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I rose, took his offered hand and abandoned the robe on the chair. I walked behind him, naked, as he led me toward the spiral staircase—a meek little woman with her sex on fire. I followed and didn’t look back. My clarinet remained on the piano. I hoped she didn’t mind.
Stefan flung back the covers and with a nudge, pushed me onto the bed. I expected him to strip and ravish me without compunction. The pace changed, the urgency of our initial coupling unnecessary. He leisurely stripped, giving me no indication of where my clothes might be as he laid his on a nearby chair. I reclined on my side and he came to join me. I stared at his erection—big, ready, heavenly. I wanted it inside me.
He ran his hand down my arm, over my curved hip, and stopped at my thigh. He gave it a light squeeze.
“I love this body.”
“You do?” Unable to hide my surprise.
He raised his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m skinny.”
“No, you’re not. I found plenty of flesh to handle. These thighs, biker’s legs, I like them. Muscular and shapely.”
I blushed. “I don’t have big breasts.”
“Liebling.” He shook his head, shifted his hand and surrounded a breast. “No, they aren’t. They’re just right.” I noted his large palm didn’t look out of place, since my breast hadn’t vanished into it. Rather, his hand cupped it gently and quite perfectly. “Big tits are overrated.”
“And my hair.” I flicked at a loose strand. It always irritated me how it hung limply and without shape.
He eased up on an elbow, looking down. “If your hair is unruly, mine is a disaster.”
That comment made me smile. I reached up and touched his curly locks. “Just needs to be a bit shorter, that’s all.” I twirled it about between my fingers.
“So, you clearly have self-image problems.”
“No, I don’t,” I recoiled, dropping my hand. “I just… You’re a good-looking man and I’m…modest. Average.”
“Touché, self-image problems. I think you’re beautiful. My Mausi.” He loomed over me, closer, eyes bearing down.
My heartbeats ramped up. “Mausi?”
“My little mouse,” he murmured, lowering his lips.
“Then who are you?”
“Me?” he sighed, pausing.
I witnessed a fleeting sad expression.
“Eine gefährliche Fuchs.”
I knotted my eyebrows.
He seemed pensive, as if regretting his words. “You’ll have to look it up.”
His lips brushed against mine and I closed my eyes. Oh, yes. A little mouse, but a passionate creature. Meek, I might have been, when he led me to his bedroom, but once he touched me, I came alive with hasty lust.
His hard kiss woke me from my reverie. I spluttered. “Stefan… Condom…”
“Shit.” He flopped to one side. “Okay.”
He opened a bedside cabinet and hunted. Out came the condom in its wrapper. Another sequestered supply. I pursed my lips. The man came prepared—too prepared. Te
aring off the wrapper, he pinched the tip of the condom between his fingers then lowered it over his erection. Another display of expertise and speed. He shifted, moving back above me.
My solemn expression remained.
