Complementary Colors Page 3

  I was too high and too busy watching the colors surrounding him to argue. It was either that or his rugged features, wide shoulders, or…I ran my fingers along his collarbone. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “You need to eat.”

  He went back to the kitchen.

  Like the living room, the dining room had a glass wall facing the heart of downtown. The lights on, the neighboring buildings were concealed behind the reflection of a dark haired man with lost eyes. The bones in his shoulders cut sharp lines to his thin arms. Men desired him, pined for him. With one look or pose, he could have them at his feet.

  How could anyone want a creature so hideous? The kind of ugly that sank into the soul and birthed terrible things. The coward. The liar.

  After a few minutes, Roy appeared with plates full of food. I stuck on my smile and melted into my chair. His cheeks reddened, and the bulge behind his towel thickened.

  I loved men with quick recovery. Nothing worse than a limp noodle when you’re wanting seconds, thirds, or whatever.

  He glanced at the window. “Maybe we should put something on.”

  “We’re twenty floors up. And if anyone wants to look, let them. I have nothing to hide, and you most certainly don’t.”

  I picked up the fork on the edge of the plate. “Omelets?”

  “They’re easy, plus I’m pretty good at them.”

  “Wow, a man who’s hung like a horse and can fix breakfast. I’m impressed.”

  Roy fumbled with his silverware.

  “Fuck, you’re actually embarrassed.”

  His smile waned.

  “How the hell can you be embarrassed by having a huge dick? Do you know how many men would kill to have a piece of meat like that between their legs? All of them.” I poked at the air between us with my fork. “I’ve been with a lot of men, few could compare.”

  A bite of omelet dangled from his fork. “Why so many?”

  I tortured my food. “Because I like the feel of a cock in my ass or one in my mouth.” I gave him a sly smile. “Even at the same time.”

  I’d never seen someone concentrate so hard on what they were eating. He cleared half his omelet in just a few bites.

  I pushed the table back and straddled his lap before he could protest.

  “You should be eating.” His gaze said something different.

  “Food is boring.” I licked his lips. Salt, pepper, olive oil, and crisp eggs. My stomach growled.

  He pulled the table back, speared a bite of food and held it up. “Here.”

  I stared.

  “Eat, Paris.”

  Was this a trick?

  “Please.”

  I accepted the gift. The mix of spices and cheese replaced the memory of his cum. “What did you put in this?” I sucked the oil from my bottom lip.

  Roy fed me another bite. “Onions, peppers, mushrooms, cheese.”

  I started to say something. He took advantage of my parted lips and shoved in another bite.

  I talked with my mouth full. “There was all that in the fridge?”

  “Yep.” He cut another piece.

  “It’s not food I’m hungry for.” I ran my hand through his hair.

  “Please eat.”

  I kissed his chin, his cheek, then brushed our lips together. I fed him my sigh and devoured his gasp. I undid his towel before he had a chance to stop me. His cock was a rigid bar of fire in my hand. “I could suck you off.”

  His eyes widened.

  “I think you like that idea.” I ran my thumb over the thick head. “Or maybe you’d rather fuck me on the table.”

  He swallowed so hard his throat clicked.

  “Yeah, I think you like that idea too.” I twisted my grip. Precum smeared on my wrist. “I think your cock really likes that idea.”

  Roy ran his knuckles lightly down my cheek.

  What I wanted was for him to hold me down and fuck me until I couldn’t walk.

  He cupped my face. “You are so beautiful.”

  “Roy,” I stroked him, and he fluttered his eyes. “I’m horny as hell, and I need you to do something about it.” I lined up our cocks. “Here. Your hands are bigger.” I showed him how to hold us together. “That’s it.” I rolled my hips, sliding my dick against his. “Not quite as fun as having you in my ass, but I figured you could use the variety.”

  Roy gripped the back of my head and plundered my mouth with his tongue. Gone the unsure man who hesitated. He moved his fist, adding to the friction. I wondered, if I asked him, if he would bend me over the chair. I wanted him inside me again. I wanted the heat of his body against my back. I pinched his nipples. His hold faltered only to return tighter and more determined.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Julia’s angry voice sent Roy toppling backward off the chair.

  My ass hit the floor.

  He grabbed a towel and covered himself.

  I rolled a look up at Julia. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy right now.”

  “I’ve been looking all over for you. I was beginning to think you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

  “Oh, if you could only be so lucky.” I stood.

  She gave me a disgusted look and averted her gaze. “You walked out on some very important people.”

  “They were no more important than anyone else who buys my work. And did they buy one?”

  “That’s not the point.” She tossed her chin up. “People like to see you and talk to you.”

  “They like to fuck me too, so what’s your point?” I fondled my cock.

  Julia glared at me, then Roy. “You’re disgusting, Paris. Absolutely disgusting.”

  “My apartment. I can do what I want.”

  She grabbed the plates off the table and stormed into the kitchen. The clatter of porcelain hitting the sink was so loud something had to have broken.

  Julia returned. “So this is why you left the showing? To get your rocks off?”

  “Rocks had nothing to do with it. I wanted a good fuck, and I found it.”

  “So…” She raked her gaze over Roy. “Is he one of the wait staff, or did you grab the first piece of ass on your way here?”

  “Don’t be so jealous. He swings both ways. I’m sure if you ask nicely he’ll give you a ride.” I winked at Roy.

  If he turned any redder, he was going to pass out from the lack of blood.

  “Not only does he have a quick recovery,” I held my hands up. “He’s got a really big—”

  “Shut up, Paris.” She jabbed at me with one of her ruby painted nails. “Just shut up. You’re nothing but a sick bastard.”

  “Hold on.” Roy held up a hand. “Don’t talk to him that way.”

  Julia sneered. “Why don’t you crawl back to whatever alley Paris dragged you out of?”

  Roy clenched his jaw hard enough to make the muscles in his face jump. I was about to apologize to him when his shadowed gaze met mine. He wasn’t upset for himself, he was upset for me.

  But Roy was the one who didn’t deserve Julia’s abuse. I don’t think he could have aimed a harsh thought in her direction.

  No such inhibitions existed for me. I propped my hand on the table behind me and leaned back, displaying all my assets.

  “Put some clothes on, Paris, before you embarrass yourself more than you already have.”

  “I’m not the least bit embarrassed.”

  “Go get dressed.”

  “Why? Last time I checked this was still my apartment. It’s late. I plan on going to bed. The only way I sleep is nude.”

  She hissed. “Don’t you have a shred of decency?”

  “Nope. Now if you don’t mind, I think you should go. Roy’s going to throw me over the table and stick his cock in my ass.” I grinned at her. “Or maybe you’d like to watch?”

  The rage in her blue eyes glowed. Only one thing could happen now, and I didn’t want Roy to see it. To him, I said, “You should probably get dressed.” He flicked a look at Julia. “It’s okay. Sh
e’s like this all the time. I keep telling her she should get laid.”

  I walked Roy into the studio. He dressed so fast he didn’t have time to button his shirt. A streak of dried cum stained the thigh of his slacks.

  “Send me the cleaning bill,” I said.

  “A friend who owns a rental store gave it to me.”

  “Tell the store to send me the replacement cost. I’ll get them something nicer.”

  Julia’s stare beat against my back from across the room. Roy went to the elevator, jacket in hand. I stopped him as he stepped inside and claimed his mouth. A surprised sound bubbled from his chest. He pushed his tongue against mine and fought me for dominance.

  How did he learn to kiss me so well in a short amount of time?

  I let him go, and he stopped the doors from closing. “I want to see you again.” Roy felt his pockets and came up with a business card made from cheap paper. “That’s my cell. If I don’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back.” People said things like that all the time but never meant it. “If you don’t feel comfortable being alone with me, I’ll take you to dinner.”

  I fingered the collar of his shirt. “I think we’re way past being uncomfortable together.”

  He dropped his gaze and ran a hand over his head. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

  “Go home, Roy.” I pecked him on the cheek. “Back to your world where you’ll be safe from me.”

  A V appeared on his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s a limo downstairs. The driver’s name is Jerry. Tell him I said to drive you home.”

  “Thank you.” Roy kissed my palm, then the elevator doors closed between us.

  Over the years, a few men wanted to see me again for another quicky, but not because they wanted to take me to dinner. And I’m pretty sure “thank you” never crossed their minds.

  I picked up my wallet from the floor and slid his card inside. I don’t know why because I’d never see him again.

  I left it on the workbench while I gathered up my clothes. As I stood, I caught Julia in my periphery. The section canvas frame she wielded struck me across the shoulder and a blast of pain numbed my arm. She aimed the second swing at my head, but I turned and my shoulder took the brunt of the impact. Sharp colored agony ripped across my chest. A crack echoed through the studio, and I fell on my side. She tossed aside the broken stretcher bar.

  “Get up.” Julia grabbed a jar off my workbench and threw it. I shielded my face from the explosion of glass and mineral spirits. “I said get up, Paris.”

  I knew better. It only took once for me to learn the consequences of any action Julia could interpret as aggression. And thanks to a stack of papers and my medical history, no one would ever believe I’d acted in self-defense.

  A trickle of mineral spirits burned a line down my cheek. I wipe it away. Splinters of glass stuck to my skin, but there wasn’t much blood.

  “Fine. Stay there. Being on your knees is about all you’re good for anyhow.” She picked up her purse from the couch. “You have a dinner party tomorrow evening so get your shit together. Here.” She tossed a bottle of pills at me. They bounced off the floor and rolled to a stop near my head. “Make sure to take them. I need you presentable. Your next showing will be in two weeks at the Avalon. Andrew Davis is going to be there. He’s interested in the Blue Madonna, and you will do whatever it takes to make him happy. I swear to you, Paris, if you bail and cost me this sale, I will break your leg.” Bits of glass crunched to dust under Julia’s high heels. The elevator doors closed, and I was alone.

  Chapter Two

  The light from the neighboring buildings drew outlines around the curtains and left highlights across my body, creating a ghostly image in the mirror above my bed.

  “I want to see you again.” The echo of Roy’s voice created ripples of color across the static of black. Normally nightmares kept me awake, not the memory of man’s touch, the scent of his flesh, or how he looked at me.

  The weight those thoughts created in my chest wasn’t unfamiliar only forgotten. Then in that moment, there in the solitude, a sliver of happiness rose through years of darkness and neared the surface. A precious memory from a time before the screaming inside my head spilled out into the world. Sometimes it was like that, and those rare pieces of my past were treasures that gave me a reason to live.

  I had to have it.

  Every thump of my foot on the stairs fed the tide of yellows, reds, and oranges. Green followed me across the studio while ribbons of gold connected everything. The need for the brush in my hand burned hotter than carnal desires.

  There were a half dozen canvases lined up on a shelf, most of them as wide as I was tall. Nothing I pulled from my thoughts could be contained on a smaller field.

  I grabbed a clean palette and filled it with the rainbow droppings of brutalized tubes of paint. A clump of orange went directly on the canvas.

  The fight to capture the moment began with blocks of color and lines of movement stitched together by negative space. Dark pushed the light. Colors hummed at the edges. Gradient shades took blistering hues into the background and shoved the rest to the edge.

  I carved through the layers of oils until I gasped for air, dimples formed in the calluses on my fingers, my shoulders burned, and cramps twisted the muscles in my back. My sweat fell like tears, mixing with the paint.

  The image emerged from the mass of color. A boy. A smile. Kind eyes. I searched for more of him, but there was only the sunlight through broken leaves. It covered him in glorious fragments of golden light.

  I’d held his hand. I’d cherished his laugh. His lips had been so soft against mine.

  What was his name?

  I didn’t deserve him after what I’d done, but maybe on some deep level, I hoped by honoring the moment before the darkness he’d forgiven me and I’d be granted peace.

  It wasn’t unusual for me to pass out after completing a work. Tearing off pieces of my soul was not only painful but exhausting. At least when I fell asleep, I didn’t dream.

  ********

  “Paris? Paris, wake up.”

  Grit concreted my eyelids, and I shivered from the bone-deep chill courtesy of the tile floor.

  Alice wrapped a robe around my shoulders. “You need to get up before Julia gets here.”

  Because she wouldn’t show me the same kindness Alice did.

  “At least she wouldn’t have to exert the effort to knock me down.” I tied the robe closed.

  “You shouldn’t provoke her.” Alice picked up the bottle of pills from the bench. “Did you take your medicine?”

  No. “Of course I did.” I staggered to my feet. Pain went from my hand to my arm. I rubbed the bruise near my elbow.

  Alice cocked her mouth to the side. Even when she scowled, her smile seeped through. “Are you sure?”

  “Cross my heart, hope to die.” I made an X over the left side of my chest.

  She put the bottle back on the bench and turned her attention to the canvas. “It’s very pretty.”

  Alice never gave empty compliments. She also didn’t pretend to understand what I created. To her, my works were just pretty colors on canvas.

  “Thank you.”

  “What are you going to name it?”

  The Kiss. “Why don’t you name it?”

  Her eyes widened. “Me?”

  The scent of wet earth was followed by the whisper of a tarp over dead leaves. Dread rose up in my throat with a burn. “I need a drink.”

  Alice followed me into the kitchen. “I don’t know anything about naming a painting.”

  I leaned against the counter and pressed my palm against my eye in a sad attempt to hold back the pounding in my skull. “Where’s the vodka?” I got a glass out of the cabinet.

  Alice brought me the bottle from the freezer and a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

  I splashed enough juice in the glass to give the vodka some color.

  “I think you’re supp
osed to use more juice than that.”

  “I’m being efficient.” I drank too much too fast, and the alcohol threatened to ride up my nasal passages. “Well?” The word came out on a squeak.

  “Well what?” She put the juice and vodka away.

  “What are you going to name the painting?”

  Alice worried the hem of her blouse. “You know I don’t know anything about art.”

  I waved the glass around. “Just name it something biblical or sexual.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  “I’m not. I swear.” I saluted her confused expression with my drink. “The only rule you need to know about art is that religion and sex sells.” I shrugged. “When all else fails, people get kinky or find God.”

  “Paris…”

  I pecked her on the cheek. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  She pulled the glass out of my hand and herded me to the stairs. “You need to go get cleaned up. It’s already after three o’clock, and Julia will be here soon to take you to the Bransfords.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They’re the people hosting the party for you this evening.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they bought three of your paintings and want to meet you.”

  Great. Three paintings. No telling what extras Julia promised them. “Do you know how long this dinner party will last?” That was usually a clue.

  “Not really, but Julia told me not to wait up.”

  That meant she’d promised them more than I’d want to give. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Would be a shame to puke all over their fancy floors.”

  “Stop it, Paris. You’re not sick, and this is important. These people love you. They want to meet you.”

  If only that was all they expected. Granted, it was just sex, but I hated that Julia decided who that sex would be with.

  “Go, Paris.” She pushed me toward the stairs. “I’ll make some coffee, then come up there and help you with the makeup.”

  “We’ve talked about this, Alice. Just because I like to bottom doesn’t mean I’m a girl.”

  She aimed a finger at me. “Your cheek.”

  I touched my face. Several cuts patterned a trail to my temple.