by Dark Angel
Vincent takes my hands and starts to dance with me, a more athletic but less graceful kind of movement. He’s used to being the big, bad man in charge of everything. Vincent takes charge of my body and directs me across the dance floor, and I feel safe when he touches me. There’s a heat between us and we both do our best to enjoy it, despite all of these odd circumstances.
I notice Nathan watching us dance, and I’m surprised to realize that, while it definitely rankles Vincent, I enjoy knowing that he’s watching. I’m being touched by one of my husbands-to-be and watched by another, and I think I’d like that scenario to play out in the bedroom.
Mmm, the thought sends a delicious thrill right to my pussy. My sweet boys will place the attention on my body and won’t have time to be at each other’s throats. It’s a sweet sort of bedroom diplomacy that I’m so not above engaging in. The idea really turns me on, actually, and I hope that the next song will serve to cool me down some.
“Would you like to walk with me in your palace gardens tomorrow morning? I’d… like to see them,” Vincent says. I can tell that he’s looking to be honest with me, despite the fact that he wants to go to the gardens. Perhaps the fierce general is also into romantic strolls?
And I definitely have no problem with that. I take his hand and feel calmer just thinking about it. I want to be able to breathe in the air around us and not feel like everything is so heavy. The dancing calmed my nerves until it built them up again, and I remember Vincent’s nerves at being watched by Nathan.
“I’d like that, yes,” I say, taking Vincent’s hand he’s offering me. I squeeze it for a moment and release it. “I’m retiring for the night, but I’ll see you in the morning for that walk.”
Chapter Five
Vincent
I want to go to the garden. I dreamt about Isadora among the flowers that night but we both end up having to deal with phone calls, emails, and all that’s involved with running a nation for so long that we have to reschedule our walk for that evening. “No rest for the royal.” I laugh to myself. But these are the sacrifices we make to make sure our people are leading the best lives they can, and it is worth it. It makes me look forward to being in the gardens with Isadora even more, if that’s even possible.
It’s such a pleasant night, and I can imagine all the sweet smells of the orange and yellow gloriosas. They look like fire; they are gorgeous and smell so luscious. And then all the roses. I mean, roses are kind of generic, but they still need to be appreciated.
There’s also the smell of honeysuckle, and wet dirt, and it all combines to build the most heavenly scent. And you can’t just get that indoors.
I’m growing restless thinking about the garden.
I look at Isadora and try to determine what kind of flower she is. Her eyes are following my mouth like she just wants to kiss my lips. She keeps tracing her soft lips over mine, and then she glide her soft lips across my stubble. I haven’t shaved today. I feel I’m having a bit of an off day, but she seems to like that I haven’t shaved.
She wraps her arms around me and looks into my eyes with such adoration in hers that it grounds me, pulls me out of everything, and shakes me inside. I’ve never had anyone look at me like this my whole life, and I’ve never wanted anyone else to look at me the way that Isadora does. I have to have her. I know she’s to be my wife, but I need her to love me the way it will be so easy to love her.
She takes my square jaw into her hand and plants a hungry kiss on my mouth.
“Vincent.” She runs her hand through my hair.
She seems addicted. I won’t kiss her the way I usually kiss women. I’m not sure why. Because you care about her, because you want her to feel that when you kiss her.
My tongue won’t plummet into her sweet little mouth even though I know she wants it too. Her eyes might as well be two signs of lights that spell my name.
“Isadora,” I say her name out loud. I just want to. I love the fact that I’m with her tonight, and saying her name seems to celebrate that fact.
“Your voice is so deep,” she says, admirably. “If it were paint it would be black.”
So she’s comparing me to paint? I’m a little offended. She kisses me like she knows and wants to apologize.
She runs her hand over my knee. I want her to apply it to another part of me. I’m aching. I kiss her neck and breathe her in. She put on perfume today – I’m betting this morning, because it’s not overwhelming. The scent has faded somewhat, the way I want to fade into her.
“Let’s go to the garden, sweetheart,” I say. I stand up. My nice suit has come a bit undone. My shirt’s no longer in my pants. She unbuttoned one cuff around my wrist when she said, “You have such strong wrists.” Her dainty fingers circled them. My sweet Isadora seems to want to explore every part of me but that one part.
I end up having to touch myself, hoping she’ll take note and copy. She doesn’t.
She just breathes my name into my ear again.
I know my name. I want her to touch my cock.
“Vincent…”
She’s burning for me, and I know then. She is a gloriosa. A bright orange and yellow one, at least when I’m in the room.
“Baby, let’s go to the garden.”
“Why do you want to go to the garden so bad, huh?”
“I…” Because it’s a garden and lovely?
“Vincent…” she sighs my name yet again. She’s quite gentle when it comes to touching me, tracing her finger along my ear and through my hair.
It’s the most pleasant sensation in the world.
But still, I want to take her to the garden.
“Baby, please,” I say.
She stands up and glances at herself in the mirror and runs her hands down her long, lovely white dress.
I want to tell her that she is beautiful and she shouldn’t ever feel like she needs a mirror to confirm the fact.
Maybe she just likes to look at herself, and who can blame her for that?
We go into the garden, which is a ways from the castle. We must walk down a trail of steps that snake around the side of the castle and then there is a swing bridge. There is also the ruins from a castle before, like some old dream that starts to fade no matter how elegant it was—special, sweet surprise in the middle of the night. That dream will soon be gone from memory. It’s gray like cigarette smoke. I’m so afraid of the day I won’t be able to see it anymore.
I don’t know why I’m so emotionally attached to that ruin of a castle the instant that I see it. 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 that’s exactly why I’m thinking what I am. Instead I turn to her and say, “I don’t think I ever want to take beautiful nights, or flowers, or princesses for granted.”
This is another reason I want to take her to the garden. I want her all to myself for an evening (or morning, if I’d had my way before) because I don’t want her to feel like she has to put on any kind of appearance for me. I just want her to be herself.
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 some big comfy bed where she could been kissing me, trying to bring out the beast in me, rather than walking now. She’s innocent when it comes to experience, but desire brings out the beast in us all. I suppose that her dress right now isn’t exactly made for hiking, either, which with some of these craggy stones out here is more like what we’re doing.
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 in the ballroom. There’s something…less formal in it sure, but there’s also an air of something I want to explore.
“Yes?” I say, clenching my fist at my side for a moment. I can’t believe this effect she has on me.
“This walk is hell.” Isadora giggles, obviously saying this to get a rise out of me.
I take the bait though and get a little ruffled nonetheless. This walk is not hell, it’s very pleasant; there are plenty of things to behold. The forest right over there. The water. The wonderfully old 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.
“Isadora, I know we’re all tense, but you should let your troubles have a moment away from you. Instead you can look at this night.” I try to highlight 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. Confused about how she feels, knowing that she’s going to share a bed with two men. Nathan and I don’t get along, but I can admit we’re both shades of alpha male that alone would be a lot to handle and together? Well, more than just her hands are going to be full. I’m having trouble coping with the intense need I have to touch her, and the frustration that I feel at knowing Nathan will also be touching her.
Isadora takes off her shoes and rubs her beautiful feet and moans with relief at no longer wearing them. 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 should have thought about what walking out here in those shoes would mean for your feet. But I’ll make it up to you.” I smile at her, and I feel warmth spreading through me now. Just being around Isadora makes me happier.
There’s a smile on her face I know nothing about, the meaning behind it. “That’s okay,” she says. She’s quiet. I don’t know what she’s thinking, so I’ll ask.
“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, the lilt of a laugh making her voice almost musical.
“Come here and let me hold you.” I don’t try to skip around my point.
I see it all over her perfect little face, those were the words she wanted to hear.
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. I know she lives here, I know she’s been there, but I’m not explaining it to her, I’m sharing it with 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 smoldering, falling over her body of pale curves like…black paint, I suppose.
She looks at the bench, which is made out of marvelous 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 polish. 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. I have her stolen away from tonight, after everyone has left the betrothal ceremony and Nathan is caught up in some matters with his nation. I’ve dealt with all my business for the night, and the only work I have to do now is what I need to do on Isadora’s body.
I place my mouth near herpussy. 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 work my way back down.
“Please,” she begs.
“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.
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 job 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 finger her with two of my fingers, scissoring them inside of her to feel her stretch to accommodate me.
“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 find her G-spot and rub against it, teasing her but not making my touch too intense. I bring my mouth back to her clit.
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. I can’t shake the instinct that 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.