Page 40 of Natalie's Nighthawk

“What do you say. Wanna give it a try?” His mouth moving over her throat was scrambling her ability to put together a coherent thought.

“Abs … Absolutely!” She grasped his biceps, the muscles flexing under her fingers.

Graham ripped her shirt up over her head before his mouth took hers, his shirt soon following hers to the floor. He gently pushed her to lie on her back. She gasped; the difference between the cold of the table under her and the warmth of the body on top was shocking. She arched her back, a squeal escaping from her lips, making him chuckle. His mouth moved to her breast, his tongue reaching out to tease her nipple through the lace of her bra. As she lost herself in that sensation, he opened the clasp, then pulled it off and in one swift motion threw it over his shoulder. It disappeared into the kitchen while Natalie giggled.

Her pants followed the bra and her giggles ceased. Left with just her panties, she lay wantonly on her kitchen table. “Now there’s an image I want to remember forever,” His eyes flared with heat and she blushed, her whole body heating. “I love how expressive you are. How you turn that wonderful shade of pink all over. Even here,” he said as he lifted her leg and kissed her ankle. “And here.” His lips slid to her calf. “And here.” He nuzzled the inside of her thigh. She ached in anticipation, craving his mouth on her.

“And most definitely here,” he whispered as he placed his mouth over her mound. He kissed her through her panties, the warm heat of his breath on her most intimate of places.

He sat in the chair between her parted legs, ready to feast on her. She bit her bottom lip when she looked down to see his head between her legs. His eyes slowly moved up her body until they met hers, burning with intensity. The corners of his lips lifted, giving her the sexy smile that made her want to do naughty things.

Placing her legs on his shoulders, he pulled her closer to him, her ass just at the edge of the table. He pushed her panties to the side, and his mouth was on her again. He used his tongue to part her before dipping inside. Her body bucked as her hands clenched around the edges of the table. He placed an arm across her to hold her in place. He alternated licking and dipping, his tongue driving her out of her mind.

Plunging two fingers in, he curled them toward that deliciously elusive spot. A sound escaped her lips as she tossed her head from side to side, the pleasure almost too much. Her inner walls clamped around him as he worked over her until she was grinding herself on his face. Wanting more. Needing more. Needing to …

She came so suddenly, the force of it washing over her, that she cried out; but he was there, swallowing her cry with his kiss as he drove himself deep inside her. The jolt of his cock entering her was glorious. The fullness sent a wave of sparks throughout her body, prolonging her orgasm.

Her legs were still propped up on his shoulders and allowed him to slip deep. Deeper than she’d ever felt, ever imagined he could be. He set a relentless rhythm that was nothing short of amazing.

“Fuck, I can feel you stretching around me,” he moaned as he moved his hips grinding against her clit with each thrust.

She was building towards another spectacular orgasm as he continued to drive inside her. He grasped her hips, his fingers squeezing as he moved, harder and faster. Every muscle in her body tightened until she felt herself flying, overcome by her second orgasm. His fingers tightened on her hips as he pulled her to him for one final thrust. With a grunt and a moan, he emptied himself, caught in orgasmic bliss.

They both stayed like that, breathing hard. Natalie let her legs slip from his shoulders as he folded over her and lay his head on her chest. She couldn’t tell whose heartbeat she was currently feeling. Could be hers. Could be his. As long as there was one, then she was assured that they were alive and hadn’t died from the pleasure. Although, being in his arms like this certainly felt like heaven.

“Was table sex everything you imagined it to be?” he asked as he kissed the side of her breast.

“And then some,” she sighed. He chuckled and stood. Hitching his pants back up to his hips, he helped her sit up. He sat in the chair in front of her again and she placed her feet on the seat on either side of him. He leaned over and kissed her inner thigh, her skin tingled, and she nearly jumped him again.

But then she remembered all they had discussed. She slipped off the table and straddled his lap. Lifting herself to be eye to eye with him, she placed her arms on his shoulders, her fingers running through his hair. “Thank you for sharing your darkness with me. I hope you’ll let me try to be a light for you for as long as you need it.”

“Oh, Chickadee. I would love nothing more,” he declared as he kissed her softly.

“What a pair we are,” Natalie lamented. “I wish … well; we both have regrets. I guess it doesn’t do any good to dwell on them.”

“Probably not. That is where the darkness hides.” They both had worked too hard to live in regret.

Chapter 14

Afteranotherfabulousnighttogether,NatalieandGrahamhad enjoyed a quiet Sunday morning. Eventually, real life intruded. Graham had to take several business calls for groups who wanted to book training at Nighthawk and Natalie retreated to her studio while he worked.

She was working on adding the finer details of her latest bird’s wing when Graham joined her. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on her head. “Now, this bird I like a lot more than the broken one,” he remarked after studying the canvas for a moment. She had painted another chickadee, but instead of being broken and bloody, this one was soaring in flight. Light radiated all around it, its eyes bright and alive. The feathers wispy and strong; the image was pure joy. “I am always fascinated that you can paint light like that. And the eyes … amazing.”

“I spent quite a bit of time when I was younger working on eyes. They are the windows to the soul.”

“I remember. You had pages and pages of eyes in your sketchbook.”

“You mean the sketchbook you stole,” she teased.

“Borrowed.”

“Semantics,” she countered. She stepped out of his arms to start the brush cleaning process. She wiped them with a rag, dipped them in paint thinner then wiped them again. She repeated this process until they were clean of paint. “Did you get everything arranged for that group?

“Yup. They are all set.”

“That’s good.” She hung her painting apron on a hook on the easel.

“You don’t have to stop working just because I’m here,” he told her.

---