Being My Brother-in-law's Wife (Old version)

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5.

To say that Mason DeLuca’s mansion was big meant you were merely degrading the fine piece of artistry. Mason’s place was huge, one of the many huge things this man owned. The room I was offered as my bedroom was twice as big as my small apartment and so much cleaner and fragrant.

My favourite colour, rogue sultry red, was teamed up with coal black to compose majority of the room’s colour scheme. The four poster king-sized bed was nothing I’d ever encountered before and I had a full view of the garden and fountain-infused swimming pool from my window. Obviously due to the fact of vacancy, I only had basic furniture although I was promised a catalogue soon.

I settle on the comfortable bed before shifting onto my back while gazing at the ceiling. I felt like Aphrodite, that his muscular body would emerge from the rogue red covers and claim my mouth as his while my body succumbed to his lusty kiss. I couldn’t get over that night behind the tent. Every time I played the scene in my head I would always come up with alternative endings. Majority of them ended up with my backside aching but sated and his back red due to the imprints of my nails trailing down to his spine.

I bring my nails up to my view and I cringe. My nails are chipped and uneven, evidence of nervousness and I doubt they would even draw any blood from his back.

Although the mansion belongs to Mason, Syria, the housekeeper, levels the house to just two girls and one guy. Syria is a vivacious white-haired Italian woman with a booty that might rival mine. She reminds me of Grandma Jenny in a way, although Grandma preferred my sister to me. I didn’t look much into it because I too preferred Mona to myself.

Mason and I hardly spoke let alone act like husband and wife. I think the instant marriage also slapped him with a gloved hand and he couldn’t fathom the fact that he went from marrying a model to being stuck with her younger, less pretty sister.

I wasn’t that dark but I wasn’t Mona either. My curls were slowly reviving themselves back to life under my head wrap but I kept them concealed because it took forever to straighten them. Also, you’d find me either in sweats or baggy trousers – depending on my mood really.

A sudden pressure settles on my bladder and reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed so I could find the bathroom. My en-suite bathroom was still in the talks of a renovation so for the time being I simply used Mason’s bathroom. Today, however, was a different story because Mason’s bedroom was locked so I had to find the bathroom applicable for everyone.

I don’t know how it happened but I ended up stumbling into a foreign room littered with sketches and paintings. Paintings and sketches of all different textures, colours and techniques were lined up absolutely everywhere. Slowly, I took to one painting that was a silhouette of a curvy woman who only had her long curly hair to hide her modesty.

The smooth tune of Sade’s sweet voice lures me further into the room until I look through the slant opening of a wooden door. My eyes widened at the sight and no matter how much I tried to shift my focus elsewhere, they found themselves locked on the erotic occurring right before my eyes.

A slim platinum-blonde-haired woman with large bosoms cried out in want and need as she was jutted forward mechanically. My eyes fell on his smooth toned chest that sported a few inking additions until the definitions of his ripped abdomen and I watched him piston his hips vigorously into the woman, nearly ripping her apart due to his angry thrusts.

My flesh heats up as though volcanic lava had just coursed through my body and I draw in a vast amount of air. I suddenly had a thirst, a lucid thirst that could only be quenched by him. A film of sweat lines his incredibly tan body and I fought the urge to enter the room and brush his wet curls back for him.

A moan echoes in the room and as soon as the granite scorching eyes lock on my needy chocolate ones, it finally dawns on me that the moan actually fled my lips. His movements stop immediately but the female cries like a banshee in heat, begging for him to satisfy her. I back away slowly before practically racing out of the room. My skin was hot like the Caribbean sun and I still needed to pee. Finally, I found the bathroom and relieved myself before taking a long, much de rigueur cold shower.

Heavens, did I just find pleasure in watching him satisfy another woman? If so, why is there an unexplainable tug in my chest?

Syria and Blair study me intensively as I take a small bite out of my blueberry sauce-drenched pancake. Blair, who looked extremely hot in her red dress and matching heels, took time out of her work schedule to drop by and present flowers everyone at work had picked out. I miss Chief and working and I can’t wait in a few days to be out of this bloody house and back where I belong – the lab.

“Tesoro,” Syria begins as she wipes the counter in quick flicks of her wrist before glaring at Blair “how did you sleep last night?”

That’s the thing, I couldn’t sleep. I had the opportunity of being under him twice that day after the motel but I didn’t take it and I ran off. Now, I was a flustering mess who created short motion pictures of me being the blonde chick.

“Well,” I smile weakly at her but the corner of my eye could see the smug look of Blair. Nonetheless, I continue to nip at my pancake to avoid any conversation.

“Jae?” Blair sings as her incandescent eyes gaze at me in anticipation “I love you.”

I arch a brow at my spewing wildfire of red hair, “what do you want?”

“Nathaniel. Hook me up.”

I chuckle humourlessly while easing myself out of my seat to take to the sink, “are you obsessed with the guy or something?”

Blair scoffs but her eyes read something else, “I’m just trying to make some magic happen. Who knows, we could maybe have a twin wedding?”

“I’m not marrying Mason,” I state flatly while rolling my eyes “I’d rather be caught dead.”

“You’ve been a virgin for too long,” I laugh at her erroneous assumption but she continues blabbering “I think Mason is the one.”

“Have you even spoken to the guy? Have you even been in the same room with him?” Blair’s expression mirrors a fish in need of water ”No. So how would you know that he’s the one?”

“He’s devilishly beautiful and you’re angelically beautiful. There. Awesome mixed raced children.”

In hopes to occupy myself in the afternoon, I composed a grocery list filled with things I could indulge in until I could focus on some tests at work.

“Syria!” I call out for the pixie-sized yet fiery woman “we’re going to the store down the block, do you want me to bring you something?”

“You’re leaving now, tesoro?” I nod tenderly but it’s not long until I see her youthful face fall “oh.”

“Oh?”

“Caro wanted to see you this evening. He just called to say he’s on his way home,”

“Oh,” I mumble juggling my purse in my palm “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Bye Sierra,” Blair mocks and Syria returns a guttural grunt – their friendship seems to be spicy and exciting.

“Stop it,” I warn Blair with a small smile and I could see the same one span across her lips.

“She doesn’t like me.” Blair returns.

After shopping for sugary treats with Blair I dropped her off at work and took a quick drive to try clear my mind of what happened earlier in the market. People kept on staring at me, as if they knew that my black attire was related to my grieving and I could even hear others laughing at me. What could they possibly be laughing at? Was I naked? Was my grief obvious like a growing pregnant bump? What could’ve possibly been funny about me respecting my sister’s wishes?

I park my car next to Mason’s black Jeep and I curse at the midnight blue sky for not sending me a sign to encourage me to go home sooner. Slowly, I push the door open as quietly as I can and push it shut by using the curve of my behind. Tobacco fills the air and attempting to ignore it, I’m forced to face it.

“Where are you from, micio?”

I turn around slowly only to find Mason nestled in his seat with a cigar in between his lips and a glass filled half-full with amber-coloured liquid in his hand. Instantly, I align my spine with my chest before gazing deep into his pastel blue eyes, “the shops.”

“It’s now seven pm and Mama told me that you left at four pm to go to a store that was only ten minutes away. You’re probably the book-smart one seeing that you’re a forensic scientist so do the math.”

Was he patronizing me purposely?

“I just want to have some Oreos and go to bed.”

“Why didn’t you use my card?” I gulp visibly at the question before finding composure and answering quickly “I’m independent, always been and it’s not going to change.”

“Jesus Jae!” Mason roars hoisting his weight up and advancing towards me thus resulting in me sandwiched between him and the cool wall “do you enjoy seeing me like this?”

“Who are you to me?” I challenge with a bit of bite in my tone.

“Your husband, micio,” he draws in some air while popping two of his top buttons, revealing the same tattoo Nathaniel has etched on his neck and many more “remember that?”

“I. Want. To. Go. To. Bed.” I declare firmly but then his two large palms stamped on either side of my head prevent me to go anywhere.

His hand inches up to the head wrap I’ve worn all day and my wild, toffee curls spring loose, some even falling over my eyes and draping my glasses-clad vision. Mason sees this as opportunity and nudges the hair out of my eyes by using his slightly crooked nose before taking a long whiff of strawberry-squash-scented hair. A calloused thumb traces down my soft jawline, down my neck before stopping on a spot that made my breath hitch.

This man wasn’t good for me, his simple acts made me dizzy with arousal and need. I’ve only been responsive to one man and here he was, giving me minimal touches that would render my underwear drenched soon.

The image of the blonde chick slaps me back into sanity and I pull away from him, “I will not become one of your whóres, understood?”

“Whóres? Micio, I’m confused.”

Mason looks utterly baffled, as if I’ve just degraded him by deeming him small in his south regions and I nearly questioned my statement. Nearly.

“I saw how you were with her,” I spit harshly at him and I could feel the anger being archived deep within my gut “you’ll never look at me like that because I don’t have this going on.” I gesture to my chest area and Mason quirks a brow down at me as if my attitude didn’t faze him.

“When a woman fails to appease her husband then he’ll look in other places for satisfaction.” I couldn’t stop the shiver that crept up my spine when he chuckled darkly.

Was that a threat?

“The husband can knock himself out because she’ll never give two flowing dams about what he catches out there.”

He grabs my chin and presses his body flush against mine, jumpstarting a lot of bubbling hormones within my body. He was always big, ripped muscles and all and to feel them now, first hand – I failed to stop the mild thrust I offered him.

"Micio, thin ice.” He declares through gritted teeth and I would be lying if I said the sight wasn’t heavenly.

"Caro, you’re not gaining any brownie points with that tone either.” I mock him, my eyes filled with fury before pushing him away “good night.”

Mason DeLuca, what were you doing to me? I was supposed to be angry at him, furious yet I failed to have enough willpower to avoid succumbing to his heavenly body. Again, I added another hot sleepless night to my list.

I was awoken by the sound of heavy footsteps and shouts; the house was basically racketing due to them. Being the prime example of exhaustion, I shuffle out of my bedroom while stifling a yawn. The sound of what seems to be a bouncing basketball fills the house and I’m stunned to find a basketball dribbling to my feet, only to stop once I stamp my foot on it.

“Ey yo ma,” a familiar voice calls downstairs and I peep over the banister only to find a lovely dark chocolate sight “would you look at that? Mason be triflin’ and keeping angels in his house I see.”

The male charges up the stairs like a lightning bolt and I struggle to hold the ball as adorably as I could because it’s quite early in the morning and my bones have yet to adjust to my dire movements. The ball drops out of my hands once the dark chocolate male blinks his hazel eyes at me – please remember me, “Lucy?”

Close enough.

“Jae,” I mumble quietly “Pre-calculus? Remember?”

“Ayt, I see the lisp ma,” Treyvaughn smiles wickedly sweet “it’s been long since you were...”

He stretches his hands apart in front of his taut belly and shows me...is he showing me fat?

“Yeah,” I smile tightly at him, my tongue brushing on my front teeth while mimicking his hand gestures “it’s been long. Where’s Mason?”

Treyvaughn looks almost wounded by my sudden question and grabs his chest, “bored of me already ma?”

I laugh nervously, the laughter becoming louder once I see Mason march up the stairs and I brush my palm against Treyvaughn’s mocha skin, “oh,” I mutter lurching closer to him “I would never be bored of you Trey.”

Treyvaughn serves me his signature smirk and as he was about to speak to me, Mason came dangerously close to us. His eyes find mine, scorching and midnight blue and I break the gaze before melting into a puddle and embarrassing myself in front of Treyvaughn.

“Micio, I want you to get ready.”

“For what?” I spit distastefully and I swear I just saw Treyvaughn mouth an ′ohhh’.

His eyes widen momentarily and the grim look seeps over his devilishly handsome face, “we’re going to buy the tiles for your bathroom.”

Now he decides to renovate my bathroom? Like hell he will.

“Ayt, pussycat,” Treyvaughn grins cheekily and I bite my cheek after finding the meaning of ‘micio’ “I would’ve loved to take you out for some lunch later today but it seems like you’re busy.”

My eyes find Mason’s, “I won’t be busy after the tile-picking so I’m sure lunch can happen.”

I couldn’t flirt even if I was paid.

“Ayt,” Treyvaughn hand quickly grabs a loose toffee curl before dropping it “I look forward to that lunch.”

How could one human being be so perfect? I mean, having features carved by Greek gods is not human – it can’t be human. The tight sculpted jaw, model looks, and smouldering eyes – he can’t be real. I want to reach out and touch his hair to see if it’s real but I restrain myself, he’ll probably think I’ve gone insane.

I feel so out of place in his sexy Jeep, as if I’m a mistress he is sneaking out just to sleep with and then leave to catch a cab. That should explain why I’m seated as though I’m ready to bolt out once the car stops.

His hand falls on my black ankle-length-dress clad thigh and I feel my tensed muscles loosen easily.

“I won’t hurt you, micio.”

“Right,” I smile tightly at him with fiery eyes “we wouldn’t want you going somewhere else to satisfy your urges, now would we?”

“Micio,” he breathes, his palm descending down to my knee to give me a warm, tingly squeeze “I’m sorry.”

My breath kicks in my throat and just for protocol measures, I ask, “for what exactly?”

“My stupid behaviour. Idiota,” he swerves into a heavy traffic and curses silently before continuing “I shouldn’t have done nor said all those things in the past. Micio, I want us to work.”

I look out at the window and huff at a young male who’s just as bored out of his wits because of this traffic like I am, “why do you call me micio?”

“You are a micio,” Mason cracks a small smile before plunging a cancer stick in between his plump lips. He brings a flame forth, cupped delicately in his palm before drawing in the nicotine “that night at the motel. You were pure yet desire was in those big beautiful eyes, belle. I couldn’t keep my eyes off your hair because it’s like toffee splayed across a canvas and your body –”

“Okay...I get it...I think.” My last word falling as an afterthought but Mason continues nonetheless.

“When you saw me with Lena, micio...I was angry.”

I scoff keeping my gaze on my window, “at whom?”

“You. You lied about your name. It took me forever to trace you and I truly found light at the end of the tunnel when Nathan mentioned a Lakeisha.” The way he said Lakeisha in that accent – God forbid.

“It was a one night stand; you do not find your one night stands.”

“Bella, I gave you alcohol and bedded you without knowing that I’d be your first. I thought that maybe a date or some diamonds could’ve rectified the wrong I did.”

“Well,” I shove Mason’s warm palm off my knee before rolling my eyes at him “I’m not one of those whóres you buy off just so they can sleep with you and I know your screaming Lena won’t be your last. I will not marry you Mason DeLuca and I wouldn’t marry you even if you were the last man in the world.” The tears were streaming down my face but subconsciously, I was slapping Mason – I was throwing him into a pool of lava and laughing hysterically as his body disintegrate into the heat “Mona deserved so much more than you!”

“And what’s wrong with me?” Mason returns with more anger and we’re both fuming by now.

“You’re a cheating bastard. I saw you with another woman. A fúcking blonde in the same house we are forced to share!”

“I explained myself, micio!” his arms wrap around me and I fight him instantly, throwing weak punches at his broad chest “this isn’t about me, is it micio? You don’t really care about what I do, do you? You’re just taking your anger out on me –”

“Stop with the rhetorical questions Mason,” I sob in his chest but then he begins to caress my hair by brushing the head wrap.

“Well, I want you to take it out on me, micio.” I pull away from his chest and gaze up into his pastel blue eyes that were slightly darkening.

He took what felt like forever to speak and I was even beginning to question the position we were currently in. We were close, too close, dangerously close and somewhere in my abyss of pain and grief – I sought after it like light in the dark.

“Micio, why didn’t you tell me that your lips swell up when you cry? That your eyes become big when you cry?”

He studies me as if I’m a new astronomical discovery, his long slim fingers brush my features delicately and I couldn’t help but allow my eyelids to dip down. His husky deep voice was like sweet heroin to an addict, luring me into a realm of security and I allowed his voice to embrace me with its iron grip.

“I’m getting hard,” he takes my dainty palm and places it on his large, heated girth “and it’s only you, belle.”

My conscience was begging for escaping, pleading for me to let go of his heated, well-endowed member but my body was swaying into a different rhythm – the song of lust.

His head dips into my neck and I tilt my head to the side, giving him ample access to my skin, where he kisses my skin airily, “only for you belle.”

Only me.

Only me.

Only me.

A foreign moan leaves my lips once he applies slight pressure on my sweet spot but just as I was about to beg for more, a row of hoots interrupted us. Expecting Mason to jut forward, he surprises me by letting his tongue dart out on the skin, making me flinch in delight. The hoots end up being a choir and now sober from my drunken state of lust, I pull away.

Awkwardness shifts in the air and I wipe my cheeks clear of any tears before wiping my whole face clear of any tears. Mason, who was slightly agitated, squirms in his seat before driving forward. I nearly felt violated after everything registered into my head, what was Mason igniting deep within me?

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