Covet (13 page)

A
fter their week
on Easter Island, Scarlet and Barrett had come back more in love than they ever thought possible.

On the plane back to the States, they’d dined on swordfish and scallops, sharing an entire bottle of wine between them. Scarlet couldn’t stop staring at the rock on her finger. She wasn’t usually one for material things, she didn’t get off on labels or luxurious brands. But she had to admit, staring at her ring, she kind of got what the fuss was all about.

And across from her was the sexiest man she’d ever known. And he was all hers.

“I’m definitely glad I brought the chef along,” Barrett said after his second glass of wine. “Completely worth it.”

“What did he do while we were at the resort?” Scarlet asked.

“I put him and the plane crew up at a resort on the other side of the island. Nice place. Pilots told me this was the most fun they’ve ever had on a charter,” he smiled.

“Wow,” Scarlet said. “You really did go all out for this week.”

Barrett moved over to the other side of the table so he could wrap his arms around her, “I wanted it to be like nothing anyone else has ever done before. Because no one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

“I’m sure
someone
has,” she teased him. “Marc Antony loved his Cleopatra.”

Barrett shook his head, “Not even close.”

“Napoleon and Josephine.” She kissed his nose.

“Nope. They can’t hold a candle to us.”

“Okay, here’s one: Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara.”

“Pssh. He walked out on her. That’d never happen with us.”

She kissed him long and hard and then exclaimed, “I’ve got it! Romeo and Juliet! You certainly don’t love me as much as they loved each other.”

Barrett rolled his eyes and smiled, “First of all, that’s a fictional tale. Which is based on another story that’s much more tragic and poetic, in my opinion.”

“Oh really,” Scarlet smirked. “Shakespeare plagiarized?”

“No, definitely not. I mean, almost everything is a derivative of something else. Writers can take a story and make their own separate story with similar tropes. But I digress, because that’s boring talk. Romeo and Juliet is just another version of the story of Pyramus and Thisbe.”

“I’ve never heard of them,” Scarlet picked up her wine and took a long sip. “Do tell.”

“Well, they were desperately in love. Much like you and I. They were from two rival families and completely forbidden from seeing one another. Their homes were separated by a wall that had a crack in it, and through it they would confess their passion for one another. One day, they decide they have to run away together. They can’t wait any longer so they devise a plan to meet at a mulberry tree on the edge their city. If I remember correctly, it was Babylon. But I could be wrong. I’m a little drunk off this wine and those eyes of yours. Anyway, Thisbe shows up first at the tree. But across the way she sees a lion with a bloody mouth. Probably fresh from a kill. It scares the shit out of her so she flees, but she drops her veil. Which the lion promptly picks up with his mouth.”

“Ugh, I think I know where this is going,” Scarlet said, snuggling into the crook of Barrett’s arm. “But continue.”

“So Pyramus shows up, all stoked to see the love of his life. Well, he sees the lion with Thisbe’s veil in its mouth, all covered in blood, and he assumes Thisbe’s dead. So he does what any Babylonian of the time would do and falls on his sword, killing himself. Well, then poor Thisbe wanders on back to meet with Pyramus and tell her crazy story and finds him dead under the mulberry tree. So then you might be able to guess…”

“She kills herself,” Scarlet finished. “Wow. What an uplifting and romantic tale. To prove a point?”

He laughed and pulled her close to him, “Yep. My point, is even sad Pyramus and his beautiful Thisbe didn’t share the same love I have for you. Mine goes way beyond even tragic romance.”

“I would never want you to kill yourself over me,” Scarlet whispered. “Ever.”

“I would die for you, Scarlet,” he looked at her with an intense gaze. “Without hesitation. But anyway, I’d have used my sword to kill the lion before falling on it, at least.”

They kissed again, long and deep, her nipples hardening under her silk blouse.

“I like the name Thisbe,” she suddenly said. “That should be a name that comes back on trend.”

Barrett laughed against her hair, “You’re so random sometimes.”

She ran her tongue down the stubble on his neck, “You love my randomness.”

His cock perked up inside his pants, “Yep. Definitely true. You ready for the bed?”

“Always,” she whispered, wanting nothing but his hands on her for the rest of their trip. And their lives.

B
arrett slept terribly that night
.

Long ago he’d quit drinking hard liquor, but tonight was one where it couldn’t be helped. Drinking Scarlet away was the only thing that worked when it came to getting her off his mind. Fortunately his housekeeper had stocked the bar days before their arrival, so there was plenty of libations to be had.

“Fucking hell, Scarlet,” he muttered as he poured himself a scotch. As soon as she’d left he’d regretted letting her go. Sleeping in his room without her wasn’t going to happen, so he’d gotten a blanket from the linen closet and thrown it onto the suede sectional in his basement. He padded downstairs with his bottle of expensive scotch and the remote control. Times like these were what ESPN was for. Golf was on right now and even though the thought of watching it bored him out of his skull, it was at least mindless shit he could watch until he drank himself to sleep.

When she’d first left him, years ago, all he did was drink all night and sleep all day. He didn’t take his LSAT. He didn’t work. Durham would come over and lecture him about not allowing a woman to ruin his life, but Barrett would push him away. How could Durham ever understand? He’d never had a Scarlet Bloom.

Like Barrett mentioned to Scarlet, he’d had her followed for a year. And curiously, it seemed, she was as miserable as he was. She never left her tiny apartment in Decatur. Only to go to the grocery store every now and then, sometimes a doctor’s appointment. Her parents would visit, as would Ben and his wife. One week she left and was gone for a month, he didn’t know where. He could have found out, but by then he was trying to think of other things, things that didn’t involve Scarlet anymore.

As he lay on the couch, throw blanket wrapped around his bare legs and a bottle of Balvenie 50 in his hand, Barrett contemplated what his next best move was when it came to Scarlet. A day ago he was just happy she was back, sure that everything could get back on the right track. Now he wasn’t so sure at all.

“I should have let her go,” he muttered to himself. “At Elixir. I should never have gotten in her car and pressured her to have one last dinner with me. I’m such a dumbass. I was finally doing okay again.”

Barrett stared at the television for an hour, getting drunker with each passing minute, making his eyelids heavy. What he needed was a friend who wasn’t connected to Scarlet or his business. He needed someone who could really talk some sense into him and be completely honest about this situation, with no ulterior motives. (Even subconscious ones)

He fumbled around between the remote and his cell phone. In his drunken state it took him a minute to realize which was which before he finally was able to make the call. It took a couple of rings, but finally he answered.

“A. T.,” Barrett said. “I need your help.”

P
ost-engagement bliss
took Scarlet and Barrett to a whole new level of contentment.

The evening they got back from Easter Island they spent the night at Barrett’s condo that overlooked Centennial Olympic Park. Scarlet was sprawled out on his bed, her suitcases open on the floor, the contents spilling out.

“I don’t have the energy to unpack,” she moaned, throwing an arm over her face. “I want to go back to our island.”

Barrett, who had just stepped out of the shower, walked over to her side of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“We can go back right now if you want,” Barrett grinned. “Just drop out of college and I’ll whisk you away.”

Scarlet uncovered her eyes and gasped at the sight of him. Even though she’d seen Barrett naked numerous times in the last couple months, he still took her breath away.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” she said. “Not that you don’t already know that.”

Barrett ran his hands through his dark, wavy hair which caused his towel to drop, revealing his fully naked form.

“I know that
your
body makes me have this response,” he smirked, referring to the growing and rigid erection that was now against his taut stomach. “So I think you’re the gorgeous one in this equation.”

She scooted over towards him and ran her hands over the length of him, making him gasp.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “That feels good.”

She looked up at him, her large eyes playful but also full of desire. Without a word she took him in her mouth, her lips tight against the head, and slid him slowly in and out, causing him to buck.

“Scarlet,” he called to her. “That feels so amazing, baby. But I’d rather put it somewhere else. You’ve got me so hooked on you.”

He lifted her blouse up over her head, revealing the same bra she’d worn the night he’d first had her months ago. The thought of that night made his cock ache from the stiffness and he knew he needed her, badly. She lay back as he slid her jeans off, revealing the matching panties.

“These look familiar,” he said as he placed himself on top of her. “I’m getting all nostalgic now. And hard.”

She smiled, “You have a great memory.”

“You have no idea. There’s nothing I could ever forget when it comes to you.”

He slid the lacy thong off as she unsnapped her bra from the front. In the dim lighting of his bedroom she glowed. To him, she was absolutely exquisite. His arousal was painful and he immediately slid inside her, causing her to gasp.

“You’re painfully hard, Barrett,” she cooed against his ear as he began thrusting. “Make me come.”

He growled, holding her arms above her head as he pushed himself in and out of her, faster and faster until she was screaming his name, begging for him to never stop. So many times he wanted to unload himself inside of her; her pussy was trying to coax it out of him. Everything felt so unbelievably good, there was no describing it. In his head he did his best to stave off his release, thinking of expense reports and trying to recite in his head the batting order for each season his beloved Atlanta Braves played during his childhood. Anything to keep his mind disconnected from the decadent pleasure his body was experiencing. It was like Scarlet was designed and built just for him to fuck.

“God,” she trembled underneath him. “I’m coming so hard!”

“Good,” he said, flipping her over. “Now I can have you again. From a new view.”

“Mmmm,” she moaned against the sheets she was clutching. “Pound me. Take what you own, Barrett.”

He seized her curvy hips and began his ascent to the finish. He knew with how good she felt and how long he’d been fucking her, there couldn’t be much longer before he’d have to come. She writhed beneath him, her perfect ass slamming against him, the curves of her lower back smooth and tan. He ran one hand down them as he kept thrusting, making her call out his name, begging for him to come inside of her.

“Please,” she pleaded. “I need to feel it. I need you, Barrett. Give me all of it.”

“You want it?” he asked. “Say it, Scarlet. Tell me exactly what you need.”

“I need your come inside me,” she begged. “I need to have you in me so deep. I need to be marked.”

Her words, her body, the feel of her sex enveloped around him, stitched together to bring him to his arrival. He came with a loud roar, filling the room with his sounds. She came with him, her moan louder than ever, and her body quaking from what Barrett had just made her body do.

They laid together for a few minutes, catching their breath, both seeing stars above them. He pulled her to him, both of them covered in sweat, and kissed her forehead.

“That was fucking incredible,” he said. “How is it possible that it all keeps getting better?”

Scarlet shook her head, “I have no idea. But I’m loving every second with you.”

He turned her face towards him, kissing her mouth gently. He pulled away, his hand on her face, “And now we get to spend every second after this with one another, soon-to-be Mrs. Evers. We kept our promises. We didn’t break one another’s hearts.”

She laughed, “Did you really think I could ever possibly break yours?”

Barrett smiled, “One can never be sure.”

And with that, they both fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

I
n the middle
of the night, nausea hit Scarlet again. She hadn’t told Barrett, but it was starting to worry her. She’d made an appointment for the next morning at her primary care physician, to see if they could tell her what was wrong.

After going to the restroom, she glanced at Barrett who was sound asleep in their bed.
Their
bed. It was so thrilling to say and to know that from here on out everything that was hers and that was his, was really theirs.

She was wide awake from the excitement and she decided to get on her laptop and make sure all of her courses were set up for the next semester at Emory. She’d meant to email the registrar about one particular course, so she decided she might as well do it now. She was sad to be hitting her final year of college, but with the way things were progressing with Barrett, she’d never been more excited about her future.

As she opened up her Gmail account, she noticed something had been sent from a personal account that she didn’t recognize. She opened it up:

S
carlet
-

Good afternoon. This is Patricia Evers, Barrett’s mother. I have been waiting for him to introduce you to his father and me, but for whatever reason he seems hesitant. Would you mind meeting for lunch tomorrow? My treat of course, and we can have a nice chat. I’d love to get to know you and find out how you’ve made my Barrett so smitten. And if it’s okay, I ask for discretion. Barrett will be terribly stressed out if he knows we’re meeting one another. Can we not tell him until afterwards? I’d so appreciate it.

H
ave a lovely evening
,

Patricia

S
carlet’s stomach
dropped for a moment. Barrett didn’t like to talk about his mother; for whatever reason they’d never been incredibly close. He wasn’t much closer to his father, but he spoke of him in a mostly affirmative, almost affectionate tone. She figured his own father intimidated him more than anything. His mother was something else altogether and part of Scarlet wondered if it would be alright to have a secret lunch with someone with whom he had such a complicated relationship.

But she was his mother. And the most important woman in his life, and someone Scarlet wanted to be on the best of terms with. Scarlet was hopeful maybe she could bring them closer together somehow. Scarlet loved her own mother more than almost anyone alive, and couldn’t imagine her not being an active part of her life.

Scarlet wrote back a brief reply:

P
atricia
—

T
hat would be so lovely
! I look forward to getting to know you too.

A
lways
,

Scarlet Bloom