Takedown: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance

by Lana Hartley

  I don’t know why I’m so emotionally attracted to that ruin of a castle. Maybe I fear the castle I just came from will, one day, end up in the same state.

  I want to point the castle out to Isadora and tell her not to take anything for granted—not this night or the big castle or the garden or even the little steps that lead back and forth to such things. I want to tell her everything is precious. But I think she has something on her mind tonight.

  This is another reason I want to take her to the garden, to try and find out what it is on her golden little sweetheart mind.

  I can’t tell, but I feel like Isadora is annoyed by the long walk. I feel like she’d rather be in the castle, on the big comfy bed where she’d been kissing me, trying to bring out the beast in me.

  I almost tell her that this walk will be worth it. That what I’m going to do to her with my mouth will have her collapse over her knees, her insides feel like jelly, and she will sleep straight through the night.

  I’ve heard before that when girls have crazy orgasms, they don’t have nightmares when they fall asleep.

  I hear it can cure headaches. I hear they sleep untroubled by anything.

  I want to unwrap Isadora of any of her burdens, let her sleep that way, like the perfect angel she is. And I want to do it with my mouth.

  “Vincent?” she says my name different than she did earlier in the bedroom.

  “Yes?” I say.

  “This walk is hell.” I can’t believe she just cursed. You’re a princess. I want to scold her. I want to take her by the wrist and slap her on the hand. She should know better.

  And this walk is not hell, it’s very pleasant; there are plenty of things to behold. The forest right over there. The water. The deliciously rotting gray stone steps that are about to lead us into the garden, where all the flowers and plants and everything that Mitch or whoever went through the trouble to plant.

  “Oh sweetie, look at this night.” I try to point out how beautiful it is. We finally make our way into the garden. It’s so lovely out here. We sit in the gazebo near the pond. How could she not want to be out here?

  And then I get it—she’s sexually frustrated. Has Nathan not served her lately? She’s got that I’m starving for cock look all over her face.

  And sometimes life dissolves into one cold hard fact: I’ve got the cock.

  So she followed me out there to this garden in hopes I’ll feed it to her.

  She takes off her shoes and rubs her beautiful feet and moans. Then she eyes me. I think she’s trying to tell me something with just a look. It’s my fault that her feet ache, too, because it was my idea to bring her out here to this garden, down all those hard steps.

  I just look at her and wait for her to communicate with actual words, like a princess should. Darling, do I need to teach you a lesson?

  Is that what she wants?

  There’s a smile on her face I know nothing about, the meaning behind it.

  “What?”

  “You have cute ears.” Does cute mean funny?

  “Thank you,” I just say, assuming it’s a compliment. “You have cute feet.” There, I deliver it back to her, whether it’s a compliment or an insult.

  “You charming bastard,” she suddenly says.

  I’m Dumbo. I’m a bastard. What exactly is she saying?

  “Come here and let me hold you.”

  Ding ding ding! Those were the words she wanted to here, I see it all over her perfect little face.

  She sort of floats over, in her pretty white dress, and eventually her soft bottom lands exactly where I want it to. My cock wakes up and fills with excited male everything.

  I wrap my arms around her and kiss her cheek.

  “This garden is the heart of the castle,” I tell her. “Where everything grows, and it looks different at night.” Then I lift my arm and point at those glorious gloriosas. “These flowers remind me of you, they’re like fire.”

  She turns and looks at me. Her face is this cute expression of coyness. We start kissing, and I finally give her the kiss I’ve made her wait for. I run my hand along the side of her face and trace my fingers over her neck. She is precious everywhere.

  “Lie down,” I tell her, my voice she loves so much is smouldering, falling over her body of pale curves like…black paint, I suppose.

  She looks at the bench, which is made out of marvellous stone. Someone spent months getting their hands bloodied to carve it into perfection. I want to see how her body looks over it, under the moonlight.

  She eventually complies. I stand up and stare at her, and I’m getting harder—so hard I really need to undo my pants. But this isn’t about me needing pleasure, it’s about her.

  I kneel down at the end of the bench where her bare feet are and grip them in my strong fingers, and her body feeds me the most delicious response. I rub her tired feet, and she shuts her eyes. Her back is arched. I want to cradle her, I want to feel every soft spot on and in her body, but for now I’ll focus on her feet and let her grow anxious for friction where she needs it most.

  “Vincent.” She moves in an effort to express her need for me.

  “Yes?” I say, kissing the bottoms of her feet. She has nice feet; they’re a bit on the small side. Maybe that’s why they seem so overworked. And they are very clean, her toenails are perfectly clipped and shiny; maybe she uses some type of glossy nude gloss. I don’t know, but I love them.

  I plan to treat each toe like a diamond.

  I place my mouth over her toes and suck like there’s a hole there, and I can suck out her worries and replace it with a mind blowing orgasm.

  This is simply practice. Her long legs twist about to show her anxiousness. There’s a fire growing in her prettier and wilder than those Gloriosas.

  I place my strong fingers around her ankles and pull her body down the bench. The bench is smooth, so I know it won’t hurt her. I would never do anything to leave one mark on her delicate body.

  “Oh, Vincent…”

  Her fire will get hotter before it dissolves in my mouth. More gloriosas will bloom after this, for sure.

  I give her kisses on her inner thigh, and she places her hand in my hair. Does she wish I had more hair like Nathan? All thick and kind of shaggy. And careless like him?

  I hate wondering these things. I hate comparing myself to another man. This is a constant struggle. But I can give her something tonight that she can compare to him, and trust me, he won’t win this one.

  I place my mouth near her sex. She is beautiful, little, pink. She smells delicious, the best smelling thing in the entire garden. The night comes alive over her, and her nipples are erect from being so aroused. I trace my fingers over them, applying just the right amount of aggression.

  “Oh…” her body rises to meet mine.

  “Hush,” I say, and cover one breast with my mouth and then the other. I move my way back down.

  “Please,” I make her say.

  “Please what, baby?” I say.

  “Touch me.”

  “I am touching you,” I play. She laughs, but there’s a mark of annoyance. She really needs it. Nathan, you have not been keeping up.

  I touch her, barely, my finger on her sex. She is wet and ready to go.

  “Vincent,” she sighs my name again and puts both hands in my hair.

  I flick my tongue across her needy pussy, and her whole body quakes beneath me. I lick her again, this time pressing my mouth against her. She pulls on my hair as I slide a finger inside of her. She is tight, but willing— very willing—to open for me.

  She parts her knees, and one is bathed by moonlight. The color of her skin just then is something I won’t soon forgot. Or the sounds she’s making.

  “Take me, Vincent, please.”

  I slip the tip of my tongue inside of her, and my fingers work to keep her open and she lets out this crazy sigh.

  “Oh!” she moans. She is pulling my hair a great deal, but I don’t mind. I know I’m doing an incredible jo
b with her this way.

  “Vince…”

  I flick my tongue around inside of her, and then I slide my tongue out and over her thigh and place not one but two fingers inside of her.

  “Oh!” She kicks her feet up in the air, and I move one finger around in her and slide the other one in and out.

  I’m finding her special place, her g-spot, her golden ticket, whatever you want to call it.

  I flick my tongue across it, and her body shakes so much I fear she might fall off. “Oh oh…oh…” She oozes pleasurable responses and says my name like no one ever has before. She makes it sound like the longest, most exciting name in history.

  Well I guess I had something to do with that too, I think, smiling against her thigh.

  “That a girl,” I whisper, holding her down so she doesn’t fall to the cobblestone garden floor. I feel her warm delicious body as she starts to relax.

  “Vincent…” She sighs my name and looks up between the fingers of her hand she has placed on her face, at the stars.

  “Relax, sweetie, enjoy it. Sex, food, wine…these are life’s pleasures.”

  Sometimes I feel like Isadora doesn’t know how to relax. And she should, she’s a princess. She is a beautiful princess in every since of the word. Her long blonde hair, her gorgeous blue eyes. I want to protect her. Sometimes I feel I should protect her from Nathan.

  I sit up after a minute, and she does, too, and her hair falls elegantly over her shoulders. She seems so comfortable in her delicious skin, and we both stare at the stars.

  But this isn’t good enough for me. I want to make sure we’re staring at the same star.

  “Which star are you looking at?” I ask, I have her foot in my lap. She surely can feel my cock stirring around. She presses it down against me and a wave of pleasure nearly knocks me off the bench.

  “Um…” She takes her eyes away from the chaos happening in my pants and looks at the brilliant twinkling sky.

  “That one,” she plays, pointing in no specific direction, just the sky. “The one that’s shining.”

  “You’re cute,” I tell her.

  I look at her, studying her post-orgasm glow. She looks so beautiful, and I realize I should have been looking at her instead of the sky or whatever the hell flower I was looking at.

  “I have to tell you something,” she says.

  Oh great. I fear it’s going to be about Nathan. And I already wonder what the sex with him is like for her. Does he touch her where I do? Does he touch her like I do? Does he give her the same orgasms I do? Does she go down on him? What is it like? Do they climb up the wall of each other’s cranium throughout the day like she just takes over mine?

  “That was the first orgasm I’ve had,” she tells me.

  “What?” I can’t believe it. I want to jump up and down and brag to everyone alive, but I keep my cool. But wow, what I compliment.

  Play it cool, Vincent, she can see you. For she’s right there next to you.

  “That was my first orgasm,” she says again, as if she really believes I didn’t hear her the first time. But this is something a man wants to hear over and over again.

  “What?” I say. This time she hits me playfully, not falling for it. I look over and see she’s a little embarrassed.

  You should be holding her right now, you bastard.

  I reach over and bring her near to me, wrapping my arms around her tight. I kiss her cheek and then I give her a real kiss, my tongue falling into hers. She tastes herself on me. I bet she’s never tasted herself before.

  She clings to me, her little hands building fists around my clothes and pulling me close to her.

  “I won’t let you go,” I assure her. “When we got back to the castle, I’ll pour you a glass of wine and draw you a bath.”

  “Oh, Vincent,” she sighs. I wonder what that sigh means. What inspired it? What is she thinking? Oh, to be able to tap into the female brain, pick it apart, and truly understand it. Someday, Vincent, someday.

  I need wine.

  I almost say this aloud, but then she parts those pretty lips and finally speaks again.

  “You always say the right thing.” She says this as if it’s bad. Was I supposed to say something rank?

  Perhaps it’s true women prefer bad boys. The ones they know will break their heart and yet they act surprised every single time.

  Oh, how could he?

  “Vincent?” she calls for my attention, so I devote my eyes to her face, which is extremely pleasurable.

  There’s something on her mind. “Yes.”

  She nears me and kisses me very slowly on my lips. “You are so handsome,” she says. She stands on and takes this picnic blanket I usually leave out here for convenience sake— like this moment occurring right now—and spreads it out beneath her and lies over it.

  “Let’s make out like high school… kids or something.”

  “Hmm.” What is this? I always feel like everything’s a test. Does she do this with Nathan?

  Can I win this contest? I mean, I just won big with the orgasm thing.

  “Vincent.” She laughs my name out this time, as if I’m a joke to her. Well, I’ll show you. A man responds to the call of duty, always.

  I get down on my knees, and I don’t even mention the nice suit I have on and the fact that I’m now on the ground. I just kiss her.

  It’s a great kiss, but she wants more. She’s passionate now. That orgasm has her going. She wants another one. Women and their bodies are tricky; it has to be the right spot at the right second. I want to beat Nathan at this every time.

  I kind of wish I would have brought wine out here with us. Usually I plan everything perfectly, but this woman has messed with my head, throwing me off my game it would seem.

  She spreads her legs around me and feels how hard I am.

  “Oh…” She pushes and rubs. She places her hand down there, and I kiss her very hard. Then I kiss her neck and pull at her hair.

  “Vincent…”

  I look down at all the buttons along the front of her dress. Her panties are still on the ground. I push her dress up so her bottom is against the cobblestones. She’s between those hard things and my hard cock. We kiss harder.

  “I want you, Vincent.”

  “I want you, too.” Why do I sound so damned uncertain? Take her. She wants you.

  I want her as she is, dying for me. It’s cruel I know, to leave a girl in this state. But if I give her everything now, how can I compete with Nathan?

  I sit up and really wish I’d brought that wine.

  My cock is stirring; it wants her badly, and I think of all the sounds I could have her make and all the earth-shattering responses I could bring from her if I took her the way she wants me to.

  “I’m going to get that wine; you stay here, okay?” I look at her. And I have this fear that while I’m gone to get the wine, Nathan will come along and snag this night away from me.

  But if I come back with the wine—which is a lovely expensive red I’ve been saving for an occasion just like this one—and Nathan hasn’t interfered, it will be worth it.

  I walk back to the castle, this image of me leaving her there in that white dress, panty-less, toyed with. Am I doing the right thing? I want this night to be perfect, and I feel like by wanting that, I’m making it worse.

  Because the best nights happen completely unplanned. I stop and start to head back down the long trail of steps. And then I turn around yet again and continue back to the castle.

  This indecision is driving me crazy. This is not how a man should behave. Take charge.

  I go inside the castle and walk up to the kitchen, which is up a few gorgeous refurbished cherry wood steps, and I walk down the hall and the cherry wood floor turns into a metal staircase that leads down to the cellar. I’ve often fantasized about bringing her down here for sex. Some good rough sex.

  You can’t be rough with the princess, idiot!

  Is she still sitting there on those cool cobblestones
beneath the romantic sky, waiting for me like a good girl?

  Or has Nathan come along to give her what she needs? I swear…

  I take the wine from the cellar. The bottle is dusty, but there’s something romantic about that. My appetite for a good juicy wine has never been greater.

  I decide to take some strawberries for us to eat, too.

  The stars are shining brighter as I make my way back to her. And can you believe she is just the way I left her? I feared she’d be gone like yesterday.

  She looks up at me and stands up to hug me. She’s hungry for affection, not strawberries, you dumb bastard.

  I hug her very tight, and when she squeezes me back, I squeeze her even tighter, until I think this isn’t good.

  “If we keep this up, we may snap each other in half.” I wish I hadn’t joked. I just wasn’t expecting such an embrace.

  I sit down on the bench, and she stands there like some lost soul in the Atlantic without a paddle.

  “Sit, look, strawberries.” I point to the expensive bunch I bought earlier today at the market.

  “Did you wash them?” she asks.

  “Of course, I’d never feed the princess unwashed strawberries.”

  She toys with the stubborn plastic container until I take it from her and open it for her. She goes for the fattest, plumpest one, sinking her teeth into its juicy insides.

  “Is this what I taste like?” she says with her mouth full, but she’s cute in the way she does it. She places her hand over her mouth as if to apologize for her bad manners.

  “That’s a naughty thing for a princess to ask!”

  “You know what you taste like because I kissed you after.” I pour the wine into glasses as she helps herself to another strawberry.

  “Maybe you should remind me again,” she grins.

  Ah.

  Well imagine if I did that twice to her, I’d really have Nathan under my foot.