As much as she’d enjoyed the game and had been willing to continue, Natasha was glad when Clint released her wrists, giving her freedom of movement back. Threading the fingers of one hand through his, her other moved immediately to his hair, her fingernails scratching just lightly along his scalp as he continued his ministrations.

Every move he made made her hotter, wetter, and she ground her hips harder against his, rubbing her slit along his hardened length and making a sharp, keening sound.

“I want you,” she murmured, sliding her hand down his neck and across his shoulder blades, wanting to touch him everywhere. Sometimes sex could be fun and playful, but tonight it seemed that was just an interlude between the deep need and wild yearning. Already she wanted him again, wanted to feel him inside of her though much slower this time, not like the hard and frenzied encounter on the back of the sofa. She wanted to take him in, to hold him there, to feel everything.