by Erin Noelle
When I strongly suggested that she and the twins go on tour with me—probably for more selfish reasons than I’d like to admit—she was onboard. I know life like that wasn’t easy, especially for her since she was with the babies twenty-four-seven, but she did it so we could be together. Then for the next three and a half years, as the babies grew into toddlers, she continued to travel with me, always just because I asked her to.
I’ll never forget the day I decided to give it all up, which turned out to be the best decision of my life. We were in New York a week after my twenty-ninth birthday, and I’d gone out for an early-morning run. As I passed by a newsstand, a picture on the front of a magazine caught my eye. Immediately, I stopped cold. It was a photo of Everett and Ashlynn skipping down a sidewalk while holding Scarlett’s hands. The headline read: Traveling Tots: Life on the Road with Twins. I purchased the magazine, and then found the closest bench to sit down and read the article. The entire piece was very flattering, complimenting Scarlett on how she’s managed to raise the kids while always on the go. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but something inside of me changed at that moment. Call it a wakeup call, a slap in the face, a turning point—whatever the fuck you want, all that matters is everything was different. As much as I loved music and performing, I loved my family exponentially more, and suddenly it became so obvious to me—I’d been so greedy and so self-centered to have them make such sacrifices, but they went along with it just to make me happy.
That night, we performed at Madison Square Garden, and I couldn’t wait to get off the stage and back to my family in the hotel. Suddenly, as if my rose-colored glasses had been stripped away, I saw everyone around me for what they really were—users and abusers. Other than my bandmates and a few select others, all of the people surrounding me didn’t care about what the best thing for me was, nor did they didn’t give two shits about my family. Their only concern was how I could help them improve their own lives.
As soon as I returned to the room, I woke everyone up—I hadn’t cared what time it was—and informed them of the decision I’d come to. The twins were really too young to understand, but they cheered anyway because I seemed so excited. Scarlett was hesitant to show any emotion, confused over why I’d had a change of heart and, as usual, putting my feelings first. I promised her I was one hundred percent confident in my decision; as soon as the current tour we were on was complete, I was finished. Done. Terminado. Finito. I wanted to give Scarlett the wedding and marriage she deserved, the kids the stability they needed, and for the four of us to enjoy the life we were blessed with.
It’s been almost a year since that day, and not one single moment have I regretted it.
“Come on, Angel. This has been fun, but we really need to get busy,” I say, looking over at the empty space she’d been sitting in. I scan the room, but she’s nowhere to be found. “Hey, where’d you go?”
Her hearty laughter echoes throughout the house. “I’m in here,” she calls out from the kitchen. “You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even hear me when I told you I was coming in here to unpack.”
Strolling through the archway that separates the two rooms, I hiss under my breath at the sight of her lithe body bent over putting away pots and pans—a body I’ll never be able to get enough of. Her black lace panties peek out of the cotton sleep-shirt she’s still wearing, and my cock twitches to life with the need to feel myself buried deep inside her yet again. Never fucking enough.
My legs move of their own accord, positioning me directly behind her so I can encase my arms around her tiny waist and press my erection against her ass. “You’re being good like you promised, I see.”
Setting down the skillet in her hands, she peeks over her shoulder at me, her lips curling up in a smirk. “I’m always good,” she replies with a shake of her hips.
She knows better than to test my resolve. For someone who prides himself in self-control—a vital attribute when it comes to sustaining a successful relationship while in the music business—I have no fucking willpower when it comes to her and her mind-blowing curves. Without another word, I hook my thumbs into the sides of her panties, push them past her hipbones, and let them fall to the floor. A seductive moan rumbles deep in her throat, fueling my need for her even more—as if that’s possible.
“Hold on to the countertop,” I growl hoarsely.
Immediately, her hands fly up and grasp the black granite surface, presenting her perfectly-shaped ass to me. She’s just as ready to take as I am to give, our voracious libidos always on the same page.
With one of my hands splayed across her ivory cheeks, the other brushes a feathery-light stroke across her already-wet folds. Her breath hitches on contact as she tries to grind her body harder against my hand. I withdraw it and slap her firmly across the butt. “Be patient or I’ll really torture you,” I warn wickedly.
Part of me wants her to disobey so I can spend the next few hours tormenting her supple body, driving her to the edge over and over without letting her free-fall into her orgasm until I determine she’s had enough, but her body stills, so I return my nimble fingers back to her glistening sex. Again, I barely graze her puffy lips with my fingertips, sweeping up and down several times until I realize she’s going to behave. Then, after dipping my middle digit into her tight slit, I drag it toward her front, coating her hardened clit with her own juices as I make small circular motions against it.
“Fuck, Mase. You’re killing me,” she mutters breathlessly. She’s trying desperately not to move, allowing me my naughty playtime with her irresistibly enticing body.
Luckily for her, I can’t take much more myself; my steel-hard cock is throbbing with hunger, and only her wrapping tightly around me will satisfy my craving. Withdrawing my hand from her swollen nub, I hastily pull my boxers down and align the tip of my shaft—already oozing with pre-cum—at her entrance, grasping both of her hips to keep her steady. Her fingers tighten around the curved edge of the counter, bracing herself for what she knows is coming.
Plunging deep inside her with one swift thrust, her tight walls stretch around my width, allowing me to completely immerse myself in her gripping, tight, searing-hot pussy. I draw back until only the head is still hidden in her slit—the sheen from her arousal covering my erection—before burying myself into her again. Over and over, I drive my cock into her molten core, digging my short nails into her creamy, soft flesh as I propel us to the height of our desire.
Our sweaty bodies slap thunderously against each other. The heady smell of sex hangs dense in the air like cumulonimbus clouds blanketing the sky. Electric currents whirr with lightning-fast speed between our bodies. We soar higher and higher, the storm within us growing more intense with every movement until the passionate tempest claims both of our bodies. Together, we burst free, flooding each other with our all-consuming orgasm until we’re both fully-drained and sated.
Looping my arms around her slender frame, I pull her down with me as I collapse onto the floor, my legs no longer able to hold me up. Nuzzling the nape of her neck, I hold her back flush against my chest and whisper, “You are fucking crazy.”
She tilts her head back on my shoulder so she can look at me, sensual satisfaction swimming in her bright emerald eyes as she grins impishly. “Always a good crazy.”
TIMELESS MEMORIES
CRAZY LOVE ~ VAN MORRISON
ONE MONTH LATER
SCARLETT
Our hope of having the house unpacked and ready to go before the twins came home over that long weekend quickly proved to be a pipe dream, especially when Mason and I couldn’t keep our hands off of each other or our clothes on for any period of time. We quickly accepted our failed expectations, and instead, we spent the time without kids having a second honeymoon of sorts, christening every room downstairs in less than forty-eight hours.
In all actuality, it took us a little over a week to get all of the boxes unpacked and everything set up precisely the way I wanted. I’m still adding dec
orative touches to each of the rooms, which is apparently a never-ending project that continues to evolve as I go. I may buy stock in Hobby Lobby and Pier One shortly with as much money as I’m regularly dumping at both of those stores.
Today, I’m working in the game room, while Mase and the kids are outside swimming. Knowing I need to shower and start getting all of us ready for dinner soon, the last thing I’ll have time to finish is choosing some photos for the funky, animal-print frames I found last week. Searching through the storage closet underneath the staircase, I can’t find the bin with all of the photos we’d spent hours sifting through that initial weekend.
Sauntering through the house, I open the backdoor and call out, “Hey, babe, have you moved that container with all of the pictures? I thought I put it under the stairs, right?”
Three amused faces bob up and down in the shallow end of the pool amidst brilliant prisms produced by the sunlight reflecting off of the rippling water. A huge smile spreads across my face at the sight of them, overjoyed with how much our time together as a family has been enhanced in the short time we’ve lived in the house.
“No, I haven’t moved it. Are you sure it’s not in there?”
“Yeah, I’ve looked everywhere,” I reply with a shrug. “Oh well, no biggie. I’ll search for it later. Y’all need to get out soon so we can get dressed if we’re going to make dinner on time. I’m going to jump in the shower now.” A bunch of splashing and laughing ensues as I hear all three of them yell “yes, ma’am” out to me before I close the door.
An hour-and-a-half later, the four of us load into our black Tahoe and head into the city for my birthday celebration with our closest friends and family. Twenty-seven years young. It’s hard to believe it’d been nearly nine years since I left my parents’ restrictive home, naïve, innocent, and unaware of the raw emotions connected with love and loss. Looking over at my husband and kids as we drive down the highway, my heart clenches with gratitude and love. Despite the sorrow I will always carry over losing both Evie and Ash, I know I’m truly blessed.
Pulling into the parking lot of Empty’s—which is closed to the public for the night—the kids scurry out of the SUV as soon as it’s in park, rushing inside to play air hockey with their Uncle Marcus. Smiling, Mase and I walk hand-in-hand through the heavy metal door, instantly surrounded by our loved ones. There are more people than I expected in attendance, and I glance over at my husband with a raised brow, silently scolding him for making this bigger than necessary. A tender kiss on my forehead is the only response I get.
Everyone seems to be having a great time; the barbeque on the buffet has been devoured, people are laughing and joking while playing pool and darts, and several of us can’t stop ourselves from dancing to the mixture of classic rock and Top 40 hits booming through the speakers. Someone announces it’s time to sing Happy Birthday and eat cake, so everyone gathers together near the stage, placing me in the center. Confusion sets in when a huge white screen I didn’t even know existed descends from the ceiling and the lights dim. Looking around for Mase, he’s nowhere to be found, until he strolls out on stage a few minutes later holding his acoustic. I’m going to kill him when we get home. His eyes meet mine, sparkling with mischief, and he shakes his head at me as if he knows my last thought.
“Good evening, everyone,” he says warmly into the microphone. “I know most of us have all been together recently for our wedding, but I really wanted to do something special for my wife to show her how much I appreciate everything she’s done for me and our family. I’m pretty sure her last six or seven birthdays have been spent on the road with the band, and definitely didn’t get the attention they deserved, so I’ve put together a little something to remind her of our journey here.”
As he begins to strum his guitar, a video appears on the screen behind him. The first shot is a collage of miscellaneous Polaroid pictures, with a quote reading, “Memories are timeless treasures of the heart.” Then, a steady flow of photographs from the past six-plus years—the ones we had laughed and cried over on our recent trip down Memory Lane—streams across the screen. Happy tears fill my eyes, not only at the reminiscent images, but at the awe-inspiring thoughtfulness he put into having this made for me.
“I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles,
And the heavens open every time she smiles . . .”
When he begins to sing Crazy Love by Van Morrison, I can no longer hold back the emotions bubbling over, and so the waterworks begin. Feverishly, I try to wipe the moisture from my eyes and swallow back the sob lodged in the back of my throat so I don’t miss any of the video. He’s covered it all—our last first kiss at the homecoming celebration, leaving together on tour, the romantic proposal, the lengthy pregnancy, the twins’ birth and all of the ridiculousness surrounding it, our family traveling all over the world, and finally, the wedding of my dreams. The last image on the screen is one of us outside at our reception, Everett in my arms and Ashlynn in his, and all four of us are staring up into the dusk-kissed sky, mesmerized by the hundreds of butterflies fluttering around us.
Calling me up on stage to stand next to him, he sings the chorus one last time while staring into the depths of my soul through my glassy eyes.
“She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love
She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love”
Standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his in a tender yet overwhelmingly meaningful kiss and then whisper, “Always a good crazy.”
THE END
NOTE TO READER: This novella is written as an alternate ending to Euphoria, Book Three of The Book Boyfriend Series, with the prologue picking up at Twenty-One (77%) in the book and replacing the last 23% and Timeless. It is vital to have completed Euphoria for Alive to make sense.
A second chance doesn’t always mean a happy ending. Sometimes it’s just a chance to end things right this time around.
~Unknown
ASH
“Ash, wake up! It’s time for breakfast,” Scarlett’s voice carried into our bedroom from the kitchen.
“I’ll be there in just a minute!” I called back, savoring every last minute I had in bed.
It was my first day of work at the Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, and although I was extremely excited about beginning the next phase of my life, I was also sad that I wouldn’t be spending the days with Scarlett any longer. The past six weeks we’d had together were nothing short of amazing. Sightseeing, days at the beach, trying new restaurants—all of it incredible—but the time for fun had come to an end and it was time to be a grown up.
Slowly climbing out of bed, I shuffled my way into the kitchen where she stood pouring a glass of milk. She skipped over to greet me, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. “Morning, sunshine. Your breakfast and coffee are ready. Did you sleep well?”
I grumbled a “Mornin,” as I plopped down at the table where our plates were waiting.
With a soft chuckle, she sat down next to me and picked up a piece of bacon, lifting it to my mouth. “I thought you’d be excited about today. Haven’t you been looking forward to this?”
I parted my lips, allowing her to feed me, and grunted an unintelligible answer to her question. She frowned, then took a bite herself.
“I’ve just had such a good time with you since we’ve been here. I’m gonna miss you during the days and I don’t like leaving you here by yourself,” I whined, sounding like a small child forced to put their favorite toy away.
“Awww . . . that’s so sweet of you. I’ve had a great summer too—our day trips, hanging out with your sister and Will, all of it—but I don’t want you to not enjoy your first day ‘cause you’re worried about me being lonely. I’m gonna do my usual—read, blog, play some music, whatever. I’ll keep myself busy, love.”
“I know,” I nodded as I devoured the plate of food in front of me. “It’s just a little bittersweet, ya know?”
She leaned over and rested her cheek on my shoulder, lightly
trailing her fingers up and down my bicep. “Yeah, I understand, but I want you to go lose yourself in all those particles and gamma rays and whatever the hell else you’ll be working with. I know that makes you happy, too.”
Standing up to put my dishes in the sink, I pressed my lips to the top of her head as I walked by. “I’ll be fine, butterfly. I’m gonna shower and get ready now.”
Thirty minutes later I was driving down the highway on my way to the first day on the job. As soon as I parked and checked in through security, I was greeted by Louis, my trainer, and we started with him giving me a tour around the massive institute, pointing out things and places that I would need to know.
Then, making our way to the office that he and I would be sharing, he jumped right in showing me the assignment he was in the middle of. Enthralled by the complexity of the project and the overall immensity of the facility, I got right to work with him. Louis turned out to be a pretty cool guy, and I was thankful I was paired with someone so easy to get along with. Before I knew it, lunchtime was upon us, and what seemed not long after that, it was time to go home.
Much to my delight, Scarlett had dinner nearly ready when I arrived at the apartment, and as soon as I came through the door, I picked her up and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Hi, butterfly, how was your day? It smells delicious in here.”
She smiled against my lips. “My day was good. I did everything I told you I was gonna do, plus cooked dinner.” Tapping the end of my nose with her finger, she continued, “But don’t get used to this, I’m not turning into Martha Stewart. I wanted to celebrate your first day, which I’m dying to hear about.”
