6
Whitney
Oran escorted me down a series of twisting paths lined with flowerbeds, their sweet scent much stronger now than they had been last night. We took breakfast beneath a canopy of sheer peach and soft yellow streams of fabric lifting and falling in the quiet breeze like dancing butterflies. The structure overlooked a small pond where blue swan-looking birds floated like mystical creatures from another world.
It was romantic. And magical. I felt like a princess with a gallant knight courting me in a fairy tale. The experience was surreal, and as far from last night’s hardcore, erotic f*****g as I could possibly get.
The peaceful setting and Oran’s attention soothed something inside me that I hadn’t realized was agitated. New world. New mates. My body out of control. I’d been on a
