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My ass skidded up and down, gliding over the glass. My lips trembled as I uttered silly sounds, utterances with no meaning. Stefan grunted with a deep, earthy timbre.
Sweat formed on his brow, a sheen glimmering under the halogen lights. My own body perspired, sticking to the surface of the table. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and held off my orgasm. My clitoris fought me, determined to ignore my patience. I begged her to hold off. “Not yet, hold it.”
Stefan chuckled. I’d spoken aloud. “Hold it, yes!”
I moaned, hovering on the brink of an orgasmic precipice. I pictured us in my head. Me, nearly naked, my back arched and pelvis raised, lying on the dining table. Stefan, in his shimmering suit, his strong hands pinioning my hips as I straddled his legs. The erotic vision of a man in a suit fucking hard finished me off.
Another holler erupted out of my mouth, and the contractions built from tiny to unbearably strong, forcing me to lift off the table. He didn’t let go and neither did he ease up with his pounding. My clitoris went super tender and I gasped at her sensitivity.
“Oh, Gott,” he thundered.
Heat bloomed inside me. He pumped hot liquid into my already molten core, combining it with my natural juices. Stefan shuddered, slumped forward, panting. He didn’t quite collapse on me, but stopped short, resting his hands on the table.
He slipped out and I stared up, letting his hot breaths bloom over my face.
“Good?” he asked, heaving his body up.
I nodded. Words didn’t want to form on my tongue. My eyelids drooped. I could have fallen asleep on that table with my legs dangling off and his cum dripping out of my pussy.
He lifted me off the surface, sliding me into his arms, then carried me to his sofa. There, he wrapped a throw around me, trapping my heat. It was necessary, my skin prickled with goosebumps.
“Drink,” he commanded, holding out a glass of water.
I slurped a few mouthfuls, and he caught the glass before it dropped out of my exhausted hands.
“Can you make it upstairs?”
I nodded again. He walked behind me as I stumbled up the spiral staircase with the throw draped over my shoulders. I peered at the bathroom. Part of me wanted to sink into a tub of steaming water, but another part eyed up the bed and warm covers.
“We’ll bathe in the morning.”
I had enough wherewithal to note that it wasn’t a suggestion, but a command. I almost tipped forward onto the mattress.
“Poor Mausi.” He swung my legs up and under the duvet. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was his tender kiss on my lips.
* * * *
The bright spring morning woke me. I rubbed my eyes, uncertain of my location for a few seconds. I’d slept solidly, oblivious as to my whereabouts. Turning, I found myself alone in bed. No Stefan. I sat up and saw my holdall on the nearby chair. At least he’d not hidden it from me. I yawned and snuggled back down under the covers.
I must have dozed off again because the next thing I noticed was the smell of toast. Coffee too.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Stefan nudged my shoulder.
He loomed over me, swathed in a white bathrobe. On the bedside table, he’d placed a thick slice of buttered toast and a steaming mug.
“Mmm. Thank you,” I murmured. My throat prickled with dryness.
Stefan sat on his own side of the bed and watched me eat my breakfast.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Eight-ish.”
I glowered—far too early for me on a non-work day. “What? It’s Saturday.” I put my empty plate back on the bedside table.
“And we have a hair appointment. At eleven.”
“How the fu…did you get that?” I didn’t think it possible to book before a salon opened.
