Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chloe
Time marches forward. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and then it’s going on a year since I met Mason. I’m living a dual life. I go home every night, mostly to an empty house as Paul spends more time in New York and California than at home.
The only person who knows what’s going on with me is Audrey. She knows it all. If she wasn’t around, I don’t know if I could survive any of this. But I don’t say a word to anyone at work, and Mason and I no longer do anything at the office. I want zero chance of being found out. So far rumors haven’t started.
Paul and I still reside in the same house, even though we don’t make love anymore. It dwindled long ago, and we haven’t been intimate since Mason and I began our affair. He hasn’t seemed to notice, hasn’t come to me and tried.
I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. I can’t be that woman who makes love to two different men. It scared me in the beginning. And then, slowly, the fear died along with most of the guilt. My boyfriend and I don’t talk, don’t confront the fact that we’re living separately, that we’re no longer a team. We haven’t been for a long time. I’m sure he has someone else, just as I do.
What I’m unsure of is why we don’t admit this to each other. Are we both too afraid to let the other go? We’ve already let go, we just haven’t talked about it, and haven’t stopped living in the same home. We both refuse to talk about it.
I know Paul’s a virile man. There’s no way he’s gone a year without sex. So why aren’t we talking about it? Why don’t we separate? I have no answer to this question.
I spend a rare night with Mason and lie in the bed for a long time watching him sleep. It becomes one of my favorite things to do. I love how all of his defenses are down when he’s fully relaxed.
We have sex all of the time. A day doesn’t pass that we don’t speak. But our conversations don’t have real meaning. He knows a lot about me, has learned about my life, about why I’ve done things the way I have for many years. He knows what I like, what I don’t like. He needs and wants to know this.
But it’s a one-way street. I know practically nothing about him. I don’t know his family, don’t know what he does when he isn’t with me. I don’t know about his past. I know there was something that traumatized him, but I don’t know any more than that.
It’s coming to a point where I have to decide what to do next. I have to accept that Paul and I will not be living together anymore. But this doesn’t mean I’m going to be able to stay with Mason. He tells me he wants me to be his only, but maybe part of me fears what will happen when I move from my home, when all of me is truly available to Mason. Will that be when he decides he doesn’t want me anymore?
Can I survive losing him? Is he already too imbedded in my soul?
I rise and make my way to the bathroom. His house is luxurious with a large walk-in shower with two heads. Mason loves the shower, and spends three times as long as the average person in it.
I know that’s one of his vices, it’s where he washes away the stress of his day, even the stress of his past. I truly want to know why he’s the man he is.
I’m in the shower less than a minute when he finds me. I lose my breath at the sight of him. I don’t think this will ever fade. He walks with confidence, his body hard, his sex ready. There’s such a genuine grace about him, it’s truly awing to be in his presence.
His legs are long and hard; his muscles flexing as he steps beneath the shower spray, immediately pulling me to him. His glorious arousal pushes against me, and I’m instantly ready for him to take me.
The steam surrounds us, and I respond to him as he presses against me, my nipples aching, my core swelling. It doesn’t take more than a look from him, and I’m ready. I know the pleasure only he can give me, and I want to make him feel the same. He grabs the soap bottle and suds drip from his fingers.
He turns me around, lifts my hands and places them on the wall. “Don’t move your hands,” he says before licking my ear as his hands smooth over my stomach.
I shake as he moves up and massages my breasts, kneading them into aching masses. He pours soap down my back and touches every inch of my skin. I can barely stand. I begin to twist, and he stops, pressing against me.
“I told you to stay,” he growls. I groan.
When he’s sure I won’t move, he continues running his hands over my back, down the curve of my butt and between my spread legs. He pushes at my feet, spreading my thighs open.
He circles his fingers around my swollen core, massaging the throbbing area as he strokes his slick fingers over it again and again. I want to turn, want him to lift me, to stop the torture, to make me his.
But he takes his time, moving down each of my legs as he kneels behind me. Water rinses away the soap, and he replaces his hands with his mouth, his teeth scraping over my skin. He licks down the crack of my butt and then pushes on my back, bending me, bringing my sex closer to him. His mouth moves over my folds as he licks and sucks until I’m begging for release.
Finally he stands behind me, lifting one hand to trap both of mine against the wall. He grips my hip with his other, and I scream as he pushes inside me a force that makes my breath rush out. I want more.
He moves in and out of me in a slow rhythm that’s bound to drive me mad. But soon he loses control and releases my hands so he can hold on to both hips as he begins thrusting harder and faster. He groans his pleasure and the sound reverberates straight through me.
I cry out as an orgasm overtakes me, making every inch of my body ache. He hollers my name as I feel him pumping within me. We connect for several satisfying moments before he pulls out and turns me around, immediately taking me into his arms.
I lean against him with water cascading over us. We remain this way for a long time. Though I don’t want it to end, he finally lets me go. We clean up, taking our time drying each other off.
This leads to one more round of sweet lovemaking. Our day doesn’t start until close to noon. I wish every day could be like this. I wish the real world didn’t have to intrude on this magic we share.
By the time we reach the kitchen, I’m desperate for a cup of coffee. One need has been met in an utterly satisfying way. Now it’s time for fuel. I once heard that making love burns more calories than running. I’m certainly hungrier, so this might be true.
We sit in the kitchen in comfortable silence as he reads the paper and sips on coffee. It’s peaceful and domestic and I don’t allow myself to think about it too much, or my perfectly filled balloon is bound to pop.
“I’m taking you out tonight.” He makes me look up.
“Taking me out? Where?” I ask. The balloon hasn’t exactly popped, but a little of the air has been let out.
“On a date,” he says. There’s defiance and a lot of confidence in his voice.
“Mason, we don’t do that.” I try to choose my words carefully. “There will be consequences.” He’s a very well-known businessman and I’m... well, I’m technically still with another man. I don’t need Paul to find out about Mason through a tabloid picture.
“I told you I want to change the rules,” he states. He looks back at his paper as if the conversation is over.
I get up and refill my coffee. This isn’t a discussion I can have with him without at least two cups of coffee. I take my time, then return to the table.
“Look, you’ve told me multiple times you don’t do relationships. I have no idea why you think it’s so important to change things now. I love how we are; let’s not risk it.”
He sets the paper down, not even trying to pretend he’s still reading it. His gaze bores into mine as he forms a response. I wait.
“I might have said that in the beginning, but I haven’t been with anyone but you since we began this, Chloe. More importantly I haven’t had any desire to be with anyone else. Doesn’t this tell you the rules have changed?”
I’m stunned by his words. I’ve never ask him if he has other lovers. I haven’t wanted to know. I don’t feel I have the right to get jealous or to try to stop him.
But I want to. I want to be with him. I’m scared, though. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we leave a trail of pain in our wake as we fly off into the sunset together? Can we survive that? Can we live with ourselves?
“I’m scared,” I admit.
The fire immediately drains from his eyes. He moves over to me, kneeling in front of me. The gesture isn’t submissive. That isn’t who he is. But it’s a move to show me we’re on equal footing, that he’s willing to bend for me. He needs to know if I’m willing to do the same for him.
“I can’t tell you to not be afraid,” he begins. “I can’t tell you everything will work out in the end. I’ve never been in this place before. I’ve never tried a relationship. All I can tell you is I want to take a leap with you. Will you trust me enough to keep you from falling?”
My heart pounds as I gaze at him, as the answer forms in my mind. He’s being vulnerable, giving me more of himself than he’s given before. I can either give him the same... or I can walk away.
I can’t continue walking this tightrope. I can’t keep lying to Paul, to myself, to my friends. I have to stand up and do what’s right. I might lose everything I hold dear in my life, but if I don’t take a risk, it’s already lost to me.
Mason doesn’t rush me, doesn’t try to force me to bend to his will. He waits. I realize how difficult this is for a man who’s used to demanding everything, and always winning.
I’m no longer torn. I know my decision...
“I want to be with you, Mason,” I whisper. “I haven’t been fair through this. Both of us thought this was something different in the beginning. I thought I could hold on to both worlds. I haven’t been in love with my boyfriend for a very long time, but I do love him.” Mason grimaces, but he keeps looking at me, waiting for me to go on.
“I love him in a different way. I think I always have. I think he feels the same for me. We were friends, then we were lovers. We did what we thought we were supposed to do. We didn’t want to let the other go, but it wasn’t because we were deeply in love. It was because we were best friends. And then we were in too deep. If either of us told the other it was over, we’d lose the friendship, and we weren’t willing to do that.” Mason nods. He’s not happy, but he’s listening. It’s progress.
“But we’ve lost it anyway. By staying together, staying in a passionless relationship, we’ve both built resentments. And I committed the ultimate sin — I cheated.” I can’t stop tears from falling.
“Do you regret it?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his tone.
“No, I can’t regret being with you,” I say. “I should regret how I handled things, but I love this, and I can’t regret it. Thinking of losing you rips my soul apart. It hurts me to think of losing Paul, but in a different way,” I try to explain.
“Talk to me.”
“I can’t talk about that.”
“Yes, you can. I think maybe it’s time I share my past with you.” What he’s offering is a true gift. It’s precious and rare, and I don’t want to lose this opportunity to hear him.
“Paul has been in my life for ten years. He’s steady and reliable. He’s never treated me badly. When we were younger, it was all wonderful.” Mason winces as I say this, and a possessive light enters his eyes. To him I’m his alone, have never belonged to another. It isn’t easy for him to hear this, to hear it and not comment. But he simply clenches his fists where they rest on my thighs and waits for me to go on.
“But I think relationships evolve just as sex does. Young sex looks for nothing more than a quick orgasm. But as we get older, we learn what we like, what we need. If we’re with someone we truly feel a connection with then sex becomes about so much more than just sex. It becomes otherworldly.”
I reach out and place my fingers against Mason’s tense jaw. I rub my thumb over his bottom lip. He nips me and I smile. It stings a little, but I deserve it.
“I’ve never felt that with Paul,” I assure him. “I’ve never felt a connection like I feel with you — not once in my life. I know this might not last. I know you have demons you might not be ready to face. I don’t care anymore. I’ll be here for you as long as you want me to be. That’s how much I... care.”
“I-I want to give you everything you need,” he says. I wonder if he wants to tell me he loves me, but isn’t able to. Maybe he never will.
I’m beginning to think that Mason and I are meant to be together. We tried to fight it and have likely broken many hearts in our selfish desire to have what we want, but in the end, we’re better off together than apart.
“I’ll tell him tonight,” I promise.
He nods as he stands, easily lifting me in his arms.
Our next chapter is about to begin. Now I need to know if I’m going to have an eternal fiery death or be that phoenix rising from the ashes of the life I’ve burned to the ground...