EXPLICIT M, y'all! LOL Oh, and some plot too. :)

Misconceptions pt. 11

Natalie blinked once, and then twice, trying to focus on the smooth ceiling that sheltered her. She licked her lips, certain that at any second the dream would be over, but it couldn't be a dream because the rampant fluttering in her chest told her exactly how real this evening was...and still is. She smiled softly. Her fingers dug into the cool, cotton sheets that covered the bed, and she blinked yet again, losing her focus for a brief moment. The light fixture blurred, only to snap back into crystal clear view.

"UUuuh!"

She tried not to move, too afraid to break the spell that was being cast. Her grip on the sheets tightened, causing an even sheen to cover every inch of her sensitive skin.

"Uuh..mmMMm!" She was fairly certain that she would lose consciousness if something didn't give pretty soon. "Jo..." Her throat was dry. She swallowed and tried again. "Johnnn..." she moaned softly, biting down hard on her quivering lip. "Ho..ow do you...?" Her brain was incapable of forming a complete sentence.

Her back arched in response to the blinding jolt of pleasure that travelled her spine and nearly blew out her eyeballs. He was very good and very determined, and oh-so capable of killing her with a simple touch from his tongue. It would be a slow death, and she found herself praying for it - hungering for it. She dug deep inside for an ounce of strength, and then lifted her heavy head from the mattress. He was stretched flat on his stomach, using his elbows to prop himself into a perfect position between her pliant thighs. His head tilted, and she had a nanosecond to realize what was about to happen. His long finger pushed between the wet folds at her center, moving smoothly in a sweet circle. She fell from the face of the earth and sucked in a sharp breath, closing her eyelids against the erotic torture, but it was no use. There were colours dancing in her brain, and they were getting brighter and brighter. Each stroke taunted with a promise of the ultimate reward. She felt him move from side to side, touching the shifting walls of her core. Her body ached fiercely, and then his tongue curled, sinking into her liquid muscle at the same time. His firm, writhing finger, and the wet, supple flesh of his tongue proved to be too much for her earthly body. She cracked in half.

"AAAaaHHHHHhhhhhh!" There was nothing left. She bounced between reality and fantasy, unable to distinguish one from the other. The sensations were the same. In reality she had a connection with an amazing man, who touched her in a way she's never been touched before. In fantasy, he was sending her soaring through the sky. She was flying. Both versions offered her the stuff of dreams.

"Uuhhh..MMMMMMMMmmm!" The cries were her only way to tell him how she was feeling. How he was making her feel. She died a little more when he continued to taste her with slow purpose, as though he couldn't get enough. "Sweet Jesus!" she croaked, once again finding the white paint above her head. The ceiling was back, but her body was nowhere near ready to cool itself. Not with him lodged firmly between her legs, continuing to demand. He pushed and sucked. He caressed and burned. It was too impossible to comprehend, but she was already striving for sweet oblivion. "No more." He was relentless in his task, and he was breaking her.

Her stomach clenched and her temperature rose, and she tipped, crashing head-long into ecstasy.

John kissed the shaky skin of her inner thigh gently, and then finally released his hold over her. He could see her breasts heaving up and down as she breathed eratically, and it gave him an incredible sense of satisfaction. She was fire, and he wanted to give her a little of what he felt when she touched him. He gingerly climbed to his knees, anxious to alleviate the pressure that had built between his own legs. He took his time, studying her carefully from head to toe. Her tangled hair and red lips. Her erect nipples and smooth curves, and the glorious patch of red curls that tore at his restraint.

"How do you do that?" he heard her ask, while keeping her blue eyes hidden below her closed lids.

He bent lower, putting his lips on her rounded belly. It was barely a touch, but his groin pulsed in protest. "Do what?" he purred over her damp gooseflesh.

She stretched out and shoved him with surprising force, and he blinked as his back hit the mattress. He watched her straddle his hips and stare down on him with wide, bright eyes.

"How?" she asked again, sliding her hand over his stomach.

It disappeared between them until it wrapped around his thick length, and he automatically pushed his hips forward hard. "Be specific," he instructed, circling her hand with his own and forcing her to move on him - choosing the speed that had the power to make his eyes roll back into his head.

He heard her breathing as she continued to pump, sliding against his sensitive flesh. He bit his lip when she touched his nipple with her tongue, nearly crippling him with pleasure.

"How do you know my body," she asked, somewhat naively, "what I need?"

He looked at her for a moment, and grabbed her hips tightly. His fingers pulled her forward, forcing her higher, until her knees were framing his ears. "I'll show you," he whispered, placing his face between her open legs. She screamed, partially from surprise and partially from joy, as he latched onto her clit and sucked hard. Her taste drove him to madness. The hot, wet flavour seared his tongue as he sucked again. He smiled as he moved, feeling her rock against him naturally, her hips undulating to a smooth beat. He fought to hold her in place while taking what he could. His fingers sank into her sides and he used his strength to roll them on the bed, reversing their positions. She lay on her back and he twisted, once again on his stomach with his mouth latched securely to her. He moaned when she let go, coating his lips with her release. "That's it, baby." He couldn't catch his breath.

John finally reached his point of no return. Without hesitation, he climbed up and pressed his rock-hard erection along her opening. He needed to be inside her desperately so that he could find his own end, but she had other plans. Her hand reached out and stretched him, and his heart nearly burst from the simple contact. "Nat, don't.." he warned against her mouth. She didn't listen. Instead she tugged again, this time harder, while her other hand cupped his balls and squeezed. John cried out, exploding into her warm palm. He shook and crushed his mouth to her sweet lips, groaning as his body betrayed him and at the same time, set him free. He felt her kissing his face and chin. She licked his neck and whimpered, while his hips gyrated, forcing his thick cock further into her grip. To her credit, she didn't stop for quite sometime, seeming to understand that he was lost in the throes of passion. He was helpless to fight the desire.

When the fog cleared, allowing him to breathe and even think, he hovered over her and stared into her eyes. "That wasn't what I had planned," he offered as explanation, slightly embarassed. He felt like a school boy. He ignored the blush that stained his cheek. "Nat.." She shook her head, and slipped her arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. It healed his wounded pride. Her words, the one's that came next, touched his soul. ...it's exactly what I had planned... Then she chuckled and kissed her way down his body, making sure to caress every muscle as she went.

John took a place beside her and closed his eyes. He had no intention of stopping or hindering her in anyway, and she obviously had no intention of that either. Her tongue ran wet trails over his thighs and his breath escaped him for a moment. "Ffuuucccck!" He sat up sharply and laced his fingers through the red silk on her head. He watched wide-eyed, as she slid over his penis and bathed him slowly with deliberate intent.

His grip involuntarily tightened, slightly mystified by this incredible woman. She stopped and searched out his eyes, letting him see what was shining in hers. He saw it as clear as day. Love. Then he pulled her to him and kissed her with an entirely different kind of need.

John opened his eyes and found an empty pillow where Natalie's head used to be. He lifted his wrist to get a look at his watch. 11:12pm. He yawned and pushed off the mattress, searching for her through the shadow of the tiny room. The moonlight that slipped through the open cracks of his blinds, helped him to adjust quickly. She was gone. He sat up and tried to ignore the panic that gripped him suddenly, shaking him more than he cared to admit after only one night. One indescribable night. He could see the silhouette of the coffee table as he peered out into the livingroom. It lay upside down near the bedroom entrance, and there was paperwork blanketing the carpet. The memory of how it had gotten there made his blood burn a little hotter. Her black dress was crumpled in the corner, which meant she was still here. He visibly relaxed against the headboard.

As if on cue he heard a small noise, followed by a muffled swear, and he smiled widely. She was in the bathroom. He turned back to the mess on the floor, finding what he wanted, and then he focussed on the reality of the situation and what needed to be done. He sat in his bed in the dark, and he waited for her.

Natalie bit her lip so that she wouldn't scream out loud, but the throb in her newly injured toe made it extremely difficult. What the hell are you doing? What the hell was she doing? She wanted to break the damn scale that she just kicked, but it was her own fault. She stood in the bathroom in the dark and felt like an idiot. The light was off so that she didn't wake John. He more than earned his rest tonight, and looked so peaceful, and her pulse picked up just thinking about the way they have spent their time over the last several hours.

She sighed helplessly because now she was in it - really in it. She was in so deep that there was no way for her to get out, and that didn't sit well at all. Taking a quick drink of cold water, she inched her way out of the room, only to find him watching the door with those clairvoyant eyes of his. The one's that always saw right into the place that held her secrets. "Hey," she mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. He took a second to scan her length, which brought a flush to her skin, but thankfully it was too dark for him to notice. She walked around the bed and slowly slid under the sheet, anxious to cover her nakedness. He made her weak with one stare.

John wasn't entirely sure how to say what he wanted to, so he pulled out the envelope that he had hidden from view. It sank to her lap, and he watched her closely. He waited. Time moved slowly, but finally she looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. He swallowed. "You should know what that says." He saw her tiny hand open the seal and free the sheet from its confines. Her beautiful eyes read the material, and then she faced him for the second time.

"John?" She didn't know what to say?

He shook his head. "It's your life, Natalie. You have a right to know who it was in that alley."

"But, are you sure? I mean, how can you be sure?"

He angled his body so that he was looking directly at her. "No. I'm not sure, not yet. That's why I was at The Palace tonight. He works there part time." He automatically stretched out a hand and brushed her hair off her face.

She re-read the name. Max Carpenter. She knew him from Rodi's, but why would he attack her...beat her up? "I have no idea why he would be involved in something like this? We've barely spoken." She was confused and she was angry. "I thought that when I got this name, something would click, you know?" He nodded, letting her speak her mind. "But he doesn't make sense!" She knocked the page from her lap and it floated to the floor.

He touched her hair again, and his stomach clenched when she turned. She looked lost. "Tomorrow I'm going to find this guy and talk to him. Tomorrow we'll know more."

"We?"

He moved closer, enjoying the instant reaction that their nearness ignited. "It's a little late to pretend that you're just some case I'm working. It's way, way too late." She leaned forward and kissed him, and he tugged her until she was pressed against his eager flesh.

Natalie used the last of her will power to turn away from his heated kiss. God, she wanted him to keep touching her. "We have a lot that we need to talk about," she insisted, between breaths.

He grabbed her head with both hands and moved painfully close. He hovered, licking his lips and torturing them both. "Let's talk later." She flashed an enticing smile that made him tighten all over, and then he kissed her deeply. Her tongue danced in his mouth, and he groaned loudly, lowering his hands to her heaving breasts. They began to touch each other with a newfound impatience, and sank onto the mattress.

John was just about to take a comfortable place between her legs, when a series of quick, loud raps interupted their moment. He frowned and glanced toward the front door to his room. Who the hell was knocking this late? He could already feel her sliding from his grasp, before he turned to see how right he was.

Natalie grabbed the sheet from his bed and quickly covered her curves from view. She began to collect her stray clothing. When she finally turned toward him, he was still where she left him, and he looked very, very annoyed. The knocks came again, this time louder. They were more insistant. She slipped into his bathroom and shut the door, trying to calm her raging heart, and strained to listen to whatever was about to go down?

John stood at his door and pulled his tank top over his head, slipping back into the comfortable piece of clothing. He reached down and did up his jeans. Another knock, and then another. He was pissed - at the timing and at the intrusion in general. It was late. When he flung the wood wide, he froze, needing a moment to process who he was seeing? It was difficult, but he found his voice. "Yeah?"

"I think we need to talk about tonight."

"Now's not good for me, dad." His heart was going to pump its way right out of his chest.

Thomas stood rigidly in the hallway of this hotel, and he half-expected to get the door slammed in his face. He couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't do that if their roles were reversed. "It needs to be now, John. I need it to be." He continued to stare. "Five minutes?"

John pulled himself together. He could do five minutes, at least he thought he could? His legs moved on their own, stepping aside. He watched him enter cautiously, and shut the door and waited, crossing his arms over his chest. "So?" He had things he'd rather be doing.

Tom slowly looked around the room. The table and papers. The beer bottles. He moved further into the destroyed livingroom and faced his eldest son. "Not inviting you to the party was my decision."

"No kidding. I'm FBI, remember? Anything else?" He felt his anger vibrating throughout his entire body.

"John.."

"What, dad?" he snapped, impatiently. He didn't really want to hear all the painful things that he already knew.

Tom blew out a breath. "Things have been complicated between us for a long time now." He walked closer to the upside down table trying to ignore the tug of concern in his gut, which was followed by a much larger pang of guilt.

John froze for the second time, not at all comfortable with his father being so close to the bathroom - to Natalie. He couldn't find her here. "It's late, pop. Can we do heartfelt tomorrow?"

He spun suddenly, not bothering to hide his own anger. "Stop being an ass for one damn second!" he shouted, moving toward his stunned son. "I'm trying to...I want..." God, why was it so hard to talk to one son, and so easy with the other? "I'm sorry for what happened tonight, John." The tension in the room was palpable, made worse with every ticking moment of silence. "I didn't think we were ready for happy."

No, definitely not. He blinked, processing that explanation. It wasn't anything that made him feel good, but it was the truth. "We weren't," he admitted quietly, "we aren't."

Tom placed his hands on his hips. "Still, I was wrong. How I handled things? I shouldn't have left it alone like that." He lightened his tone. "We might be disfunctional, but we're family. I should have talked to you straight."

John looked away for a moment. He thought his heart had been pounding when he opened the door, but now he was sure he was about to have a heart attack. "I get it." That's the best he could manage over the lump in his throat. He squared his shoulders and faced his father. "It's late," he repeated, needing to get him out of the room.

Tom stared at the rigid frame of his son and felt a tremendous sadness. How had they gotten here? Where was the kid in that photo? The one on his desk with the water gun and the smile? "John..."

"What? You're sorry the way things went down. Great! Apology accepted." He couldn't deal with this man, not now. His anger was still very fresh. So, he moved to his front door and put a hand on the knob. "I'll see you at the station, pop."

Thomas had known that coming here would be difficult, but he didn't expect it to hurt this much. He was being dismissed. He turned his eyes away for a moment, catching a glimpse of something under the sofa.

"Dad?" John pushed, refusing to give into the soft voice in his head telling him that this was his father - that he was saying something that he'd never thought he'd hear in his lifetime...sorry. It just didn't matter anymore. It was too late for forced apologies. They had gotten caught, plain and simple. Otherwise, it was very likely that he would never have known about that damn dinner. That was how they wanted it.

Tom straightened. He turned toward the closed door of the bathroom for a moment. "You know, your redhead really let me have it after you left?"

His stomach tightened. "She's not my redhead."

Tom looked right at his son. "No?"

"No."

He nodded and then walked toward the front door. "Keep it that way," he barked as he brushed past, storming from the room.

John shut the wood and locked it, finally releasing the breath that he had been holding. He nearly panicked when his father turned toward his bathroom door. He walked over to the small mini-fridge and grabbed a cold beer, downing it all in about three large gulps. His pulse was racing, which only infuriated him more, and he slammed the bottle on top of the appliance. He wiped his mouth, and found Natalie staring at him from his bedroom doorway.

She was back in her dress, and he felt his heart pump a little harder at the sight. That dress had to have been designed for her? She wasn't speaking, just watching. He walked over and reached out on either side, gripping the doorframe with both hands. She waited. He blinked and leaned closer, hovering near her soft lips. Then he kissed her. It was hard and short. It was saying what he couldn't, that he needed to forget and he wanted to use her to do that. He got lost in her wide eyes for a second. They were unwavering, but she stood her ground, so he took that as a yes and kissed her again. His fingers let go of the wall and slid aggressively into her hair. He felt her come alive against him, fighting him with her own fierce aggression. It made him crazy!

Natalie hadn't heard a lot of the conversation between John and his father, but it didn't matter. She caught enough. He was in pain all over again, and so she would help him through it. She would let him ease his frustration. Whatever he needed, whatever it took?

He had his tank top and her dress off before they reached the bed. His urgency was a reaction to the turmoil that he had inside, but it was also a natural biproduct of being anywhere near this particular woman. He was hard and demanding and pushed without leniency. The more he took from her, the more she gave him, keeping up with his insane rhythm. His heart ached along with his aroused body. "Natalie?" he questioned angrily. His grip on her scalp tightened when he saw the acceptance...the willingness that stared back. She was giving him permission.

He hated himself a little, but not enough to quit touching her. He lifted her and threw her onto the mattress, and then stripped out of his jeans. He saw hunger and desperation in her stare as he climbed between her legs. She wrapped herself around him quickly, sinking her teeth into his neck. "Aaah!" he shouted out, surprised by the thrill that move sent to his throbbing groin. He didn't hesitate. He spread her thighs and forced himself inside her hot body until he was so deep that he lost the last of his sanity. Her fingers burned the skin of his back, and molded over his ass. He didn't look at her. Instead, he pulled from her completely, only to pierce her again. His eyes shut tightly, refusing to acknowledge his lack of consideration, or anything other than the need that was driving him. She mumbled against his chest, ...yes, mmm..., and he burned everywhere. His cock stretched her as he moved in and out in rough strokes.

He felt so many things as he invaded her supple body, and not all of them were good. His heart hurt, and he wasn't sure how to fix it, so he ignored the prick of that particular thorn. His hips increased their tempo, and still he continued, using her to release all the things that were in him. The good and the bad. She clutched tightly and cried out, breathing eratically against his assault. He couldn't look though. If he looked into her eyes he might break, and this wasn't really about them. This was an outlet. He could feel his balls tighten as he pumped between her wide legs. The end was near. That was good, it was what he needed. He blinked, thinking about that more closely. It's what I need? Somehow this union became about him, and his heart hurt even more.

Natalie felt him grab her knees and push them into the mattress while he drove into her with all his strength. She reached over her head and grasped a pillow, clutching it between her fists. She was screaming now and could barely breathe, but the erotic feel of him pounding her brought her to new heights. It was intense. It was consuming. Her soul wanted its freedom, and so she closed her eyes and burst through her skin, expanding past the tiny walls of the bedroom.

"aaahmmMMM..AAH..AAAAHHH..AH..AH..AH.."

John reacted, moving with sudden speed and force. He was encompassed by her heat, and couldn't resist the invitation as she rumbled against him. He succumbed, exerting his straining muscles as he ejaculated hard. His heart thundered and his skin burned. He shuddered repeatedly inside her strong, molten core. His breath was rough in his heaving chest, and after a long moment, he rolled away and pinned his ceiling with wide, watery eyes.

He felt the effects of his orgasm making a slow descent, and his arm curled over his head. That had been animalistic and feral. It had been instinctual. He could still feel her inner muscles clamping over him like a second skin. He felt an electrical charge buzzing over his flesh while he began to cool, sated, and he felt like a complete bastard!

Without speaking, he got off the bed and pulled his discarded jeans over his shaky legs. He stormed into his livingroom and stared helplessly around the room. He couldn't run from this, but he wanted too. He wanted to run away fast and hard, erasing the shame that he felt with every fresh breath of air. How could he do that? Use her like that? He hated himself for hurting her.

Natalie watched as he struggled with whatever demon was haunting him now. She felt his unease, his confusion, and it tore at her. She wasn't going to let him disappear tonight, not from her or what has happened between them. She couldn't do that. Without even realizing her next move, she placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch of surprise that he tried to hide. He turned, and she saw a very upset and raw John McBain. "What is it?" she croaked, refusing to look away.

He took a smooth, deep breath. "How can you ask me that?" He didn't understand why she was still here? "I used you," he snapped viciously, "I took what I wanted and I didn't give a damn about you!" He frowned, trying to get through to her.

She frowned too. "Are you kidding?" She was mad.

"This isn't a joke, Natalie!"

"I agree." She watched him put his hands on his hips, and did the same. "John, do I look distraught to you? Or hurt?" He didn't speak. "Do you really believe that what just happened was akin to...I don't know, rape?"

He flinched at her choice of words. "Wait? You're mad because I'm sorry for forcing myself on you?" He didn't get her.

"Oh my GOD, you ass! You didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to do! Do you think those screams were in protest?"

He was almost at a loss for words, almost. "No, I..." What did he want to say? He blew out a breath in frustration. "How can you not be mad at me?"

"I'm mad!"

He frowned again. "Yeah, but not for what you should be mad about?"

She wanted to smack some sense into him, but instead, grabbed his hand and led him to the couch. She stared into his bright eyes. "John, you've had a rough night and your dad stopping by only made it worse, so you used sex as an escape." He continued to watch her sternly. "I'm okay with it, and you should be too." Her fingers brushed his messed hair from his eyes. "You didn't hurt me. You wouldn't. I think you know that?"

He shook his head. "We just had sex because I was angry. Why doesn't that piss you off?"

"Because it was really, really good sex." She watched him grin and then laugh softly. "Please don't regret that John? I think that would hurt me?" She licked her lips. "I know it would." He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, and she closed her eyes, hugging him back.

"Do you think you might trust me now?"

That was out of the blue. "What?" She blinked.

"I was wondering whether you trust me?"

"I.." She saw how serious he was all of the sudden, and it scared her. "I don't trust very easily," he nodded, lowering his eyes, "but if I didn't trust you then I wouldn't have given you back that file, and I sure wouldn't have slept with you." Her heartbeat was fast inside her chest. "So, yes. I trust you."

He took her hand in his and held it. "Then tell me who you think might be setting you up?"