The Scent and The Siren

thirty one

As the soft tendrils of dawn's light gently caress my eyelids, I stir from my slumber. For a second everything is blank and then I stretch and become aware of my sore body.

Mr. Testosterone-On-Legs took me to a heaven of ecstasy I'd never known existed. Heat suffuses me from head to toe and I can barely keep a smile from splitting on my face.

I stretch my arms, still refusing to open my eyes so I can relish the dream, if indeed it was just a beautiful dream and not reality. But every second with his highness from last night at the club has imprinted itself deep in every pore of my body for it to be one of my romantic delulus.

After the whole McDonald's drive-thru episode, so many orgasms and so much sex and then the overload of carbohydrates that were my McGangBangs, I could barely keep up.

I grin wider as all the events from last night flash in front of my eyes in glorious technicolor.

I haven't had sex in eleven long years and on top of that I had it not once but twice in the same night within the span of an hour and orgasmed five times. It made me so exhausted I fell asleep on our ride back.

I barely opened my eyes when he informed me that instead of heading to the hotel, we were boarding a plane to leave St. Moritz. I had no problem because it made sense that we returned to New York together.

I nodded and nuzzled his neck, basking in his intoxicating scent, and drifted back to sleep in his arms as he carried me to the plane.

There are fragments in my mind of him releasing my seatbelt, carrying me with tenderness to his private cabin onboard the jet, and placing me gently on the bed. I also have a distinct recollection of him assisting me out of the plane.

Bound by my morning habit, I extend my arm to the bedside drawer, my fingers searching, seeking the box of altoids.

Without the need to open my eyes, I deftly retrieve it, and slide two round mints in my mouth.

It's stunning how quickly my world has spun off its axis. I would've never even imagined that I'd be returning home to New York not alone, but with the love of my life and a ridiculous arrangement I signed with him.

I blush as my fingers linger on my collarbone where I have a strong feeling that it has bruised from his kisses, suckles, and bite.

I know I am naked and it can only mean that the control freak his highness put me to bed like this. I feel my skin flaring a deep shade of crimson.

My senses gradually awaken to a world that feels like a dream.

Blinking against the first rays of sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, I find myself cocooned in the embrace of an unfamiliar lavish haven that seems plucked straight from the pages of a fairy tale.

I blink again, half-expecting to snap out of the dream, but the unfamiliar surroundings remain steadfastly real.

I sit up, my heart racing with both disbelief and delight, taking in the exquisite details of the space I'm in—a bedroom but not mine.

The expensive minimalist art installed walls are washed in a pristine white, their simplicity serving as a canvas for the ornate accents that adorn them – intricately carved patterns and delicate ivy vines that whisper of ancient tales. The bed is draped in billowing swathes of pristine white fabric and from the large glass wall before me, a breathtaking panorama stretches out.

The azure expanse of the sea lays before me, its waters glistening like a myriad of sapphire gems under the early morning sun. The horizon melds seamlessly with the sky in a symphony of blues. A light breeze plays with the sheer curtains, allowing the tantalizing scent of salt and sea to permeate the air. Seagulls are painting lazy arcs in the sky, their cries a gentle melody that underscores the serenity of this hidden paradise.