Mm, yes. I like that better.
After washing my hands, I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and run my fingers through my messy hair. It looks lifeless. I tug on the ends and my curls spring back. I twist the front pieces. A sticky substance clings to the pads of my fingers.
“What the . . .” I hold my hand in front of my face, grimacing. “Really?”
I grab my shampoo out of the shower. Gathering my hair over one shoulder, I bend over the sink and scrub my ends, rinsing out the suds and semen.
Only you, Brooke. Only you would get cum in your hair after spending hours styling it.
I laugh when I think about Mason finding out he got his spunk in my hair.
Would he be as apologetic as he was for my dress?
I towel dry the ends a bit so they aren’t dripping and tuck the front pieces behind my ears. I pinch my cheeks and apply some chapstick from the drawer before padding out into my room.
“Finding anything? I’m in the mood for something funny,” I yell out, grabbing a new pair of panties out of my dresser and slipping them on.
Mason doesn’t answer. He’s probably engrossed in whatever it is he picked out.
I open another drawer and pull out a pair of linen shorts and a tank, tossing them on my bed. I apply another layer of vanilla body lotion to my arms, legs, and neck before getting dressed and moving through the doorway.
Mason’s back is to me as he stands beside the couch, blocking my view of the T.V., the remote in his hand.
Nothing is playing. At least I don’t hear anything.
Why didn’t he answer me?
I come up behind him and slide my hands around his waist. His body tenses.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Pick something out?”
“Yeah, sure did.” He quickly steps out of my arms and moves beside me, freeing up my sight. “Care to explain this?”
Startled at his abrupt pull-away and the tone icing his voice, I glance up at the T.V., at the stilled image of myself, naked and straddling another man. The camera angled on me from the side.
I remember setting it on the hamper before I crawled on the bed.
Fuck, I forgot about this.
Fuck! How much has he watched?
“You made a sex tape, Brooke? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice booms through the condo, echoing off the ceiling.
The hairs on my neck stand up. I’ve never heard him this angry before.
I’ve never heard him angry at all.
Lowering my hand from my mouth, I turn to Mason. “Where did you find this?” I ask, moving closer.
“Your room. It had your name on it. I thought it was a home video or something.”
His shoulders stay hunched forward. His gaze straight ahead, burning into the screen.
I picture the disc on my shelf. I had stuck it up there and left it. I haven’t touched it since.
“You as a kid, or with your mates. I wanted to see that,” he adds, rubbing at his mouth. “Not this,” he mumbles.
I pinch my eyes shut, then shake my head, looking up. “I forgot it was in there. I’m so, so sorry. Here. Turn it off.”
He wrenches his arm away when I reach for him. His cold eyes send a shiver through me. “Don’t.”
I pull back. He doesn’t want me to touch him? “Mason.”
“You were in there awhile. I got to watch the whole thing. You and him.” He jerks his head at the T.V. .
The pain in his voice distorts his accent a bit. His words sound stiff. Fully pronounced, unlike the lazy, sluggish speech I’m used to hearing and loving.
I press my fingers to my mouth, shaking slightly.
Oh, God. He watched the whole thing.
“No,” I whisper.
Any part of this, a second or a glimpse is too much for him to see. But all of it?
He slowly turns his head, his blue eyes so dark they almost look black. “The whole fucking thing, Brooke.”
My stomach drops. “Mason, I . . . just, turn it off.” I reach out again. “Let’s get rid of this. You shouldn’t keep looking at it.”
“Why not?”
He tosses the remote. It hits the coffee table with a loud pang.
I jump. “Mason.”
“Why the fuck not? I’ve watched it. It’s out in the open now. It’s no longer a secret.”
“It was never a secret.”
“Yeah? Everyone knew about it but me, huh? When was this taken, Brooke?” he asks, looming over me. His pain shifting to a louder reaction. Anger. “When I wasn’t fucking you? Did you go out and get it somewhere else?”
“W-What?” I blink up at him, my voice sounding miles away.
Is he seriously implying I’ve been screwing around on him?
“No! This was months ago. Before I met you. How could you say that?”
“How could I say that?” he laughs darkly. His lips curling against his teeth. “I don’t know. Maybe because that’s all you’ve cared about this entire time. I was just a hard dick you wanted, right? And you weren’t getting it.”
“No, you weren’t . . .” My voice shakes. Tears well up in my eyes.