Garden of May - Chapter 28
Chapter 28
Vanessa reached another cl*max, the number lost to her, and tightened her thighs around his wrist. It was the pinnacle of shame.
***
“Come in. Watch your head.”
The shabby shed was cramped, yet surprisingly comfortable in a way its exterior didn’t suggest. Vanessa hesitantly sat on the bed River Ross indicated, her eyes, a mixture of wariness and curiosity, scanning the shed’s interior.
The bed was old-fashioned but well-maintained and clean. In one corner stood a billiard table and a wooden chair. A shelf by the window held a few books and a luxurious-looking cigar box, and beneath it, a desk rather large for the room’s size. An emerald green curtain hung from the ceiling, seemingly dividing the space into a living area and a bedroom.
It was a reasonably decent place for a young worker to live alone, though the close arrangement of the furniture made it feel somewhat cramped.
“Get some sleep if you’re tired.”
Vanessa’s head snapped up. Engrossed in examining the room, she had completely forgotten River Ross was watching her. She quickly lowered her eyes, feigning disinterest, but it was a belated attempt.
River Ross chuckled, as if watching a playful young animal, and left the shed with a large bucket in hand. Once his presence was completely gone, Vanessa slowly exhaled the breath she’d been holding.
‘I’m exhausted.’
With no one watching, her tension eased, and her shoulders slumped. She collapsed onto the soft bed, her gaze drifting towards the slightly sagging ceiling. It was indeed low enough for a man of River Ross’s stature to bump his head. Not her, though.
His warning, then, had been pointless from the start, just as his powerfully built body had failed to provide what she so intensely craved.
‘I’m still so slick.’
Vanessa sighed, placing her idle hands on her lower abdomen. River Ross had wiped her clean with a handkerchief immediately afterward, but it hadn’t done much good, only serving to re-sensitize her. Though momentarily clean, the slick aro*sal soon returned.
The places his hands and lips had touched still tingled. She had been swept away by the unfamiliar sensations, losing all control. And when she’d asked, still wanting more, why he hadn’t taken it further, he’d given her a terrible, villainous reply: that watching her shame was more ar*sing.
‘He’s a commoner and a soldier, so of course, he’d be used to vulgar language.’
Yet, he was more refined when lost in passion than in his usual demeanor. Perhaps it was his unruffled, almost detached manner during their intimacy that amplified this impression.
Her wandering gaze landed on the desk cluttered with various items. She noticed a glint of reflected sunlight, unusually bright, emanating from a small glass bottle. Vanessa pushed herself up from the bed.
‘Could that be… a Burford perfume?’
This seemed to be the source of the subtle unease she had felt. The intricately crafted crystal bottle, the gold-plated cap, the clear, golden liquid inside.
It was indeed a Burford perfume, the kind that had become incredibly fashionable in recent years. It was certainly too expensive an item to be casually placed in such a location, in such a manner.
‘Is it a counterfeit?’
Hesitantly, Vanessa lifted the cap. The initial scent was deep and potent. Luxurious, yet not overly heavy, with a lingering depth of citrus and sandalwood. It felt strangely familiar – the same scent that subtly clung to River Ross.
The moment she realized this, Vanessa quickly closed the cap and carefully placed the perfume back on the desk. Her fingertips trembled slightly. And from that moment, the seemingly simple interior of the shed began to appear differently.
The cigar humidor on the shelf was made by Millon, and the clock bore the Largo logo. The fountain pen was imported from Langton, the ink from Bodak, the handkerchief beneath the teapot was from Hermes…. Each item was a luxury brand she had only ever seen in Rosaline and Blair’s rooms, gifts occasionally bestowed upon them by their parents.
No matter how generous a navy salary might be, River Ross seemed to have extravagant tastes.
‘Perhaps they’re all counterfeits. If he were truly wealthy, he’d be smoking cigars, not the cigarettes the laborers smoke.’
As Vanessa looked around for further evidence of his extravagance, her eyes fell upon a worn leather notebook. Different sized and textured papers were bound together with a simple string; it didn’t look like a commercially produced item.
Beside it lay a piece of charcoal wrapped in paper, showing signs of use. She was drawn to the notebook, picking it up in a trance.
“Vanessa.”
Startled, she turned to see River Ross standing in the doorway.
