Page 50 of Songbird: Black Kite
I started with something classic, an old Beatles song that everyone knew, and Hawk hummed in satisfaction at my choice. While I played, he continued to touch me, his hands gliding everywhere they could find skin, not seeming content with touching me over my clothes. I tried to focus, tried to keep the time and rhythm of the song, but as his hands made their way to my inner thighs, I stumbled, the guitar strings squeaking obnoxiously as I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“You good, little Bird?” he asked, his words quiet.
“I’m good.”
“Then keep playing, baby. You work your fingers, and I’ll work mine.”
With that, Hawk dipped one hand under the hem of my skirt, his fingers finding the apex of my thighs and pressing there firmly. I froze, the sensation immediately becoming the entire focus of my brain. I let out a quiet moan, but when I did, Hawk suddenly pulled away.
“Ah, ah,” he scolded, his chest shaking in a laugh behind me. “That wasn’t the deal. You stop, I stop, remember? Keep those fingers moving and play for me, Bird.”
“Shit,” I whispered, blowing out a breath and resuming the song.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbled, his fingers once again making their way between my thighs. This time, when he made contact, I didn’t freeze, instead biting down on my lip and attempting to keep my fingers moving as Hawk pressed slow circles over my clit.
I had been under the impression that guys were terrible at finding it; every story that Bri had ever told me involved her having to finish herself off when the guy she’d been with had fumbled around like a blind man before getting what he wanted and getting gone.
But Hawk didn’t seem to have any trouble finding his way around. I sat there, his amazing guitar balanced on my lap while he continued to touch me in ways that no one ever had before.
It was fucking incredible.
When the song finished, I paused, not sure what it was he wanted to do next, just knowing I was disappointed that the delicious movement of his fingers also ended.
“Why’d you stop, Bird?”
“The song is over,” I answered with a shrug.
“So play a new one. I’m not finished with you yet.” With those words, Hawk moved his other hand, sliding it under my shirt and palming my breast while simultaneously wiggling his fingers between the wide diamonds of my fishnets and under my panties. When his bare skin touched the damp lips of my pussy, I gasped, then moaned softly when his fingers dipped lower and circled my entrance. “Oh, you like that, do you? Well, keep playing for me, Bird, and I’ll see if I can find something we’ll both like a whole fuck of a lot.”
“You—” I started, my tongue tangling as he rolled his thumb over my nipple for the first time. “You got a pick?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Hawk replied, reaching over to open the drawer beside the bed. When he pulled it out, I couldn’t help but notice that it was stuffed with condoms.
Like, more than a handful.
I tried to pretend that fact meant nothing to me and simply focused on the guitar pick he was handing me. It was black, theBlack Kitelogo emblazoned on it in silver, and on the other side, Hawk’s name was written in script.
It was beautiful.
Settling myself back against his chest, I waited for him to replace his hand under my shirt before I started playing, this time an old Tom Petty song I loved.
“Fuck, you have great taste in music,” he praised, and I preened a little at his words. Suddenly, Hawk removed his fingers from my pussy and brought them to his lips. Turning my head, I watched in shock as he placed the two fingers that had just been inside me into his mouth, sucking on them a few times before slowly drawing them out again. “And you taste fucking great, too.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my heart thundering in my chest. I had never been so turned on in my fucking life.
“Now, you keep playing for me, Bird, and we’ll see what else we can taste tonight.”
Chapter thirty
Hawk
Fifteen Years Ago
Iwantedhersofuckin’ bad.
Every move she made, every note she played, called to me in a way I couldn’t ever remember experiencing before. The chick was hot, there was no doubt, but the more time I spent with her, the more I realized she was just so fuckingreal.
When was the last time I had spent time with a woman because I actuallylikedher?
