The orange-purple sky glows over the horizon while a cool breeze brushes across my skin. My ivory-dress clad body was nestled in a field of wild tulips and I soaked in the warm rays of the sun. Sade was crooning in the distance and slowly, I brought myself up to my feet.
Mason was now stark naked, standing behind his canvas in my bedroom back in New Orleans and his dishevelled hair covered his eyes as paint spluttered across the apparatus. He didn’t seem to take notice of my presence and hummed alongside Sade in Sweetest Taboo.
He turns around, his member hard and swinging and he steps towards me. His eyes were midnight blue and lethal, swaying me into a mass turmoil of arousal and need. A slight gasp leaves my lips when he juts me to his chest, his hardened muscle throbbing against my clothed belly and even then the palpable hunger brewing within me couldn’t be masked anymore.
If this is a dream then don’t even bother waking me up.
“Too bad,” Mason smirks, his eyes glistening with an unknown emotion “wake up.”
“Merde! Micio, we’re late!”
“You’re so sexy...” I smile softly, my body shivering as soon as the sun’s rays touch my skin, resurrecting the cool flesh back into life and my eyes flutter open slowly. Instinctively, I squirm awake and the junction in between my legs aches immediately, sending a strong surge of pleasure and fulfilment to run through me.
I bring my gaze to the twinkling jewellery clad on my ring finger and the minimal reflection on the crystal jewel of my bruised collarbone brings a small smile on my face.
“Dreamt about me?” Mason grins, grabbing his beads from the bedside table.
Ignoring his question, I sit up and my eyes find his bedside clock – motherfúck, we’re late!
I jolt from the bed, my wild hair flying in the wind as I tried to retrieve my toiletries, and I happen to receive a first class ass invitation on the floor after tumbling on my feet. Mason appears on my side, his face red with laughter and he helped me up on my feet.
Mason puckers his lips and leans into me, which would’ve been awesome if we’d brushed our teeth but now was definitely not the time, “We need to shower – now.”
“Jaenelle Kenya DeLuca, gimme your lips.”
Did he just call out my full name?
“Don’t be calling me by my government name,” I smack my lips at him and grab his warm wrist “shower – strictly water and no fondling.”
“Yes ma’am.” he offers me a mock salute with a lopsided grin – should I be worried?
The water runs down my back, taming the aching muscles from last night and I smile subconsciously at the relaxation it bestows upon my flesh. The dramatic record stops when Mason slides the shower door open and invites the cold in as if it were family. Chilly crisp air was the last thing on my mind once my eyes settled on his aroused member.
“So,” I chuckle lightly, shifting a fair distance away from him “how’s the weather outside?”
My voice was shaky, pitching a few octaves higher than my usual tone and the pathetic smile I had on display wasn’t convincing either. He notices my wry behaviour and cracks a small smile, “I’m just here to wash, and we need to have breakfast soon.”
Of course! How presumptuous could I be by thinking he would want to have my body and make love to me like a crazed lover? Hesitantly, I grant him enough space into the shower and he slides the door close. The water was close to scorching but we both needed the liquid massage. Things were going well until he accidently lathered my chest with lavender scented suds.
"Oops.” He murmurs brushing his foamy palms on my heated hardened beads although his eyes said otherwise ”my mistake.”
I choose to keep quiet, acting stupid while Mason used every opportunity he had to try faze me. He sinks one of his fingers into me, his thumb pressed slightly against my throbbing clìt and I gasp slightly – okay, I didn’t think he would actually take it this far.
“My bad,” he grunts wrapping my leg around his waist and my heart jolts in my chest once his tip sinks into me slowly “I swear all of this is by accident because honestly, I had this weird theory that by sharing a shower with my beautiful wife then we could save water for disadvantaged people in Africa.”
He sinks into me fully, my other leg wrapped around his waist now and my teeth descend into his skin in pleasure, ”Oh, Mason."
He thrusts slowly and my throat tightens due to the lack of oxygen I should be taking in, “so, by saving water with my beautiful wife,” he delivers another delicious thrust with a grunt “not only am I helping the world but I’m also getting some good pu – damn you’re tight.”
"Mason,” I cry closing my mouth over his because he just talks to damn much. I jerk to his erotic pace and I came more times than I should’ve before Mason reached his third high, rendering me weak and flaccid. My speech was a jumbled mess and the smile Mason gave me nearly contributed to my collapsing.
“I shall take the opportunity of bathing my wife now, that’s if she approves of course.”
“I approve, husband.”
“A little bit faster Jae.” He coaxes with even breathing and surprisingly, he hasn’t even broken a sweat yet.
“Don’t rush me!” I snap at Mason while juggling my half-open handbag in between the people “it’s your fault we’re late.”
He, my conscience clears her throat with twinkling brown eyes, fúcked you right in the pússy.
“Janelle Kenya Marks, we need to hurry up.”
I roll my eyes at him and follow after him as we squeeze past the crowded airport of Cape Town until we arrived at the security check. Luckily, in my favour, we found a long queue and I was granted enough time to actually zip up my bags and fix myself.
“Leave the hair,” Mason murmurs softly, brushing his fingers through the curls “you have sexy hair...don’t even think of straightening it ever again.”
I chuckle lowly at his request and grant him one of my mock salutes, “aye aye captain, do you have our visas?”
He nods softly and hands me them both before shuffling forward into the long line. Curiously, I peep his passport open and bubbling laughter rumbles from the depths of my throat. Now his government name is one I don’t mind saying over and over again.
“Uhm, Mason Giuseppe DeLuca,” his head snaps back in fury and I could not conceal my laughter anymore, thus resulting in a very unattractive snort, “bless your government name.”
He furrows his brows briefly before grabbing his passport from my clutches, “I don’t know this Giuseppe you speak of.”
“Okay, okay,” I sigh in mock defeat, bopping my head to a nice beat on the radio accompanied with my own lyrics, ”Giuseppe, non fermanti."
“Micio, not here.” He warns lowly with hooded eyes.
Startled, I feign confusion, “What could I possibly have done wrong, Mason Giuseppe DeLuca?”
He grabs my chin gently, baring the public no attention as he places a sweet short kiss on my lips, “it sounds sexier from your lips, Mrs. Mason Giuseppe DeLuca.”
“It’s much better than Kenya,” I gush puckering my lips for his once again and he kisses them “so much better.”
Our suitcases were validated and we were checked for any metal or weaponry before being given an approval stamp on our visas. Announcements of the boarding planes for Tanzania were now frequent but Mason looked relaxed, even offering to have a quick breakfast at Mugg & Bean.
“Mason, shouldn’t we be leaving?” I ask softly, shuffling next to him while his eyes followed every restaurant we passed.
“We will,” he answers with a small smile and leads me inside the cosy café hand in hand “when we’re done eating.”
He seemed oddly calm for a man who missed all the flights to Tanzania and he would indulge in occasional chuckles with me here and there. What worried me the most wasn’t the fact that we just missed our flight to Tanzania but how we would act with each other once we’re back in New Orlean. Things didn’t go well before the cleansing ceremony and I’m not ready to go back to that state with him.
“We need to go,” he sighs placing some notes into the bill folder and he offers me the complimentary candy that was in the little booklet “My God; I swear, Cape Town doesn’t want us to leave.”
“I don’t think we want to leave either.” I crack a small smile and grab my handbag off the table before fitting my fingers alongside Mason’s fingers.
The announcements were becoming frequent and one announcement seemed to catch Mason’s attention. Swiftly, his fingers tighten around mine and he pulls me behind his long mighty strides. A hoard people were charging towards the same exit we were heading to and we were met with a long line once again. Protocol measures took place and boy did we receive a lot of glares when they spotted the rocks on my finger – I may or may have not fed off the jealous glares I received.
I’m neither stupid nor naive but I’m pretty sure California and Tanzania is not the same thing. The line for the business section of British Airways flight was short and soon we found ourselves buckled securely into our seats. Sweet tea and the dagwood sandwich I had earlier was still fresh on my tastebuds and it was the most heavenly food I’ve ever devoured.
“First stop London and then it’s straight to Los Angeles.”
Los Angelos – scusi?
“Mason, what about Tanzania --”
"Uh,” he whines kissing my lips “you talk too much.”
I should talk more then.
“Mason Guiseppe DeLuca --” he silences me once again and this time, a small smile did seep through.
What? No kisses now?
“Is it because of I’m for a black?”
His expression freezes, his lips mouthing my previous words and a smile finally cracked through the stoic look, “I doubt that is even English but I shall grace your lips with mine – rest mia moglie.”