Clint wandered out of his kitchen, drinking a hot chamomile tea. Scratching his belly, Clint yawned, feeling tired and missing home. He liked Paris. Enjoyed it. Of course, he didn't love France like Ade did. Adrian was more french then Clint was. Clint preferred Spain and had he had any Spanish in him, he'd have been playing for Spain. Yawning again, Clint's thoughts drifted to Lexi and how bloody beautiful she was spread out beneath him. Fuck. He missed her. It wasn't even just the sex. He fucking loved her. He loved waking up next to her, her hair plastered to his chest or caught in his mouth. He didn't care. He missed the way she joined him in the shower... Groaning, Clint headed to his sofa, plopping down on the couch, growing hard as he remembered the last time she joined him in the shower.
It was easy to drift off as he stroked himself through his boxers. Course, it wasn't long until he was hard as fuck and fantasizing about what it'd be like to find Lexi, bent over his kitchen counter, as her pretty pussy was presented so perfectly tight and wet to him. His cock ached to feel her tight walls wrapped around him. So lost in his fantasy, Clint didn't even here the Floo or the sound of footsteps as they made their way through the apartment.
No. He was still too focused on the pleasure he was finding, remembering how bloody beautiful she looked when she came... Fuck. He needed to be home. He needed her to be here. Something about admitting his love for her had him wanting her more and more. She was his. In every way possible. His hand moved faster, gripping his cock tight as he pumped his fist, imagining her perfect lips wrapped around him. At this point, he just wanted her. It didn't matter where... He just knew he needed her.