Uncensored Passion (Men of Passion) (2 page)

From a pragmatic, rather than an egotistical point of view, Kayla knew she was attractive, but she was completely oblivious to the fact that her mane of flaming strawberry-blonde hair, her flawless, creamy, unblemished skin, and her striking figure made her, in everyone else’s eyes, model perfect.

She also knew her expressive green eyes were one of her most compelling features, so she used them to full advantage. Having mastered the art of unspoken sensual conversation, she oftentimes shuttered them to relay an intensely provocative suggestion in a flirtatious way that drew those males she sought to know, then held them until she ultimately obtained her desired sensual results.

When she was sexually aroused, Kayla’s eyes would change color to reflect the depth of her emotional temperature, seeming to emit an iridescent light, especially when she was in the middle of an orgasm. She learned this the night one of her more poetic lovers, Michael, called them sexually luminescent, commenting that her green eyes gleamed in a feral, catlike way as she reached a climax. He added, “Kayla Saradon, you are a very seductive, mesmerizing lady who can tempt a man to reach beyond his sexual limits, but should I die of a heart attack on your bed, at least I’ll die smiling.”

Later, every time Kayla recalled that night, she had to smile, remembering Michael, a passing-through-Nashville-fling she couldn’t resist after meeting him at a cocktail party. However, the wit and charm she had found so intriguing quickly dissipated after the passion cooled, and she digested his parting comment as he rolled to the side of the bed and reached to pat her butt in a dismissive way.

“That was great, babe. Just what I needed to round out a good day. Too bad we’re just ships passing in the night. But that’s life. As much as I enjoyed you, I’m married and unavailable. And you, my insatiable pet, need to find someone as hot as you are—someone who
is
available, because you’re too much of a woman not to be fucked thoroughly and often.”

Now, as Kayla pulled her car into her garage and switched it off, the memories of that night with Michael faded.

Shaking off the past and emitting a sigh of relief to be home, she exited the car and stepped through the door into the side hallway leading to the kitchen. She immediately released her shoulder-length hair, tamed with conditioners and worn in a severe, sedate bun day-do, now ready for a night of passion.

It was the first thing she did the minute she closed the door of her residence every evening. Only inside these walls did she feel free to let her hair down, figuratively and physically.

As always upon entering her home, Kayla kicked off her shoes and shed her suit coat, all hastily discarded items synonymous with freeing her spirit to indulge in the essence of the behind-doors life that sustained her.

The shoes were immediately picked up by one partner, the coat taken by another, before she was embraced by all.

“Glad you’re home, baby,” Luke said as he kissed her tenderly.

“Likewise,” Lee said as he gave her a hug.

Harm, her first and most sensitive “husband”, cupped her face and stood silently for a moment, just staring into her eyes.

“You look tired, hon. How about I fix you a cocktail, and you relax before dinner. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great.”

J.J. was the last to embrace her, smoothing her hair back before giving her a passionate kiss, which was the only kind young J.J. ever gave.

“You make the boring day worthwhile when you come home, Kayla,” he said as he reluctantly released her.

She followed them into the kitchen, silently critiquing them all on the way, satisfied and smiling at her choice of men.

Her partners, ranging in age from 19 to 39, though vastly different both in appearance and personalities, were alike in that they were all as committed to their adopted, lusty, and private polyandry lifestyle as she. They took turns pleasing her, each in their own preferred style of lovemaking.

Jonathan Javiero Romero (J.J.) was the most recent addition to her sexual entourage. And as she settled at the breakfast bar and took the drink Harm had fixed her, Kayla smiled to herself, thinking,
I sure made the right choices in my men. And tonight I have Harm to pleasure me.
Kayla’s pussy clenched at the thought of the night to come.

And then she met Harm’s eyes and he winked at her, an indication that he had probably read her mind, which he seemed capable of doing all the time.

Sensitive Harm, always alert to my moods
, Kayla thought,
and such a sexy man in his own quiet way—easy and guileless.

As she studied him, Kayla was reminded how Harm’s pragmatic mind could grasp any situation at lightning speed, yet even in a crisis he always remained the calm gentleman. She knew it often surprised people who didn’t know him well what a head Harm had for business.

Over the past five years he had parlayed his first tattoo parlor into a thriving, bi-coastal chain of upscale ink salons catering to men and women, some very famous. He had invested his money with such surprising acumen, and the return had proven so great, that it wasn’t unusual for Kayla and her other partners to seek financial advice from him.

Yes, I am one lucky woman.

Kayla smiled, realizing if she were pressed to select a favorite among her four men, she would have to admit it was Harm, the first one she had chosen to participate in her polyandry lifestyle.

CHAPTER 2

Harm

Thirty-four-year-old Harmon Pranston was not the most handsome of the men Kayla had selected for partner material, but he was certainly the most intriguing, with his deep auburn hair and bright blue eyes. In Kayla’s opinion, his eyes possessed the ability to penetrate to one’s innermost feelings while always projecting a mischievous glint. Yet behind the mischief, there was a deep, secret place in Harm that Kayla felt she never quite penetrated. It was as if he had a hard-core secret buried deep that oftentimes reflected in his pensive moods. But she had never asked him, nor would she, knowing Harm to be a man who preferred to remain slightly clouded with mystery.

Harm had an athlete’s lithe body, with smooth, firm muscles. His broad back was marked but not marred by a magnificent, spread-winged eagle tattoo, and a small heart on his left bicep bore a mysteriously covert inscription within—the simple word
yes
—which he revealed to Kayla meant he was up for anything. And, as she soon discovered, much to her delight, Harm was extremely good at everything.

Kayla met Harm when he almost ran her over with his Harley Davidson motorcycle as she was illegally jaywalking, crossing mid-street on Second Avenue in downtown Nashville.

She had been in a hurry, not paying attention, and he had skidded to a stop to avoid hitting her. He had parked the bike and followed her into the antique shop, waiting until she was through with her purchase before approaching to scold her about jaywalking and putting herself and others in danger.

From the first moment their eyes met, Kayla was taken with him, and she could tell he was attracted to her, as well. The scolding led to talking, which led to a date, which led to a torrid night of no-holds-barred lovemaking, which led to Harm—as he told her to call him—ultimately becoming her first “husband” through their nonlegal but personally binding commitment ceremony.

She was soon to learn that Harm was a tattoo artist extraordinaire as well as a shrewd businessman. He had opened his first extremely lucrative tattoo parlor—he called it a “salon” because it was the “in” thing—in Los Angeles when he was just out of college, and aided by his charm and talented work the shop had ballooned into a chain of salons frequented by not only the obvious customers but the very rich and famous by the time he was thirty-two.

Harm shared how this had given him now at age thirty-four the financial freedom to travel at his leisure. And through computer technology, he was able to keep in touch with his managing partner, who co-ran the empire he had built, leaving Harm to enjoy the open road as he toured the country, pursuing a long-held passion.

Only Harm could have talked Kayla into getting a small golden key tattoo that pointed downward just below her naval, teasingly calling it her most vulnerable kissing spot. As he had kissed his way down her body that night she got tattooed, he had stated the key would symbolically open the door to her lush valley of sex. Then he had laughingly declared that, no matter how many others might be brought into their “fold,” he wanted her to promise that he would always be the keeper of the key.

Harm proved to be a passionate and inventive lover who delighted in gently binding Kayla’s wrists and then kissing every inch of her body to bring her to a fever pitch of desire. He had perfected the art of teasing nips to her more sensitive areas before his educated tongue inevitably lapped the clitoris before sucking it in a rhythm that drove Kayla nearly out of her mind. He always brought her to her first mind-numbing climax on their nights together that way. Then he would gently caress her until she started her climb to a sensual peak. Only then did he thrust into her to the hilt and begin a rocking motion that prolonged the climatic ecstasy in a way he knew she craved.

Harm had never been married. He never believed he wanted to be until he met Kayla. Now, as he took her upstairs to her suite for their night together, he couldn’t imagine not being with her. And, truth be known, now that he knew the other guys and had come to be real friends with them, settling into a comfortable, acceptable routine, he could not imagine his life without all of them being in it, either.

CHAPTER 3

Lee

Kayla was getting ready to usher in her second patient the next day when she got a phone call from Lee.

“Kayla, I wanted you to be the first to know—the Food Network picked up my cooking show, with options for two more seasons.”

Lee’s voice betrayed the exhilaration shooting through him.

“Lee! How wonderful! When? How?” Kayla replied.

“My agent finally earned his exorbitant fees. He’s been working on this for six months. We thought it was dead in the water, then we thought it was a brilliant idea to do a ‘where are they now?’ piece on me and my wrestling career, and it generated so many hits on YouTube that the Food Network producers got interested.”

“Looks like you’ve landed a second celebrity career,” Kayla said as her secretary buzzed her with the reminder that her next appointment was there.

“Look, Lee, we’ll do something special tonight to celebrate.”

Lee chuckled. “Any night I’m with you is special, Kayla, but tonight—well, I’ll think of something … extra-special.”

Kayla’s body tingled at the thought of what Lee could do when he put his mind to being creative. The memory of one evening they spent exploring the various places chocolate mousse could be licked from had her taking deep breaths.

“Yeah, baby. Tonight,” she breathed.

* * *

Thirty-nine-year-old Richard Lee Harris, Kayla’s second “husband”, had been a highly sought-after, world-famous wrestler whose name had been linked to some of the most famous celebrities during his wrestling career. He had made thousands of personal appearances, endorsed products from Fortune 500 companies, and amassed quite a fortune by the time he was thirty.

Lee had been hounded by paparazzi during his early years, and even though he had tried his best to shun the press, his striking good looks, his lustrously thick, dark-brown hair, which he wore slightly longer than most, his midnight-brown eyes that always seemed to be twinkling as though he had just heard a naughty joke, his 6’4” well-built body, and the charismatic personality that tied all that together had kept him in the limelight. Thus, he was always fodder for gossip, often fabricated to enhance provocative headlines.

Then, when he was thirty-five, he ended up in the hospital as a result of a serious injury he sustained when an overzealous opponent, determined to make a name for himself, threw Lee into the spectator chairs. Getting back on his feet after two months in the hospital—when he thought for a time that he might be paralyzed—had changed Lee forever.

His wrestling career was over. Before the accident, he had been just drifting through life, spending his money, partying, taking life and his good fortune for granted, not giving any thought to the future.

Afterward, knowing how easily life could be snuffed out, knowing that every day should count in a meaningful way, Lee had decided to pursue his secret dream of becoming a chef. He had just returned from the most prestigious
cordon bleu
school in France, degree in hand, his mind set on starting his own gourmet restaurant when he first met Kayla.

Kayla had backed into his Rolls Royce Phantom in the parking garage of the shopping center, and Lee had gotten out to check the damage. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the occupant of the offending vehicle was the most beautiful woman he had seen in a long time.

After exchanging insurance information, discussing the fact that there was no real damage to either vehicle other than a scrape on her bumper, they started talking, both obviously unwilling to let the other disappear.

They continued the conversation at a nearby restaurant, where Lee found himself discussing his future plans for his own
cordon bleu
restaurant chain and listening as Kayla talked about her psychiatric practice. But underlying the conversation was the almost overwhelming physical attraction between them.

Lee found Kayla to be an engaging, intelligent, and fascinating individual. He had never been so drawn to any other woman before, and when the conversation progressed from sexual innuendoes to actual touching beneath the table, Lee was hooked.

Later, in the seclusion of his hotel suite, after they had shared their first prolonged kiss that left them both breathing heavily, Kayla undressed slowly, provocatively, the promise in her eyes branding him with fiery anticipation as their gazes locked. In moments, Lee had slipped a condom on his rock-hard shaft and mounted her. Their coming together had been hot and hard.