001. A love scene.
Vanilla. Somehow, she always smelt of vanilla. Not that overly sweet, cloying synthetic crap from a bottle. Real, rich, earthy vanilla, from a freshly cut pod. He’d never asked her how she did it, and he never would. Some trick of the trade, some best kept secret. Some mysteries were not meant to be uncovered.
The scent was tantalizing, hypnotizing. It awakened within him a hunger that went beyond desire. He needed to smell it, touch it, taste it. It taunted him, always present, daring him to act.
Until he does. His mouth is overcome by the taste of it, strong and soft, and his. He’s never been this close to her, and the scent, the scent of her is everywhere. He sinks into it, let’s it take over his senses. He needs more. He tastes her mouth, her neck. He breathes her in like oxygen.
His hands get caught up in her hair-spun silk-melt into her skin-hot satin-and he’s so lost in her that he loses track of time.
As they lay in silence, long after he’s given into temptation and the memory of the hot scent lingers behind closed eyelids, she nuzzles his neck, and there it is again, stronger than ever.
Vanilla. She always smelt of vanilla.