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He laughed. “Yes. It comes naturally.”
“Like a switch?”
“Switch? I don’t switch, Mausi. I think I hold my dominance in check when it’s not appropriate. A suppressed response. With Mum, when she had her unfortunate affair, it was tough, not stepping in and insisting she break up. Hans did, though, quite harshly. We’re quite alike, more than I care to think. Probably why we don’t get on. They say opposites attract.”
“Are we opposites? Am I indecisive or weak?”
“Weak!” he exclaimed. He patted my hand with his own. “No. You stand up for yourself. Having submissive qualities doesn’t weaken you. We complement each other. However, you can be a tad impulsive, maybe, which might get you into trouble. Having opinions, expressing them, I say go for it.”
“And if you don’t like them?” I quizzed.
He shifted, readjusting his position. “We’ll discuss them, okay?”
“Sure.” The conversation seemed awkward, as if Stefan didn’t like the direction it was taking. I noted he didn’t address my indecisive qualities, but referred to me being impulsive. I’d always considered myself a procrastinator. Could you be both—delaying decisions and rushing at them recklessly? I didn’t want to talk about personality traits, all that mumbo-jumbo of terminology. Jargon worked in music theory, but people?
Silence descended. I returned to caressing his fuzzy chest, and Stefan’s breathing became regular again. So it came as a surprise when I let my hand rove southward, to find that he had an erection. There in the dark, a full-on arousal. He’d not mentioned it, or even hinted at it. What had brought it on? The warmth of our bodies pressed together, or speaking of his dominating tendencies? Did he fantasize, conjure up images in his head about magical sex and nubile females?
As his cock twitched, I recoiled, swiftly removing my hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
“Just. This.” I stroked his erection.
“Ah. It has a mind of its own sometimes.”
I heard the faint trace of a snigger.
“I have to think about sex or see something to make me hot,” I confessed.
“See what?”
“You.” My face prickled with a gush of blood. Why had that made me blush?
“Understandable.”
I laughed at his arrogance and he joined in.
“Think?” He picked up on my other stimulant.
“You know, naughty thoughts,” I disclosed. Damn. One of those reckless moments again when my mouth engaged before my brain.
“Tell me.”
I shook my head against his arm. “No,” I squeaked. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Mausi, fantasies are fine. It doesn’t mean you want to do them. They fire up your passions and make you receptive, but that doesn’t mean you consent to having your wild dreams come alive.”
“Tell me one of yours, then.” I poked his belly.
He paused. Inhaled deeply. “This is just as hard for me as it is for you.”
I waited in the darkness.
“I like anal sex.”
I went rigid and moved fractionally away from him. Memories of his little poking session took on a new meaning. “I’m not sure…”
“Callie, it’s my fantasy, not yours. This is what I mean. Thinking of anal sex turns me on. I like butts. Breasts, too, I hasten to add. I would never do it to you if it was something you didn’t want.”
