I couldn't help thinking how relaxed I felt when Clinton sat on the couch next to me, running his finger along my spine.
There was a laptop on his lap and one earpiece in his ear. I turned my head to the side, noticing sliding sliders on the monitor. He created music. I watched it carefully, watching as much attention was paid to the boy, almost entirely focused on his work.
I loved watching him. He looked so wonderful. I stared at his hand on the keyboard, noticing the veins piercing through the skin, creating the impression that his hands were muscular. The boy, despite his large height, looked unbelievably light and gentle at that moment. Above all, through his hand, stroking my skin, which was something very intimate, especially if you look at it from the perspective of a third person.
I was afraid that at any moment someone could come in and catch us. However, this moment was too beautiful, even though our small bubble was very easy to break.
"Clinton?" I lifted myself, turning my head so that I could have a better view of him.
"Mhm...?" He looked at me for a few seconds, just before he stopped the editing bar, moving his hand from my bare back to my thigh, squeezing it lightly.
"May I listen?" I asked timidly, hovering on my elbow, feeling a dull ache in the place where the boy was massaging me. It was better, but there was no miracle.
"It's no big deal, a few layers of rhythm and a bit..." he began, but I got up, embracing him with one hand behind his back, pressing my body to his side.
"Well, then can't see why won't you show me" I smiled brightly at him, cocking my head up.
"Okay," he sighed, sighing and rolling his eyes. "But only because you're so beautiful"
"Stop it, it's so pathetic," I burst out laughing, and he pulled at my ponytail, especially to piss me off.
"Seriously?" I looked at him annoyed.
He could perfectly play on my feelings. Once he made me feel the strange feeling of tickling inside, and at other times I was so upset with him that it was bubbling up. Clinton Cave played me like on his beloved saxophone and, surprisingly, I didn't mind.
"Do you want to hear it or nah?" he asked in a monotone tone, for which I took the free earphone, putting it in my ear.
He flew a rhythm, composed of several synthetic drums paired with some of the sound effects characteristic to their songs.
"Hey, it's got a pretty good kick," I nodded, considering every detail thrown in for two and a half minutes of the current recording.
"You have to put tap 3 on the loop and it'll be a lot better, look..." he said, changing a few things on the editing toolbar.
The rhythm started again, and I nodded, letting him know that he was right.
"When did you start doing this?" I asked curiously.
"I started somehow last night," he said casually. He always spoke very little, so this answer didn't surprised me.
"Wow" I just choked out.
"Wow? It's not that great... " he shrugged, blushing. Clinton could do something like that? I couldn't get out of admiration. This man surprised me every step of the way.
"Not true" I insisted on my own.
I was so close to him that it was beginning to be uncomfortable for me, so I began to lean back to my previous position, but I felt his hand wrapping around my waist. He leaned over me, letting me slowly fall back against the pillows.
"Clinton, you tickle me, "I chuckled, feeling the single strands of his hair falling on my neck.
I saw his half-smile, feeling that everything was out of my control.
" Ah yeah? "he teased me, putting his hand under my blouse, causing a wave of shivers in me.
" What if someone notice?" I asked quietly, suddenly realizing that everyone was behind the thin wall. My stomach suddenly shrunk in fear.
" No one will notice, I closed the door with a bolt" he sighed, touching my cheek, stroking it with his thumb.
He hung over my little body, dominating it, as if he protected me from all danger. The only danger at that time was him.
"If they find out that we're here together?" I asked, barely masking the panic growing in me.
"They don't know, Angeline. They think I'm asleep, "I heard his whisper just before his lips collided with mine. His hand wandered over my body, touching me around the cleavage, sliding in behind my back, unbuttoning my bra. He took my nipple between his fingers, massaging my breast, bringing me to the edge of self-control.
I was enjoying myself for a moment, feeling my heart beating in my neck when I suddenly felt myself slipping away a bit, pushing my leggins down my hips.
"Clinton," I said seriously, forcing him to look at me. My eyes were scared and full of mixed feelings "We cannot do this. We shouldn't."
"But you want it, just like me, right?" he replied, taking my face in his hands, kneeling on his knees on both sides of my thighs.
"What I want doesn't matter" I looked away.
"I want you, Angeline." He looked into my eyes with the same look that he had when we slept together. Only that we were sober this time. It was completely different.
"I want you too, Clinton," I panted heavily, feeling his lips sink into mine again "Mm..." I forced him to pause for a moment. "We have to set the rules."
"What?" he seemed surprised.
"First, no one can find out, secondly, it's zero to show affection for people, thirdly it's just sex" I pant out after him, feeling a wave of excitement flooding me.
"You can be sure" he replied, returning to kissing my lips, as if tomorrow wouldn't come.
What did I got myself into?
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What do you think about this?
