by Jaye Peaches
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.
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.
He shrugged and grinned, but didn’t answer my question.
“Eleven. That’s ages away.” I pulled the duvet back over my head.
“Oh, no. It’s time for your bath.” He groped under the covers and pinched my bottom.
“Ouch.” I shuffled away from him.
“Nice hot, aromatic bath.” He caressed my butt.
I quivered. “Don’t,” I muttered half-heartedly. “I’m tired.”
“Ah, you slept like a log. Actually, you snored.”
I flung back the covers and sprang up in a state of indignation. “I did no such thing.”
Stefan completed my uncovering, flinging the duvet to one side, then he grabbed at my ankles and dragged me to the edge of the bed.
I slapped at his hands. “Naughty,” I exclaimed, giggling.
“Bath, Mausi.” He positioned my feet on the wooden flooring. “I’ll go run it.”
From my stark naked, semi-reclined location on the edge of his bed, I watched him disappear into the en suite. A moment later, I heard the sound of gushing water.
By the time I’d finished my coffee, the bath was filled. I poked my head around the door and the steam hit my face. So did the aromatic smell of lavender. The corner bathtub released plumes of white vapor, and tippling over the edge, white foam.
He stood to one side and offered me his hand. “Don’t worry. This is a wet room. If the bath overflows, it drains away and waters the garden.”
I balanced on one leg and dangled a toe in the water. Letting Stefan support me, I climbed in and sank into the depths of bubbles and delicious warmth. I leaned back, placing my head on a padded rest incorporated into the design of the tub.
“Mmm,” I murmured.
The water stirred, lapping about my body. I opened my eyes. A naked Stefan had one foot in the bath. I scrambled along the bottom of the bath and sat bolt upright. “You’re joining me?”
“Naturally. What did you think I would do?” He maneuvered around my body and positioned his legs on either side of me before slipping down behind.
“I’ve never shared my bath before…”
He laid his hands on my shoulders and drew me backward onto his chest. “Do you have a big bath?”
“No.”
“Then that’s probably why.”
I relaxed, letting my head lie on one of his shoulders. “Lovely.”
For a little while, we swathed ourselves in hot bathwater and I purred. A little engine of contentment chugged away inside me. His heartbeats resounded close to my ear, a comforting, repetitive sound.
It nudged me. A flicker of movement against my lower spine. I wriggled and pushed a little backward. Another twitch. My body responded instantly. My nipples stiffened and I pressed my thighs together. On either side of my legs, to accommodate his height, he sat with bent knees. I leaned on his kneecaps and shoved myself into his groin.
“Leibling, what are you doing?” he murmured into my ear.
I gyrated and his cock hardened.
“Nothing,” I lied.
My heart soared with excitement. I was doing this to him. Under the layer of white foam, magic happened. He roved with his hands, cupping my breasts and squeezing them gently. I had to move. Turning to face him, I knelt astride his legs and pressed my lips to his mouth, brushing away the suds in his goatee. The bristles had grown into lengthy hairs and softened.
“I want you,” I confessed. “Don’t let me go, ever.”
“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.”
I was? Keen? “Well, it’s fine, really.” I twirled a few loose ends between my fingers.
Stefan remained at my side, and to my amazement started to comment on my hairstyle.
“Too long around the face. She constantly has to flick it away.”
I did? I glared at him. “No I don’t.”
“It’s heavy. I’m sure a lighter style would help.”
“Looks who’s talking,” I snapped. “Mister Mophead.”
Ellen chuckled. “I get it. I’ll feather it out a little and taper the sides. A couple of centimeters off the ends?”
I opened my mouth to answer but Stefan got there first.
“Brilliant.” He patted Ellen’s back and took up the neighboring unoccupied seat. “I’ll wait here while you get it washed.”
My mouth slammed shut. His attitude riled me—treating me like a child, as if my hair was all his to do with as he wished.
I tried to ignore my irritation as I reclined backward over a basin. A lovely hot spray of water hit my hair, and Ellen’s fingers massaged my scalp. I relaxed slightly. Nothing he’d asked for was extreme. In fact, it was exactly what my hair needed—a sprucing up.
“He’s very attentive towards you, isn’t he?” noted Ellen, washing out the shampoo.
“Yes, I suppose.” I stared across the room to where Stefan lounged in the chair, swiping his mobile screen with a finger.
“Must be nice,” she insinuated.
I cringed slightly. I’d been a little rude to him in front of his hairdresser. “Yes,” I said with brevity. It was nice, more than nice. He cared for me. I groaned inside. Why couldn’t I let him in and relax? What was it about my dangerous fox that kept me burrowed in my hole, poking my head out nervously? He’d not played the predator with me. He was about to spend a small fortune on my hair and we were still in our first month of dating.
By the time Ellen finished, I had to admire her handiwork. My head seemed lighter, as if unburdened, and the hair bounced about my face without hiding my eyes. “Lovely. Thank you.” I spoke with genuine gratitude.
I flashed a smile at Stefan, who’d watched my hair reshaping in silence, strangely entranced at the sight of my loose strands floating down onto the floor. His remained there, too, and the dark and light locks mingled together under Ellen’s feet.
He gave Ellen a generous tip on top of her extortionate fee. I twisted my feet about on the floor by the reception desk as Stefan swiped his credit card. How to make it up to him?
“I’m taking you out for lunch,” he announced as he unlocked the car.
“What? You’ve just paid a small fortune to have a few wisps of hair trimmed, and now lunch?” I slammed my door shut.
The engine roared into action.
“Nothing special. A little bistro.” He leaned over and kissed my lips before I could protest his generosity. “You look glorious.”
Flattery worked. “So do yo
u. Stunning. Sharper. Debonair.” My heart fluttered as he remained in close proximity.
“Later, I’ll put that to the test.”
Those sexual nerve endings fired up. Patience. We still had lunch to do.
* * * *
After we’d downed our hot panini and sodas in a quaint café frequented by students, Stefan suggested a walk along The Backs. The river Cam ran alongside the colleges and behind them the meadows, some with cows munching on grass. A little haven of rural England in the midst of a city. We passed each college in turn, remarking on the different architecture, then we watched the students punt tourists up and down the river in their flat boats. The cold spring air was in sharp contrast to the crystal blue skies and many passengers had blankets over their legs.
We came to Trinity College and the small porter’s cabin at the gates. I hurried by, head down. I recognized the old gent. Stefan had to pick up his pace to keep up with me.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
Trinity had been Micah’s college. I’d spent many an evening in his lodgings and I knew many of the porters who’d kept guard on the college’s precincts. I didn’t want Stefan to know about my clandestine activities in Micah’s single bed. The bed had creaked, loudly. I remembered the headboard banging as we fucked. He’d smuggled me in countless times, but once the novelty had worn off, I’d hated the room. Or was that my perspective now? In retrospect, everything I’d done with Micah had transformed into a sordid affair.
We returned to Stefan’s studio following our post-lunch meander. We’d spoken little, nothing of consequence, just small talk and awkward chit-chat. However, the casualness of it all helped me relax. I apologized for my behavior in the salon and he brushed it aside, surprised at my contriteness.
A pile of mail had landed on his doormat. He scooped it up as he entered the house. I followed behind as he deposited the letters on the dining room table. When Stefan switched the kettle switched on, I took that as a signal that sex was off the agenda. I hunted around for mugs while Stefan stared at his telephone.
