I break into a stranger's house and end up getting fucked so I don't go to jail

I explain, I stutter, I blush. He smiles, says that nothing happens, that everyone is wrong. But I don't move. I stand in her living room, with my short skirt, my blouse unbuttoned, the perfume that still smells of night. He approaches, still in a towel, water dripping from his hair. He asks me if I want a glass of water. I don't want water. He takes my wallet from my hand, puts it down on the table, pushes me gently against the door. He kisses me with a calmness that surprises me, a tongue that knows how to wait. He takes off my blouse, pulls down my skirt, leaves me in my underwear in front of a stranger who is no longer a stranger. He takes me to his bed, lays me down, takes off my panties with a delicacy that contrasts with the urgency I feel.