Takedown: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance

by Lana Hartley

“Did you get a horse?”

  “Yes but…I think I got a horse because I’m a princess, and not because I wished on a star for one, but who knows.”

  I look over at Nathan. His gorgeous brown eyes are on the sky.

  “You? Have you ever wished on a star?” I pick my head up and look at Vincent. “And you Vincent?”

  “I haven’t,” Vincent said.

  “I think you’re supposed to wish upon a falling one,” Nathan says. “Or does it matter?”

  “I don’t think it does.” I’m holding Nathan’s hand and he squeezes mine back and leans in to kiss me. We share another long, deep kiss. I get up and walk over to Vincent and take his hands and pull him up from his chair. He seems to be in a funk and I hope to pull him out of that too.

  “Do you want to finish our dance?” I ask him.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Oh come on, Vincent.”

  “We don’t have any music,” Vincent says.

  “I’ll sing,” Nathan offers.

  “Oh I’d rather dance to silence,” Vincent jokes. Nathan starts singing some rock song I kind of know but not too well, and we start dancing about. Nathan actually has a decent voice and Vincent is a good dancer. He twirls me around and I spin about and end up in Nathan’s arms. Nathan continues to sing the song.

  We dance for a while, and Nathan finishes the song before handing me back off to Vincent. Vincent picks me up so I’m over his shoulder and I see the garden below us – all the sweeping views and all the magical lights, and he spins me around and around.

  “You’re going to make her dizzy, dude,” Nathan says, more worried and less amused.

  Vincent places me down and I find balance in my little heels and I sit down at the table where wine glasses filled with delicious red wine awaits. I sip the wine and Nathan comes over. His shirt is off. He looks hot as hell. He actually drinks wine for a change, and I have to wonder if he’s mocking Vincent – the way he drinks wine – because Nathan is holding the wine glass in a certain way. And it is Nathan’s style to poke fun, to just make jokes, and I wonder if that’s his way of seeming less vulnerable than he actually is.

  “What do you think?” Vincent asks Nathan. “Of the wine?”

  “It’s okay.” Nathan says.

  “Are you out of whiskey?” Vincent asks.

  “For the night, yes.” Nathan’s voice is rich with darkness. I feel like something is

  bothering him, and I feel like he would share whatever it is if it were just him and I and not Vincent. But it is what it is.

  Nathan suddenly eyes me from across the table and I am wondering even more now than before, what it is he’s thinking.

  “What?” I finally say.

  “Do you like the wine?”

  “Yes but…” I place my hand on Vincent’s. “I like the wine you had the other night better. What was it called?”

  “I think it was called Scarlet Bay.”

  “That’s it,” I point. “That’s the one. I like that one.”

  “I’ll have to make a note of it,” Vincent winks at me.

  I laugh. “Thanks. This is good too,” I say. I sip the wine. It’s fruity and lush. Vincent starts talking about the wine and where it’s from. He knows as much about wine as he does about flowers. I can see Nathan off in the distance rolling his eyes.

  I try and not laugh as Vincent goes off on some tangent about where the wine is grown – what piedmont and the type of weather.

  “Not too crisp and not too humid – the air quality has to be just right – you’d be amazed with how much that can affect wine,” Vincent says. “High humidity can cause wine disease…”

  Nathan giggles. “Wine disease,” he mutters. Then Vincent gives him the death stare.

  “Well yes – weather affects everything – ever single thing but grapes especially are very vulnerable, if not given the proper care, they easily rot. It’s called noble rot.”

  “How did you learn so much about wine?” I ask. I’m trying to keep the mood light, but I can already feel a fight breaking out.

  “I studied,” Vincent said. “That’s what you do whenever you want to learn about anything. You study it – like I’ve studied your every feature.”

  “Which is easy to do today,” Nathan snorts.

  “Yes,” I say, stretching out my long legs and they feast their eyes upon them. Nathan is also looking at my feet. “I have made that quite easy for you, haven’t I?”

  “You have.” Vincent picks up my left foot and starts to give it a massage like he did that night in the garden. I am reminded of that amazing, wonderful, blissful night we had together. He is massaging my feet perfectly. I think that night and the night I had with Nathan playing the piano are two of the most fabulous nights I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t trade them in for anything in the world.

  “Any way, I started studying wine a few years ago,” Vincent says as Nathan sits remarkably still, his finger on the side of his face as he looks over at us. I can tell he’s conjuring up some master plan as to how to compete with the foot massage and wine lesson I’m being given.

  “Sun exposure, soil type, all these things go into growing the perfect grape – you can’t possibly get a perfect bottle of wine without growing the perfect grape.”

  “And so many grapes – I’ve always wanted to go to a vineyard,” I say.

  “We could do this,” Vincent says.

  “We should all go,” Nathan says.

  “Nathan, do you know anything about whiskey – how it’s made?” Vincent asks. “You should, it could make your taste for it that much more exotic.”

  “I’ll look into it tomorrow.” Nathan’s voice is lackluster, he’s just teasing Vincent.

  “And topography,” Vincent suddenly says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, well it’s the arrangement of the natural and artificial physical features of an area – like for example, the surroundings here. Topography is simply the environment; it’s a fancy word for it. The earth the soil the valleys, all of that, makes up topography.”

  Vincent lights a cigarette and Nathan comes over and steals my foot from his. Nathan is grouchy, and at first he squeezes my foot too hard but then I think he remembers that it’s a foot and it’s tender and he calms down and starts to do it just right.

  “Are you ticklish?” Nathan wonders.

  “No…” I say, “Your fingers feel good,” I say. And he starts to massage my calves too. I suddenly crave his fingers all over my body.

  “Would you like a full body massage?” Nathan offers. Oh wow, I think he wins this round. I didn’t see that coming.

  I nod and get down on my knees and spread out on the blanket that we had sex on earlier and he gets on top of me, so his knees are on either side of me, and goes to town on my backside, his fingers pressing into some tender spots. I suppose even a princess can have stress. He is finding all of those spots and begins a marvellous massage as Vincent continues with my feet.

  “Oh…” I moan my pleased reaction. “This…feels…so good…” I say. “So good.”

  I feel Nathan’s hands sneak up my legs to my upper thighs and eventually he’s massaging my buttocks, and that feels really amazing.

  “Have you ever had a full body massage?”

  “Not in years,” I say, in total, complete ecstasy. “This feels amazing.”

  “You just relax and keep enjoying it then,” Nathan says. He starts to massage my upper shoulders, and then down to my back and back to my bottom again and his fingers touch the sides of my body near my tits and I start laughing.

  “She is ticklish,” Vincent realizes.

  “No!” I shudder and press my arms against the sides of my body to try and protect myself. “NO NO!”

  “I’m going to get you!” Nathan warns. “I’m going to get you – the tickle monster is going to get you!”

  “Nathan doesn’t,” I beg, and I’m already laughing just at the idea of being tickled. Vincent meanwhile is pleasant
ly kissing my feet. Why can’t Nathan be ore calm like him?

  Nathan always has to outdo everything – everything with him is a sport.

  “PLEASE!” I start begging as Nathan starts tickling me and I’m on my back now and he’s kissing me.

  “Oh my god, you are such a dick sometimes.”

  “Yup.” He doesn’t deny it, and speaking of dicks his is out of his pants again and hard as ever.

  We start having sex and it’s a normal position but with Nathan it always feels good no matter what kind of position we’re in and after the wine and the massage I am so relaxed and now the sex feels really good. He reaches over for the whiskey and pours some on my tits and starts licking it up. There’s some band in the garden playing a song, and it sounds familiar, and as Nathan continues to douse my tits in awesome, delicious whiskey, I realize what song he’s playing – it’s my song. It’s our song it’s Firefly.

  “What is that…is that…?” I ask as he enters me and starts thrusting and for a minute that is all I can think of, that and his awesome teeth clamping on my nipples and he tugs away at them like a puppy playing with a rubber toy.

  “Oh Nathan…” I sigh.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I wrote lyrics for the song,” Nathan informs.

  “That’s so…sweet…” I start crying. This is the single most sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And I hope Vincent doesn’t mind, but right now Nathan has my heart.

  “Oh Nathan…” I cry and sigh over his shoulder as I listen to a man beautifully belt out the song.

  In her arms/I come alive/shine through the night/like a firefly

  The magic builds in her eyes/the best surprise

  Like a little firefly

  Just a part of the game, like a little flame, in the dark

  She keeps up light; she says it’s the heart

  That lights up the firefly

  In her arms late at night that’s exactly what it feels like

  Like I’m a firefly

  “Nathan…” I wrap my arms around him and hold him as I feel him go deeper and deeper inside of me. My crown has fallen off of my head and Vincent picks it up and carefully places it on the table where he is finishing a bottle of wine and he has a smoke as I shut my eyes and feel Nathan inside of me and continue to listen to the lovely song being performs outside.

  “You…wrote this?” I ask him.

  “You wrote the music…I wrote the lyrics...”

  In her arms/I come alive/shine through the night/like a firefly

  The magic builds in her eyes/the best surprise

  Like a little firefly

  Just a part of the game, like a little flame, in the dark

  She keeps up light; she says it’s the heart

  That lights up the firefly

  In her arms late at night that’s exactly what it feels like

  Like I’m a firefly

  I just can’t breathe right

  Until the night

  Sets me free, I come alive

  Just like a firefly

  Such a sweet surprise

  To see her eyes light up like that

  Every time she’s in the room I feel like dancing

  You can’t help but notice

  She’s just like fire

  A firefly

  Nathan is thrusting harder and harder and Vincent is sipping his wine and looking out at the garden, the garden where this band has apparently set up shop and I think maybe this ruffles Vincent’s feathers a bit. I do know how much he loves that garden.

  Nathan pays no mind and just keeps thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, until he’s about to cum, and I hold onto him and run my hand through his hair, and we kiss really hard and my feet wrap around his back so my ankles are mashed together and he keeps fucking me deeper and deeper with solid big thrusts and I think Vincent has his cock out and he’s playing with himself and the night smells like whiskey and rain and wine and the band is in the middle of some big triumphant climax and I hear the piano and trumpets and the saxophone and the man keeps singing our song.

  In her arms/I come alive/shine through the night/like a firefly

  The magic builds in her eyes/the best surprise

  Like a little firefly

  Just a part of the game, like a little flame, in the dark

  She keeps up light; she says it’s the heart

  That lights up the firefly

  In her arms late at night that’s exactly what it feels like

  Like I’m a firefly

  I just can’t breathe right

  Until the night

  Sets me free, I come alive

  Just like a firefly

  Such a sweet surprise

  To see her eyes light up like that

  Every time she’s in the room I feel like dancing

  You can’t help but notice

  She’s just like fire

  A firefly

  “Oh Nathan…Nathan…I love you sweet boy, I love you so much…” I say as three music buildings and builds out there where both of these men have planted flowers for me – flowers that represent me in many ways. The gloriosoas represent fire, and the dark lilies that Nathan planted represent a piece of him and now my song – and Nathan’s song – is being performed out there and I’m not sure how this night could get any more romantic.

  I look up and see that Vincent is gone and Nathan is still hard and inside me but I think he is about to cum and then I see Vincent come back to the terrace and he has something in the palm of his hands and he goes to the table and stands around my crown and starts letting those rose petals go so they tumble over my crown and he picks up the wine and starts sipping and pours us all glasses of wine as Nathan keeps fucking me and I claw at his back because it has never been this good before.

  “I just want you to be happy,” Nathan says.

  “I am, I am so, so happy.”

  “I hope that this song made you happy…I thought so hard how to…” he cums and I think he even shakes a little and I hold him tight and I’m just amazed by the song and the lyrics run through my head long after the song ends and I lie there with him still inside of me and Vincent sitting over my crown and the rose petals he brought in and I think it’s starting to thunder way off in the distance and I feel a little rain hit us too, and the rain is nice and cool, a nice mist that coats every perfect thing about this perfect night.

  I am so happy and warm. A princess becomes a queen when her two princes become the kings of her life, of her pleasure. That’s what I have and I wish for nothing more. Every thing is perfect, you see?

  Hit & Run

  An MFM Romance

  By Lana Hartley

  Copyright 2018 by Dark Princess Press

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.

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  Hunter

  The ring goes off somewhere and it’s like it sets off something in my body that I can’t even control. Fuck the Russian standing across from me, he’s dead already. There’s nothing that can save him now. He had at least three months to back the fuck off—to not challenge my World Heavyweight title. But he didn’t. Fueled by fucking pride or whatever the hell, the motherfucker thought he could take me.

  That false pride and expectation that he's going to make it out of this fight standing up vanishes from his fucking eyes in less than two seconds. I’m not fucking lying to you. I see it. His eyes go dull. It happens right about the time that my arm swings up in a fierce uppercut that would normally just defy the laws of biology and physics. See, you’re not supposed to be hurtling straight for your fucking opponent and able to maintain such strong control over yo
ur limbs. You’re also not supposed to be lacing them with so much power that they throw the other person’s head back and send him reeling.

  It’s probably been three, maybe four seconds I shit you not. I mean, the fight is on Pay Per View. You probably saw the fucking purse for this. $89 million dollars. This is bigger than anything else. Pacquiao and Mayweather? This is nothing. This is bigger than the biggest. If the Russian loses, you can be sure he’s not boxing again after this.

  And if he beats me? You gotta believe that he would have fucking killed me. That’s how big the stakes are. That’s how focused I am on winning. I've never fucking lost in my life. I've never fucking given up. I’m a fucking winner.

  The Russian tries to stagger back but my feet have already taken me the five paces to get all up in his fucking face and I land another haymaker straight into his temple.

  I hear a crunch and I resist the desire to let it distract me. Everything here is a fucking distraction. From the crowds who are cheering to the fucking whores who are waiting on the front seats, ready to suck the winner’s cock till he explodes. The fucking hustlers taking bets. The promoters counting their money. The photographers and journalists hanging on every single action. It’s all a distraction from the absolutely critical few seconds that exist on this fight.

  I’ve known guys who get in the fucking ring and swear that time stands still. They say that the moment they leave their fucking mental bubble in the ring, they know they fucking lost. That it’s all a test to see who leaves their fucking zen state first. You gotta keep pummeling the guy over and over until they realize the world around them and get fucking distracted. Because once they realize the world is out there, that’s fucking it. Their heads are outta the fucking game and you fucking won.

  Don’t fucking look at me like that. I mean, sure go ahead and look as I deliver three quick jabs to the stomach of the Russian, which makes him bowl over and then one last uppercut literally shoots his body off into the fucking air. He lands on his back and he ain’t moving.

  I stay focused as the ref starts calling the count.

  Right, if you’re looking at me now and wanting to know who the fuck I am, I think you can take a guess. The Hunter Bradley Vs. Vladimir Gorbachev fight has been promoted for a while now.