by Lana Hartley
I move about until Vincent sets on the bed and silently, gently offers his help to Nathan. I think Vincent, because he’s a total sweetheart, just wants to help me when it comes to my pleasure. His strong hands knead my breasts as he trails kisses along my collarbone.
Nathan moves his finger around my clit in a circle, sliding it between my lip and the clit and then to the other side. The way he does this is so erotic and patient and focused.
“Oh…” I feel like I’m being probed. I feel like he’s trying to figure out every spot of me and how it works.
“Oh…god…”
I feel the orgasm in my stomach, and it somehow doesn’t become the sharp intense one I was expecting, but I still come. Nathan has the nerve to show me the little white cum on his fingertip as he takes from me, before he puts his finger in his mouth and licks it clean.
The orgasm has shut me down, the multitude of releases the princes have gifted me tonight alone leaving me exhausted and weak. Nathan anchors himself above me, motioning for Vincent to move. Vincent walks out to the balcony allowing us privacy. Nathan lines himself up and fucks me good and solid, my legs aching and sore by the time he collapses on top of my chest. We lie there for quite some time, my fingers in his hair, and Nathan’s breathing shallows as he drifts to sleep.
It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I watch him for a few more seconds, lost in a peaceful sleep, before walking out to the balcony. I think Vincent wishes to talk. I don’t know what time it is, but judging by how much time we’ve already spent together and how solid black it is around the castle, except for the lampposts burning in the garden, I’d say two maybe three in the morning.
“I have this…” He looks off into the garden, but he doesn’t have that faraway look in his eyes that Nathan has a lot. Vincent is right here, right now.
“Tendency to think about the future instead of wallowing over the past; do you know why, Isadora?”
I shake my head. My pussy is still deliciously sore from what they both did to me. I’m in some blissful state of euphoria, but I am listening. I sip the wine, which just adds to my awesome relaxed state.
“Because it’s a waste of time. What we have is the future—the past doesn’t exist, Isadora. You should just turn it off.”
I know he means Nathan. Nathan does seem hung up on the past.
“Well, yes,” I reply thoughtfully. I never want to step on Vincent’s feelings. “But maybe…something in the past has changed someone, and until they face it, they’re not free.”
I worry Nathan may be awake and listening, but I turn to look at him and see his eyes are still closed. That doesn’t mean he’s asleep, though; he might just be pretending.
“You’re only free, Isadora, when you let go of the past,” Vincent stresses.
“Yeah but…” I stop. I don’t want to argue. Does Vincent? What’s got his goat? I don’t think Vincent’s had anything but a sweet life, sweet as a bakery open all night. Nathan is haunted by something, and he still has nightmares. Obviously, his past is trying to interfere with his future, and I want to help him.
“I don’t have anything to do but make you happy,” Vincent tells me. “I don’t have anything holding me back. I don’t have anything I’m struggling with.”
“I’m glad, Vincent,” I tell him. I reach out and touch his hand and hear troubled moaning from the bedroom. Nathan is caught in some terrible dream. His head tosses back and forth.
“No,” he’s saying. “Please…”
I get up and walk over to the bed and shake him awake.
“Nathan, baby?” I sit on the edge of the bed and gently touch his face. He stares at the ceiling, sweat covering his body. “You were having a bad dream—was it her?”
“She’s here,” he says, looking around the room on full alert.
“No, sweetie, no one’s here.” I move my hand in a sweeping gesture about the room. “See? Just me and Vincent.”
Nathan sits up in bed, his beautiful body glistening in sweat, and takes a cigarette out and lights it. He takes a drag and lets out a thick cloud of smoke before saying another word. Then he gets up and walks out onto the balcony. Vincent offers him a glass of wine, but it’s not Nathan’s style. He prefers the hard, fiery threat of whiskey. He chucks it down, and the nightmare of that woman following him around starts to fade. He is sitting in the chair and puts his strong fingers around my wrist and pulls me toward him and we kiss. That, too, will probably help him forget the nightmare.
“I’m sorry you keep having these,” I say.
“You have to let it go,” Vincent offers his advice. “Whatever it is that is haunting you. I bet once you do, it will stop.”
“It won’t let me go,” Nathan says as he stares down at my hand and runs his thumb along my knuckles before bringing it up to his mouth and kissing my hand.
“I can still taste you. I woke up tasting you in my mouth, and it was the sweetest thing. You taste so good, Isadora. I want to taste you over and over and over again.”
“Oh, Nathan.” Nathan stands up, his cock still erect, and pulls me up with him, pressing me against his chest.
“Come to bed with me, please. If you’re there I won’t have another nightmare.”
“Of course, just give me a moment, sweet boy,” I say. I know Vincent still wants to talk. Nathan nods and goes to bed, but he doesn’t dare close his eyes. He watches us instead.
“Maybe he’s lying,” Vincent has the nerve to say. I almost slap him, but it’s not my style. I adore both Nathan and Vincent.
“How could you say that?”
“Because no one ever knows what is going through another person’s head. He could be lying to win you over, to bring you and him closer. I’d never lie to you, Isadora, or claim I was having some nightmare to get your attention. Real men don’t do these sorts of things.”
“Yeah, real men plant roses,” Nathan says, sounding so sardonic as he appears behind us, lighting another cigarette. He is livid at Vincent’s audacity to call him a liar.
I think a fight might break out.
“Isadora likes the garden, don’t you, Isadora?” Vincent asks. I do like the garden. Who doesn’t like garden? I look at Nathan.
“Now, boys, let’s not fight.” I circle my fingers around both of their wrists and kiss them both on their faces. Vincent shaved today, Nathan didn’t bother.
Nathan looks me dead in the eye. “I’m not lying to you about these nightmares.”
“I know.”
Nathan goes back to the bed. I can tell his temper is still boiling. Vincent sits in the chair and rests his legs on the table and finishes his wine.
“The garden is very nice,” I say. He doesn’t seem to be buying it. “Those flame flowers, what are they called?”
Vincent doesn’t answer for quite some time. Then he finally says, “Gloriosas.”
“That’s such a pretty name…I should be able to remember it.”
Vincent smiles. “If I ever have a daughter that is what I wish to name her— Gloriosa.”
“Oh that’s pretty.”
“As she would be,” Vincent says, walking over to the balcony. “If she’s ours.”
The way he says this turns me on.
I walk over and stand behind him, running my hand along the back of his neck before kissing him there gently. I know Vincent is a lover; Nathan is too, but he’s also a bit of a fighter. Maybe he has to be. Maybe he needs to fight off those nightmares. His demons.
“Isadaora.” I love the way he says my name. I run my hands over his hips to the front of his trousers.
“Why do you insist on putting these back on? Take them off.”
Vincent turns around and unzips his trousers, then draws my lips to his.
“I want to give you the world, Isadora,” Vincent says to me. “I know that I can, too.” He looks over my shoulder, and I wonder if he’s looking at Nathan. I run my hand over Vincent’s cock, demanding his undivided attention. I think maybe he’s nervous.<
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“What’s the matter, baby?”
“I have a request,” Vincent says.
“Of course.” This is great. I want Vincent to speak his mind more.
“Give me a blowjob, in front of Nathan…please.”
I take Vincent by the wrist and pull him into the room. There are candles lit, and a calm breeze sweeps into the room. Nathan lay wide awake in the bed, barely casting a glance in our direction as we enter the space.
Vincent sits on the bed and takes my lips with his. I run my hand over the length of his cock, the massive girth too large for my small hand. I kneel before him and open my mouth, but Vincent protests.
“No, no,” Vincent says, his voice quite raspy as he takes my wrists in his hands. His hold is gentle but firm. “No princess should be on the floor.”
He lifts me so I’m on the bed, on my knees, in front of Nathan. Nathan leans up on his elbows to watch, his trousers rising in a triangle tent shape in front. Nathan strips his pants down his strong thighs, his heavy, erect cock bobbing free, and he lay there, his hand lazily touching himself, as he watches Vincent and me.
I suck Vincent’s length in my mouth, then reach over and stroke Nathan. Nathan shifts on the bed, spreading his legs, and I cup his balls in my hand, tracing my thumb over the delicate skin.
“Oh…” He frowns, and a seductive sulk takes over his face. I look back at him and he crawls over to me, his cock perked up nice and hard now. He pulls my mouth away from Vincent and roughly takes my lips, before quickly releasing me and urging my mouth back toward Vincent’s waiting dick.
I feel Nathan’s fingers press into my soft hips as he gets behind me and kisses me on the shoulders.
“Nightmares or not, touching you is way better than sleeping,” he says.
Nathan peppers kisses down my spine, his lips making their way over my bottom. He adjusts my position so I’m kneeling on the bed, knees spread, ass in the air, but with a direct access to continue blowing Vincent. I feel Nathan’s cock presses against my thigh, then with a fascinating thrust, he’s injecting himself in me with a breathy groan.
I release my lips from Vincent’s cock, kissing my way over his abs then grinding my ass back against Nathan’s thrusts and creating a delicious friction that I’m soon lost in.
My body aches, reeling with the pleasure received.
“Oh, Nathan…” I sigh. Vincent grips his cock in his strong hand and strokes himself up and down, pumping gently at the base. Vincent wraps his hand around my throat and plunges deep into my throat as Nathan’s cock massages my inner walls. He’s astoundingly big anyway, but engorged with lust Nathan seems even bigger; a monstrous cock, and he knows how to use it.
I slide my tongue over Vincent’s opening, and he pulls at my hair.
“I’m gonna come,” he tells me. I keep sucking him and run my hands over his balls. Nathan grips my hips harder, more hurried as he penetrates me deeper in demanding strokes. My orgasm washes over me unexpectedly, and I reach back to touch Nathan anywhere my hands can reach. Vincent’s release follows, and he douses my tits in sweet, hot cum. His jizz oozes from his tip, coating my chest and stomach, leaving a deliciously sticky mess behind.
“That’s it, cover her up,” Nathan commands on a road as he comes inside of me. I topple over so my head is against the mattress, and he pulls out of me just in time to spray cum all over my ass.
“Oh god…oh…”
We each lay in our own bout of ecstasy, catching our breaths.
“Oh my god…” Nathan reaches for a cigarette, and I lie on my side, sticky. Vincent reaches for his wine, taking a sip. We all share the bed, looking up at the ceiling.
Vincent is the first to fall asleep, leaving Nathan and I awake in the dark.
Nathan is very quiet as he gets out of bed and leads me out to the balcony. The sky is a very romantic array of stars. The moon is bright, but it’s not a full moon; it’s not the kind you might see in a scary movie about werewolves. It’s merely a hyphen in the night sky.
“Sometimes I think it’s easy to be Vincent. Sometimes I wish I was him—like his life is a clean slate or something. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Or maybe that’s not good, maybe he hasn’t experienced life yet in the way I have.”
I look at Nathan, keeping my eyes on his stormy brown eyes.
“Which do you prefer?” he simply asks me.
“I like both, obviously,” I say.
Nathan doesn’t seem satisfied with this response and looks off at the garden.
“What if I planted something? And you tried to guess what it was I planted, you know, once it grows.”
I really like this idea. It’s mysterious and romantic, like this night. Like every night with Vincent and Nathan. And it gets my mind wondering—what will Nathan plant? What kind of plant would he like to see grow in a garden of honeysuckle, roses, gloriosas, hibiscus, frangipani, lobster-claws, sacred lotus, eucharis grandiflora, alpinia purpurata, gardenias, cattleya orchids, larkspur, and so forth. A cactus?
I decide to just ask.
“What is your favorite kind of flower?”
“No,” he just says.
“The no flower? Haven’t heard of it,” I joke.
He shakes his head, barely grins, and drags his smoke along the edge of the balcony so it leaves a thick black line I know will annoy Vincent and the maid.
“You’ve probably never seen it either, they refuse to grow,” Nathan says, and we both laugh. These are the kinds of conversations we have, and we laugh in the middle of the night and it’s the best thing.
“I like watching you sleep,” I say, “When you’re not having nightmares.”
“I kind of wish I could see myself sleep. I’m not making a weird face?”
“No, you look so peaceful, so do you have good dreams, too?” I ask.
“Every time I look at your face,” Nathan winks. He’s pouring it on a bit thick, but I don’t mind.
“I see.”
Nathan smiles and looks in the room where Vincent now lay awake. .
“Can you tell the difference between our smells?” Nathan asks. This is quite the question. I’m not expecting it. Vincent walks out onto the balcony right as I’m getting ready to answer it. Although I have no idea what the answer is.
“I mean…some days, when you shower, because you both use different types of soap.”
“I shower every day,” Nathan claims. Vincent laughs at this and points at Nathan with his cigarette.
“See?” Vincent says. “You are a liar.” The three of us share a laugh and Vincent looks out at the garden. “I shower every day,” he mocks Nathan in a mutter and starts on yet another glass of wine.
“Whiskey,” I suddenly say, and Nathan actually starts to pour me some.
“No, no,”—I hold a hand up, politely protesting—“I mean you smell of whiskey,” I point at Nathan. “You taste of it. And Vincent tastes like wine. And, Vincent, you use some kind of peppermint smelling soap and Nathan uses one that smells like the beach in the morning.
Nathan has grown quiet as if he’s no longer interested in the response I’m giving to his own inquiry.
What is he thinking right now? Is he thinking about his nightmares? Is he wishing they would stop? Is he afraid to go to sleep tonight? Does he want me to hold him? Maybe Vincent is right, maybe he is obsessing over something dark from his childhood that he should just let go. Things can’t grow when you do this.
“Nathan?”
He looks at me with those wonderful brand-new pennies for eyes and his black hair flows down in his face.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” he says, and gulps his whiskey. Vincent drinks his wine, and I watch them both as they sit there in all their silent, deadly handsomeness, wondering what the two of them are thinking.
“Asiatic black lilies,” Nathan suddenly says. “That’s the flower I would grow.”
I become obsessed with finding out everythi
ng I can about said flower, so much so that in the middle of the night, I get up and go on the Internet and look it up. It’s a beautiful lily, but it’s very dark and looks a bit vulnerable, like its petals might fall off from the slightest touch or little insects that mean to do it harm. I wonder what it smells like. I think about dark musty kinds of cologne, like the kind that Nathan wears sometimes. It just kind of clings to his clothes, and in the morning I smell that way.
Vincent
I wake up to find the space between Nathan and myself empty. Isadora is gone. I get up and quickly check Isadora's chambers. She's not in her bathroom or dressing room. When I come back to the bedroom Nathan is awake, stretching.
“Where's Isadora?” He asks.
“I don't know. I’ve searched her rooms.”
Nathan sits up in bed looking worried. “Do you think Ileana’s done something to her?”
“Who knows what Ileana is capable of,” I say
“We need to find Isadora?”
I agree. Nathan and I dress quickly.
“It's evening, and the palace is quiet. We can't have the servants go looking for her; it will cause a fuss, and it may make Ileana suspicious,” Nathan says.
“It will take forever for just the two of us to search the entire palace, and god knows what Ileana could do to her by that time.” I try not to think about what could happen, but I have no doubt that if Ileana has to, she’ll kill Isadora, and Nathan and I would make easy targets for the blame. Ileana would still win, and we simply can’t let that happen. “How does Ileana usually spend her evenings?” I’m certain Nathan’s operatives have given him the answer to this question.
“Usually she spends them outside of the palace. What she does is something even my best operatives weren’t able to ascertain,” Nathan says.
“What about Theresa?” I ask.
“The queen's secretary?” He raises a brow.
“Remember Isadora said some of her mother's staff aren't as loyal as she thinks.”
“Do you think she’ll tell us anything?”
