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Two hours later, I felt bloated, my stomach extended by beef and my mouth sweetened by lemon sherbet. The wine might have loosened my tongue at the beginning of the evening, but I’d held it check for the rest of the meal. Stefan had switched to water after one glass, citing his need to drive home. Neither of us said anything short of courteous and genial, nor did we delve very deeply into each other’s psyche. It could have been a business meeting between colleagues. A gentle, superficial conversation about little of consequence. By the time he’d walked me back to his car, I’d forgotten the bulk of it.
I thanked him again for his generosity. The food hadn’t been cheap.
“My pleasure.” He squeezed my hand.
The journey to his house ramped up my tension. A nervous, sexually charged anticipation. I expected sex. I couldn’t imagine he didn’t, either. Speech deserted me until he abruptly asked about my bicycle.
“Did you get it fixed?”
I opened my mouth to describe the afternoon’s events at the bike shop and nothing came out. What if he was asking because then he wouldn’t have to give me lifts any longer? He would have the freedom to drive straight to orchestra practice without picking me up. The idea of missing those weekly sessions in his snug car made me think twice about my reply. It wasn’t just the thought of cold bike journeys, legs splashed by puddles, or even the fear of falling off. What made my insides knot with a modest panic was the loneliness.
I glanced at him. He appeared to be concentrating on the late-evening traffic and oblivious to the delay in my answering. I bit my lip. The lie came far too easily. “Not yet. Soon.”
He said nothing in reply.
I went up a notch in sexual tension. He didn’t seem put out by my lack of bicycle. Perhaps we both desired the same thing—company. I knew I did. In fact, I was pretty sure I wanted more. My dependence on Stefan went beyond his chauffeuring services. I’d edged into the overtures of romance. Had he, too?
He dumped my bag at the bottom of the spiral staircase while I hung up my coat. All very laid-back and I wondered if we might watch the television or… The answer came quickly.
Frenetic. The word flashed into my mind as he captured me in his arms. A man on a mission to ravish. He propelled me backward onto the dining table, and at the same time, he smothered my mouth with his lush lips, breathing hot mint, a relic of his dessert, into me between hard kisses. I let him. I gave him all the access he desired. He lifted my skirt and probed beneath, finding lacy underwear, and yanked them down. The fabric floated, brushing over my knees and fettering my ankles. By then, my bottom knocked against the table surface.
He hitched me up, leaving me perched on the edge of the glass, and he hooked his hand around the back of my neck. His little nibbles continued as he played with me, so I played back. I bared my teeth at him and aimed for his earlobe. He growled as I nipped him. In reply, he pinched his long fingers around my slender neck. It was fun, boisterous, the kind of foreplay that ignited me—and him, too, apparently. Reaching down, I stroked my hand over the bulge in his pants. His erection twitched, pressing against the fabric.
The hunger, so different from my earlier appetite, grew with each tweak of his fingers or tickle of his tongue on my delicate flesh. My jugular exposed, he licked his tongue over the pulsating skin and sucked hard. I squirmed, nearly slipping off the edge of the table.
He released his mouth with a gasp and buried his face in the stray locks of my hair. He stood between my parted legs, breathing heavily, while he embraced my breasts with his warm hands.
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“I’ve wanted you all evening,” he panted softly. “This…desire I have for you… It’s…different,” he stammered in a very un-Stefan-like fashion. “It comes from deep within.”
I stroked the back of his head, letting him rest on my shoulder. “I know.” Spontaneous words, and they fell out of my mouth as if they had come directly from my heart and not my brain. What did I mean by them? I didn’t understand how he made me feel so alive. Energized. Almost reckless.
He lifted his head and locked his gaze on me, our eyes level. “I have to have you.”
He scrunched my tits in his fingers, and I winced. He let go, stepped back and spread the tips of his fingers on my bare thighs.
“Ready for me, Mausi?”
My pussy clenched. I was, very and probably, beyond recall. I’d unleashed my sex and it had no limits, none I’d found with Stefan—yet.
He scooped up the edge of my dress, drew it over my head and outstretched hands. He’d unveiled me, leaving nothing but my black hold-up stockings and heels on. My bottom rested once again on the edge of the glass table, and I leaned back, spreading my clammy palms on the smooth surface. I swallowed hard as he lowered his zipper. Fully clothed, he exuded sexual attraction in its most manly form. I didn’t want him to undress. The idea of being fucked by a man in a suit made my skin tingle, electrified by pulsating nerve endings.
Stefan’s face screwed up. “Shit. Condom.” He glanced over his shoulder at the cookie jar.
I grabbed at his sleeve. “No problems. I’m sorted.” I smiled.
He reciprocated. “Thank you,” he said sweetly. He undid the top button of his trousers and his hard cock sprang up.
I stared at it, my breaths increasing in pace alongside my heartbeats. He spread my legs wider, opening me up, and I lay back.
“Ooh.” I wriggled as the cold glass touched my back. Shivers shot down my spine and I jumped as he ran a finger along my slit, separating my folds. “Please,” I murmured.
He teased me. I groaned as he plied his fingers inside, rimming me, stretching and probing, a pinch of pain. I couldn’t tell what he was doing below—two fingers? My juices flowed in response. Between my legs, I spied his erection sticking out, ready. He leaned forward and withdrew his fingers. He gripped my waist with a pincer grasp and lunged.
I shrieked. He slid his cock in and I collided with him. The penetration went deep, filling me. I reached out to the edges of the table, trying to anchor my body as he repeated his action, thrusting hard in me.
