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.

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.

I want to hold her hand. That’s a strange sensation but I grab her hand and stroke my fingers over it.

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

“What?” I can’t believe it. Isadora is beautiful. If she’s never been with anyone, never even made herself come? Fuck, the things I want to show her. To do to her.

“That was my first orgasm,” she says again, as I haven’t responded.

“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.” I see her eyes cast downward for a moment. Neither one of us had much of a normal life to speak of, growing up, so I know that’s she’s looking recapture some of those childhood memories that she doesn’t have with me.

“Vincent.” She says my name and light little laugh there doesn’t hide how much she wants this. I’m glad she’s looking to explore our attraction now that we’re in private.

I get down on my knees and 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 brought to the palace with me to celebrate—is a good choice on a night like this.

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.

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

When I pass the kitchen quarters, I decide to peak into the fridge and see a massive amount of produce to choose from. 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 the worst parts of me whisper in lies that I won’t allow to distract me.

She looks up at me and stands up to hug me.

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 suppose that Isadora is a bit starved for affection, and I don’t mind at all her showering it on me. In fact I hope she does more.

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.

I grin when I pretend to admonish her. “That’s a naughty thing for a princess to ask!” I love that she’s being filthy with me. “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.

She takes her glass of wine, and the smirk hasn’t quite faded from her face yet. I take a strawberry and bite it in half. It’s succulent, like the wine. Like her.

“Tonight is a gift,” I say.

She smiles and takes another strawberry before getting down on her knees. She reaches out for me, pulling my sturdy wrists she made such a big deal about earlier.

I’m standing over her, and it’s a rather dominant position, and she tugs on my pants and places her head against my crotch. My cock is stiff, and makes a vertical line across her face, pointing at some flowers. She runs her hand across it and places her mouth on it, over my pants, and this is very erotic; I wasn’t expecting this. I get down on my knees and we kiss almost like we’re fighting, we’re both so passionate and needy for each other. I can’t believe the lust that’s overtaken us both, but in the short time I’ve gotten to know Isadora, I know that a lifetime of marriage certainly won’t be enough. I want to have her by my side, always.

“Will you do it again?” Isadora asks.

“Of course.”

She lies down on her back and I place my hands around her feet, starting at the same spot I started out before.

“Oh…”

The night has given into itself. It’s darker, and the dirt smells richer.

I kiss along her leg. She has long legs, so the act results in a lot of kisses. I find her pussy again and kiss her like I kissed her mouth. Her sighs are more beautiful than any sound I’ve ever heard.

I say her name. She’s said mine so much and I want to say hers.“Isadora?”

“Yes?”

“You okay?”

She looks down at me and nods, and then she looks back up at the stars. I think she’s just waiting for me to service her again.

I go back to what I was doing and lick her, and her body reacts in this crazy way.

“Oh…” She pushes herself against my mouth.

“I want to feel your teeth, your tongue, everything.” She is holding my hair in her fingers.

My teeth? I open my mouth some more and slide my tongue inside of her. I bring it back out and nibble on her inner thigh, and then I start to finger her. I feel like I need to take it slower. I open her up with my fingers and let her linger for a moment, and wonder what I’m about to use to penetrate her with.

I have many things I can use, but she seems addicted to my mouth. I slide my tongue against her slit again. She’s circling her hips and getting really into it.

“Oh, Vincent…”

I lift her bottom and slide my tongue along her curves and back over her pussy.

“Oh!" She seems to want more of that. If I hit that spot of hers every few seconds, I think I can get every bell in the world to ding.

I glide my tongue along her ample bottom again, lifting her so her center is completely off the ground.

“Oh…” I feel like she may come any second, I feel like she may just pour into me. I want to taste her. Strawberries.

I reach over for the container and dip my fingers into the cold, luscious fruit. Strawberries, wine, and women. I say a silent prayer thanking God for all these things.

I take a fat strawberry out of the plastic container and open her up and place it inside of her.

“Oh!”

I start to eat her and the strawberry this way, using my teeth as she requested. I nibble on the strawberry that’s still inside of her and her body twists about, and I accidentally bite her, but I think she likes it.

“Vincent, I…I…” She sounds like she’s having some inward battle with herself. She sounds like she’s dying, honestly. And I get this fear that she’s allergic to strawberries. But she ate one already.

Vinny, don’t get distracted by all your little absurd thoughts.

I go back to town on her. There’s still some strawberry left inside of her, but it has gone further up inside, and I have to work to get it out.

“OHHHHH” she groans at the intensity of sensation tearing through her. Her poor little feet hammer the cobblestones, and I don’t want her to hurt herself. I place my hands on her ankles, holding her still.

She likes this too.

I find that tiny bit of strawberry inside of her, and I suck it out of her. She has another orgasm, and I hold her feet still as her body jiggles in the moonlight. She drags out my name again in this magnificent way.

“Oh, Vincent…”

I watch her lie there, enjoying the after effects of another orgasm. Or two. I’m not sure what just happened there.

I lie down next to her, but I let her have all of the picnic blanket. I look down at her body as she fixes her dress, and this big smile takes over her face.

“Oh, Vincent.” She smiles, and I hand her a glass of wine.

“Do you like your palace gardens now?” I ask with a smirk, and she laughs onto my chest.

“I do like them much more now,” Isadora’s voice is soft and playful.