The lights shine down on his red hair, making it look even fierier than usual.
I love watching him set up.
His fingers adjusting the tuning keys, head tilted at an angle as he plucks the strings and listens to the pitch.
If the people here knew what he does to me with those fingers…
He looks up, his eyes find my face and he smiles a slow sexy smile at me, sending shivers through my body.
We have spent almost every night together since our first night together last week, quickly establishing a routine of him meeting me from work, walking to my apartment where we eat and talk and of course make love over and over again.
His student-like lifestyle, sharing a messy house with his mates, means we always stay at my place. He spends his days teaching guitar and writing and I go to work, all the time thinking of him.
It scares me how much I want him. I know I am falling in love with him. I already was even before we got together. Just watching him, listening to his beautiful lyrics and melodies were enough to captivate me.
He is so much younger than me, 24 to my 32.
That worries me.
And confuses me. He could have a younger woman, so why chose me? If I allow myself to fall for him, I am risking him losing interest, dropping me for a younger model once the novelty of the cougar wears off.
I’m not sure my heart could take that.
“Hi guys, thanks for coming tonight. I’m gonna open with a brand new song, I just finished it this afternoon. It’s for someone very special, hope you guys like it.”
I snap myself out of my brooding and look at him, finding his eyes on me, head tilted in curiosity. He has noticed my pensive face I guess. Damn!
He leans in to the mic, starts to pluck the strings, playing an intricate slow melody, and his voice soars as he sings,
my sweet, sweet, sweetheart,
if I could be with you tonight
i would offer myself to you
that you want would be yours
if I could be with you tonight…
His voice cracks on the hook, his eyes closed, head swaying to the beat, he is lost in the music.
He opens his eyes and looks directly at me and I realise he has written this for me.
I watch his long fingers expertly manipulate the guitar strings, coaxing the sweet melody from the curved instrument, exactly the way they draw moans and cries of pleasure from my body.
This morning we had showered together.
He sang to me as he washed my hair, massaging my scalp with those fingers.
He soaped my body with those fingers, washing every inch of me, his eyes following his hands as they travelled over my skin.
I had washed him back, tracing my fingers over his flawless, pale white skin, marveling at him, his beauty.
His arms had lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around him, he pressed me against the shower wall and entered me slowly, not kissing me but looking straight into my eyes.
It was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced.
Him filling me deeply, totally, holding my ass in his hands, eyes locked onto mine as he fucked me slowly under the hot stream of water.
It was all I could do not to cry out “I love you,” as I came.
Now, looking at him singing this beautiful new song for me, to me, I wondered if he could be in love with me too?
He finishes the song and the crowd applauds and whoops in appreciation, “Thanks guys. That one was straight from the heart,” he smiles, and begins to play another song.
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*another nod to my new pal http://warmcreme.wordpress.com for a very sweet turn of phrase that I shamelessly stole!