She settled across the couch.
Breast creating a valley up around her neck. Hair spread across the leather material, her pale skin in contrast with the Empire black. His hands slipped down her hourglass figure, pausing at her waist. He built up his grasp on the concave sides, imprinting a burned handprint.
Her moans sounded pleasant as he pounded his shaft into her with a fierce ride. Increasing his velocity and in proportion, his force. Their bodies moved like a conveyor belt, forward, backward, slowly, death gripping pumps of his cock deep inside to her hilt. His forehead secreted sweat and veins popped to the surface of his rugged inked skin, traveling from the roof of his palm up to the swell of his biceps. Increasing its surface area, the harder he clutches, pumps and grunts.
He treasured every second. Every fuck. Every part of her sinful body. Every opportunity. Every force in his body had tangled up as the realization flooded in, that if he were to stumble and fall, he would never arrive at the bottom. When she looked at him, it was as if it took every ounce of breath from his lungs floating into the air like midnight smoke. Every time she kissed him, it felt like the world stopped, leaving just the two of them to cruise the earth together.
He couldn't breathe. It felt as if someone was choking him. His heart was racing. A noise caught his attention, and he rounded to face the baby cuddled up in a seat with a belt securing him. Snoring as his eyes shield the world from his vision. Shielding him from a man with a pounding heart and aching soul. All he saw was Clarissa. Everything else drops aside. He no longer hears his heart speeding down the path between his ribs.
He didn't remember being that scared in his life. And that was just the beginning. That idea only made it worse. If that was even possible, love was an invitation for death in another's hands. It had all seemed like so much fun at the start. It was easy to be hyped up. However, now, there he sat. In his reclined swirl chair, legs spread and hands remembering the feel of her flesh in his palms. His mind wanders as he stares at Josiah, Clarissa's face.
A jumpy Blackhawk fixed himself, setting up his posture and breaking away his views towards Kate standing between the threshold of his open office. He didn't even hear her enter. He must've lost his mind. Blackhawk growled at the suffering of his hard length below the garnished mahogany desk with just the thought of her had him hyped up and sturdy as a rod.
"That's just a facade," he said.
Kate pushed off the door, sliding it closed as she walks inside. Stopping at his desk, she placed one flat palm on the wood with the other rest on her thigh. "You look exhausted."
"A bottle and burb can knot up a guys muscles," he laughed. “It must be what they're wired for."
Suddenly, Kate's eyes darkened. "They ran traces back to Davis's last visit. A gas station in 76, James Street."
Blackhawk nodded. "And?"
"Local supermarket said they've seen him around but vanished the next minute," she said, inching closer.
Blackhawk's eyes squinted at her every move as she was almost halfway across his paperwork, nearly dropping his pencil holder down to the floor the closer she scoots. "Follow security cameras. You'll find him."
"Road works cut the network by accident," she almost whispered. Not just any whisper, it was seductive. A slow deep-throated purr. “Coincidence right?"
"Don't believe in coincidences."
He couldn't believe his eyes as she got up and walked across the line that warned colleagues to never overstep their boundaries. She smirked. Hands reaching behind his chair as she looked down at his grays and then found his head, massaging his scalp as she traveled across the length down to his shoulders.
She placed a finger over his lips and in the blink of an eye; she was around his waist, straddling him.
"Shh...you had the chance at the dock, let me return the favor.” She purred in his ear.
Blackhawk couldn't believe the nerve of the woman to pounce upon him like a predator on her prey. He knew it was a mistake, grasping her hair between his fingers, giving her ass a little nudge from behind as they perceive the glistening moonlight over the water below with ripples of sparkles as fireworks shot from above. They were messing around. Like children experimenting behind mommy and daddy's back. Under the sheets and out of sight.
His hands gripped her full hips as she swayed them in a revolution down on his lap, sporting his already deathly boner. Her hands toyed with his hair, slide and grip, repeat. Then her mouth found his, moving in a rough, urgent kiss as if smothering him to death. He was suffocating, her scent–heavy of Libre Eau De Parfum. Her taste was almost too much for him. A mixture of desperate and poison ivy.
His hands gripped harder, pushing her backward but in a sense, it urged her to crush her covered pussy down onto his cock. He growled, like an animal in a cage being electrocuted with a taser for being a 'bad boy'. She smirked through the kiss and dragged her lips down his neck whilst her hands slid down the length of his body, popping buttons on the way. He was weak. Weaker than he'd ever been and all he could think about, as he closed his eyes was Clarissa.
He imagined her disappointment when she'd walk in on him fucking another woman. Her tears sliding down in a turbulent ocean, crushing her into a painful plunge. He couldn't bear to see her cuddle down to the floor as she hugs her knees up to her chin. Fuck! He had to end this. He thought as he glanced to the side, witnessing Clarissa snoring in the seat less than an arms-length away. He heard his belt and felt the zipper slide down the tent of his cock.
That did it for him. Her hands palmed him over his briefs before being ripped off like a sore wax. His hands itched to feel the burn of his skin against her cheek. Instead, he closed himself and barked at her out of his office. With a hand around her throat, he forced her to the wall.
"Don't. Fucking. Do. That. Again."
Kate's eyes watered, and at that moment, he saw all of Clarissa hugging her knees. He stepped back, leaning butt against the edge of his desk as he gripped his hair. "Just leave."
"I'm sorry," she choked, palms flat against his wall.
"You're always fucking sorry!"
Kate launched off the wall and crouched down between his legs. Planting her hand on his thigh, she looked up into his emeralds. He was fuming, scaring the hell out of her as his large hand covered hers and threw it off as if her touch were another contagious disease-fighting to cause his death. With a heartbreaking shine in her eyes, she sniffed.