Page 55 of Wicked

As Maria leaves, Dante thanks her, and we eat in silence. As the clock ticks high on the wall, the fire crackles, and thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s getting stormier out, and we avoid each other’s eyes.

I try to stay focused on eating until I inhale. It had to be done. Ask… ask… ASK!

I put my cutlery down, and I stare up. “If the fine sir was receiving visitors, then what time would be suitable?”

Dante places his own cutlery down. Being theatrical was likely goofy. I’m a fucking idiot. Dante takes his time chewing, and I look down, embarrassed.Screw it. I decide to look up, and I hold my chin high as our eyes meet.

“Are you sure about this?” Dante asks.

I reach out quickly before I realize I am. I’ve just taken his hand, and I squeeze it. I pull it back, ashamed, and I look at him and nod. God, I’m a mess!

“Five chimes after the midday.”

So, five o’clock! I nod and I’m now having trouble meeting his gaze. Minutes later, Dante finishes his meal, stands, and he gives me a cold look.

My heart jumps, and I can’t move or breathe. Then he is gone and out the door. A minute later, I lean out the window and stare down as I hear a car door open and close.

Dante tosses his jacket in the Range Rover and our eyes meet. I watch him, unable to help myself and without controlling my emotions.

Dante shakes his head, and he grumbles coldly, “I hope you’re not biting off more than you can chew.”

I tell myself to make it good and also fast. “I can bite off a lot… sir!”

We keep looking at each other, and I’m getting wet again. Dante talks low and he is husky. “Talk is cheap.”

As the Range Rover roars away fast, I close the window and sit. I’m excited, nervous, electric, and wet.

Maria returns five minutes later, and she pulls me back to reality. I ask her about renting costumes, but I’ve already prepared.

Last night online, I found a small shop in the next town. They didn’t have a great website, and it is still too early to phone them.

After telling Maria I want to dress Renaissance style, to help my writing, she confirms the next town does have a rental store. Excited, I leap up and hug her. “Thanks, perfect, and thanks for breakfast.”

I shoot out kitchen the door before the storm hits, and it’s time to seize the day. Upstairs, I decide to be productive until midday. I sit at the suite’s writing desk overlooking the stormy coast, and I force myself to write.

I can see the castle above the cliff, but only if I lean out my window. Just as well. Having the grumpy hunk waiting in the castlelike Draculaand visible would mess with my head and clit even more than it already is.

After several averagely productive hours, I give in. I’m too distracted, and I run a hot bath.

Readying my body for penetration and whatever else he wants to try feels strange, but I soap myself slowly in the ancient bath.

As I do, I wonder what Dante will do to me and my body. I also wonder how wicked he will be.

And if I will be shy, or if I will stand up and request things. Like the choking I’ve seen in pornos, or like commanding hair pulling. No one has ever sucked on my clit either, so it’s likely too much to expect… even if I imagine it.

The water is cool by the time I get out, and I dry myself aslightning flasheson the horizon.

I pull on my sexy black thong, and I adjust it as my heart pounds with anticipation. I pull on the matching black bra, and it’s the sexiest lingerie I have.

I remember I will be wearing a costume or dress, so I reach for my boring freshly cleaned jeans and boots.

It is the closest I have to bad weather gear, but it is far from perfect considering the ride ahead. I consider the concept of riding somewhere… to be ridden.

Again, what a strange world we live in.

Note to self: keep putting weird universe-type things in my novel. Not bath finger fucking, just more connective observations!

As I ride Olive towards the next town, I pass the shaggy black dog near the shops. I dismount and crouch, offering my hand. “Hey, boy.”

---