by K D Grace
It was then she started taking the allergy medicine. It wasn’t that Carl Blain stank. Of course he didn’t. He smelled very sexy by the standards of the average female nose. God knew Liza had smelled a few men whose natural scent did everything but set off her gag reflex. Carl Blaine wasn’t one of those men. Carl Blaine didn’t smell bad to her. Carl Blaine simply made her sneeze. Repeatedly. She wrote it all off as something in the city, after all, New York wasn’t the cleanest place on the planet. It probably had its unique pollens and leaf molds like every place did, and then there was the pollution. Surely there was just something in the air that made her sneeze. It was the simple matter of popping a few allergy tablets whenever she headed up to New York to spend time with Carl. And frankly, the temporary dulling of her overwhelming sense of smell was a welcome relief in small doses.
In truth, their long-distance relationship had suited her just fine. And really, how could she blame him for fucking someone else when she had managed to put him off repeatedly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want sex. She longed for sex, she ached for it, so badly, in fact, that she considered herself a serial masturbater. And as much as she’d hoped that the allergy medication would allow her to enjoy sex with Carl, she just couldn’t get past the discomfort. Sex was supposed to be fun, right? Yet her nose wouldn’t quite let her forget that Carl, for all of his sex appeal to every other female on the planet, just didn’t smell like someone she wanted to fuck. Damn it, she had tried. She really had. Carl was great arm candy, and Addie had told her that her semi-regular trips to New York could almost pass as the social life she didn’t have time for. Besides, from the strictly mercenary point of view, getting an exclusive on Carl Blain and Blain Holdings for High Rising hadn’t done the magazine any harm either. As for the sex, well there hadn’t been any. And even though Carl had handled her excuse of getting to know each other before they got intimate well in the beginning, it was clear the last time they were together that the man wasn’t up for much more abstinence. It hadn’t been a great ending to a date. She had practically pushed him off the sofa after he’d all but climbed on top of her mid-kiss. She thought it was over when he’d finally settled back in the chair across from her, cursing roughly under his breath, his cock dangerously straining the seam of his designer trousers. Instead he gave her the key to his flat with the not so subtle hint that he expected them to share his bed in said flat the next time she was in New York, and she had resigned herself to the fact that she could put him off no longer. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, was it?
She wouldn’t have known the half of what Carl got up to if she hadn’t run out of allergy tablets and not realized it until she got off the plane at JFK. She figured she could get by without them until morning, surely. In her excitement to see him before she headed overseas, she’d managed a seat on an earlier flight. She’d never been to his apartment before, and she thought to surprise him by being naked in his bed when he got home. She was the one who got the surprise.
She could smell sex almost the moment she got out of the elevator at Carl’s building. But then she had always been able to smell where sex had recently happened as easily as she could smell desire on people. She’d learned to block most of those powerful scents from her mind otherwise she would never have been able to go outside her room. The closer she got to Carl’s door, the stronger the smell became. She pulled out her BlackBerry and checked to make sure she had the right address. His flat was at the end of a long corridor. By the time she got there, it was obvious the scent could be coming from no place else. She stifled a sneeze, then another one. For a long moment, she stood unmoving in front of the door, key poised in her sweaty, outstretched hand. She sneezed again and the scent rammed its way into her sinus cavity. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She fought back the urge to run. Surely she was just tired. Surely she was imagining things. Maybe one of Car’s neighbours had gotten kinky and had sex in the hallway. Maybe the mail man or a delivery man had done the dirty out here with a satisfied customer.
Liza knew the smell of Carl after he masturbated. She had never told him. It excited her that she knew that little secret about him. One of the fantasies she’d had when they were together was watching him masturbate. In fact that fantasy had been more of a turn-on to her than the actual thought of sex with him. But this smell was different.
She stood in front of the door with every excuse she could think of running through her head. Her rational self, the part that listened to her olfactory Spidey senses, knew what was going on, knew that she should walk away. But the wishy-washy, overly polite part of her just couldn’t bear leaving and not letting him know why, and besides, maybe she was wrong. Hopefully she was wrong.
Boldly, she stepped forward and shoved the key home. As the door opened to a flat filled with clean lines and ultra modern chrome and leather furnishings, all the clean house smells were instantly overwhelmed by the hot, wet smell of messy sex. She reeled as though she had been slapped. She was halfway down the hall before she could hear the grunts and moans over her heart pounding in her ears, and when she turned the corner into the kitchen, she got the total sensory overload. A woman with big blonde hair lay back on the marble counter-top, exposed fake tits not bouncing, black dress shoved over her hips, her expensively stilettoed feet resting on Carl’s shoulders. Carl was humping and shoving and straining between her spread thighs, bare ass cheeks clenching and relaxing in the hypnotic push and shove of each thrust. ‘You like that don’t you, baby,’ he said. ‘You like my cock in your tight little cunt.’
For a moment, Liza stood lightheaded and nauseated from the thick olfactory fog that coated her like oil. She was just going to turn and leave. Even then she didn’t want to be a bother. She was just going to walk out and politely break it off in a text. But then, she sneezed and she sneezed again, and again.
‘What the –’ It was definitely coitus interruptus as Carl pulled out, and the blonde slid from the countertop, nearly falling off her stilettos before she caught herself and stood tugging at her skirt.
‘Jesus, Liza. What are you doing here?’ He struggled to tuck his cock, which now pointed accusingly at her.
‘I took an earlier flight,’ ah-choo, ah-choo, ah-choo. ‘Sorry for –’ ah-choo, ah-choo ‘– interrupting.’ She made her way to the door in a storm of violent sneezes with him calling after her, cursing in his efforts to cover himself.
Over her sneezes, Liza could hear the woman’s shrill voice. ‘Carl? Who is that? Carl? Who is she?’
She was safely tucked in the cab halfway to JFK before she stopped sneezing. It was then that she realized the big reveal wasn’t so much that Carl was having sex with someone. If she’d listened to her nose, she would have known that before she ever walked through the door. The big reveal was that, even in the immaculate, dripping-money apartment, she could smell at least four other women who had recently made their contribution to the olfactory soup that was Carl’s place. She strongly suspected that this particular flat was Carl’s fuck pad, not his home.
That he’d led her to believe their relationship was exclusive was what really pissed her off. That he’d put just enough pressure on her to make her consider that he might be a good choice for a life partner pissed her off even more. Neither of them were getting any younger, he had said, and neither of them really had time to look. Whether he was looking or not, he certainly had no problems finding a fuck when he wanted one.
‘A wake-up call,’ she said out loud. ‘That’s what it was, a wake-up call.’ Just then a flight attendant approached the man sitting next to her and pointed out an empty aisle seat several rows back. He excused himself and gathered his belongings as she shuffled into the aisle to let him out. She settled back in with a smile. Not exactly first class, but three seats to herself was the next best thing.
As the attendant announced that all electronic devices should be switched off, she shoved her BlackBerry back in her bag, still wishing she had gotten the name of the man in the lounge. No doubt she�
�d be masturbating to thoughts of him for ages to come. In fact it was a long flight to Rome, and she was pretty damned good at stealth orgasms, and now she had the space to indulge in comfort. As the plane left the ground, she was amazed that she felt no more than she did about what Carl had done. Was there really so little between them that she could so easily shove thoughts of him out of her head for someone who smelled better, for someone who smelled divine, actually, for someone who didn’t make her sneeze?
Chapter Three
It wasn’t that Paulo didn’t have work to do. He never slept on planes. For him long flights always meant much-needed extra office hours, but he couldn’t get the woman with the very talented nose off his mind. He knew that scent sometimes lingered long after what had left it was gone, and he wasn’t sure if he could still smell the faintest traces of the woman or if he only wished he could. Why the fuck had he let her leave without getting her name? Everyone else around him slept. The plane was dark and quiet. When Paulo had convinced the attendant to offer the fat man crammed in next to his mystery woman a better seat – one farther away from her – he wasn’t completely sure what his plan was, but as the flight wore on and it became more and more evident that he wasn’t going to get any work done while thinking about her, he got up and eased his way down the aisle, past the curtain, and into the coach cabin.
Almost everyone was asleep or engrossed in a film with their headphones on. No one noticed as he padded down the aisle. She was toward the back several rows in front of the restrooms and the galley. It was with a sudden spike of his pulse that he saw her. She dozed against the window with an airline blanket draped across her lap, her thick, dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Yes, he could smell her. He was almost certain of it now. There was still a hint of the sea about her with a base note of honey and butter. He stood watching her, letting her scent wash over him, wondering how he could ever miss something so obvious. It was like seeing a different facet of the woman who was already beautiful with her dangerous curves, ripe cherry lips, and china blue eyes. Add to that her luscious scent, and she was too tempting to resist.
As he watched, she opened those china-blues, sniffed, blinked, and sniffed again. Then she turned in her seat and looked up at him. ‘I thought I smelled you,’ she said. Her smile was sleepy and warm as she patted the seat next to her. ‘I didn’t know you were going to Rome.’
As Paulo slipped in, her lids fluttered and she moaned as she inhaled his scent. She had already lifted all the armrests to form a love seat of sorts, and he moved right on over next to her. He wasn’t sure exactly what he planned to do, but now that she’d invited him, it definitely involved letting their scents collide. His cock hardened at the thought. All around the coach cabin shades were pulled down. People slept curled and corkscrewed in whatever position the minimal space allowed them. It was an ideal situation. He sniffed, then he inhaled deeply, locking onto her essence. He wasn’t as good at picking up scent as she was. But her scent he was sure of. Strange, but before he met her, he thought himself gifted in the olfactory department. As he settled next to her, he resisted the urge to bury his face in her lap and sniff. He wondered if she had tried to clean herself as he had, or if she had left that mouthwatering scent between her legs, slickening her panties, rubbing against her. Perhaps she’d even taken advantage of the long, boring flight to pleasure herself. That thought took his breath away and made his cock jerk in his trousers.
‘Thought you might like some company,’ he managed. ‘I know I would.’
He barely finished his sentence when she pulled him under the blanket, giving him no time to speak before she kissed him. Her tongue lapped at his bottom lip before inviting itself right on into his mouth like it belonged there. ‘Oh, God,’ she groaned, ‘you smell so good.’
‘Tell me what you smell?’ he whispered, ‘Tell me.’
‘Lose the jacket,’ she demanded. ‘I need to smell more.’
With an awkward move that nearly knocked her off the seat, he shrugged his shoulders. She shoved and tugged until the jacket dropped onto the floor. She surprised him by sliding her face into his ticklish armpit and breathing him in as though the hollow were an oxygen mask and she were in need of air. Before he could squirm too much her fingers went to work on the front of his shirt, unbuttoning until she could slide her hand in to cup a pec and pinch a nipple, which caused his cock to surge and his ass to clench just as she buried her face in the opening she’d made, breathing as though she would hyperventilate. ‘What do you smell?’ he asked again.
‘Sex. I smell sex like I never smelled it before: fire, hot, earth steaming after a tropical rain. Lightning, always I smell lightning on you. I smell desire like pepper and cloves and star anise. I smell desire all over you.’
‘Yes, you do. All over me.’ He slid his hand up under her sweater and, to his delight, she had removed her bra. Her breasts were full and warm, goosefleshing in the cup and stroke of his fingers. The valley between was moist with the dew of her sweat and the scent of interrupted sleep. Her nipples and areolae pressed into his touch impossibly stiff and demanding, a demand he couldn’t resist. He shoved her back against the window and pushed up the sweater. She struggled only briefly until his tongue circled the stippling tenderness and his lips sealed and tugged. He felt the expansion of her ribs as she sucked breath. With one hand she fisted his hair, holding him to her while the other pulled the blanket over them so they could lick and suck and nip in privacy.
The blanket trapped the tide pool and honey scent of her pussy and, for a moment, he thought he would come just from the smell. A split second later, he realized as her abdominal muscles clenched solid then convulsed, and she jerked against the seat, banging an elbow on the window with a soft curse, that coming was exactly what she was doing. And God, it took all the control he could muster to keep from following suit. Instead he slid his hand up under her skirt, shoving and wriggling and easing her thighs open until he found the moist gusset of her panties. He scrunched it aside and thrust two fingers into the slippery hot swell of her, still gripping, still quivering, still quaking in the aftershocks. There he lingered, fascinated by the feel of her orgasm, coupled with the intoxicating scent of arousal and release and need that blossomed again almost immediately. A thumb stroke against her distended clitoris caused her to jerk so hard against the seat that she nearly bucked him off. But he held her in place, his fingers stroking and darting in a fresh flood of fragrant heat while his greedy mouth suckled and licked as much of her breast as he could manage.
‘Sit up!’ Sit up now,’ she hissed, wriggling out of his grasp and quickly propping her head against his shoulder, his hand still pressed to the swell of her, his mouth still wet with saliva and tingling with the taste of her hot skin. They pretended to be asleep as an attendant passed by, though no one could possibly believe anyone breathing as hard as they were and smelling as sexed as they did was actually sleeping.
When the attendant disappeared into the back of the plane, Paulo turned enough that he could see her eyes shining in the darkness, then he pulled his slippery fingers from her pussy and brought them under her nose. She sniffed and whimpered. ‘That’s what you do to me,’ she managed. ‘All I have to do is smell you and I’m wet.’ The second whimper was guttural as he licked the exquisite taste of her from his fingers. Before he could catch his breath, her hand went to work on his fly. She wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t care. With trembling fingers, he unwrapped the blanket that had been left on the extra seat and covered his lap. Then he straightened her blanket over her bottom and fingered his way back between her legs, wishing like hell he could get his head down there, bury his face and his mouth in that delicious nectar. He caught his breath and nearly bit a hole in his lip as her mouth sheathed his cock in tight, white heat. Her tongue snaked and curled up the sensitive underside, lapping the abundance of pre-cum that now made yet another damp patch on his boxers. While one hand curled around his hip, the other cupped and stroked his full sac. He cou
ld hear her sniffing, and as he deepened his stroking and spreading and scissoring between the swollen gape of her labia, her moan vibrated down the length of his erection, and he nearly lost it again. This time the attendant simply pretended not to see as he passed, and Paulo didn’t even try to dissuade the woman in his lap from her very delicious task. But her mouth wasn’t where he wanted to be. The tight grip and release, grip and release of her around his fingers made it impossible not to think about burying his cock in her slick, hot depths.
As though she’d read his mind, she pulled away, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and nodded to the restroom just two rows back. He knew he’d never get his cock stowed, so he didn’t try. He just tugged his shirt out over the top of his trousers, took her hand, and led her toward the restroom, his dick bouncing as they went. The minute they’d shoved their way in and locked the door, he sat on the lid of the commode and dug in his trouser pocket for the condom he was hoping he’d need. She watched with her skirt up and her undies dragged to one side, her fingers darting in and out of her wet slit as she thumbed her cherry-ripe clit. As soon as he was suited up, she turned around, sliding her panties down over her ankles. Then she eased herself into position, squatting, fingering her swollen lips open for him. With one hand on her hip and the other guiding his erection, he pulled her onto his lap and impaled her. They both stifled a cry, inhaled, and inhaled again. The scent was high tide, summer lightning, and pepper and spice all mixed together. She bit her knuckles to hold back the sob of pleasure. He buried his face in the nape of her neck, one hand seeking out the weight of her breasts, the other sliding down to tweak her hard clit. She was slick and tight with a grip like warm velvet, and she smelled like heaven, like nothing Martelli Fragrance at their very best could ever replicate. As he strained and pumped into her, he wondered what their combined scent smelled like to her. But before he could dwell on it, she orgasmed hard, covering her mouth with both hands to hold back what, no doubt, was an animal growl. Her whole body shivered and convulsed, and her grip on his penis became unbearable. He came in jerks and spasms until there was no breath left in him, until he saw stars behind the tight clench of his eyelids. Then they both collapsed against each other.
