The full-body flinch — the comprehensive, involuntary start of a woman who has been approached from a direction that did not exist and whose body has received three simultaneous inputs before her brain has caught up to any of them — Frau Muller's spine arching, her head going back into his pull, her eyes wide and glassy with the specific, helpless shock of the suddenly claimed.
"Mnh~—"
His mouth at her ear.
Warm. Close. The proximity of someone who is not in a hurry and knows it.
"So my blind lady," he said, "who now has her eyesight back—"
She trembled.
"—is training."
His fingers pressed at the fabric between her thighs.
She tried to form a word.
Produced:
"Hn~—"
"Interesting." His thumb and forefinger finding her nipple through the sports bra, pinching — not hard, the specific, calibrated pinch that said 'I know where this is and what it does' — and twisting, the fabric dragging against the sensitized skin. "And here I thought you might be trying to find someone."
