these people? That’s what you want?”
“Fucking is fun.”
“This isn’t for me and I can’t believe it’s for you. A few months ago you were jealous if a guy checked out my breasts.”
“It’s different here. People aren’t so repressed.”
“I’m not repressed and fucking multiple partners doesn’t make you enlightened.”
Roland sighed and guided her to a beautiful glass bar at the far end of the huge living room. The music wasn’t as loud at the bar, making the moans, grunts, squeals, grunts and sucking sounds impossible to ignore.
“How about a drink? Maybe a few shots of tequila will loosen you up.”
Tequila shots had resulted in sex at the beach. “White wine.”
Wanting to avoid looking at the intimate scenes all around her, Kela kept her gaze on Roland. He slipped behind the bar and poured her a glass, his actions demonstrating how at home he was in Karr’s penthouse. Wine in hand, he rejoined her.
“Enjoy,” he said, handing her the glass. “Andre serves the good stuff.”
“Thanks.” How many times had she and Roland spent an evening drinking cheap wine and making love? Expensive liquor didn’t make life better. She glanced around the room. If this was urban chic, Kela wanted no part of it.
She sipped the wine. “You’re not drinking?”
He shook his head. “After everyone passes out, I paint. I’d like to paint you again. Will you pose for me?”
Kela kept her back to the living room. Thankfully, there wasn’t a mirror behind the bar. “Of course.”
“Can you come back tomorrow night and sit for me?”
“Since when do you paint at night?”
“I paint when it suits me.”
“Chabeau!”
Recognizing the voice, Kela stiffened. The last thing she wanted to see was a naked Andre Karr. She forced a smile and swiveled around on the stool to face the gallery owner. Karr was dressed in a tuxedo, and like Roland his nails were pointed and painted. The small tuff of dark hair on the point of his chin reminded Kela of a billy goat. His long bleached-blond hair was swept back from his face and looked pink beneath the red lights.