𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 [ 𝐭.𝐫 ]

20: BIRTHDAY BOUQUET

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

Angelina's eyes strummed open, it was the morning. The morning after. She blinked multiple times trying to get her vision to clear up. Looking to her side, she saw no Tom.

Knowing him, he probably had woken up early to study some seductive all-knowing book of the dark arts. It was Tom after all.

Her hands gently rubbed her eyes trying to be rid of any lasting effect of sleep depravedness. She forced herself up to sit, her comforter fell from her chest leaving her bare in the scandalous daylight. She sighed, covering her breasts with the dark satin comforter. At least, Tom had slipped her underwear on before they fell into the arms of sleep.

Looking straight, the room was a mess. Clothes were messily thrown in all directions accompanied by some of Angelina's filigree ornate jewelry too. Last night was absolutely astral. 

Tom's figure sat on a chair that was precisely tucked under the dark Oakwood desk. He actually was reading a thick leather bound book. His agile fingers traced every sentence his navy eyes were reading. Chest bare, hair unruly, neck covered in redness, back bore scratches, and holy hell, Angelina would do anything to be his again.

Hearing the bed creak slightly, Tom looked at her. She looked of sex too, just like him. He spared her a short glance, "Good morning," said Tom, flipping a page of the book he was reading.

"Good morning," replied Angelina, her voice was hoarse and it cracked before she could say something else. Tom set his book down and poured her a glass of water.

She gulped the water down, "Thanks," she muttered, setting the glass down on the bedside table. Tom stood in front of her, his figure seemed of somewhat a silhouette as he was blocking direct light from the large paneled windows, and his demeanor was cool like always.

"How are you feeling?" Tom cocked Angelina's head to the side slightly with his index finger, staring at the history he left on her body last night. Angelina's cheeks burned, she found herself lowering her head, "Just like myself."

Tom nodded, letting go of her jaw and taking a few steps away from her.

"Well... I must go and shower before breakfast," Angelina went on, standing up as kept the sheets close to her bare body, "Err, thank you for last night."

"I had your belongings moved to my room," said Tom, his right hand held an unlit cigarette, "You can bathe in there-" Tom pointed towards his bathroom.

Giving Tom a tight lipped smile, Angelina moved towards the bathroom. She dropped the sheets before walking into the bathroom. A sigh of blissful relief was let out of her.

She couldn't stay in the room for much longer. Tom's gaze was freezing. It was cold on her delicate skin and what she needed was warmth. Stepping under the warm water, she scrubbed herself innocent. The water was relaxing, she wanted to stay under it for much longer but a sharp knock on the oak wood door cut her plans short.

Dressing herself in a white knee length dress and stockings, she looked into the large mirror.

She looked different but then she didn't.

Maybe she viewed herself differently than how other people did because there was something different about her eyes. They looked different to her.

Knock.

She couldn't quite put her finger on what changed physically about her. Instead of staring at her figure for longer she pushed the door open and walked into the bedroom with her wet hair wrapped in a towel.