Page 46 of Inked in Bloom
I sink back against the porcelain and rest my head atop the fluffy towel that’s been folded over the lip of the tub, watching the flowers skim the water. They float atop my fingers, and I catch one and thumb the thick petals. Their velvety texture provides the perfect focus to calm myself with some breathing exercises.
With each inhale, the blend of scents envelops and calms me. I unclench my shoulders, my chest, my back, my legs, until I’m finally relaxed against the tub. Every muscle and ligament aches. How long have I carried this tension? Maybe the entire time I’ve been here, but I haven’t truly felt it until now. With methodical circles, I rub the stiff muscles and knuckle the knots I can reach.
As the minutes pass, I brace myself for the water to chill and become unbearable, but it never does. It remains the perfect temperature. Perhaps I’ll stay here forever in this tub with beautiful flowers and tasty treats for company.
With the aches drawn from my body, a new discomfort takes shape—longing. I think back to how easily Skylarshifted in class today, how even after Cherri struggled, she was able to as well. Looking around this tub, I take in everything else she’s conjured up with her abilities.
Magic is beautiful. Wish I fucking had some.
A white peony with large pink-kissed petals slides up my inner thigh and lands on my sternum, inches from the one inked over my left breast. Reaching for the flower, I twirl it by the stump of its stem, the layers and layers of petals fanning out as I do. Blooms make this. They craft it in their mind and make it real with their touch. How many delicate flowers, lush trees, and grassy glades had I passed each day walking around the city?
I have no clue. Barely noticed. My focus was always on where I was hurrying to—the next appointment or errand—navigating paths between busy commuters or scrolling my phone. How many times was I present enough to appreciate the finite details in nature? In my own damn life?
Using the peony, I trace the lines of my mate mark, admiring the artistry of both pieces.
The edge of a thick petal brushes the stiff peak of my nipple and pleasure shoots between my legs. I drop the flower with a gasp. It plops against the water, ripples spreading above where I’ve zipped my legs together. I glance over my shoulder at my desk.
I blame that questionnaire and all the ideas it put into my head. Solstice is months away and it’s already taunting me.
Though, it has been over a month since I arrived here… It’s only natural to crave relief between what I’ve seen at The Looking Glass, my accidental visit to The Nestling Fields, and learning about solstice.
My thumb grazes the nipple next to my mark, and I suck in a breath. I don’t remember being this sensitive before, butit feels incredible. I toy with one and then the other, slipping my hand lower. Some stress relief would go a long way right about now…
I press the heel of my palm against my clit, rocking my hips for the delicious friction, my body craving it like it’s sustenance. Is this what Roxy and Cherri were talking about, that sex would become as essential as water, food, air?
Another wave of desire rushes between my legs.Wow. Taking a deep breath, I home in on the pressure building with each swirl and tip of my pelvis, manipulating my body with singular purpose: running away from the day’s stress and toward the endorphins and oxytocin that accompany climax.
I bite my lip, stifling a moan, pleasure scattering along my sensitive flesh. But even as my hips slow, it’s not enough to satisfy the thrum below my belly. The orgasm has somehow uncorked something primal and uncontrollable.
My fingers circle my opening and push in. I pinch my nipple with my free hand, tugging and tormenting it to the piercing tip of pain. With each panting breath, each shift of my pelvis, the desire builds. I bite my lip again—hard enough to draw blood. There’s a deep need I can’t explain, but my body cravesmore. More than I can give, more than I logically think I can handle. The pressure coils, stronger than before, and the force of it makes every limb quiver against the porcelain. Ecstasy billows and billows?—
The next rock of my hips, I bite my shoulder, smothering out guttural sounds as I chase my release.
Usually when I masturbate, one is plenty, enough to numb me to the stress of the day so I can fall asleep. But the water laps at my skin and I crest in waves. They crash intome three more times until I’m gripping the lip of the tub, spent and sweat slicked.
What the hell?
If this is just a regular day, I have to imagine the pamphlet from the Solstice Center wasn’t exaggerating. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve had enough clients who are unable to achieve orgasm, I’ll take this strange occurrence as a win.
My body’s like a noodle, flimsy and flung against the porcelain. I pant, catching my breath, every part of me humming. Tingling. There’s a buzz beneath my fingertips…
I blink at the sloshing water to where all the rose petals have converged.
Is this…magic?
I close my eyes, feeling a bit foolish but emboldened by my post-orgasm haze. I wiggle my nose and wait a few moments…
Nothing happens.
There’s only the slosh of water and crackle of candle flames echoing against the tile. Squinting one eye shut, I slowly open the other.
The petals have lifted out of the water, floating above the bath’s surface. A mix of red and dark-pink, they cradle each other into the shape of an unblossomed bulb. I slip my palms under it and bring it to my chest, closing my eyes and picturing something else.
With a wiggle of my nose, I peek out of one eye— The petals unfurl, one at a time, resembling a budding mismatched rose.
Startled, I drop it into the water and it scatters.
I did that.
