Page 55 of Druid Dreams

“What he did may have been selfish in yer eyes, but it was also valiant. Ya can’t always put yerself in the line of fire, Love, even if ya would’ve fared better.” The next swing struck my lower abdominal muscles, swift and gentle. It didn’t sting, but the noise kept my predatory attention fixated on his movements. Still, I could say nothing, only listen and feel. From the left to the right, he ambled around my bed, searching my body. The aged, brown head of the riding crop stroking up one leg and down the other, across my peaked nipples, then dragging against my sides. He was driving me wild. I quivered with need as he continued to tease and castigate me simultaneously.

“Try naw ta be so hard on ‘im.” The smack to the inside of my left thigh struck my pussy as well. The sting of the landing had me panting and frustrated. “We all would’ve done the same thing ta keep ya safe. Especially if we’d all had the time between us dat you and York have had. Don’t ya think for a moment that a single one of us would sit back and let anyone torture you when we could take yer place. We all feel dat way.” His soft Irish accent grew thicker with the honesty and emotion in his voice.

The final blow was two quick strikes against my nipples that had me wishing I could do something more than lose my eyes in the back of my head. He dropped the crop on the floor when he reached the foot of my bed. Crawling up slowly between my legs, he rubbed his clothed body on my naked skin, until he was leaning over me. The kiss he gave me had the intensity of a tornado, wrecking my mouth and destroying my mind. “When ya make up with York, I’ll give ya what ya really want,” he promised after he pulled away. I couldn’t remember what I really wanted. I was pretty fucking close to forgetting my name.

Palmer slid back down my body, giving me a hellish grin. His tongue felt like satin as he lapped at my clit, and I could do nothing to show my appreciation. I tried to moan, but I still had no voice. I tried to squirm, but I had no freedom to move. I could only endure his form of punishment. If this is what happens when I get mad, I’m going to stay mad.

The fingers on his right hand eased around the entrance of my core, sending me into a spiraling feeling of bliss. He pushed two of those gloriously long fingers inside me and curled them like he was trying to touch his tongue. I’m a few “come here's” away from cumming right here. His fingers were fucking magical. When he felt my walls tighten around him, Palmer nipped lightly at my clit before sucking the bundle of nerves between his lips. That was all it took for the air to rush from my lungs. His hold on the silencing spell dropped, and my newfound voice cracked as I screamed his name.

When my orgasm finally subsided, his eyes roved over my body one last time. He held a mischievous glint in those stormy grey orbs that I didn’t quite like. He got off my bed in an exaggerated pace before leaning over me to lay a brief, tender kiss on my lips. Then, he winked at me and moved for the door, only stopping to toss over his shoulder, “Now, be a good girl,” he urged. “I don’t like goin’ back on my word, and it’s getting harder to maintain my promises.” He adjusted the wondrous bulge in his khakis as he turned the knob to my bedroom door.

He was gone before I could say anything. I was still naked, chained to my fucking bed. In magical chains! I’d never seen anything like these infernal things. I couldn’t break or bend them. I can’t even move! I could hear him laughing as he walked out of my suite, leaving all the doors open behind him. I shouted with a snarl, “You rotten fucking Irish bastard!” His laughter increased, and I growled in a very unladylike way to release the frustration I was feeling.

A set of footsteps halted my tangent of creative curses. They were too heavy to be Novak or Stone, too light to be Briggs or Vaughn. York. Fuck my life right now. He knocked casually on my door. “Come in,” I conceded begrudgingly. His head popped around the corner, the smile dropping from his face as he took in my predicament.

“I was going to see if you wanted to join me in the greenhouse, but I can see you're a little tied up. I’ll just, uhm, come back later.” He bit his lips together, and I wasn’t sure if it was to fight a smile or to stop talking.

“I’m going to kill that fucking Mage,” I whispered to myself. “If you can get me out of these chains I’d be happy to accompany you to the greenhouse.” That’s a half truth. Would I go? Yes. Would I be happy about it? Mmm, that was debatable.

“Sure thing, Sweetheart.” He walked over and uncinched the cuffs like they were just plain old leather constraints from the adult toy store. When I was free of my confinement I looked them over, searching for sigils or magic symbols. There’s nothing on them.

Fuck it. I grabbed a pair of denim shorts and a t-shirt, dressing as I followed York to his favorite room in the house. I dreaded the conversation that would come with this, but my anger was focused elsewhere at the moment. He opened the door and closed it soundlessly behind me. The dim nighttime lights flickered on as we proceeded deeper into the Druid’s personal wonderland. He stopped in the center of the room and turned to face me, his apology clear on his face before the words rolled off his tongue. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I don’t want to talk about it anymore until you’re ready.” He held his hand out to me and gave a half smile. “Would you like to dance? It’s been ages since we-”

“Yes,” I cut in, taking his hand. “What are we dancing to?”

“Frank?” He questioned. I didn’t know if he was addressing Franklin or answering my question with another, but soon the music started up. Frank Sinatra’s Something Stupid playing just loud enough to hear the words. The near perfect words. He stepped to the beat and I followed his graceful lead. His right hand gripped my left tightly. His left hand rested on the dip in my waist, and my right hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He closed his eyes as we swayed around the small, empty space in the center of the greenhouse.

We used to dance for hours between the path and open space of the greenhouse. This song and this moment brings back a rush of memories. My chest tightened painfully as a tear rolled down my cheek. Despite everything that had gone on, and gone wrong, it was things like this that showed me how simple everything could be. This. This is my York. Sweet, romantic, understanding.

We spent hours dancing, just the two of us reliving our past together. The songs changed tempo and we switched our steps, moving in sync like we always did. The bond between us was unmistakable now that I knew what to look for. I could feel his emotions as strongly as my own. His regret, pain, happiness, contentment, and exhaustion all took root in my soul. When the playlist ended he gazed down at me. The corners of his lips tilted slightly as his thumbs wiped at the tears trailing down my cheeks.

This was what we needed. It was where we should’ve started. It’s where we always started when we argued. He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” His hushed breath was tired and filled with sadness.

“I’m sorry too,” I confessed quietly to his retreating back.

“I know,” I heard him admit. His contentment sprouted, growing stronger and overshadowing his sadness and pain. I heard him descend the stairs, and when I was finally alone I peeked around the humid room. The plants looked healthier than they did when we entered. I swayed to the music still repeating in my head, circling the brick path and singing quietly to myself...

“I can see it in your eyes,

that you despise the same old lies

you heard the night before.

And though it's just a line to you,

for me it's true,

it never seemed so right before.

I practice every day to find some clever lines

to say to make the meaning come true.”

Sloane

Tuesday Early Morning

Singing to myself grew lonesome in the still greenhouse, so I decided to enjoy the leftover night outside. I putzed down the stairs one by one, watching the motion lights flicker on every eighth step, all the way to the basement floor. I stripped out of my clothes and soundlessly dove into the deep end of the pool. I didn’t come up for breath until I was beyond the glass wall separating the indoor section from the outside. When I spotted Novak sitting on the edge with his feet dangling in the water, I felt the instant relief of having company after everything the night had thrown at me.