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“I won’t.” He caught my lower lip between his teeth.
I held my breath. A little tug and he released me. I ran my tongue over my stinging lip and gazed into his shining eyes. They mesmerized me. I rose and shi
fted forward. His upright cock kissed my mound. I aimed, unable to see, only feel my way and, with my hands on his shoulders, I lowered my body.
I gave. A slow impaling. The friction in my pussy was exquisite. He growled as I took my time. My pussy stretched around him, drawing his cock deeper into my vagina. Balanced on the hard surface of the tub, my knees hurt, but probably not as much as his balls. I sat in his lap, fully occupied by his perfectly swollen erection.
My eyes flickered. I didn’t think I’d blinked once during my protracted penetration, I’d been so engrossed. I sighed, a long exhale of satisfaction. I leaned forward and rested my head on his shoulder, pressed my palms to his chest hairs, and nuzzled myself against him. This wasn’t about fucking. It was a union. He didn’t break the bond, neither did he force me to bounce up and down on him. Emotions ignited inside me—new ones. I couldn’t describe them or define them quite yet. Love hovered on the edge of my tongue, but also lust and erotic fascination. No rush, I told myself. Time would tell what all the burgeoning sentiments meant.
“Time to get out.”
I stirred. The water had cooled. His cock, far from needing a good fuck, seemed to have diminished. His softening shaft slipped out of me as I shifted up and off him. I fell back on my haunches as he rose up in front of me. The white suds glided down his physique, accentuating his form and the ripples of his finely tuned musculature. All mine. It felt unreal to claim him as mine, this gorgeous man, but he stood naked over me, and nobody else.
“Shame,” I uttered under my breath. Our union broken by a hair appointment.
Chapter Nine
I’d lived all my life around Cambridge, the leafy suburbs and surrounding villages. My parents liked the city and kept close to it. Yet, I’d managed to keep my familiarity to specific areas. Stefan, on the other hand, seemed to know every street. The hair salon was tucked away in one of the affluent areas of the city and quite beyond my purse strings. I gaped at the price list displayed on the reception counter. It was as if each hair cost a penny to cut.
“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath.
“Pardon?” said Stefan.
He’d driven me there and parked on the street outside. Behind the glass frontage, the salon looked typical in layout, but furnished with a standard I didn’t see in the hairdressers I visited. Leather seats, not plastic. Large block canvas portraits of models with stunning hairstyles hung on the walls. The flooring looked like polished granite, certainly not laminate.
The receptionist perked up from behind her computer monitor the moment Stefan swept into the entrance area. “Stefan.” She beamed with an immaculate line of white teeth. “If you’re expecting Magda to be in her office, she’s not here. At the St. Neots salon.” The smile seemed to dissolve from her face when she darted her eyes in my direction, as if I was an unwanted appendage to her favorite customer.
Stefan grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “This is Callie. Magda arranged appointments for us early this morning.”
While he made my buttered toast? He obviously knew the owner or manager of the salon.
The receptionist scanned her computer screen. “Oh, yes. With Ellen. I’ll let her know you’re here. I wondered why she was in today.”
Her heels clicked on the hard floor. I raised my eyebrows at Stefan.
“Ellen is my usual stylist.” He looked embarrassed at the admission of having a personal stylist. A tiny glow pinked his cheeks.
“She came in especially for you?”
“I tip well.” He grinned.
Ellen proved to be charming and attentive. “Who’s first?” She patted the chair in front of the mirror.
“You,” I said quickly to Stefan.
He shrugged in reply and took the seat.
I slunk away to a small suite of leather armchairs and picked up a Cosmopolitan from the magazine rack. I watched as Stefan gestured at his hair, running his fingers through the strands and stroking his beard. Ellen nodded a few times and swept a gown around his front.
I didn’t want to know what he was having done. I opted for surprise and buried myself in reading an article in Cosmo. It held my attention—how to achieve multiple orgasms. I read it several times, committing the top ten tips to memory. I had a feeling they might come in handy later in the day.
A throat cleared, a signal, and I peeked up. Stefan stood over me, and my jaw dropped at the difference. He’d certainly had his mop trimmed. Gone was the untamed frizz and in its place, gentle short curls, almost wavy and defined. He’d kept the top length longer and had the sides cut super short. Ellen had added some kind of gel and his hair shone in the lights, slightly spiky without being a mess. She’d trimmed his goatee too. His face had gained a new level of handsome elegance.
“Wow, you look…smart—I mean, not that you didn’t before,” I stuttered.
“Your turn.” He followed me over and stood by the chair as I settled into the padded seat.
Ellen appeared behind me in the mirror. “Hi, Callie. Nice to meet you. Stefan has told me you’re keen to tidy up your style.”
