A hoarse groan escaped Clint's lips, his eyes all but glued to her chest and the work of her strong small hands there. It was too easy imagining her like that in the many lonely days, weeks, months often when they couldn't see each other, bringing herself some pleasure to get through long nights. It was certainly a picture he would take with him for such nights. He could hardly deny he really had a thing for her breasts, and seeing Natasha work them so expertly now, still half out of sight was both highest pleasure and torture.

"Are you imagining that's my hands on you?", he growled, palms slipping up her calf, teasing the back of her knee for emphasis. "Want you to think how it feels when I have my fingers on your nipples... Get them all hard for me, think of having my mouth there..."

Talking her further into arousal became harder by the second with her foot making its way into dangerous areas. There was no way he could keep his leg from bending, giving her better access, even while he watched her fingers leave delicious reddened marks on her wonderful pale curves.