Something in the Air There are different ways to wake up. There’s terminology for it, a le

Something in the Air There are different ways to wake up. There’s terminology for it, a lexicon that you’re only aware of when you in the midst of that exact permutation of the morning. Rudely, softly, brusquely, sharply. She was in the middle of pleasantly, the light filtering in through the window to warm the covers almost as much as she was warming them underneath.  The bed was big. Too big for just her, and his absence was made all the more obvious by the way he hung around in the air, the smell of him lingering as if by way of apology. ‘I’ll be right back’ written in aromas. Her nostrils flared, and she drank it in, before a blush lightly coloured her cheeks.  Sex was there, mingling with the smell of him. Sex from him, and sex from her. The room reeked of it, a soft mustiness that seemed oddly savoury. She opened her eyes, and stared at the ceiling. Flashes of the night before reeled lazily across her memory, and even that was enough to make her hands start to trace pointed circles down her belly. The icecubes had been an appetiser, trailing across her chest and down the inside of both thighs. He’d already tied her up, and the feel of the rope digging into her wrists as she squirmed still hung around in her mind, on her skin. Her nipples had ached, a heavy throb that had ensured she couldn’t think of anything else for the duration.  He’d fucked her from behind, the belt from his trousers pulled tight against her neck, the buckle pressed hard against the nape. She rolled her head on the bed, feeling it bite against her jawline once more. The muscles of her sex quivered, remembering the feel of him. Her tongue snaked out, and she tasted the air. Liked to imagine maybe she could taste him on it, from the sharpness of his cologne to the saltiness of his cock. But they were phantom flavours, and everything that rested on her tastebuds was too faint to leave an impression.  Which meant, she supposed, she’d have to leave this bed, and go find something that would leave something a little more lasting. She heard the pop of fat in the pan, and a heavy smell of eggs joined the room, dominating all those delicate aromas. She smirked, half laughing before pulling the covers off her naked form. -- source link

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