I was draped languidly over my eggplant-hued fainting couch at the base of the alder tree. Under the shade of the equally languid willow, Holly and Hazel were wrapped around each other like a pair of bonded kittens, resting soundly after their lazy mid-afternoon fuck. Rowan and Ivy sat in the shallow end of the pond, taking turns bathing one another while Maple, lying on her back in the grass, picked grapes off the bunch on her plate and popped them one by one into her mouth, listening to them discuss 17th-century murder scandals in hushed tones.
These were the best moments — when I looked around my ethereal garden to find everyone blissful and sated.
Reed made his approach then, a frosty champagne bottle in one hand, absently stroking his hardening cock with the other. He slinked along my stretch of soft velvet, lined his strong naked form up with mine from behind and, reaching over me, filled my cup. The liquid fizzled upon contact with the glass.
“Thank you, dear,” I said as he kissed down the length of my neck toward my exposed shoulder.
“Of course. Is there anything else my queen needs today?” Reed’s hand slipped past my gown, which was doing nothing to keep me modest, and teased my nipple between thumb and forefinger.
“There might be.” I wiggled my ass into his crotch and took a sip from my cup. The effervescence on my tongue matched the tingle that had been slowly overtaking my body since my morning vision woke me. “But we’re not ready yet.”
“Keep that up and I’ll be ready in no time,” he teased, pressing back into my tailbone.
I laughed softly through my nose. “I noticed. But we have to wait for Hawthorn to arrive.”
I felt Reed freeze and stiffen throughout the rest of his body as he withdrew his hand, exposing me once more to the heady garden air.
“Hawthorn is coming?” he said through clenched teeth.
“I do hope so,” I cooed, deliberately baiting him.
“You thought you’d have me all to yourself for a while. Yes, I know.”
“Then you must also know how much I hate it when you read my thoughts like that.”
“Of course, I do.”
Reed stood and pulled a satin sheet free from my nest. He tied it around his waist to hide his quickly receding erection and crossed his arms in a show of sternness.
“I just don’t know what you see in him,” he said, averting his gaze.
“He says the same about you.”
Reed sucked his teeth at me in a petulant way that I found oddly endearing. “You know, sometimes you can be a real—”
“Beech? Strong, resilient, ageless, and impossibly tolerant of the shade you like to throw at each other? Yes, I am all of those things.”
Reed softened a bit; the hint of a grin betrayed the pinched corners of his mouth.
When I rose to meet him, my gown fell away. Unfazed by this, I walked over the mound of fabric and closed the distance between us. In spite of himself, Reed swooned into my touch when I dragged the backs of my fingers down the side of his face.
“I really wish you two would play nice,” I said. “We could all have so much fun together.”
What Reed didn’t know was that we three were predestined to make a great love triangle. My vision that morning had declared it so. I just had to wait for them to catch up.
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