Heaven Forbid by Lutishia Lovely Page A

passing day. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
    Unbidden, a picture of the man who got away came into her mind, the man whose photo she’d recently seen in LA Gospel, escorting his wife to the NAACP Image Awards. Don’t, Passion, don’t even go there. Even as her head said no, her heart said yes. She closed her eyes and remembered Lavon Chapman’s deep kisses and probing tongue—remembered the night they both lost control and almost had sex. Unlike Stan, Passion had no doubts Lavon knew how to use the massive gift God had blessed him with. And now someone else was getting all that good loving, and she was left with that woman’s languid leftover.
    “Mommy! Mommy, it’s me. I’m home!”
    Thank God for diversions. That line of thought will lead to nothing but trouble. Passion smiled as her pride and joy bounded into the den. At eight years old, Onyx was a braided bundle of energy: smart, inquisitive, and, if Passion didn’t rein her in, as rambunctious as all get-out. Onyx had adjusted well to having a father figure in the home, and Stan seemed to shower the same love upon her that he did his own kids. I have to give him that—he’s a great father. She only wished he was a great husband as well.
    “Hey, sweetie pie, how was your day?”
    “Not too good, Mommy.”
    Passion watched with humor as Onyx pasted an exaggerated frown on her face. “It’s Charlie McPherson. He keeps pulling my braids at recess, and I don’t like it. I know you told me that fighting isn’t ladylike, but if he does it again, I’m gonna knock him on his behind!”
    Passion stifled a smile. “Now, Onyx, you know you can’t do that. What about Mrs. Abrams? Did you tell your teacher about what little Charlie is doing?”
    “Only a hundred times,” Onyx said, rolling her eyes and crossing her tiny arms for good measure. “But all she does is stomp her foot and say, ‘Charlie, stop it right this minute. Be a good boy.’”
    Onyx’s mimicking Mrs. Abrams was spot-on, and Passion didn’t try and contain her laughter. “Well, I tell you what. The next time Charlie pulls your braid, just tell him he’s doing that because he likes you and thinks you’re the prettiest little girl at Rolling Hills Elementary. I bet that will put a stop to his bothering you.”
    “Yuck! I don’t like Charlie. His hair is red, and he has freckles and wears braces! But he better stop messing with me, Mommy. Or I’m gonna knock him out!”
    “All right, Michelle Tyson. What do you say about a little snack to tide you over until dinner? Would you like a couple chicken fingers with some chips?”
    “Can I have them with barbeque sauce, my favorite?”
    “Yes, honey.”
    While getting the frozen fingers from the freezer, Passion’s eyes fell on the twenty-pound turkey Stan had bought for the dinner he wanted. The holiday dinner that was supposed to be filled with joy and cheer. Passion’s smile became sinister as a plan unfolded in her head. If Stan wanted his little we’re-one-big-happy-family dinner, then there was something he’d have to give Passion in return. Sure, it ached her heart a little to have to bribe her husband into having sex with her, but the dildo she’d purchased mere months into her marriage wasn’t working out. She didn’t like masturbating, couldn’t help but feel it was wrong, even though she was married. And the further truth was, she loved her husband and she loved making love to him. Stan had the equipment. If he really wanted to, Passion felt he could be an excellent lover…like that last time after the fight in Texas. He’d actually hit her G-spot for the very first time. But after returning to Los Angeles, Stan had reverted back to his old self, not wanting to have sex and not wanting to talk about their Texas rendezvous. That was already more than a month ago. In Passion’s mind, it was way past time for the two to become one again, and as she sat Onyx’s plate on the dining room table and walked back