Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“ Y ou love it, do you not?” Morgan mused with a sinful smile, his dark eyes nearly black with lust.

Helena nipped teasingly at the thumb that was stroking her lip and grinned back. From the moment they had walked in, Morgan leading her by the silver leash, she had been consumed by a wicked pleasure as every person seemed to ogle the two of them.

She had delighted in the jealous stares she had received from the women and looks of longing and lust she had received from the men. Most of all, she had loved the way she felt being by Morgan’s side as his pet.

As before, the sight of people intertwined in any given spot in the house was a shock to her senses, but this time, along with that shock, she felt a sense of purpose. She was no longer an innocent little lamb wandering into a den of bears on her own. She had a wolf by her side.

When they had first been approached by a group of men, Morgan had pushed a guiding hand to her shoulder until she knelt by his side; a symbol of her trust in him. In the carriage, he had told her how to hold her head and hands when kneeling. Excited to carry out his wishes and hers, she had done so immediately, and right after that, Morgan began to receive praises regarding her good behavior and seductive appearance, followed quickly by questions about her origin.

“She is mine and that is all you need to know,” Morgan had answered, stroking his hand over the top of her head. He had then hunkered down and held her gently by her jaw.

“Are you not, my little one?” he asked in front of their growing audience.

A sense of freedom had burst through her when she had answered “yes, sir,” and was rewarded with his proud smile.

“Such a good girl,” one man had cooed. “Will she be of free use tonight like your others?”

Helena had simultaneously felt two jolts of displeasure. While she adored when Morgan called her a good girl, she suddenly realized that she did not feel the same when another man did so. She was also briefly displeased by the reminder that Morgan had probably done this with many , many women, all much more free and willing than her to explore their fantasies.

“She will not be touched by anyone but me tonight,” Morgan had stated, gently tugging at the leash to bring her to her feet. He then slid his hand around her throat and kissed her in front of them until she was breathless.

“Anyone who thinks otherwise will take a bullet to the belly.”

At his side, Helena tilted her head higher and straightened her shoulders, an intense sense of protection consuming her in response to his possessiveness. As if pleased with her subtle response, Morgan stroked his hand down her hair and gave her braid an enticing little yank.

After that, Morgan had led her to an elaborate bedroom suite where a group of naked men and women had gathered on a massive bed and were undulating and moaning together. It had shocked her at first, seeing such an intimate scene for the first time, let alone with so many sets of couples, but she immediately became transfixed by the primal conflagration that was unfolding before her.

“In here, little one,” Morgan urged, taking her to a smaller room just off the larger one.

Like the other room it was furnished with a bed — though much smaller and clearly for only one couple — and one chair instead of eight. It was lit only by two red lanterns hanging from the ceiling on chains.

“This is a watching room,” he explained, moving her to the small splash of light that came through a square in a wall. “Come.”

Helena let Morgan’s hands lead her to the square, and she felt a wicked tingle as she looked through it. At first glance she felt as though she were viewing a painting backward, but as her eyes adjusted she realized that she could see beyond the paint and into the room where the others had gathered.

“They cannot see us!” she whispered excitedly.

“No,” Morgan agreed, reaching for her neck to caress his thumb down its column, “but we can see them. Shall we enjoy the show?”

Helena nodded and felt warmth pulse through her body as Morgan teased into her ear, “such a wicked little Persephone.”

Unable to help herself, Helena smiled widely. She rather liked that Morgan thought of her as wicked. She then felt the familiar tug of the leash and turned with Morgan to follow him to the chair that faced the faux painting, where he then pulled her onto his lap after taking a seat.

His fingers at her waist created tiny licks of flames over her skin as he began to turn her until she faced forward and her back was parallel to his chest. He then spread his legs slightly and traced the high slit of the dress until he reached her inner thigh, and moved each of her legs to dangle over his own.

Helena felt a rush of excitement as she pictured lustful eyes turned upon her and Morgan. Although no one could see, she was thankful that the dress draped down between her parted legs and covered her sex.

Morgan’s lips pressed into the back of her neck, making her feel dizzy as his hand disappeared between their bodies. She let a moan slip from her lips when she discovered he was freeing his already engorged manhood and letting it rest against her lower back between her dimples.

“Did you hear that?” a muffled voice said from outside.

“I saw Hades take his new pet in there. He said we could not touch but said nothing about us watching them. Come, let us give them some company,” another man’s voice said.

Nerves like cold taut lines snapped tightly throughout her languid body and caused her to tense in Morgan’s lap.

“Relax, little one,” Morgan soothed, moving his fingers up to her waist. He pressed a quelling kiss to her lips as she looked at him with questioning eyes, then added, “the door is locked. You are safe with me.”

His words were so simple, but they were precisely what Helena needed to hear to let herself sink back into the otherwise sensual moment.

“I want you to ignore the jiggling of the doorknob and the voices outside. I will not allow anyone to barge in. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Helena whispered, fighting to control her anxiety.

“That is my good girl,” Morgan praised, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he returned her gaze to the portrait. “Now, keep your eyes on the bed, and tell me what you are feeling,” Morgan whispered, returning his hand to her neck, the other moving to her left breast.

Helena whimpered with need as Morgan’s velvety voice created a deep vibration between her legs, and she felt moisture begin to gather there as his hips began to undulate slowly beneath her. Morgan suddenly and harshly pinched her nipple, sending a white lightning bolt through the sensitive flesh that made her mewl loudly.

“I am waiting, little one,” he warned, already massaging the bruised, deep pink bud.

It was such an intimate demand, Helena realized as she confronted her truth. Her cheeks flooded with embarrassment as she realized just how much of a hedonist she was.

“I feel excitement” she whispered, much more confidently than she had predicted. “I feel like I want to watch them. Like I want to witness their pleasure.”

A loud moan of gratification suddenly rose from the bed as a participant was spanked with a black leather paddle. Helena smiled wickedly, watching the blush bloom in the woman’s face before her eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“And their pain,” she added, smiling seductively as she let herself sink further against Morgan’s body. She was growing more comfortable, more confident by the moment, and Morgan’s command to ignore the growing voices behind the door was creating an entirely new thrill. They were longing for a look at her, and her refusal to let them was only heightening her arousal.

“Such a wicked little pet,” Morgan chuckled deeply, pulling the dress away from her breasts.

Her nerves began to frazzle. Those wanting to get in were still trying, and what if they were successful? Before she could worry further, she was quickly distracted by the way Morgan’s hands cupped and covered her breasts and she became lost in his touch. He massaged them firmly but gently, expertly rolling her nipples between his fingers, tugging them occasionally until Helena’s face was buried into his neck and she was emitting continuous low, sweet moans.

“You are being as loud as they are, little one,” Morgan teased, his one hand gently tugging the dress over one breast before sliding it down her abdomen. “Look how many are searching for you.”

Helena turned her eyes back to the show and saw that Morgan was not jesting with her. Though the ones on the bed were still very much absorbed in their activities, others in the room who had just been watching were starting to look around.

“So many men wish they were me right now,” he whispered filthily, his voice spiraling her desire out of control as his fingers began to circle lazily over her dress-covered sex. “They wish they had you on their laps, their fingers coated in your juices. They wish they were the reason for your pathetic little whimpers.”

Morgan’s hand suddenly left her breast and laced around her throat, forcing her to turn her head towards their audience.

“Listen to them, little one,” he commanded, nipping his teeth along her neck as he held her by the hair with one hand; his fingers still working her swollen bud with the other. “Listen to how desperately they want to open that door and get just a tiny peek of you.”

Helena obeyed Morgan’s desire-filled voice and she felt her sheath pulse with heat. She tuned into the sound of whispering, masculine voices from beyond the locked door, their soft, insistent knocks, and the occasional twist of the steadfast knob.

“They cannot have you, though, can they?” Morgan chuckled, increasing the pressure on her clitoris.

A wicked glee filled Helena as Morgan said the words. No, they cannot. Only Morgan. And Morgan will make sure of that.

“No, sir,” she whispered, smiling wickedly as she turned her head to kiss him.

Her orgasm erupted quickly, but before she could catch her breath, he slid his glistening fingers into her mouth, massaging her tongue before entering her throat. Helena felt fire lick through her veins as she tasted herself on Morgan’s fingers, and she found herself sucking greedily on them, enjoying her taste.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Morgan groaned as he stroked her tongue, “I did not even have to tell you what to do. You just opened right up for me.”

Helena moaned around his fingers and then suckled them harder, wanting him to know just how much she was enjoying this. When he finally slipped his fingers from her mouth it was only to replace them with his tongue. His deep, possessive kiss reminded her suddenly of a favorite scene in one of her romance novels. She had felt his tongue, his fingers, his saliva; she shivered in pleasure at the memory, and now, she wanted to feel something else.