of my paint drawers in another room in our apartment. It told me not to trust Clint, yet without a reason why. It was left in my apartment back in Morewell on graduation night, from my ex-fiancé Samuel. The note was the last, and only thing holding me back from giving my heart to Clint completely, and for some reason, instinct told me not to ignore it. Not that Clint didn’t hold my heart in his palms already, I just couldn’t let him have it permanently unless I knew what that note meant first. I had to be sure Clint wasn’t about to deceive me again; for the second time.
This morning though, I wasn’t going to think of the note. This morning I was going to have multiple orgasms and scream Clint’s name as loud as I could and forget there was another chance this could all be lies. Luckily for me, I was also a master at putting emotional complications aside. I returned my focus to Clint’s rock-hard body and adventurous hands.
“I want you Clint,” I said, running my fingers through his messy blond hair. He groaned at the sensation of my fingers sensually finding their way from his hair and clawing onto his back.
“Say that again,” he said out loud, wanting me to be more vocal in my lust for him.
“I want you. I always want you.” My breath was husky against his neck as I pushed out my desire that flowed from my lips. My words travelled along my thighs and up to where I was screaming for penetration between my legs. His body grinded upon mine, using his hardness on my hip to show me just how excited he was.
He grabbed me and whispered in my ear again. “I have about fifteen minutes before I have to get ready for work.”
I licked my lips. “Then make it count,” I moaned back, equally as hungry as him.
“I always do,” he growled, and went to work. Clint did love to please me, over and over again. He was a very giving lover, and always liked to find new, and might I add, very interesting ways to make me come. Perhaps it was all the practice he had with women before me, but I never tried to think of that. As it was now, Clint was reformed from being the casual womanizer of his days at Morewell. Since we became a couple, Clint had become very devoted, and even a little too possessive of his claim on me. His actions in offering up his trust fund to the Lappell, to keep them from trying to get me to join, was more than enough for me to believe in his love and loyalty, so I felt there was no reason to doubt that I was never enough for him.
“Don’t I know it?” I said, giggling. Clint turned his attention to moving his hands from my head and slowly, and very purposely, teased me as they ventured from the top of my naked body to the place that craved him so ferociously. I reached for him too, so we could both push our fingers into me at the same time. We just loved joint efforts. It was such a turn on. As Clint moaned with my hands firmly linked with his, about to enter my warm place that was wet and begging for him, we heard it.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
The second imperfection.
Clint’s body stiffened everywhere but where I wanted. He looked at me, completely going from aroused to angry. “Again!” he grunted. He unlocked his fingers from mine and started pulling away, his body getting cold, the distance in our connection growing further and further apart. I started to panic as I watched him. I didn’t want this to end in another fight. I hated fighting with Clint, and this particular fight went in circles with no end in sight. I had no idea what to do. My hands were tied.
“Please don’t stop Clint. Just forget it. They can come back later,” I stuttered, and tried to pull Clint back towards my naked body. He tensed even tighter and my heart sank. It was happening again and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“When I’m not here. I don’t think so. I want to see it.” The bitterness in his words seemed to slice through me, but I tried to push my discomfort aside, hoping that this time, I could keep the situation under control.