Regan finally arrives, meets Ian, and discovers all that glitters isn't gold.
Regan did not come with much baggage. Gracefully over her shoulder she had her Coach purse, her one prized possession--a graduation gift from her last foster parents, Larry and Patricia Jackson. Behind her trundled a red mid-size suitcase. Regan was proud of herself. The uncertainty that had plagued her before her voyage seemed silly now. She had survived her first plane ride (flying first class had helped!), and was now walking through the terminal like she had been doing it all her life.
Kennedy Airport had been huge and terrifying. Larry had simply dropped her off at the airport entrance with his signature, a shy hug and a nervous smile. “You can do this,” he told her, “just keep your head up, eyes open and nose clean.” That was her foster parent’s motto. Regan had smiled, faking confidence. Once she was inside the airport, panic had gripped her by the throat. At Kennedy Airport people moved past her so swiftly, it made her dizzy. But she had done it, made it to her final destination--Asheville, North Carolina.
Here, people moved slower and seemed more relaxed. The smiles and hello’s people generously gave her were a bit unnerving, but Regan attempted to smile and nod her head in reply. In Newark, people just did not speak without cause, and if they did, it usually was not to say anything nice. So she had grown up trying to keep as low of a profile as possible in public, the same rule had applied to her private life too. Things were obviously different here. The Southern accents, however, were not as noticeable as she had thought they would be.
At her going away party in Jersey, her foster-family had joked that she would hardly be able to understand anyone here because of the Southern twang. They also joked that there were no black people in the mountains of North Carolina. That was a prejudice she was not going to allow her mind to play into, but the nine or ten faces of color she had seen did make her wonder. In her neighborhood there was nothing but people of color, every kind of color you could think of but white. Yes, things really were going to be different here.
Usually she loved to watch people in crowds, like at the mall in Newark where she worked at the Pretzel Palace--a job she hated. She would make up stories about how they lived from their facial expressions and clothes, or even the way they walked. But she could not escape into her game today: she was too worried about how her new family would judge her. She already knew her half-sister looked like a blond, grey-eyed Barbie, minus the boobs, who at twenty-nine had the air of comfort and confidence that only came with a family history of entitlement. She had smiled the entire three days she had visited Regan in Jersey. It was the weirdest thing. No one could possibly be that happy when their father had just died. And she had informed Regan that her new “family” would also include two older brothers, Ian and Troy.
Regan told herself that it did not really matter what they thought of her. Right? She was just here to kill some time, take a couple of free classes, and get her money and leave. It was great that they were paying her tuition. The idea of attending a regular, four year college never occurred to her. It was not because her grades were not good enough, just that she would never have been able to afford it. Maybe she would have settled for some computer classes or an Associates Degree in something she really had no interest in. But now, in four days she would officially be a college student. That made her smile.
And the smile made her wince: the inside of her bottom lip was raw because of her constant biting. But she could not help it. It was a dull pain, a needed distraction from her stress.
Regan did not think of herself as good-looking, just different, but it was her differences that made people notice her. They noticed her hair, a massive mane of unavoidable shiny spirals cascading from a center part and falling to her shoulders: it was neither black, nor brown, nor blond, but an unusually natural mixture of the three--depending greatly on the light. And they noticed her steely grey, almond shaped eyes. There was a sharp contrast between their crisp clarity and her deep ocher coloring.
As an adolescent, she had hated the hair, the eyes and most of all her early-developed body, which had brought her much unwanted attention. Thankfully, she had grown taller and now at eighteen, she was five-six, which simply slimmed and elongated her waist, making her healthy allowance of hips and ample breast all the more appealing. She had to be very careful about the clothes she wore; the wrong choice could easily give the wrong impression because she was so curvy. However, time had taught her many lessons and she had learned to accept herself as she was and to protect herself because she was the only one who would. Most of all, she had learned to never show fear.
In some places and sometimes it was dangerous to even let people see your breath catch or show any form of uncertainty. There were always people waiting, watching for a weakness to pounce on. She had mastered a blasé countenance. But even that was failing her now. What if they had forgotten about her? What if they had changed their minds?
“Regan?!” She heard her name before she saw where it was coming from.
Finally she saw Audra, making her way through the crowd. In no time, her half sister stood before her, breathing deeply from exertion. The blond woman wore a fitted grey pants suit and a pink silk dress-shirt. Her flawless pale skin was flushed with excitement; her thin pink lips and pale grey eyes smiled down at Regan.
“Accept our apologies,” she said, hugging Regan as if they were old friends. Regan unconsciously flinched. “We’re late. We were supposed to meet you at the baggage ramp, right? But here we are.” She held her hands out as if to say Ta-Da. There was a small pause and she started up again. The woman was talking a mile a minute.
“We are missing one person but you will get to meet him later. Ian. God only knows where he could be. But, he would have been here, believe me, if he had been able to. He’s a Professor, just like our father. Was your flight comfortable? I bet it was. Did they feed you? I hope not. Do you like French food…”
Regan did not hear the plethora of questions and answers being thrown at her. She was too busy taking in the others that fell in step behind Audra. The blond headed giant of a man at Audra’s right was broad shouldered with a massive chest that tapered in at the waste. The cream colored polo shirt hid nothing and neither did his jeans. The man was ripped. Even his neck was a thick muscle. He obviously worked out, but he was not obscene. He had to be at least six feet and a half with a natural healthy tan that was in great contrast to Audra’s delicate alabaster coloring. His blond hair was cut close and edged perfectly.
Regan felt his cool blue eyes narrow on her, weighing her. She immediately tensed. He just had time to say, “Hi, I’m Tr…,” when another woman quickly stepped from behind him with an extended hand.
“I’m Allysia, Regan,” she said with a noticeable New York accent. “I’m this,” she pointed a thumb at the giant, “man’s wife.”
Regan reached out and shook her hand firmly.
The woman gave her a conspiratorial wink. Her light brown eyes twinkled as she smiled warmly. It immediately put Regan at ease and she let out a deep breath, which she had not realized she had been holding. The woman was gorgeous, but in a totally different way than Audra and her brother. Allysia’s golden coloring and thick, dark hair was completely opposite from theirs. Her look was more Mediterranean, more exotic.
Regan noted how shapely she was too, dressed very femininely, in a sheer gauzy mustard-colored top with ruffles at the cuff and around the neck. The ruffled neckline fell into a V revealing a full cleavage. The top was tucked into a snug pair of low slung jeans with mustard piping down the side seams. The piping led the eye to perfectly manicured toes sticking out of nice, strapped sandals. It put Regan’s attempt at fashion to shame. Troy’s wife had style and Regan liked her look. She was tall too, making Regan feel like an ill dressed dwarf standing next to them all.
Troy finally revealed a slow smile of approval, finding whatever it was he was looking for. His smile revealed even, white teeth and changed the entire look of his face from intimidating Nordic God to warmhearted giant. He was extremely handsome in that clean cut All-American kind of way. He did not extend his hand to be shaken, but he smoothly relieved her of the red suitcase, snapping the handle back into place and lifting it off of the floor like it was nothing.
“I’m Troy.” His voice was strong and deep, lacking the Southern accent that Audra so dramatically displayed.
“You don’t look African!” A small brown-headed boy pushed his way to the forefront. He looked like a miniature Troy, but his eyes were shockingly bluer and pierced Regan in confusion. “She’s not African,” he exclaimed turning to his mother and knotting his brow.
“We said African-American TJ,” Audra said, suppressing a laugh. Troy looked embarrassed as he drew up beside Regan and put his huge hand at the small of her back. This also made Regan flinch and did not go unnoticed by Troy.
“Audra,” Allysia scolded both the child and her sister-in-law, giving Regan a quick apologetic look.
“Well partly African-American,” Audra added indulgently.
“I’m Troy Junior,” the little boy said, holding out his small hand like a little gentleman. He was smiling up at Regan mischievously, deep dimples forming like commas at the bottom of each cheek. “I’m partly Italian,” he announced, then whispered up at her. “Now me and mommy won’t be the only black sheep in the family.”
“Okay,” Troy sighed, his patience obviously leaving him by the look on his face. His blue eyes scanned the airport. “Shall we get out of here ladies.”
Regan had to laugh. The rambunctious child was obviously smart and extremely frank. His aunt and parents laughed nervously. The boy quickly fitted himself beside Regan and took her hand as if, like his father, he was responsible for getting her safely through the airport.
“You’re so pretty,” he decided. “You can call me TJ. Aunt Audra said you were pretty too and you have Papa’s eyes. Your eyes look more like Papa’s than Aunt Audra’s does.”
Regan looked at Audra, slightly surprised. Audra laughed just a little too loudly.
Regan finally arrives, meets Ian, and discovers all that glitters isn't gold.
Allysia knew from the beginning that dinner was a bad idea. No one wants to sit in some stuffy restaurant after a good portion of their day has been spent in airports. She felt sorry for Regan. None of them were really dressed for it anyway. More importantly, neither her nor Troy really knew what exactly Audra had taken before they had left to pick up Regan, but it was apparent that she was coming down off of whatever prescribed drug of choice it was. The first sign that every thing was going down hill was at the door. Although they had reservations, they still had to wait to be seated. Audra was suddenly fuming. Troy had to calm her down a bit. TJ could not be still to save his own life, which was normal for him, but his fidgeting was nothing compared to Audra’s inability to sit still. From that moment forward, the evening went like water swiftly circling a drain.
Poor Regan looked overwhelmed, especially when she glanced at the menu. Audra convinced her into ordering something expensive, though she tried to refuse. When Regan tasted it, Allysia watched as she pretended to cough so that she could spit it into her napkin. It was obvious that she hated it. Allysia kicked her husband in the shin when he started to chuckle.
Allysia smiled and raked some of her food onto a bread plate, passing it to Regan, under the guise of an exchange. “Here taste some of this and let me taste some of yours,” Allysia suggested to Regan. “I’ve never tried that before.”
TJ, missing nothing, tried to give her some of his food under the table.
“It’s not nasty,” he whispered, giving her an encouraging smile.
Audra only made matters worse by taking offense. She pretended not to notice, but then gave a speech about training the palette, the benefits of proper exposure and having acquired tastes. Regan could not really understand what Audra was talking about, all she knew was that the stuff looked appetizing but tasted awful. When Audra finally finished Regan had reserved a very refined and silent “fuck you” for her. Allysia found it hard to keep herself from laughing. As Regan’s guard drifted away, her face was an open book.
As time passed, Audra grew more and more vicious. By the time they had finished their main courses, Allysia had actually told Audra to shut-up, which caused Troy to moan, impatiently checking his watch. He seemed to be in a different mental stratus sphere. The only time he tuned in was to converse with TJ.
Audra argued with the waiter and sent her desert back twice. Regan watched wide eyed, having declined desert--as did everyone else except TJ, who gobbled his up in a matter of seconds. Regan had never actually seen anyone act the way that Audra was acting, accept on TV. “It’s just fluffed chocolate pudding for Christ’s sake,” Regan thought to herself. It was unbelievable. No one had any alcohol with their meal, but Regan sort of wondered if Audra had downed several shots during her trip to the ladies room. What else would explain this Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde she kept pulling? Now she was waving her fork around, going on and on about how close everyone in the family was.
“When you meet Ian, you’ll just love him. He definitely was our father’s favorite. ‘Our father,’ isn’t that strange? We have always been close, even after that whole thing with Allysia. And now, you are one of us too. There is no space between us.”
Ignoring the sudden tension around the table, she pointed her fork at each individual person. “Take Troy for instance…he’s the sweetest of us all. You call on him, and he‘s there without a single question, strong and solid like a rock…but he’s whipped. And Allysia, she’s a force to be reckoned with…and a whore!”
“That’s enough Audra!” Allysia stood up. “Troy!” she demanded.
“Ian…he’s an intellect in denial…super-duper, cherry on top whore, but a sweet one. Honestly! But, you will love them all to death.”
Troy slowly stood to his feet, placing a couple of large bills down on the table.
“I’m not finished,” Audra yelled out. Her dessert had hardly been touched, but at this point no one was expecting her to actually eat it. She glared at Regan.
“Do you realize that your mother spelled your name wrong?”
“Oh not that,” Allysia breathed. “Troy, pick her ass up and let’s go.”
Troy gently grabbed Audra by the arms and pulled her up. “Let’s go beautiful.”
People were staring at them but Regan ignore it. She had felt as if all eyes were on her the minute they had arrived.
“No really,” Audra continued as they made their way through the restaurant. “My father’s name is spelled R E A G A N. Your name is spelled R-E-G-A-N. I saw it on your birth certificate.”
Regan turned around to look at her so-called sister. They were going to have to get something straight right from the beginning. No one was going to be saying shit about her mother. Besides, why the hell would Audra be interested in her birth certificate? And furthermore, why would she choose now to bring it up?
“So what exactly are you trying to say,” Regan demanded.
Troy tried to move the two girls along, but Audra stood her ground.
“My father’s dead and you my dear are his namesake. But, your name is spelled wrong,” Audra summarized sweetly.
Regan started to turn around, dismissing the girl’s comment as drunken gibberish. So what, her name was spelled differently. Regan could care less.
“Your mother really was not very bright, was she,” Audra added.
Regan’s hand lashed out so fast that by the time the actual sound of it slapping across the side of Audra’s face sliced through the air, Regan had turned and stormed away.
Troy and Allysia stared at Audra in shock.
“Wow,” TJ yelled out. “Aunt Regan just hit Aunt Audra.”
Allysia could not suppress her smile. And a half-smile even slipped off Troy’s lips. Audra looked absolutely dumbfounded, her hand to her cheek.
“She hit me,” she whined.
“I bet that brought your ass back to earth,” Allysia said with a grin before going after Regan.
Troy grabbed TJ by the collar as the child tried to follow his mother. He figured he would give the two women a minute alone. “Why?” he asked Audra, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
“Troy,” Audra cried out dramatically, “she hit me!”
The cool air felt refreshing against Regan’s feverish skin. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back in an attempt to fight back willing tears. Was this day ever going to end!?! “I shouldn’t have come here,” she announced to no one in particular.
“Yes you should have.”
Allysia’s voice made Regan turn away, ashamed. Immediately she brought the heel of her hands up to her eyes to wipe away any tears.
Allysia hugged her new sister-in-law from behind. “I do believe you are exactly what we needed,” she whispered into Regan’s ear.
Regan pulled her head back a little to look the woman in the face. Allysia’s brown eyes were sparkling and she was smiling ear to ear.
“What is this,” Regan questioned, “some type of initiation?”
“Not even close,” Allysia replied quickly. “Initiation would be family night at the round table.”
Regan had no idea what she meant by that.
Allysia rubbed the poor girl’s back. “But tonight, you did beautifully.”
Regan laughed in disbelief. The whole day for her had been unbelievable. She felt as if she were caught in some dream that was on the borderline of being a nightmare, she just had not turned the right corner yet. Why, she asked herself for the thousandth time? Why had she come here? Why was she even subjecting herself to all of this? The answer was even sadder than the situation itself. She had aged out of the foster care program. Larry and Patricia, her foster parents, had not thrown her out, like any other foster parents would have. After all, they would have been justified because the county money was shut off the day Regan graduated from High School. She knew that her foster parents needed the space that she took up and the money. Luckily for her, they were in it for more than just the money. They were a rarity within a sometimes sick system. The bottom line was that Regan had nowhere else to go. There was being on your own and then there was BEING ON YOUR OWN. What the fuck did she have to lose? She owned half a house: why not live in it? She would not be eligible to receive any money from her trust until she was twenty-one. What else could she do? Where else could she go?
“Is she okay,” Troy asked, holding the limo door open for the two of them.
“You think you can do this,” Allysia whispered in her ear.
Regan nodded. She really had no choice. Even if she wanted to fly back to Jersey, she did not have enough money in her pocket for that. She slid into the waiting limo.
Despite Troy’s generally stoic nature, he tried hard to relieve the tension in the limo on the drive to the house. Regan almost felt sorry for him. He apologized for Audra’s behavior after Audra refused to. In an effort to lighten the mood, he attempted to explain some of the interesting things about Asheville that Regan could look forward to. Evidently, the town was an extraordinary tourist trap. There was a castle, vineyards, various different festivals and historical sites. He suggested that she could meet him for lunch one day, maybe Ian could bring her. That would give the two of them an opportunity to get to know each other better. He was a corporate lawyer.
Regan smiled politely and nodded in response. His attempts were just not enough. The mood remained the same. Everyone sat in their assigned spaces. Audra sat next to the window sulking, looking out into the darkness with her hand pasted to her swollen cheek. Allysia tried hard to suppress her smile as she cradled TJ’s head in her lap as he slept. There were times when she had wanted to slap Audra so bad, especially during the first couple of years of her marriage to Troy. She had the funny feeling that the little spoiled brat had never ever been disciplined as a child. That made witnessing what Regan did all the more precious. She really wished Ian was there.
Allysia reached over and took Regan’s hand. She knew that the girl was probably asking her self what the hell had she gotten into. There were times when she had to ask herself that too. “I’m so glad that you are here. I hope we can be good friends. Please don‘t stay mad at Audra. She’s glad you’re here too. Tomorrow she won‘t even remember what she’s said to you.”
Again, Regan tried to smile. That figures, she thought.
“I’m sitting right here,” Audra announced, her voice muffled as if there were some actual damage done to her face. “I get tired of people talking about me like I’m not even here.”
Where was that woman, the epitome of control that smiled like she did not have a care in the world? What ever was crumpled up against the side of the car was not the Audra Regan thought she knew. If Regan had known the chick was so crazy, she would have stayed her ass in Jersey.
Allysia started laughing; she could not help herself any longer. Troy reached into the mini bar and pulled out two small bottles of Scotch.
Regan finally arrives, meets Ian, and discovers all that glitters isn't gold.
“I’m not paying for that,” Audra added.
This time Troy’s laughter filled the car.
“I’d propose a toast,” he teased Regan, “but you’re underage.” He drank one and slipped the other in his jacket pocket.
The drive was long, but when the house finally came into view, Regan caught her breath. At first everything was an eerie pitch black beyond the car windows. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere with no street lights or signs for miles. There were not even any other cars for miles. Regan had never experienced that in her whole life. There was only the moon shining off the top of trees and the jagged rock that lined one side of the highway like a wall. Then Troy caught her attention and motioned for her to look out of the window, and that was when she saw it. Suddenly there were lights glowing against the side of what appeared to be the beginning of another jagged outcrop. But the lights were merely illuminating the outside of the house--light dancing off of glass. The word house itself was not even the right descriptive word for it. It was more like a work of art, something fit for the cover of Architectural Digest. It seemed to be completely made of glass, cornered in grey stone, growing out of the mass of rock. Regan had never seen anything quite like it. As the limo edged up the long, winding drive, Regan became more and more awed by the beauty and size of her new home.
“I can’t believe this is where you guys live.”
“Nope, sweetheart,” Troy said, “this is where you live. I‘ve got my own den of iniquity.”
As they entered the house, Regan had to remember to close her mouth. She had never seen anything so beautiful. Troy switched on the interior lights and the entryway led into one huge open space. Everything looked so clean…and so beige, even the pale wooden floors.
Audra immediately disappeared after mumbling something to Allysia. So Allysia pointed out a few things about the house to Regan.
“Your father actually designed this house. This is what we call the great room, obviously because it’s so big. Rea had this thing about being crowded.”
“Rea?” Regan turned to question Allysia.
“Yeah,” she answered smiling. “We mostly called him Rea.”
“Everyone usually hangs out in here.” Continuing on with her brief introduction to the house, she motioned to the left. “The kitchen and breakfast room are that way. There are some stairs that go to the second floor off the kitchen. Or, you can use the more formal ones there. The third floor is Ian’s.”
“He lives here?” Regan interrupted.
“Most of the time,” Allysia scoffed.
“You look exhausted,” Troy said smiling down at Regan.
The big guy really did have the sweetest blue eyes. “Let’s show her the bedroom she’ll be sleeping in,” he suggested to his wife. “She can check out the house tomorrow.” He carried her luggage up the stairs as they followed. He was extremely graceful for such a big guy.
“Now if you don’t like the room, we can redecorate it,” Allysia was telling her as they mounted the stairs. “Or you can simply move to one of the other two empty rooms. It’s up to you. You have your own full bathroom and a beautiful view. That’s why I thought you would like it best. Audra is two doors down from you. She has to take sleeping pills at night. So don‘t be alarmed if you need her and she doesn‘t respond.”
“Allysia,” Troy warned, his masculine base vibrating off the walls.
“Well, she should know just in case there is a fire or something. Someone has to drag her ass outside.”
Allysia turned on the bedroom light and Regan almost died. This was her room! She turned to Allysia in disbelief. Troy pushed past them both to sit her suitcase on the bed.
“Looks like she likes it,” he grinned.
He put his hand over his wife’s shoulder. Allysia was too proud of how she had decorated the room to think about how heavy her husband’s arm felt right now. He had been practically all over her all day. It was irritating. But she did love the look on Regan’s face: it told her all she needed to know.
“We will see you Sunday over our house for dinner,” the couple said closing the door behind them.
“My own room,” Regan whispered to herself. And, there was so much space. The room came with its own little sitting area. There was a desk. She looked over at the Queen size, four poster bed and put her hand to her chest. “My own bed.”
She ran over to it, climbed on top and jumped up and down until she fell out laughing. Regan had always wanted to do that as a child but never dared. Now, she had her own room and a bed she could do anything she wanted to in. The last year had been great with, Larry and Patricia. She had only been their foster child for a short period of time, but it was the closest she had ever come to having a real home. She had not had to worry about anyone slipping into her room at night, fondling her or even worse; and, she had only had to share it with one other girl, Stacy. Now, she had one all to herself for the very first time in her life. Relief washed over her and brought tears to her eyes. Her life was always so strange, never quite what it should be. Was it possible that things could be different now? Was it possible to somehow find some peace with this strange so called family? Not if tonight was indicative of what she was to expect here. It was going to be just a different kind of weird.
A short while later, after showering and slipping into a pair of boy shorts and a tank top, Regan contemplated her day and her crazy life. Reagan McKrenna, her father, had died four months ago in April. The temperature had taken an unexpected dive, the last remains of a harsh winter. There had been rain. He had been driving at night. The lawyer said that his car hit a patch of black ice and ran off a road winding around a mountain. He had no chance of survival. Regan had never met him, never given him a second thought. She had not even known that her name was his name. As far as she was concerned, her mother had chosen it out of a book or off of some soap opera. She had never given any thought to what having a father would be like, period. Everyone she knew was either missing a father or missing both father and mother. Even foster parents rarely came in couples. She had no reason to think that she was any different then anyone else.
Her mother had died when she was five. Vivien Anne Brown was twenty-five and beautiful. She had not finished college, having gotten pregnant during her sophomore year and returned back home to live with her mother and little brother. Regan knew that she was smart though, because she had managed to do what no one else in her family had--she finished high school without a baby and at least managed to get into college on an academic sholarship. That much Regan knew for sure.
She also knew that her mother must have loved this man Reagan McKrenna very much. She named her only child after him and then she abandoned her to go to him. Her mother came to this town fourteen years ago, the name of which had held no significance for Regan until now. Vivien had left her daughter in her mother’s keep. Regan’s grandmother had been an overweight, homebound mother of seven. Having practically raised all her children, she was now left with a grandchild she did not want or need.
Regan had always fantasized that her mother had left her to come and start a new life for the both of them. And, if her mother had time she would have come back and collected her. If she had money she would have never left her to begin with. But the last couple of months had revealed something quite different. Regan now knew that her mother left her to come here to him, the newly-widowed, world-renowned writer Reagan McKrenna. Vivien came here and she died, leaving Regan with no one that really cared for her. And now, Regan was trying to fall to asleep in his house.
She turned over and closed her eyes, but not before turning on the small, beside lamp. She had no intentions of being left in total darkness, especially not here.
Regan was ready for sleep but it somehow evaded her. There were so many things running through her head. But, she knew how to solve that. She pulled off her shorts and panties. Her body was calling out for the attention only she could give it. She cupped her breast, spreading her fingers out and began to massage them. They were firm in her hands and it felt so good to be touched there. Her nipples immediately responded like little, dark raisons, a direct nerve to her clit. She moaned, running her thumbs across the sensitive tips. In her mind she imagined that a man was touching her. He was faceless, but wanted her like no other. He was demanding but gentle with her like no one else had ever been. He appreciated how smooth and silky she felt in his hands. And she surrendered to his demand of her. Her hands slid downward over her smooth skin, across her abdomen. She was so turned on. By the time she slipped her fingers within her nether lips, she was already wet with her own excitement.
She plunged her finger in her opening, first one and then two, pumping. She then brought them to her mouth. She was sweet. She wondered if every woman tasted as sweet as she did. Spreading the lips of her pussy wide with the fingers of one hand, she began to explore herself with the other. First she did it lightly, spreading her sweet juices over and around her clit. Her clit was firm to her touch, a knot of sensitivity, and begging for attention. She applied more pressure, drawing a line from the extremely sensitive tip of her clit downward to her moist opening.
Then as her body grew more responsive she drew circles around it, teasing herself. She flicked it. “Ahh,” she thought it felt so good. Slowing herself down was impossible now. She applied more pressure to her clit, rubbing the sensitive knob. Her breathing changed, becoming shallow and short. This was her favorite part because she could feel the energy gathering, collecting in her clit, like a warning. She mentally tried to fight it, refusing her imaginary lovers progress. But the wondrous work of her hand was relentless. When she climaxed her whole body shook. Her thighs vibrated. Her clit became so sensitive that she could not bear to continue touching herself there.
Masturbating always soothed her, it took the edge off. She felt replete. But it always followed with a strong sense of guilt. She balled into a fetal position, hugging herself. In her mind what she felt and what she did only left her with a sense of loss. Her imagined lover was never going to come for her. No man could give her that feeling; no man would rap his body around hers with appreciation and care. She would never feel that kind of passion. The males she had experienced were nothing like that. They took and only thought of themselves. No a real man, the kind she dreamed about, would not want someone tainted and rigid. She would never have regular sex with a man that loved her, not just her body.
She started to cry.
“Everything is going to be okay,” she whispered to herself wanting to believe that more than anything as she fell to sleep.
But with sleep came memories mixed with anger and fear. Nightmares.
Regan finally arrives, meets Ian, and discovers all that glitters isn't gold.
Troy had not bothered to put anything on after showering. He did some quick push ups on the bathroom floor, so that his tanned skin strained across the ripples of his well defined pecks. He checked himself in the mirror one last time. His blue eyes searched his body for some imperfection that might interfere with what he had planned tonight. He had even shaved so she could not complain about his stubble irritating the sensitive skin between her thighs. And, he did plan on licking in between those wonderful thighs of hers. It had been far too long. His body was more than ready to stimulate and be stimulated. Tonight was the night. “Her ass is mine to night,” he whispered confidently over and over, like a mantra. He continued to say it until he entered the bed room. Allysia was already in bed. She had her back to him and the covers pulled up to her neck. She clung to her side of the bed as if there were this imaginary line he dare not cross.
“Oh, hell no!” Troy’s voice rumbled loudly through the room. He grabbed the covers and pulled them from the bed. That’s it, he thought. I’m not taking any more of this shit.
“What?…Troy!” Allysia stared at him like he had lost his mind.
“Damn it Allysia, this has gone on far too long,” he bellowed angrily. “It’s been over a month. I‘m a man…a real man. How long do you think I’m going to continue to put up with this Allysia! My patience is really thin right now!”
Allysia continued to watch him as he ran his hand over his short blond hair in frustration. He was attempting to calm down, but she did not care. She was not in the mood for this tonight. She was too tired and just wanted to sleep. She had sacrificed her entire day to his crazy family. Who did he think he was talking to like that? She grabbed his pillow and threw it at him. When the pillow hit him in the face, she cut into him like a knife.
“You can carry your ass to the couch. You selfish fucker. I’m trying to go to sleep and you come in here naked acting like the king of the damned jungle. What are you going to do Troy! Hit me on the head with your big-ass dick and make me fuck you. No! You need to get out of my face with that. Tonight you can jack off on the couch for all I care.”
Troy stood there with his hands on his hips. He looked down at the pillow for a moment and then looked back at his wife. His eyes were cold; his face was tight and drained of all color.
“Selfish,” he said with a misleading calmness, raising one eye brow. He seethed with a rage he was barely able to control. His jaw was set, teeth tightly clenched. Every muscle in his body was on alert. This was not something brought on just by this moment but was a culmination of moments, this being the last he would stomach. “Selfish?” His repetition of the word was not from a lack of understanding but full realization. That word, like no other, brought clarity. “I’m not sleeping any-damn-where but in my own fucking bed. You can sleep on your own overpriced piece-of-shit couch if you want to.” His voice was low and threatening. “Tonight, I’m not leaving this damn room.”
“Over priced! Is that all you think about--money and sex! You ass hole! Don’t bother, I’ll go,” Allysia spit out, grabbing her pillow and marching off.
Troy had never laid his hands on Allysia in an act of anger. He knew that he was too big even to play too roughly with her. Allysia had never had any reason to think he would ever hurt her. When she felt him grab her arm and forcefully swing her back into the bed, she actually felt an instance of fear. My God, she thought. She had never seen him so…angry. The scary part was that he was not complaining or muttering to himself, which was the norm when she lost her temper or he lost his. He usually chose to exit on his own, choosing the couch over confrontation. Tonight, he had an alarming stillness about him.
However, Allysia was not one to be easily intimidated. She was a Brooklyn girl at heart. No one was going to push her around, not even Troy’s big ass.
She looked him directly in his eyes. “If you ever do that again…I’ll….I’ll…”
“You’ll what Allysia,” he growled, stepping forward closing what little space there was between them. “What will you do?”
He had thrown her off balance mentally with the way he was reacting. Allysia could not think with him so close. His heavily muscled chest was in her face blocking out every thing else. His blue eyes were cold and dangerous, foreign. For the first time in the six years that they had been married, it occurred to her that he might just hurt her. It made her heart begin to pound violently.
She began to stutter. “Troy…I…I’m…not pla…playing with you.”
His strong arm snaked around her back and jerked her up into him, lifting her off her feet. Allysia immediately started hitting his chest. When he ignored her attempts to struggle against him, she started slapping him hard across the face and frantically kicking her legs. It only made him press his powerful nakedness against her tighter. With his other hand, he grabbed her by the hair forcing her head back.
“What are you going to do to me Allysia,” he whispered gruffly into her lips before forcing her to kiss him.
Allysia tried moving her head side to side but she was only causing herself pain. He had such a tight grip on her hair. He had never pulled on her hair before. When he kissed her, forcing her lips apart, she bit his tongue.
“Damn,” Troy spit out, throwing her across the bed.
Allysia landed on her back. On her elbows she began to crawl backwards, moving away from him. Troy latched on to one of her ankles and dragged her back toward him as if she were a mere sack of potatoes. She wore an old college t-shirt of Troy’s. Troy hated it because it fit her beautiful body like an old lady’s house-dress, hiding everything. But when he dragged her across the bed, the tee was pulled up and he could see the smooth skin of her torso and the tiny cotton panties she wore. Allysia was far from petite, but nothing when compared to Troy‘s six foot six brawniness. At five eleven with four years of strength training under her belt, she was a pretty strong girl. Troy had always admired and loved her strong long legs. She was now using them to assault him, kicking and cursing. He did not have to expend much effort to get what he wanted. It was as if he could calculate her every move. He grabbed both her ankles and spread those long legs apart. Then he jerked her body closer to him and swiftly snatched her panties. Of course she attempted to get away from him once he released her ankles, which worked to his advantage. As she pulled herself away, her panties were easily slid down her legs. Angry and unable to get the upper hand, Allysia turned over and began to crawl away.
To Troy, it was the perfect move. Her round ass was now bare and up in the air. For a large man he moved quickly. With one knee on the bed, purposefully placed between her legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her hard against his groin. His cock was rock hard and the feel of her ass against it made even more blood rush to its already sensitive head. Allysia could feel it too. With his size and girth, it was not an easy thing to ignore. Her husband was hung like a horse. She was sweaty and her pussy was pulsating. Fighting him was exhausting, but blood was pumping through her veins like never before. She was so turned on.
“Fuck you Troy,” she yelled, angrier at herself than him.
“Let’s,” Troy said, fitting his other knee between her legs, spreading them wider.
Allysia struggled for a moment, but he was not budging. On her knees now, she still tried to pull away but his arms were held her firm. Finally she rose up so that her back was to his chests. Her breathing was loud and frantic. As always when they were close like this she was aware of his size and solidness. Every part of Troy was defined strength and warmth. She placed her hands on top of his, thinking he would slacken his grip if she showed some sign of submission. She was not prepared for the way her body betrayed her. When Troy slid his hand up her torso and palmed her breast, she emitted a small sound that could not be mistaken for anything else but arousal. His hand kneaded her breast. While tweaking her nipple’s hard pebble between thumb and forefinger, his other hand slid down to the meeting of her thighs. Her small hands rode atop his the whole time. He loved the way the soft, silky curls of her mound felt against the palm of his hand. He liked his pussy neat but not bare.
She knew this and always kept it perfect for him. But damn, he had to work so hard for it. He gave her everything she wanted, often times without even being asked for it. All he wanted was this. All he wanted was her. It was always her. She drove him crazy and he wanted her so bad. His finger found her slit and expertly began to work his magic on her hungry clit. It had grown solid just waiting for his touch. He did not even have to dip his finger into her; her pussy was so soaked her clit was already drenched. She arched her back and moaned. It had been much too long. He worked two of his fingers in her and slid them upward, slightly hooking them so that the meaty flesh at the tips of his fingers hit that spot. He touched it just enough to get the reaction he wanted. Her body reacted immediately and Troy knew that there would be no more resistance. Her pussy clamored at his hand. It always amazed him how tight she was. He had been there for TJ’s delivery but her pussy tightened around his finger like a virgin‘s.
Her moan was guttural.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he said roughly.
“Oh Troy yes,” she whimpered in surrender, turning her head so that her lips could find his. Loving the feel of his fingers working her pussy, she ground her ass into him. She raised her arms, grabbing at his hair in surrender. Troy avoided her lips, letting them fall along his jaw and neck. Now the bitch was hungry for him. She was going to have to pay for the tongue biting shit. He was just not sure how yet.
“Ask me,” he demanded. “Beg!”
“Troy please,” she said breathless, “fuck me.”
“Bend over,” he commanded and she lowered herself so that she rested on her palms. “Lower,” he told her. She moved to her elbows, forcing her ass higher.
With his legs he spread hers even wider. Placing his large hands on her ass, he spread her cheeks. He played with her slapping his big dick on her ass. The view was like heaven to him.
“Please Troy,” she begged.
With that, he jammed himself into her and pistoned in and out of her with an animalistic force, driving her face into the bed. With his size he had always tried to be so careful with her and he knew he was probably hurting her, but he did not care. For once he was being SELFISH and claiming what he felt was his due. There was no mercy in how he took her. She was so wet and felt so unbelievably good. Her pussy was so hot and desperately gripping his dick. He knew her body better than she knew herself. He could tell she was about to come. He could feel it building within her. She whimpered and called out his name. Although he loved the way his dick looked slamming into her dripping pussy, the slap of flesh slamming into flesh, he had a point to make. Damn it. It was no fair that her pussy felt better than it ever had. Or, it had been so long since he had any, he had just forgotten what it felt like. Anger overtook him once more. This was not going to be about her. This fuck was about him for a change. Selfish!
Troy pulled out. Let her come by her own damn self.
“Troy,” she cried out, turning her head to try and see what was happening.
He fisted his own penis, squeezing it as he ran his hand up and down. Growling at that familiar feeling, he shot out his creamy white liquid across her back. It shot so far up that some managed to hit the edge of the tattered t-shirt pulled up her back. Troy shook himself off, then climbed off the bed and grabbed his pillow off the floor.
“Now that I jacked myself off,” he said sarcastically, “I can go sleep my ass on the couch.” He slammed the door behind him.
Allysia could not believe this. He just left her! Not like this!
“You’re just like your fucking brother,” she screamed.
Troy stopped cold in his footsteps. It took every ounce of control in his body not to march back in that room and drag her ass out of that bed and out the front door. The anger she induced in him was mind-boggling. The difference between him and Ian was that he had bothered to marry her ass. For the very first time he was beginning to doubt the soundness of that decision. The only thing that bitch ever gave him was his son. If it was not for that…
Regan finally arrives, meets Ian, and discovers all that glitters isn't gold.
Regan woke up only partially remembering what Audra had said when she came into her room earlier that morning. Regan had been so tired and the bed so comfortable; she slept like a rock. No dreams or nightmares descended upon her. It was the best sleep she had in a long time. Now, her lovely room was flooded with sunlight. In the daylight it was even more surreal. ‘All mine’, she thought looking around. In the back of her mind she knew that it was most likely a temporary thing, especially after last night. That pretty little smiling Audra could be a seriously big bitch. Regan had not even seen it coming. There was undoubtedly more of where that came from. So Regan made a mental note to brace herself and not be fooled by the smiles, no matter how sincere they looked.
Meanwhile, Regan planned on enjoying as much of the whole set-up as long as she possibly could. Stretching her legs and arms out as far as they could go, she still did not touch the edges of the bed. She had never experienced that before. She repeated the words out loud this time, “all mine”.
Then she remembered. Audra had said that she was sorry about last night. She said that she had to go into work, apologizing since it was Regan’s first day in North Carolina. She was sorry that Regan would have to spend the entire day alone, but she promised she would make it up to her. “This is your home,” she had said, “help yourself to anything and everything.”
Regan flung her herself around and placed her feet on the floor. She had never seen a hardwood floor so shiny and flawless. There were no gaps or crud between the boards. She wiggled her toes and wondered what she would do by herself in this big, fancy house. Audra told her that she would be working until about three or four and they would grab some dinner later. Regan had the whole house to herself until then.
She had to get in that shower one more time. Double shower heads! It felt amazing. Wiping the steam away from the bathroom mirror, Regan’s mind wandered back to her so-called father. The little boy had said that she had his grandfather’s eyes. She tried to see him in her face. The pictures of him on the Internet were all pretty much the same--sad, empty, watery grey eyes. No, there was no trace of him in her face. If it was not for the color of her eyes there would be no proof that she was his child at all.
She slipped back on the thin white tank top she had slept in and into her favorite pair of hole-y, faded jeans. She decided to skip the bra, since no one was home but her anyway. Her breasts were firm and she could go without a bra sometimes, but she never dared step out of the house without one. She only did it when she knew she would be alone. She wore her black and white chucks. Regan figured she would change clothes later that day in anticipation of Audra’s return.
It took a while for her to find what she had done with her I-Pod. She had been so scared that she would lose it or even worse, someone would steal it. She had buried it in her red case. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found it, immediately sliding it into her back pocket and placing the ear buds in her ear. Now she was comfortable. It did not matter where she was, as long as she had her music, her chucks and her favorite jeans. She could block out the world and get her groove on.
She started singing to a Beyonce Knowles’ song. But singing really was not her forte, dancing was. Immediately her body started to move. Dancing was a natural thing for her, like breathing. She had a body that was made for it, curved in all the right places, plush and firm. “If you like it, than you should’a put a ring on it,” she sang, all the while shaking her hips with cutting precision, mimicking the performer’s movements from the popular dance video. She had every step down perfectly. Regan danced out of her room, down the stairs and into the great room. She loved the fast pace of this song. There was no time to stop and think, just move. And this room was truly great. It was all space and light. With one wall completely made of glass, it seemed like nothing was between her and the sky or the tops of the trees. She could fall in love with this room, from the huge fireplace to the gorgeous dark wood piano. In the front window with the sun shining down on her brown skin, she let her hips move in time to the music. She surrendered herself to the bass beat and with all the space the room offered, it was better than being on stage. Her round sweet ass shook to the music with the quickness of a belly dancer’s and then she would slow it down and roll her toned torso, letting every muscle stretch to the rhythm. No one could shake their ass like Regan could once the music caught her, and she was caught. She eased around the furniture as if they were props in her own show, extensions of her graceful movements.
She was sliding off the back of a couch when something caught her eye and she froze.
Taking her ear buds out and laying her I-pod in a chair, she stared out the patio doors in awe. The great room led out into a patio area that was almost like an extension of the room itself. And right smack dab in the middle of that extension was a pool of cool blue water calling out to her. How in heaven’s name had she not seen the pool? She smiled devilishly and began to slip off her sneakers. She had learned how to swim at a Salvation Army’s summer camp program for underprivileged children, but there were never enough opportunities to use the skill. She immediately wanted to feel the water on her skin, her bare skin. Even with the ear buds removed, the music still played on in her head. Her dance transformed into a tempting strip tease as she peeled the jeans down her firm thighs, swinging her tight ass from side to side. The tank, she slipped over her head and flung it high into the air, her round breasts adjusting with each movement. By the time she made it to the glass sliding doors she was stepping out of her panties. From there she ran and tucked her legs in her arms as she hit the cold water. It felt so good flowing against her nakedness. She felt free in the water. It was a rare experience for her. She swam the length of the pool and then back. She was a smooth swimmer, barely making a slit through the water. Now she knew why people skinny-dipped. It was amazing. On her back, she drifted, letting the sun warm her skin. Her perky tits pointed to the sky.
There was a diving board and she wanted to see if she remembered how to dive. She dipped under water coming up by the steps. Stepping up, out of the pool, she wiped the water from her eyes. Then she froze.
She saw his white on white Nikes first, and then she heard his voice.
The low, silky voice slipped into the air seemingly from out of nowhere. She was alone and then suddenly she was no longer. She wiped at her eyes in disbelief and he was sill there. The shock of it caused her heart to pause and she jerked upright in surprise, bringing her to full height with only one hand covering her throat and the other paused in the air. Everything else was bare and her perfection exposed. She could not move.
His startling blue eyes roamed her body lazily and a half smile gently curved his generous lips.
Regan wiped more water from her eyes as it ran down her face from her thick mass of drooping curls. This time she used both her hands. She could practically feel his eyes meeting the surface of her wet skin like a soft caress, winding over her rounded hips, across her narrow waist to the darkened tips of her rising breasts. Her nipples hardened. She was paralyzed under his gaze. She simply stared, stunned, like a deer in the bright lights of an oncoming truck.
“You must be Regan.”
Ian’s smile spread wider, deepening the dimples beneath his cheeks. His piercing blue eyes neither wavered nor apologized as they focused on the silvery grey of Regan’s. Sapphire and stone met for the first time.
“I’ve bought you some lunch” he said, as an afterthought, his eyes never leaving hers.
Regan’s eyes remained wide in shock and wonder. Her heart raced and she found herself breathless.
is Ian, echoed in her mind. He was blond and blue eyed and…absolutely gorgeous.
“I tell you what,” he smirked, trying not to laugh. “I’ll set it up in the kitchen and meet you there, once you’ve had a chance to put your clothes back on.” One eyebrow rose up, questioning. “Or, not?”
Regan just continued to stare.
“Okay,” he laughed, coming to his own conclusion. His laugh was as sexy as his voice.
Taking in her naked body one last time, Ian dipped his head, as if to politely say goodbye, gracefully turned and made his way back through the house. Regan watched him disappear.
“What have I done,” she mumbled to herself, finally coming to.
Quickly retracing her steps, she gathered up her things. There were no words to explain what was coursing through her. She was excited, nervous and ashamed. And the way he had looked at her… Those eyes! By the time she slid back into her jeans and top she had managed to finally to control her breathing. She had lost her balance a couple of times racing to put her clothes on, and stumbled. She could not find her panties at all. Surely he had heard her as she made her way through the great room, which only added to the unbearable level of embarrassment that flooded her system and heated her face. She knew that the golden brown of her face had mutated into flaming sienna. Or, at least it felt like it. Of all the traits she may have inherited from her Caucasian father, why did blushing have to be one of them.
At first when Ian arrived, he heard nothing. He stepped into the kitchen and placed his bags on the island whistling to himself. He knew that the girl was there, somewhere in the house. Most likely he thought that she was still in her room. He went through the kitchen, and was about to mount the stairs leading to the upper level when he thought he heard something. He had just come back around the entry way when he saw her. She was dancing.
Suddenly she had just stopped and took out her ear plugs. Ian immediately assumed that she had seen him. He stepped forward, but her eyes were focused outside, past the sliding glass doors. Then she started singing the song again.
What she started doing next made Ian’s mouth salivate and his dick jerk. She began taking off her clothes. But it was no simple disrobement. The girl was still moving those hips. She slipped out of her jeans, stepped to the side and kicked them up onto a side table without missing a beat. Then she removed her t-shirt and panties. Fuck. His feet were planted in place. He could not have moved even if he wanted too. The show she was putting on was just too good to miss. The dark nipples of her breasts were swaying and bouncing to her movements. They were hypnotizing. Then she just disappeared out of his sight.
Ian moved swiftly. When he made it to the patio doors, she was already completely naked and in the pool.
He stepped out onto the patio, figuring that this was as good of time as any to let his presence be known.
Ian shook his head smiling and made his way to the kitchen, remembering the food he had bought.
For a while Regan just stood in the great room debating on whether she should join him or not. She realized that going would be better than having him look for her. And she was somehow sure; he would come looking for her.
Ian had set the table in the kitchen for two and had arranged a rather large selection of Chinese take out between the two place settings. He was bent over with his face in the fridge, but he must have heard her come in because without looking up he immediately asked her what she wanted to drink.
“It doesn’t matter,” she told him, her voice uncharacteristically timid.
He pulled out two sodas and held it up for her inspection. Damn, she thought, he was tall. She should have expected that because his brother was so tall. But Ian was not quite as tall as Troy.
“Will this do or are you more of an organic juice kinda’girl.”
Her t-shirt was thin and slightly damp, clinging to her. She had nothing to dry off with and had simply slipped back into her clothes. She knew without looking that her nipples were hard and two little raisins peeking out under her thin top. Her eyes immediately fell to where his eyes stopped. Yep, they were peeking at him.
“No, that’s fine,” she managed, wrapping her arms across her chest.
Ian really smiled and she felt the full force of it shine on her. It almost made her drop her arms and arc her back toward him. The effect was dazzling, drawing Regan‘s attention from herself.
“Um,” she said, clearing her throat and her mind as she took the seat across from him. “You weren’t supposed to be here. I didn’t think anyone was going to be around. I mean…I just…”
His face was suddenly serious, creasing his brow, and those bright blue eyes focused solemnly on hers. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Then he flashed another brilliant smile, showing even white teeth that almost glowed against the healthy, summer tan of his skin. “On a pretty day like this, and no one at home, I would have done the same exact thing. As a matter of fact I have. The whole family has at some point. Except,” he pondered for a moment, “maybe your father.”
He turned his attention back to the food and began to emptying large amounts onto his plate.
Regan wondered what she must look like to him--a wet dog, possibly. No, she looked like a hooker on a bad day. Her hair was going to be a frizzed mess when it dried. She could only imagine how ragged it looked right now. Why had she not picked herself out a decent shirt or at least worn a bra? She did not have a lot of clothes but there were things that were more appropriate. Why had she all of a sudden decided to prance like an exotic dancer and strip naked in a stranger’s house? This was not the first impression she wanted him to have of her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to have him like her. It was the same desire that overcame her when she first met with hopeful foster parents but more intense. She had wanted them to want to keep her.
She figured that Ian must create that response in many women. What female would not want him to want her? He was far beyond just being handsome. Ian McKrenna was beautiful in a very obvious masculine way. There was a perfection to his face that was mesmerizing. There was no doubt that he was Troy’s little brother. But, Ian’s face was slimmer, more defined. The lack of flesh in his face made him the more handsome of the two. In contrast to the hard defined line of his jaw and the straight line of his nose was the seductive fullness of his lips and the smiling warmth of the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen. That alone would be enough to make any woman drop down to her knees, but it hardly covered it. High cheekbones were surprisingly balanced by deep dimples that almost touched the rise of his cheeks. She noticed how his dimples never quite totally disappeared even when he was not smiling. They were distinctively his; Troy had none. The brothers did, however, share thick blond hair that tended to curl on Ian’s untamed head and fell over the upper part of his ears. Troy’s hair was close cropped and reduced to small waves. It was obvious that he was as athletic as his brother by the way his fitted tee clung in all the right places and his jeans fit.
Regan finally arrives, meets Ian, and discovers all that glitters isn't gold.
Even sitting there chewing with his mouth partially open, Ian looked like a magazine model. Regan watched the way his lips moved as he chewed.
“Have you eaten,” he asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement, more than aware that she was sizing him up.
She shook her head quickly, no, coming back to reality. “I’m hungry,” she confessed and reached for one of the rice-filled cartons nervously.
“I was not sure what you would like. So, I chose a little of everything.”
They ate in silence for a while. Ian was actually starved and shoveled the food down. Neither one of the girls he had spent the night with bothered to fix breakfast. He felt like he was losing his touch.
Regan was picking at her food, not really eating. Ian wondered if he had upset her.
He leaned his head forward, as if to tell her a secret. “They’ve sent me here to baby-sit you,” he smirked. “I must admit though, you are not what I was expecting.”
“I know,” she assumed. “I’m black.”
He laughed fully now, the deep sound catching Regan by surprise. Those damn dimples and those eyes! She blushed at what was going through her mind. Then suddenly it hit. The man had seen her butt naked. In no way had he expected to get flashed. That’s why he was laughing.
“No, that was nothing.” He then leaned back in the chair, placing his hands behind his head. His eyes narrowed as he focused on her. He looked more serious now. Lines formed between his eyebrows. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” she supplied, finishing off an egg roll. “Well, in a month I’ll be nineteen.”
“Hmm.” He shook his head. “You’re going to have to beat the boys off with a bat,” he teased, knowing that should not include himself, but she appealed to the obvious boy part of him. That was not good.
The way he said it, made Regan raise her head and look at him. He was not flirting. He sounded awed by the prospect. She had his full attention once more and he was searching her face for something. She welcomed the opportunity to watch his, mainly focusing on his eyes which were as tempting as that pool of water had been to her earlier. He seemed to easily draw her in.
“You’re lovely,” he said, his voice as caressing as his eyes were earlier. “Even more so than your mother.” He moved in again to have a closer look. “The eye coloring came from Ray, definitely. But they are different from his. The rest is almost an exact replica of your mother--just more beautiful. I didn’t think that was possible. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
Regan’s heart had started pounding at the word lovely, but her body went rigid at the realization of what he was saying.
“How do you know what my mother looked like,” her voice was sharp even though she had not intended it to be.
Abruptly, his mood shifted. He stood and took his plate sink, rinsed it off and then placed it in the dishwasher. “Would you like some more.”
“No, I’m good. I mean,” she corrected herself, “no thank you.”
He returned to the table and began closing the containers of food. Regan waited, fighting back the desire to demand that he answer. He finally stood, leaning against the counter, arms crossed against his chest and legs crossed at the ankle. He had a way about him, poise without purposefully posing. Every move he made was casual in nature but so well controlled and timed. The way his body moved was almost a manipulation in itself. Regan waited, acknowledging his control.
“Rae kept two pictures of her in his wallet,” he said watching her closely. “One was a picture of her alone staring straight at the camera. The other was her and him together, laughing.”
Regan looked down at her hands. She had only one picture of her mother. The idea that there were more and that THEY had them, not her, made her angry.
“There are hardly any pictures of Rea laughing. So, that one always interested me.”
“Is that what you called him too…Rea?” she asked.
“Yeah. Troy and I called him Rea. When we first moved in here it felt awkward calling him
Reagan and not comfortable enough to call him dad.” Ian’s voice trailed off. “I was twelve.”
“He wasn’t your father?”
Ian shook his head. “No, not biologically that is. He was the closest I had ever had. He adopted me when I was sixteen.”
“You and not Troy?”
“Troy was already a man and pretty much on his own by then.”
Regan looked up at him and was surprised to see his eyes still fully focused on her, not bothered by her probing questions. He could keep staring as far as she was concerned; she had made up her mind then that he would find nothing. As far as this man Reagan, or Rea, was concerned, she felt nothing. The pictures of her mother was a point of interest that she filed away, sensing that he was expecting to elicit some sort of emotional reaction with it. Other than that, she chose to not react at all. There was stillness between them for a moment, but also an electric like current that hummed in the silence.
Smiling, Ian turned to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. He would show the pictures to her, but only when she was ready to ask for them. There was so much he had been waiting to show her. Things that he had taken great care to put aside just for her. There were things that she only deserved to see.
“Where is your mother?”
Completely caught off guard, Ian laughed, turning back to look at her. The girl was not shy now, was she? “She has a loft in town.”
She took her plate to the sink and rinsed it out, causing Ian to move over. “You live here and she doesn’t?” she questioned.
There was a hard edge to her voice that Ian decided to ignore. He figured that the hardness was a ploy because there was also fear in those grey dough eyes. The girl was feeling him out, maybe trying to determine where he stood. He wanted to tell her that there were no sides in this house. There was no way his mother could harm her. The battle had already been fought and his mother had lost and was restricted to her little corner of the world. No one was challenging the fact that she was Reagan‘s daughter or that she had a right to his estate. The will stood untouched by his mother‘s mauve-colored claws. Half of the house as well as everything else belonged to her. “No she has not lived here in a while,” he told her, resuming his position against the counter. “Rea and she were in the process of divorcing before the…accident.”
Following Ian’s lead she placed her plate in the dishwasher. When she bent down, Ian had a perfect view of the top of her breasts. Her skin was looked so soft and smooth--the color of milk chocolate with extra cream. Her breasts were amazing.
“Oh,” Regan said in answer to his reply, not quite sure how to react to that piece of information. She knew that the woman had hired a slew of lawyers to contest the will. She had wondered where Ian’s loyalties lay. It obviously was not with his mother.
“Does my living here bother you?” Ian suddenly asked her.
Regan turned slightly, so that they were now facing one another. Being so close to him made her heart begin to pound and her breathing was shallow and quick.
“No,” she answered too quickly. “I mean it’s more of a home to you than it is to me.”
“But it is your home Regan.”
Her name sounded different falling off his lips, his very kissable lips. It made her lose her train of thought.
“You know he did not know about you for all those years. He would have wanted you here with him if he had known,” his voice was soft, almost like a caress.
For a moment their eyes held each other. Ian’s deep blue swirled with sudden unexplainable emotion. The gray stone of Regan’s softening under his spell.
“You,” Ian finally said, looking away and clearing his throat, “better get dressed. Audra is taking you shopping and my sister in law does not feel that the two of you should be left alone. So, I’m chaperoning.”
Regan shook her head. The embarrassments just did not end. “You heard about last night,” she asked, pulling her hands to her face.
“Oh yes,” he teased. “I missed quit a lot last night. I’m sorry. Allysia says that you are quick on the draw.”
“It was a really long day,” she admitted. “I ’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” he told her. “She most likely deserved it knowing my sister.” As she looked into the azure of his eyes, she believed him.
Ian watched her walk up the stairs to her room. Mostly he watched her ass. He pulled her cute little powder blue panties out of the pocket of his dark jeans and smiled devilishly. The soft cotton felt almost silky between his fingers. He was glad that he had let Audra talk him into living at the house instead of keeping his own place. Especially now that Regan was here, where she belonged. He wished Rea would have hung on long enough to see it. But then, that was Ian’s fault.