Page 28 of A Country Kind Of Love

She knows whatshe’s doing.

Shit.

She really knows whatshe’s doing.

Peyton gasps.

Cleo’s fingers move to a rhythm unknown to Peyton. They circle and press.

“Oh. Shit.” Her legs stiffen. Cleo eases up. “Don’t stop.”

Cleo smirks and continues the same rhythm. Peyton’s been with women, not hundreds, not even tens, in fact her number is a solid three. She’s spent the majority of her sexual adult life with Chloe. Only after they split did she experiment with two other women. Neither where anything to shout home about. The encounters had been awkward. She’d spent the whole time thinking about Chloe, which was the ultimate definition ofa mood kill.

Peyton didn’t have a lot of experiences to compare, but Cleo was making her lose her mind.

Is it okay to climax so soon?

Cleo sucks on her ear. She bites the lobe lightly at first. Peyton digs her nails into Cleo’s shoulders and begs for more. She gently nibbles at Peyton’s bottom lip. That sends her over the edge.

It takes Peyton two minutes to climax. She’s too busy revelling in the pleasure to be embarrassed. Cleo has a natural ability to evoke carnal harmony, and the way her fingers move it’s like she’s performing sexual wizardry. It leaves Peyton desperate for more.

After a short break they go again, and again, and again until Peyton is left dazzled and entirely satisfied.

?

The piano is Peyton’s safe place. It’s where she used to sit with her mom whenever the storms outside grew too loud. They would play and sing until the thunder passed and the sun shone its colourful light once again. Thunderstorms are uncommon in LA, that’s why it’s known as America’s centre of calm weather. It’s also the reason she got so scaredas a child.

Peyton sits at the piano and plays the soft opening sound of “Clair De Lune” by Debussy. It’s possibly the most famous song in the world, and it takes years to perfect. It’s the first real song Peyton’s mom taught her, aside from the country hits. She knows the beginning section with ease, but as the song progresses the level of difficulty increases. The middle section can be awkward for Peyton to control. She’s only ever played from start to finish without making a mistake once. She tends to shy away from it now, but the weather and the memory of her mom make it her song of choice.

Cleo sits behind her on the bench. She wraps a bedsheet around her body and softly kisses Peyton’s bare shoulder.

“That sounds beautiful,”she murmurs.

“Thank you.”

“Are you working on anything new?” Cleo gestures towards the music desk and her open notebook.

“I’m always working on something.” Peyton smiles. “Whether it’s something good is another story.”

Her fingers continue to work the keys; she gets one note wrong, but to the untrained ear it won’t resonate.

“I find that hardto believe.”

“You’ve never heard my songs.” Peyton chuckles.

“I’ve heard you talk about them, and I’ve heard Jesse tell everyone how amazing you are, so I think I have a pretty good idea.” Jesse has become just like one of her brother’s, he has no personal boundaries, so she suspects he listens intently from the other side of the door just like they did, but he’s sweet. Cleo has one hand around the front of Peyton’s body. She places it gently in her lap. Cleo uses her right hand to brush aside Peyton’s blonde curls, exposing her neck and showering itwith kisses.

“I’m lacking inspiration lately, but it’ll come.” Peyton doesn’t like to get ahead of herself, but she thinks Cleo could be thatinspiration.

“I’m sure it will. You must have a lot of songs in there?” Cleo mumbles as she lifts her chin to rest against Peyton’s shoulder.

“I have notebooks and notebooks full of songs, some are mine, some are my moms, and some we wrote together. It’smy therapy.”

“Mine too. Although, at the moment, my manager isn’t too impressedwith mine.”

“Really?” Peyton stops playing.

“My EP didn’t do great, and everything I’ve written since hasn’t quite cut it.” Cleo shrugs. Peyton can’t see Cleo, but she senses the disappointmentin her tone.