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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.
