Lydia did as he asked, her thoughts running wild. This was something with which she had no experience. Was it normal? Did lots of people do it? She had the feeling she had just jumped off a very high diving board.
Behind her, kneeling on the bed, von Ritter’s breath came heavily, deeper and quicker, then ragged before a final series of surprised-sounding groans.
Lydia squealed with surprise as rapidly cooling droplets landed on her buttocks and dripped into the crack. She had expected he might finish into a tissue, but no—it seemed he wanted to christen her bum well and truly. She squirmed a little, turned on again at the thought of him marking her as his territory.
“Do you mind?” he panted, lying down beside her.
She turned her face to his rumpled brow and smiled at how his immaculate shirt front had succumbed to a million creases. His tanned skin shone and his eyes lay half-closed. He seemed drunk with satisfaction.
“No. You could have warned me, though.”
“Ach, I’m sorry.” He stroked her brow. “Now we understand each other, we can set out the terms more clearly.”
“Terms?”
“In the bedroom, I will dominate and you will submit. This is the basic structure of the relationship. But there is a lot of negotiable detail. What you will and won’t do, what I will and won’t do. How far we can take things. How we communicate.”
“It sounds very complicated. Is sex always complicated? Is it inevitable?”
“Over time, it gets simpler, I think. Once you really know your lover.”
She thought about this. Perhaps, then, she had never really known Milan. It was a plausible enough theory. Could he even be known?
“Why do you want me?” she asked, remembering again that odd scene after the concert with von Ritter’s friend. Was there some unknown-of rivalry between Milan and von Ritter, into which she had fallen as an unwitting pawn? A stab of unease pierced her heart.
“Why wouldn’t I want you, Lydia? No, look at me. Answer the question.”
“It just seems to have happened very quickly. I don’t really see myself as a femme fatale, so I guess I’m curious to know. What is it about me?”
“You’re very open and very sweet. You’re pretty. You aren’t a fucked-up diva, like so many of us creative types. You’re actually quite hard to find, you know? Someone like you.”
“So, are you a fucked-up diva, then?”
He laid a hand on her thigh in playful warning, but she still thrilled at the sense of being chided by him.
“I hate to say, but I probably am. You see this very self-controlled man, but there is another side to me. I have a temper, which I sometimes lose. And the results can be spectacular.”
“I’ve heard.” She thought back to Vanessa’s nickname. Herr Trigger.
“Oh, you have?”
“My friend has a mate in Nürnberg.”
“Ah, I see. I try to work on it. It’s the best I can do. But if something makes me angry, it makes me angry. No amount of counting to ten will calm me down.”
“But you don’t get violent, do you?” Lydia must have looked nervous, because he shook his head and stroked her brow gently.
“Ah, Lydia, I would never lose my temper with you. I’ve never hit a woman. I never would
.”
“Okay. You’re sure about that?”
“One hundred per cent.”
“But you’ve hit a man?”
“I regret to say…yes, I have.”