The warm water pelts on my skin, pacifying the roaring flames caused by the one and only Mason DeLuca and I allowed myself to succumb to the water. I relaxed under there for at least fifteen minutes before finally exiting the shower, only to discover that I left my towel outside.
It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all, has he?
But my nudity would mean bearing myself to Mason, making myself vulnerable to him and I don’t think I’m ready to put myself through that emotionally. I am not quite sure of where I stand with Mason honestly. We’re not at the emotional level I’d like us to be and he doesn’t seem to be interested in meeting me halfway either.
Gingerly, I peer out the slant opening of the bathroom door and a puff of relief left my lips once I found the bedroom vacant. By the time Mason made his naked debut to the bedroom I was already dressed in a multi-coloured knee-length skirt accompanied with a matching high collar sheer top and nude shoes.
My eyes find his python tattoo, its tail dipping down to the small of his back and the way his back muscles flexed – no! I will not subject myself to such atrocious thoughts whereas my husband won’t even give me one glance.
What could I have done wrong?
Maybe if he could give me a chance to rephrase my sentence, just so I could rectify the offense I created? I could maybe substitute his mind in his place, praise him for having such a beautiful mind instead of his stature being beautiful – anything just to make him talk to me.
“Are you ready to go?” he murmurs lowly in my ear and I nod softly, his arm wrapping around my waist lightly. A short woman with rich brown skin smiles sweetly at us before shuffling her cleaning supplies into the house.
“Mr and Mrs. DeLuca, the house will be sparkling clean when you get back.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. We’re in South Africa and he’s gotten help already!
“Mia moglie,” he offers politely while guiding me into the passenger seat of a sleek black Aston Martin and I simply kept to the scenery outside my window because that offered me much more than sharing harsh silence with my husband.
Mason pulls up in front of a cuisine road show that offered multi-cultural food sites with inviting people.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask quietly, subconsciously fixing my apparel because I looked far too formal for this kind event.
“Is it a crime to bring my food-loving wife to a food festival?” my cheeks heat up and I brush one curl away from my eyes, only to find Mason’s blue eyes scorching and dark.
His mouth closes over mine angrily, his tongue sending me into frenzy and I struggled to keep myself on my feet. I grab his hair, fisting the rich dark curls while my neither region ached for attention.
Cheers from nosey bystanders force us to pull apart and all thoughts of earlier had left my head.
“So, shall we try their food?”
I tried to find my speech, believe me I did but I ended up with a wide smile, a wide smile matching my husband’s smile.
The festival was colourful, filled with music and scrumptious food. We lurched from stall to stall, sharing some laughter here and there whenever we came across – I wouldn’t say creative – interesting textured meat. We came across one rubbery one, one we really fought to chew down to minimal morsels in order for it to fit into our oesophagus but it didn’t budge. I ended up spitting it out and smiled at the old woman who had sold the meat to us in guilt.
“Isn’t it just beautiful?” I whisper quietly, my eyes locked on the beautifully-lit lantern lamps littering the whole of Sea Point beach.
Mason leans into me, the slight smell of red wine seeping from his lips wafts into the air and he nudges his nose in the crook of my neck, “not as beautiful as you.”
The heat spread across my cheeks down to my neck but not because of his words but rather because of his behaviour. I tip the glass down, commanding all my nerves to slumber and I push my wine glass somewhere into the corner of our blanket.
“Let’s go for a quick dip,” I suggest with a small burp.
Mason gives me an apprehensive look and rubs his heady jaw, “this is the coldest beach in Cape Town, are you inviting hypothermia in with open arms?”
It’s the perfect way to get sober.
“C’mon DeLuca, youse scared of a lil’ fire in yo’ wifey?” I mimic my mother’s Brooklyn accent with furrowed brows but it soon fell once he shot me the coldest glare he could muster.
“Alright,” he staggers up slowly and immediately disposes of his shirt – what on earth is he doing?
“Bought the western side of this beach when I was just eighteen,” he smiles smugly, teeth all twinkling once he drops his pants down, leaving him in his tight Calvin Klein briefs.
I cocoon myself of my own warmth and frown at him, “And why did you buy a part of the beach for yourself at that particular age?”
I knew the answer already – it was that plausible.
“To sketch naked women when they were changing out here.” He stares into the beach’s distance as if remembering a beautiful memory and the insecurity club wacked me behind the head, forcing all uncertainties to fill my head.
“Ready for that swim micio?”
“Yeah,” I whisper quietly and kick off the heels, placing them neatly next to our blanket.
“Wont your clothes get wet?” Mason asks with an arched brow.
I don’t care.
“Are we going to swim or nah?” I roll my eyes with a slackened jaw.
The water is freezing! Abort mission. I repeat, abort mission.
Y’know what? I think I left the somethin’-somethin’ in the oven and it’s going burn so peace out, my conscience smiled uneasily while backing away into absolute absence.
I don’t know what happened but a cold wave washes me out, numbing my feet to the point where they felt like bricks and absolutely immoveable. Warm skin ignites me back to life once his arms wrap around me and I could already imagine us now. He looks absolutely gorgeous, rugged and wet and I’m in his arms like the weak damsel I currently am. Mason dips me down on the ground with a quiet sigh and I laugh, I laugh hard and snort. My stomach muscles tighten and in order to muffle my unattractive laugh I bury myself into his chest, although that action only made me laugh even more.
“So you’re laughing at the fact that you could’ve died?” he spits harshly but the alcohol in my system made it hard for me to find composure.
After moments of snorting and leveling my breathing all my thoughts came back to me like a flood of water.
“Why am I not allowed to compliment you?” I ask with a slackened jaw “do my compliments mean nothing to you? Are they void?”
“You’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen to me good,” I see you alcohol “you’re beautiful, you’re so beautiful that you make me question humanity.”
His facial was stoic and his eyes were blank but I kept on talking, “you see this?” I shove my left hand into his face and he tumbles on my frame with a slight smile. “Because of your rich Italian ego I might get mugged with these.” Swiftly, I push him off my body and soon I have the reins. The alcohol made me feel like a goddess exuding sexual aura and desire. The feeling was intangible, like no other and how his scorching eyes trained on as if I were one of his exquisite sketches gave me a power trip.
I straddle his waist and tug on his hair gently, mesmerising the strands with my fingers, “nothing will make me take back my words and I don’t regret them one bit because you are indeed beautiful.”
Something hard strikes my rear and I gasp, the effect of alcohol leaving me momentarily. The chills were getting to me and my wet clothing made my head spin.
“So,” I drawl out with a sly smile while trying to manoeuvring my body from my amico, only to have his hands attain an iron grip on my behind “the weather huh?”
“I don’t want to talk about the damn weather,” he mutters lowly and I feel his hands easing up into my drenched skirt “I wanted to tell you how beautiful you are yet I felt stupid about my behaviour earlier.”
His thick index finger traces the rim of my damp underwear, teasing me slowly, “Mason –”
“I’m not beautiful. The things I do are not beautiful micio,” he groans lowly, running the zip of my top down “I have flaws and I know that you can see them.”
Flaws? I struggle to see his flaws because he is a walking Adonis!
He brings my fingers down to his nose and I could feel the slight bump before he lowers them down to his lips, kissing them softly. I yank my fingers from his and kiss him feverishly, diving my inexperienced tongue down his throat and he laves at it gently.
The spitfires igniting in my veins detonate to life and I bring my lips up to his crooked nose, kissing his self-proclaimed flaw as if it were something feeble and delicate.
Mason pulls away, much to my dismay and gazes deeply in my eyes, his eyes displaying a wounded stray puppy.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers but the waves crashing on the shore drown out his voice “I’m so sorry for that night.”
I didn’t want to talk about that night, not when I’m so aroused and in need of my husband.
“I was high that night and I felt terrible,” he mutters solemnly and sits up, his fingers tugging the rest of my shirt off my body. I couldn’t hide the need in my eyes but kept to myself, biting my bottom lip.
“Last night,” he holds my hands in his and presses a quick kiss on each of my wrists “you touched my scars and said they were beautiful. I made love to you, brought you bliss but the only thing on your mind was telling me how beautiful you think I am.”
“Was I wrong to do that?”
Mason chuckles darkly, “I took away your sight eight years ago because I was high and I never said I was sorry.”
I heave in a harsh amount of air and blink at him, “it was an accident –”
“How could you call me beautiful? I am honestly not beautiful.”
“But you are,” I challenge, arching a brow at him “you are my beautiful.”
“Don’t make me fall in love with you.” He warns angrily and slackens his jaw “don’t make me fall in love with you because I might not be able to let you go.”
He watches me carefully as I bunch up my dripping skirt at my waist and my amico awaited me impatiently as I positioned myself on top of him.
The alcohol was making me do unquestionable things and I paved way for it – wait, I rolled a motherfúcking red carpet and I allowed it to do what it pleased with me. Everything was going well until I sunk down on his immense size, biting my bottom lip in the process.
“You’re,” Mason grunts with a raucous tone and clenched teeth ”tight.”
“Mason,” I pant, grabbing onto his hand and squeezing the life out of it “the alcohol turned me into a maniac.”
“Non prendete la via da me Dio,” he hums, jutting my hips forward as i made love to my husband, with heightened emotions might i add.
(Dont take her away from me God.)
“Voglio che mi dia un figlio prima della fine dell’anno,” i dont know what was more delicate, his vulnerable Italian or his moans that sent me into a delectable frenzy.
(I want her to give me a child before the year ends.)
“Bella strega ha fuso il suo incantesimo su di me,” my bliss was approaching, my gorgueous high and i was getting frustrated because Mason continued to make sweet love to me, refusing to send me into an impulsive mode.
(Beautiful witch has casted her spell on me)
“I...I dont understand a thing you’re saying,” I groan, closing my mouth over his in order to shut him up but he pulls away, thrusting vigorously while mia moglie became the only thing on his tongue.
I settle on the bed, the soft fabric of the gown brushes against my heated skin and carresses it softly although it did nothing to ease the nerves that Mason’s flamious gaze was causing. He was naked like the day he was born and only had his sketchpad to hide his modesty.
“Can you take down your head towel?” he asks huskily, eyeing my gown rather than my eyes. Slowly, I take down the head towel and the toffee curls spring loose, hoarding my scalp as usual.
“I want you to lie down,” he murmurs lowly and I do as he says – after a moment of slight apprehension. Mason sits back with a stoic face, blank eyes and points his pencil in the air, “Take off your gown.”
“C’mon Jae, take a deep breath in!”
“I’m trying Mona but this dress just won’t fit!”
“Okay...okay. Don’t cry, okay? Mason will just have to take Twanika in your place then.”
“Gimme your dress. I’ll tell Treyvaughn to have your name taken off the guest list.”
“I could try...I could try to make it fit Mona. Just, just give me sometime and I’m sure I can fit my arms through.”
“Jesus Jae! This is my prom and I can’t have my sister ruinin’ Mason’s prom picture. Gimme Twanika’s numbers.”
“Jae -- ”
“I can’t,” I shake my head slowly, my throat tightening up “Mason I can’t do that.”
“Jae,” he warns lowly but I wasn’t having it – I am not going to allow him in.
“Mason – you don’t understand –” I couldn’t make out my words and when Mason joins me on the bed, eyes brewing with unknown emotion, I felt all my walls crumble down.
His lips press on my forehead, soothingly and tenderly. All my fears dissipate into nothing as he continues to kiss my temple and I merely curve into his side. The heat of his skin pacified me and I could feel the alcohol start to die down. Swiftly, our bodies were in the covers and I felt the alcohol beguile me to sleep.
The drilling sound from the bedside table awakens me from my glorious sleep and begrudgingly, I slide my finger across the screen. A chirpy Walter appears on the screen and right next to him is my stunning best friend Blair.
“Jae baby, how you doin’?” Walter grins while holding his hands out like Wendy Williams.
“Walter,” I groan, bringing the phone above my face “its six am here.”
“Lawd have mercy,” Blair intercepts with a grin “can you move your phone a little to the left?”
Slowly, I do what she says before actually realizing her true intentions. Mason was asleep, his arm draped over my chest and his head in the crook of my neck.
“Alright,” Walter bellows with a tight jaw “how is it there?”
“Can’t you wait until we get back – ah.” My skin catches on fire instantaneously and he just keeps his fingers in there. Everything is heightened at the moment and I could hardly even out my breathing in hopes to keep the speculation down to zero.
“Jae baby, are you okay?” Walter enquires with a slight indentation in his left cheek.
“T-the headache,” I smile uneasily but Mason’s fingers got to work as soon as I said that “I d-drank too much yesterday?”
“Babe, you dont sound so good,” Blair mutters with pursued red lips “what did you drink?”
“C-can you just give me – just a quick moment please.” I could hardly hide my need and a happy sigh filled my ears once the call died.
“Finally,” Mason mutters pulling out his fingers and straddling my waist “I can never get enough of you.”
“I’m not a fan of fingers.” I roll my eyes at him, adjusting myself under his bare self.
“And what are you a fan of mia moglie?” he chuckles while brushing my hair back so they could fan across the white pillows.
My cheeks heat up, “you can’t just...push your...yeah. I prefer something much more softer, wetter and plumper –”
“My lips?” he enquires with an open-mouthed smile – such a breath taking open-mouthed smile.
Slowly, I brush my finger across his delectable lips and he takes it into his mouth before sinking in deep inside of me.
Lord have mercy – my emotions are always heightened whenever we make love.
Only then did it hit me hard when I realized that coitus is all we’ll ever share. I’ll always have to warm up his bed whenever he wants me to because I’m married to him. Basically, I’m just a warm body...something to attend to his needs until he finds someone he actually wants.
I didn’t even realize that he had gotten off until he asked me a rather odd question.
“Explain as to why I just fúcked you?”
My eyes were wide, bottom lip in between my teeth and voice rugged, “what do you mean?”
“I just got off and you didn’t – is there something you were thinking about?”
Did we just share bad sex?
“What are you talking about?” I scoff with an incredulous look “I enjoyed everything.”
“You’re not a come-bucket, y’know? I would actually like my wife to connect with me so I know that I’m doing my job properly.”
Why would he want to do that if I’m just a warm body to him?