Timeless (4 page)

SCARLETT

After scarfing down yet another grease-soaked McDonald’s meal, Mason and I work on setting up the master bedroom and en suite bathroom. We’ve been living in the two-bedroom apartment he’s had since before we met, but now that he’s finished touring and the twins are getting ready to start kindergarten in a few months, it’s important for us to settle down in a neighborhood with exemplary schools
—
not to mention the need for a house large enough to properly host guests and to celebrate holidays.

Excited about our new home, I may have gone a little overboard in buying new sheets, comforters, throw pillows, rugs, and curtains for all four of the bedrooms, as well as new towels, soap dispensers, toothbrush holders, and other miscellaneous items for the bathrooms. The day I brought home the multiple oversized bags from Bed Bath & Beyond, I thought Mason was going to freak out, but thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, he only made me promise he wouldn’t be sleeping in pink satin sheets.

A little more than an hour later, our bed is dressed in fabrics of eucalyptus green and charcoal gray, and the bathroom is adorned with stainless steel accessories featuring frosted cerulean accents. Even though the rooms still need framed art and other decorative touches, everything looks incredible together. I’m trying hard not to laugh as Mason fights with the rod over the window, attempting to hang the light-blocking curtains, but when the metal clangs to the hardwood floor for the third time, I can’t help myself. Bursting into a fit of giggles, I throw myself onto the freshly-made bed and hide my face in a pillow.

“You remember what happened last time you thought you were so funny, don’t you?” he taunts from atop the ladder.

Unable to speak through my fit of hilarity, the creaking of the metal steps warns me he’s coming, and for some reason, that makes me laugh even harder. Moments later, the mattress dips with his weight, and before I know it, his strong hands roll me over onto my back.

“You’re getting our new comforter all dirty, woman,” he drawls as he pushes the loose strands of hair out of my face.

Finally able to talk, I shake my head and reply, “No, I’m not. You’re the grimy one who’s been moving furniture all day.”

“Oh, that’s right. While I was busting my ass in the smoldering heat, you were inside the air-conditioned house pretending to work.”

Popping up off my back, I climb in his lap and straddle his hips. “That’s not true!” I exclaim. “I helped carry boxes inside this morning, and I
was
working inside the living room. I’ve been a good little wife today; I even went to get you McDonald’s.”

He smiles widely before leaning in to tenderly kiss my lips. “Mhmm, my good little
wife
,” he mumbles against my mouth. “I like the way that sounds.”

“Me too, my sexy
husband.”
Slipping my hands around his neck, I run my fingers over his buzzed hair and nip playfully at the ring he still wears in the right-side of his bottom lip at my request. It’s fucking sexy. “Now why don’t we forget about the drapery for tonight, and test out the water pressure in our new shower instead?”

Sliding off the bed with my limbs still wrapped snugly around him, he pads across the room towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna show you pressure, all right.”

Within minutes of walking through the doorway, he silently strips us both naked and turns the hot water knob to full blast. Stepping under the vigorous spray of the showerhead, the water pelts my ivory skin, kneading the taut muscles and unraveling any tension left in my body. I feel him move in behind me; his sinewy frame presses against my back as he reaches around me to grab the shampoo. Waiting breathlessly for what’s about to come, a small moan escapes my lips the moment his fingertips make contact with my scalp. Working it into a thick lather, he massages the rosemary-infused suds all through my hair. But he doesn’t stop there.

His busy fingers continue to travel down my neck to my shoulders and back until he reaches my bottom. Then, leaving one hand on my ass, he glides the other across my hipbone to the front of my body, cupping in-between my legs and pulling my body flush against his. My soapy head rests back on his left shoulder with my eyes closed tightly, while his fingertip teases my lower lips, flicking back and forth over my swollen clit. After sensually rinsing the soap from my hair, he kisses and nibbles the slippery skin of my neck and shoulder as his finger brushes tantalizingly and slowly across my slit, yearning for the pressure he promised. The heated water falling down around our bodies adds another layer of lusty haze to the already-steamy atmosphere. Reaching down between our slick forms, I grab his fully-erect cock that’s pressing into my ass and begin to stroke it fervently. I want him inside of me. Now.

“Slow down, Angel. We’ve got no reason to rush,” he rasps into my ear. Grumbling, I gradually decrease the speed of my hand, making each pump deliberate and measured. “That’s it, my good little wife,” he commends, rewarding me with a dip of his finger into my core.

Unhurriedly moving his digit in and out of me, my legs weaken as the ache deep inside me builds. Suddenly, he removes his hand and spins me around to face him, a devilish grin playing on his face as he drops to his knees and looks up at me through his thick eyelashes, the droplets molding them into dark spikes. “I need to make sure all of the soap is rinsed off.”

I brace myself with one hand up against the shower wall as he buries his face in my apex, devouring my yearning pussy with his lips and tongue. Lapping. Kissing. Sucking. Torturing me until I pass the point of no return. Palming his scalp
—
his hair too short to twist my fingers in
—
I hold his head tightly against my body and feed him my juices. My legs shake and threaten to give out on me, but thankfully, he quickly rises to his full-height and wraps his strong arm around my waist.

“Yep. All clean,” he growls huskily. “Time to put you to bed.”

Somehow, he manages to turn the shower off and get us both out and dried off. Stumbling to the bed, with our hands roaming each other’s body, any notion of
slow
is thrown out the window. As soon as my back hits the mattress, he’s plunging deep inside of my throbbing pussy. Placing my legs up on his shoulders to give him better leverage, he thrusts in and out feverishly, caressing the sensitive area of my core with the tip of his erection. The pressure inside of me builds faster than I can ever remember, my body enslaved to his touch, and within mere minutes, my walls clamp down around his shaft and I’m calling out his name, coating him in my sensual gratification. Moments later, he stiffens, and
that
look washes over his face just before he fills me with his warm seed.

Collapsing next to me on the bed, he loops his arms around my waist and cuddles me close. He kisses my forehead, each of my eyelids, the tip of my nose, and finally, my lips before whispering, “I love you, Angel. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Mase. I love you too.”

SCARLETT

Waking up in the middle of the night in our new home, it takes me a few moments to grasp my bearings and remember where I am. The luster of the moonlight shines through the room at a different angle than our old place, and the deafening silence of no televisions or radios being on is a bit unnerving. Twisting at the waist, I peer over at Mase where he sleeps soundly, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. We’re both naked, and I realize we must’ve passed out immediately after having sex.

I lie there for a few minutes trying to fall back asleep, but to no avail. Slithering off the bed ninja-style trying not to wake him, I tiptoe over to the freshly-stocked dresser and grab some panties and a sleep-shirt. I quietly put them on and sneak out of the room to get a glass of water. However, en route to the kitchen I pass through the living room, and the container of photos in the corner calls out to me, begging me to go through a few more. My feet answer their plea, and before I know it, I’m sitting cross-legged in front of them and opening the lid.

Setting aside the ones I’ve already gone through, I pull out another batch, and tears of joy flood my eyes at first glance. The pictures are from the private concert the band played at Hotel Café in Los Angeles
—
the concert for me.

Life on the road with my rock-star boyfriend definitely had its ups and downs. After a couple of months, I thought I’d faced pretty much anything the lifestyle could throw at me. I realized the overzealous girls weren’t going to go away, Cruz and Sebastian were going to continue to act like the sloppy, horny bachelors they were, and every outfit and hairstyle I wore would be equally loved and hated by the fashion critics. That was, until one of the tabloids somehow found out about Evie and Ash.

People are ruthless. Overnight, my nickname changed to “Angel of Death,” and everywhere I went, I was questioned about why everyone close to me dies and how long it would be until I killed Mason. Not only did these stories and questions bring back terribly painful memories, but they grew into vicious lies about what an awful person I was. They portrayed me as a malicious, cold-hearted bitch that triggered both of their deaths, and some even suggested I murdered them.

Needless to say, I didn’t handle any of it well; I refused to go out in public, spending nearly two weeks without getting off the bus. I withdrew myself from everyone, including Mason. When he tried to discuss things with me, I’d sit silently and cry, and when he’d attempt to hold or kiss me, I’d retract from his touch. It didn’t take long for the media to notice my disappearance from shows and other outings, and the reports about our break-up followed shortly thereafter, claiming he dumped me in fear for his life.

One evening in Seattle, I was sitting alone in Cerrano, reading yet another depressing book while wallowing in my misery, when I heard a tap on the fiberglass door. Groaning, I rolled out of bed assuming I’d have to tell some other desperate groupie to get lost, so imagine my surprise when I swung the door open to see Heather’s face as she stood in the parking lot.

“Oh my God, he wasn’t lying—you do look like shit,” she said as she snarled her nose up at me. “You’ve lost way too much weight.”

“It’s great to see you too,” I quipped back. “Did you come all this way to give me a makeover and make me eat a cheeseburger?”

Pushing past me into the bus, she dropped her bag on the closest chair and put her hands on her hips. “No, I’ve come to pull your head out of your ass, and to remind you that these stupid fucks know nothing about you or what you’ve been through. We’ve talked about this—you were dealt a shitty hand and lost two people you loved dearly. Neither of them would want you to be playing this victim role; they’d want you to put up a fight and show these dumb asses that despite what they print, you are a young woman full of life, love, and laughter.”

I collapsed on the couch and sighed dramatically. “What am I supposed to do, Heather?”

“You can start with taking a shower and getting dressed. I’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already depressing me,” she snapped, sitting down next to me. “Don’t you see you’re letting them win? You’ve already had Evie and Ash ripped from your life—you had no choice in that—but you
can
choose whether to allow them to take Mason and your current happiness, or to stand up and fight for him, yourself, and what you know is the truth. He loves you. He wants to be with you. He knows that you had nothing to do with what happened to them. Shouldn’t he be all that matters? Not a bunch of strangers that truly know nothing?”

I found it hard to argue with her logic, so I said nothing. Over the next few days, Heather stayed on the bus with us as we slowly traveled down the west coast. By the third day, I’m not sure if I was convinced all of her positive mumbo-jumbo talk was true, or if I was simply tired of listening to her, but I promised her if she went home I would get back out in the public eye, let Mason back in again—emotionally and physically—and ignore all of the haters in my life.

The morning we pulled into San Francisco, the guys left for a round of radio station interviews and photo shoots, so Heather took it upon herself to make me an appointment at a local hair salon. After I’d been shampooed, colored, cut, and styled, I really did feel like a new person. In actuality, it wasn’t a huge change from my usual look, but considering I’d been rocking a bun for quite some time, the highlights and trim provided just enough newness to put a spring in my step. After the salon, we spent a few hours shopping, and I picked up several new outfits to wear to the upcoming California concerts. I wanted to look my best for Mason, knowing that the next week was a big deal for the band as they performed their way down the California coast, especially the show at the Staples Center in Los Angeles the following Thursday.