This is Not a Fairytale

by Kate, Rebecca

“It’s not okay. It’s not okay. None of this is remotely okay. God, I’m going to hell. I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so, so sorry, Scarlet. I’m so sorry,” he pleaded with me, but I wondered if he was actually pleading with himself, for I saw no reason for the apology. I shook my head, equally pleading.

  “Don’t be sorry. I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted this for a long time, actually.” As the words hit him, repugnance took over his features. I’d never felt so low in my life than I did staring at the man I’d quietly loved listen to my confession with a horrified look.

  That didn’t stop him though. He sprang from the couch as if he could catch fire sitting so close to me. He paced back and forth, running hands through his hair and tugging at the ends. He looked like a caged lion at dinnertime. I knew I needed to assert some sort of damage control, and I would have if I were able to move.

  I physically ached from the way he looked at me. He had just kissed me, and he was repulsed. He hated me. A few tears fell unbidden from my eyes. I couldn’t have stopped them if I tried. I got to my feet putting on as brave of a front as I could. I figured that moment was as good of a time as any to leave.

  “Shit, are you crying? This is so bad. I’m so sorry, Scarlet.”

  “You mentioned that several times already. You did nothing wrong, and you don’t need to be sorry. But you don’t want me, and I disgust you, so I’ll go.”

  “What? It’s not that I don’t want you.” I nodded but turned to walk. “It is not that I don’t want you,” he said more forcefully, but I didn’t turn around that time.

  “It’s okay. I won’t be weird around you. I’ll let my stupid crush go.”

  His large footsteps closed the distance between us with little effort. He grabbed my hand, and instinctively a few more of my tears fell. He shifted to entwine his large fingers with my delicate ones. Then he tugged ever so lightly and I found myself face to face with him, closer than I’d ever been. Chest to chest, I collided with this large man.

  “It is NOT because I don’t want you.” He growled so low I barely heard him, but I felt every syllable. I felt every emphasis. I felt every fear. I felt every need. I felt something else that I was trying desperately to ignore because drawing attention to it would have risked him pulling away, and I needed him that close. I looked up at him through my lashes, still hand in hand, still chest to chest.

  “Then why?” It was a simple question; only two words. But it was loaded and anything but simple, and I knew that too.

  “Because of everyone else.” His eyes shifted back and forth between mine, never settling on one or the other. Left, right, left right. I was getting dizzy.

  “Fuck everyone else,” I whispered harshly.

  My words were a childish rebellion of our responsibility to our loved ones, but I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted, and right then they were the only things standing in my way. They needed to get out of my way. I was selfish. I knew I should have cherished the kiss and stopped this before it was too late. But I wanted more.

  I wanted so much more. And I was finding it near impossible to curb that craving. “I don’t want to fuck everyone else. I want to fuck you,” Mason admitted. I gasped, and his other arm snaked around my back as he pressed his body to mine so that I was no longer able to ignore how true that was. He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it, never losing eye contact.

  Never had I considered how sexy it would be for a man to kiss your hand until that moment. He was giving me the reassurance I needed, and it only fueled my fire. He ran his mouth all the way up my arm, kissing as he met my shoulder, my collarbone, and my neck. My head fell to one side, begging for him to continue.

  He dipped his head low and inhaled my femininity at my breasts kissing each swell in turn, and then he looked back into my eyes, and we caught fire. Our mouths fought for dominance as we ravaged one another. A groan, a gasp, a growl, a mewl, the soundtrack to our forbidden tryst. His hands found my back and deft fingers pulled the straps of my dress down over my shoulders. I shivered as dexterous fingers followed my zipper all the way down my spine.

  My dress fell to the floor like it was meant to be there all along. I made quick work of tugging his gym shorts down and was rewarded with a groan and a heady sigh when I grabbed onto his ass and pulled him closer to me. We fell in a tumble to the couch and laughed when my plump breasts bounced in his face, knocking lightly into his chin.

  The only thing between us was the thin cotton of his navy blue boxer briefs and my tiny white thong. I could see his pulse thrumming in his neck, and feel the kick drum of his heart against my chest. I was drunk on the knowledge that it was me, my body that did that to him. He tested the weight of my breasts in his palms. The action made me jerk and shift in his lap.

  His hands tugged and pulled at my waist, moving me in a rhythm over his thick erection. An erection that was much larger than Fredrick’s, which was my only prior experience. That thought worried me for the briefest of minutes, and Mason noticed immediately. “You okay?” His words were raspy and full of sexual tension.

  Nerves had me pausing longer than I should have, and in retrospect that probably freaked him out more than he let on. I was nervous about his size, and I was nervous about my ability to please him, but those feelings were so small compared to my eagerness and excitement. So when I found the appropriate words, I said simply, “I’m wonderful.” He searched my eyes, and then smiled.

  “Yes, you certainly are.”

  Then he hugged me to him and kissed me so tenderly I almost started to cry. I decided the best way to face my nervousness was head-on. So I tentatively found the bulge in his boxers and began to stroke it with my fingers. He paused his kiss and pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily like he couldn’t focus enough to kiss me while I was touching him.

  With his hands already on my waist, one of his thumbs slid down into my panties. I moaned embarrassingly loud when that magical thumb rolled over my clit, dipping into my heat and then back up again. He rolled leisurely circles on my sensitive bud that had me panting and gasping, and he enjoyed the view. His finger made love to my sex in a way I had never experienced before. He’d wind me up one way just to slow me down another, all while keeping a talented rhythm.

  It was almost as if his thumb was exploring every detail of my vagina instead of simply getting me off. It drove me wild. I was dizzy, worked up, frustrated, and singing in pleasure from his administrations. I grew unable to hide my frustration and cried out, “Mason, please! I’m so close!”

  He relented immediately and grew quick with his circles, and my body bowed and tensed with the most powerful orgasm I had ever had in my life. I swear I was transported into another universe as fireworks went off inside me for what felt like forever. As I finally came down, his thumb slowed and went back to its appreciating wander of my folds, only this trip it was soaked, smearing my juices everywhere it went. Once he was satisfied with that, I barely registered that magical thumb gliding over my bottom lip, and him then sucking that bottom lip into his mouth on a passionate kiss not a minute later.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, and I trembled. He could do all this with simply the tip of his thumb, and he had a tree trunk in his boxers. This man was going to kill me in the very best way. He worked to remove his boxers and I took that moment to peel my soaked thong off as well. Then he shifted us so that I was laying on my back and he was braced over me.

  He held the base of his cock in his large hand and stroked it a few pumps; and then he ran it along the seam of my sex, coating us both with my own lubricant. His eyes were hooded and zeroed in on my most private area. My first instinct was to be self-conscious, but he looked so turned on and satisfied with his view, I found it impossible to shy away. “Give it to me, please Mason,” I moaned, unable to stand the teasing any longer. I wanted to feel full with him inside me. He tested my hole with his size, inching in and out slowly.

  “Fuck, you’re so tight. I don’t want to hurt you.�
� I tugged on his ass to encourage him to push further. He took it, sliding all the way to the hilt and then back out achingly slow. His blue eyes shone brightly with pleasure and bliss as he inched back inside me achingly slow. The sound of my ringer went off right beside us. It’s a wonder we heard it over my loud moan. It pulled Mason out of the lusty moment, and he startled and glanced at it in question.

  I would have let it go to voicemail, but Mason reached over and grabbed my phone off the side table. I took full advantage of our position and ran my hands along the stretched muscles of his abdomen. In that moment something seemed to snap in him, and his body went rigid as he inhaled shocked, and dropped my phone like a poisonous apple.

  My phone hit my breast and rolled onto the couch beside me. It stung, and my hand immediately went to cover my angered flesh. My eyes never left Mason though. It was like he was coming out of a trance. He looked all around the room and backed away from me. He ran his hands through his hair and looked down at the display of our discarded clothes, and then his eyes settled on me and drained of color.

  My ringer had stopped and then began again. I stopped staring at Mason just long enough to glance down at the screen of my phone. The name “Dad” flashed like a neon sign and I immediately understood. My body ran cold, and my stomach lurched. Mason sat down in the recliner across the room. His elbows rested on his knees, and his face fell into his hands.

  I swiped right, answering my phone so my dad didn’t end up having to call a third time, and then looked anywhere but at the haunted, naked man as I greeted my father through the phone.

  “Scarlet?”

  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

  “I just called you. Why didn’t you answer, kiddo? Where are you?”

  “Uhh, sorry. I’m at Leah and Mason’s. I went out last night and forgot my purse. I ended up having to call Mason for a ride. It was a really bad night until he came and got me. He’s been working today so I just hung out in Leah’s old room and then went swimming. Sorry, I forgot to call.”

  “Oh. Well, glad Mason came to the rescue then. Everything okay?”

  “Not really, but it’s nothing big, I swear. Just stupid drama with Fredrick, that’s all.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, kiddo. Listen, your mother and I just got home from work and we’re going to go to that old Mexican restaurant down on Iver St. Is Mason home? You and Mason wanna meet us over there? Or do you want us to just come get you?”

  Mason must have been able to hear my dad’s voice because that got his attention and he waved his hands and shook his head. I scrunched up my face, not understanding his charade, and told my dad to hold on while I muted the phone and pulled it away from my ear.

  Mason got up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them on as he wandered around the house seeming to be searching for something. “Tell him I’m not here. Tell him I’m still at work. I’m so sorry, Scarlet. Really, I don’t know what to say. I’m so, so, so, sorry. I have to go. I can’t do this. I can’t be here.”

  He must have found what he was looking for because he grabbed his phone and his keys, and all but ran out the front door. I heard the familiar growl of his truck, and then he was gone. Unmuting the phone, I struggled to speak. “Sorry, Dad. I had to go to the bathroom. I’m back.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and continued, “Mason isn’t home from work yet. Just come get me on your way.” I guess he couldn’t hear the devastation in my voice because he took the answer without another thought and we hung up like this moment didn’t just completely wreck me.

  After dinner, I sat on my bed with the weight of what had happened holding me down. It had been hours since I spoke to Mason and with no effort on his part to communicate, I figured I would go ahead and be the first to say something. I pulled out my phone and attempted to call him, but when he sent me straight to voicemail, I figured a text would do.

  Me: Are you okay? We need to talk.

  With no response an hour later, I texted him one final time. It was obvious he needed space and at that point, I was just being clingy.

  Me: At least just let me know you’re okay.

  Two and a half weeks went by with radio silence from Mason. I was irritated and hurt. We hadn’t just shared a quick kiss and a goodbye. No, what we had done was intimate. He had been inside me, even if just for the briefest of moments.

  The image of him entering me haunted me every night. The intimacy of him pressing his forehead to mine haunted me all day long. But some days the thought of him pulling back in horror screamed the loudest in my mind. So I did something I regretted before the thought had even fully passed.

  I took Fredrick back.

  Five

  I knew Fredrick didn’t deserve my forgiveness. I also know I didn’t want him half as much as I wanted Mason. But Mason’s silence made it clear that what happened between us was a one-time mistake, and that thought had me wanting to run back to the familiar. What’s worse is that Fredrick seemed overly attentive and romantic after reconnecting with him.

  Technically we hadn’t even broken up, I had just ignored him for days and then called him out of the blue one day to come get me and take me on a date. I saw it as me taking him back because I was lonely and sad. He saw it as his second chance to be good for me. He must have been swimming in guilt, because after the initial shock, I didn’t care enough to let on that I knew. He made love to me every night, and I felt nothing close to the heat and passion that I had felt that night with Mason.

  If I could put a label on Fredrick’s –second chance– lovemaking during that time period, it would be lukewarm and slightly uncomfortable. But at least I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t used to romance from him. I was used to fucking. He was giving me romance, and I was thinking of another man. We were a recipe for disaster.

  The worst part is that I was an awful actress. I pretended to enjoy it, but he saw right through me. “What’s wrong with you lately?” “Are you tired?” “Did you come this time?” “You just need to relax. You’ll be able to come if you just relax.” Those were just a few phrases in his weekly rotation. He was trying to fix me, but no amount of duct tape would fix the broken mess that I had become.

  Mason’s disappearing act would have lasted longer had he not loved Leah so fiercely. We both did. She was the only person we each couldn’t say no to. So naturally when she came into town we put on happy faces and met her for dinner. My parents joined us as well since they had missed Leah too. Yep, we were one big happy family. So fucked up.

  Leah brought her boyfriend and had told me to bring Fredrick as well. Out of respect for Mason, I didn’t. That would have just been cruel. Mason didn’t want me, but he didn’t deserve to have things like that thrown in his face.

  Mason didn’t seem to like Leah’s boyfriend as much as he had the other times we were around them. I wondered if his newfound irritation began right around the time I accidentally let it slip that his daughter was no longer a virgin. I felt guilty for sharing something so private with him. But then I suppose that’s not the most private thing we shared that night, and perhaps it might have even been the least hurtful of all the things if Leah had found out.

  That was the first moment where the weight of my affair with Mason really hit me. One might argue that I was more selfish than Mason because he realized this immediately when it took me much longer to grasp. Perhaps I was the villain, meant to be disliked. But you don’t have to like me to understand my story.

  We sat at a large round table in the back of one of our favorite Chinese restaurants. We made small talk about majors and classes. My parents were fascinated with Leah’s tales of life in New York City. They asked question after question, and she was all too happy to indulge them with her stories.

  More than once I glanced at Mason, only to find him already looking at me. It was awkward. I wanted to roll my eyes and stick my tongue out. Why did he stare at me like he hadn’t just spent weeks ignoring me? It was unkind. All he had to do was pick up the phon
e. One simple call. One simple text. That’s all the effort I required, and he hadn’t come through.

  It took no time at all for someone to bring up Fredrick, foiling my plan to keep him separate from the dinner. Leah, as sweet as ever, shot forward in her chair. “Did Fredrick already have plans? Why isn’t he here? I was hoping we could all go out after this.”

  I tried to not glance at Mason. I swear I tried. “He had dinner plans with his family already. I’ll text him and see when he’ll be done. Maybe we can go out for a little while after,” I lied. That had Mason sitting straight up in his seat.

  “You’re still with that guy?” he growled like we were the only two in this room.

  He looked at me with such displeasure I almost cowered in shame. “It’s just a fling,” my dad reassured him as if Mason’s anger matched his own on an appropriate, fatherly level. Mason huffed at my dad like my dad knew nothing, which basically was the truth; though we were the only ones that knew that. The entire situation pissed me off.

  “I am still with him, and it’s not just a fling. I really like Freddy,” I lied again, pinning Mason with a glare. I was being cruel, and I knew it.

  “And how do the other girls that he’s sleeping with feel about your relationship?” he asked, and I gasped. That was over the line. I could not believe he shared that personal information with the entire family.

  I suppose this was the moment my father finally figured out that I might be sleeping with my twenty-two-year-old boyfriend because without any warning he fired off a question so inappropriate my cheeks reddened. “You’re not sleeping with him, are you, honey?” My attention moved away from Mason to my blunt father.

  I could have lied. But if they were going to ask questions that they weren’t entitled to, then I was going to give them answers that they weren’t ready to hear. “Actually, I am. It’s my body, it’s my choice, and it’s none of your business! Either one of you!” I was infuriated with their show and judgment. This was my life and my choice, and they had no right to tell me whom I should and shouldn’t sleep with. I grabbed my purse and threw back my chair. I tossed an apology to Leah and stormed out the restaurant. Only then did I remember that I hadn’t taken my own car. I’d caught a ride with my parents.