Roses And Champagne Zig Novels & Stories

She shrugged, "It just sounds so romantic." "It does." agreed Jasper filing that one away. He could certainly do that at the manor, and the chapel was quite a dark room anyway. He would text Francis, his butler. He would know what to do about that one. "Oh, and flowers, cream roses, cream roses everywhere." She laughed. "Just cream roses, nothing else to go with them?" "Hmm, how about violet? It's such a passionate colour." She said decidedly "Cream and violet, that sounds lovely. It sounds like you," he said, putting his head close to her ear. "Calm and then just a little bit naughty."

I thank God the dress is braless because when I notice her perky dusty rose nipples calling out to me, I don't waste time. "Crescent." she moans lowly. That is a switch to something so carnal deep within me. I ravage her nipples and breasts like a starved man. Satisfied by my work on her breasts, I trace a finger down her torso while I kiss her. I am not surprised to find her wet and ready.

I said teasingly, the atmosphere ripe with sexual tension. I took the bottle she clung to out of her hands to start pouring the champagne. "Chocolate coated strawberries and champagne. The exact vintage I chose for you. Only three hundred bottles made," she cooed appreciatively, eyes brimming with tears, her lips forming a pout.

“Sorry, I’m a bit out of it.” She shrugged, and opening the small door in the gate. She had no umbrella with her, I’m guessing she go out in a hurry. Who wouldn’t when their cousin was standing in front of her own home gate, and staring at her house like a psycho? “Don’t apologize. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” I nod, following her through the door. The walkway is just like I remember, on each side are prize winning roses. Of different colors. Huh? When do black roses exist? I took a small detour from following Alexis, bending over a patch of those strange black roses.

As the elevator doors opened to reveal the penthouse floor, a sight of pure indulgence greeted them. A trail of deep crimson rose petals carpeted the gleaming hardwood floor, leading them down a hallway adorned with tasteful modern art inspired by Greek mythology. The scent of roses and the Mediterranean air gave a nice scent throughout the open balcony door at the end of the corridor. There, on an elegant silver tray, stood a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé Gold, nestled in a crystal ice bucket. The champagne's label glinted in the warm light, promising nights of celebration.

In an unfortunate turn of events, the champagne toast I was savoring slipped from my mouth and trickled down my neck, coming to rest on my chest. Zamir saw it. I allowed the champagne to trickle down from my neck, slowly making its way to my chest and then to my belly button. Just as it seemed to be disappearing into nothingness, Zamir leaned in closer, instructing me to arch my back. He then sensually licked the champagne as it cascaded down. "You are quite mischievous," Zamir whispered, drawing my body nearer to his. “I want to fuck you right now.” He whispered in my ear.

Each place setting is meticulously arranged, with fine porcelain plates and glistening silverware, shimmering under the soft glow of the candlelight. As the candle flames flicker, casting a warm and intimate glow, a centerpiece of vibrant red roses takes center stage. The roses are carefully arranged, their petals unfurling gracefully, radiating a passionate allure. They are nestled in a crystal vase, their fragrance filling the air and weaving a tapestry of romance that envelops the room.

Like a dark dream. Rose petals. Deep red. Almost black in the candlelight. Scattered across the marble floor in a deliberate path. Leading from the entrance through the living room to the dining area. Like a trail of blood. Like marking territory. The dining table. Transformed. Black silk tablecloth. Crystal so fine it looked like ice. Silverware that gleamed like blades. Two settings. Intimate. Private. Perfect. And in the center—champagne. Dom Pérignon Rosé. $40,000 a bottle. Chilling in a bucket of ice carved to look like a rose. Decadent. Excessive. Exactly right.

"He and my uncle clashed last month." "I'll adjust it—move him to five, by the window." "Mm." I flip the page. Victoria keeps going, smooth as silk. "Florals are white roses and silver dollar eucalyptus—cool tones, nothing too ornate. I know you hate fuss." She leans in a fraction, her voice dipping into something more intimate. "Champagne's your usual, Dom Pérignon." "Swap it for Krug. You choose the vintage. Some guests are snobs about it. Dom's too pedestrian."

he said, his voice low and intimate. As I breathed in the sweet fragrance of the roses, Raziel set the champagne, gifts, and other treats on the bed. He then leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle, tender kiss. I wrapped my hand around his neck, drawing him closer, careful not to crush the delicate flowers. The world around us melted away, leaving only the two of us, lost in the sweetness of the moment.