Can one very feisty artistic woman find comfort and forgiveness in the arms of a man who killed to protect our country, serving as a Navy Seal Team Six? It takes a calm levelheaded man to face up to the attitude of one Natasha Kova, a famous artist, whose paintings sell for a price more than Sam Cole's Harley. Natasha's life did not start out easy and her lack of trust was understandable but Sam Cole wanted nothing more than to love her and protect her. Would Natasha's jealousy and lack of trust push Sam away or would he follow through at the end and not leave a man behind to succumb to their own devices. The passion these two feel could be the explosive device to end their relationship or it could very well be the reason they find each other in their loving arms once again.
I let the stroke of my brush take over me and felt each new color down to my soul as I applied it. The sense of excitement I had from seeing Sam Cole eluded me.
The canvas I selected for this piece was as large in presence as the man that I just left. It was six feet by six feet in length and I was using predominately dark colors in cool shades, because that was what Sam Cole reminded me of. He had dark black eyes, pitch-black hair like mine only cut in a short military style and his skin had seen some sunny days. His six-foot plus frame came encased in solid lean muscles and his square jaw had a set about it, as if he was extremely serious.
He lowered the bat past his head and pulled out a nine millimeter glock from behind his back. He held it up, stepped in front of me on the stairs and put his hand securely behind him, touching my side. At that moment, that distinct moment, I did not care about strangers in my building. I cared about having a full on flushed orgasm from the man that wanted to play my hero.
As he gently laid me back, I absorbed the instant image of a very strong and healthy man. His muscles rippled with energy as he set me back on my bed and took a step back to set my legs off to the side. I watched him put a knee between my legs and his hands settle next to my hips, on my bed. It was then that I saw the sexual lust in him build, as he glanced down at my naked body and back up into the searing of my eyes; begging him, pleading with him to touch me with his mouth in places I dreamed about him touching.
- CJ Hawk, July 2011
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