Page 73 of Pitiful Lies

It’s not that I’m a miserable person, but I suppose you could say I’m a little serious. Not that anyone gets close enough to see that side.

But I’m thinking, I want her that close.

I want to make her happy, because yeah, she makes me happy.

I’ve been to this Ren Faire before, and as usual, there are loads of people all decked out in costumes.

First thing I did when we arrived was buy her one of those crowns made out of dried flowers with ribbons trailing down the back.

She looks so fucking beautiful. And her eyes haven’t stopped darting around, trying to take everything in.

I wonder what she’d think if I took her to Paris, or Rome, or Mykonos. Then I picture doing just that and I know I’m going to someday.

I’ll take her everywhere. Anywhere she wants to go.

She giggles helplessly at a couple of male Vikings with huge horned helmets on their heads as they walk past, and I grin along with her. Some people here go all out. They really get into their characters.

While I might not be into cosplay, I appreciate their efforts. And I love watching Giselle as she oohs and aahed over them. Her favorites are the forest of fairies with their brightly colored iridescent wings. But when I offer to get her a pair, she shakes her head.

The joust is about to begin, and I have to admit, it’s my favorite thing here. I’m excited to watch it with her. Curious to see what she thinks.

“Here’s a spot.”

I point to a space on the flat topped stone wall at the bottom of a small hill. We’re smack dab in the middle, facing the fenced off arena.

I watch Giselle frown, and I bite back my grin. My Little Doll is tiny, and the wall is almost five feet high.

She is also wearing one of those long flowy skirts of hers, so I imagine climbing is not an option. Not that I’d let her do that.

My eyes flick to her low scoop neck top, and I clench my teeth. Fuck. She is gorgeous.

“I don’t think I can get on that,” she says, but I already have my hands on her waist.

I turn her around so she’s facing me, and I know the second she registers the heat in my gaze. This woman turns me on so damn hard.

“Hmm. I should have known I wouldn’t have to figure it out alone,” she replies, grinning as she tips her head back to look at me.

I want to kiss her. But not here. This is a family event and there are a dozen little kids running around next to us.

“Hold this,” I murmur and note the shivers skittering up her spine as I hand her the turkey leg.

She takes the perfectly roasted fowl by the foil wrapped end and bites her lip as I squeeze her waist. I can’t help myself.

I drop a kiss on her mouth, sucking that lip out from between her teeth, and then I place her on the wall.

“I don’t know how you do it. You’re always picking me up like I weigh nothing at all.”

“Koukla, you’re such a little thing compared to me, it is like you weigh nothing at all.”

A horn trumpets behind me, and I join her on the high wall, feeding her bites of turkey. I buy a pint of cold hard apple cider from a passing bar wench, and we share that, too.

The joust starts, and it is awesome. Giselle is so into it. She claps and screams boo and huzzah at all the appropriate places. She waves the little flag I buy from a passing vendor.

Fucking breathtaking.

We are seated in the blue knight’s section and the guy wins, which is cool. What’s not cool is him tossing his small banner, and a long-stemmed red rose towards Giselle.

I snatch them both out of the air before they reach her. And I glare at that motherfucker on horseback.

---