Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

H elena lowered her naked body into the warm water, her skin tingling with excitement as it rose up to her breasts. The night had been enjoyable, but tense. Every so often she and Morgan would fall into one of their sweet embraces and she would feel herself relax, but he would always pull away.

The warm, dizzying effects of the ale she had enjoyed earlier were starting to fade as the water swirled around her, and she looked over at Morgan with longing. By now, she was used to the thrilling if not exposed sensation of him being clothed while she was naked, but tonight she could not tolerate it.

“Come in with me,” she urged, holding onto the edge as she kicked her legs up to float.

Morgan smiled from his seat on the couch but it did not reach his eyes. Though the water was warm enough to form sweat on her brow, Helena felt a lonely chill crawl up her back.

“This is your discovery, not mine,” he replied. “Please, enjoy yourself. I promise I will not let you drown.”

Tired of the tension between them, Helena pulled herself out of the stream and wrapped herself in a blanket before padding over to him.

“Enough of this, Morgan, please,” she insisted, kneeling before him. “If this is our last night let us make it an amazing one.”

“Are you not having a good time?” he asked, looking down at her with eyes far too cold for her liking.

“It has been nice, but…”

“Are you experiencing your adventures the way you had originally hoped?” he pressed.

Helena furrowed her brow.

“What I originally wanted is not what I want now,” she replied, her tone laced with defiance.

“And that is my fault,” Morgan acknowledged, leaning forward on his elbows. “I have tainted your previous experiences and that was wrong of me. I was supposed to be your teacher, not your guide.”

“Guide, teacher, what does it matter?” she asked.

“It matters because these experiences were supposed to be about you, not how you felt completing them with me ,” Morgan replied, his tone growing flat and hard. “I went too far, Helena. I am trying to remedy that. Why will you not let me?”

“Because I do not want you to remedy it!” Helena seethed, her nails digging into her knees. “I want these experiences, Morgan, and I want them with you.”

“I forgot how spoiled and demanding you are,” Morgan scoffed.

Morgan and her other brothers had teased her with those exact words hundreds of times in the past, and each time they did she would respond with something haughty and clever to prove their point. This time, though, Morgan’s words hurt her.

Yes, she had been very demanding, there was no denying that. But under Morgan’s seductive influence, she had lost the need to be that way and had found freedom and safety in following his orders. Letting him think for her, act for her, and protect her had brought her more joy than any spoiled demand she had satisfied in the past.

She rose from her knees, glaring down at him as he remained seated, and pulled the blanket from her body. She watched with wicked pleasure as Morgan’s eyes grew dark with lust and his hands clenched into fists before bearing down on his kneecaps with obvious force.

“You are right,” she said haughtily, squaring her shoulders as she proudly stood naked before him, just as he had taught her.

“I am very demanding,” she agreed. “And I will see to it that you fulfill my wishes as I wish them to be carried out.”

The pain in Morgan’s eyes vanished as he rose to his feet, a glittering challenge taking its place as he stretched to his full height until it was he that towered over her. A carnal glee shot through her as she caught the dominating, predatory look consuming his eyes; the look she had longed to see all night, and she smiled wickedly.

His eyes remained fixed upon hers as he untied his cravat, then worked furiously to remove his jacket and shirt. He did not look away from her, did not even blink as he shucked the rest of his clothing and took a predatory step towards her as he emitted a low growl.

Helena gasped softly, the intensity of his dominance scrambling her senses, and took a step back. In an instant, Morgan’s hands were upon her waist, lifting her off her feet to straddle his hips. She whimpered as he roughly pulled his warm, muscled chest against her breasts.

Morgan held her to him with one hand while the other snaked up to her jaw and forced her lips to his. A moan poured from her lips the moment he kissed her, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung tightly to him. Morgan growled at the sting of her touch, but he only pulled her tighter, pressing her bare sex against his own.

“Do not stop,” she whispered pleadingly into his lips. This was what she wanted. Not the nude swimming, but to have Morgan inside of her. Her maidenhood was hers and hers alone to give away, and she decided in that moment that no matter how polite Luke was, she did not want him to have it.

She ground her hips against his, pulling another needy moan from both their lips as they each spasmed in pleasure, and Morgan’s grip returned fully to her backside. Not breaking their kiss, his firm grip guided her hips upwards, her leg muscles useless against the corded ones lining his arms, and he repositioned her at his navel, pressing her sex tightly so she could not lower herself onto his throbbing, engorged manhood.

She whimpered in protest, but Morgan lightly bit her lip and took another step forward. Without breaking their kiss, he walked them to the edge of the stream, and his well-toned legs easily took the large step down into the water, which bathed them in its warmth. Pleasure pulsed in Helena’s veins as Morgan lowered them until the water reached their shoulders. He gently pressed her back into the stream’s bank as his eyes searched her face.

Morgan’s kiss was as needy and demanding as her own, and for the next several minutes, they battled one another for control. If she bucked her hips, he bit her lip. If she clawed her nails down his back, he gripped her backside and forced her pulsing, engorged petals to rhythmically ride the ridges of his lower abdominal muscles. It was working her nerves into a frenzy of pleasure and frustration, and the warmth of the stream was only heightening her senses.

Growing desperate in her need and realizing that her demanding nature was getting her nowhere, Helena decided to change tactics. With a sigh, Helena stopped fighting and let her body sink sweetly into Morgan’s, melting onto him like a second skin. He tensed, and she felt his hands begin to push her away almost immediately. She did not resist, but instead softened her kiss and coaxed Morgan’s tongue into her mouth.

A feral sound ripped from his throat, but his grip on her thighs began to ease and turn into kneading caresses. Sliding her fingernails from his shoulders, up to the back of his neck and through his hair, she felt his shoulders also begin to relax as his breath decelerated.

Yes, Hades, my god of darkness. Feel me. Remember me. Give in to me…

A heady, aching groan rose from Morgan’s chest, as though his soul had heard hers whispering to him, and Helena felt the rest of his body unwind. He broke their kiss slowly, pushing and parting his lips against hers with a lazy greed as they both took deeper breaths.

“Helena.”

Morgan’s deep voice was both breathless and full of pain as he pressed his forehead against hers and traced his fingertips up her back. The rawness of his tone sent a thick spear of need shooting down her abdomen, where it exploded in her moist center and made her insides tighten with desire.

He pushed her away just far enough to look into her eyes, and she saw the same ache there that she had heard in his voice. A mixture of need and heartache welled up in her like a sudden storm.

“Please, Morgan,” she pleaded, stroking her nails softly through his hair again, “ Please.”

“Say it again,” Morgan commanded, his tone suddenly gruff as he gripped her tightly.

His gaze was locked on her blue orbs, wide and dilated with so much arousal that they were almost black, and he watched as her response poured from her soul. His desire was so great that he could feel himself about to spiral out of control. He needed to stop himself and regain his command over his emotions.

“Please, Morgan,” Helena pled obediently once more, and Morgan lost himself.

He kissed her lips possessively once more, unable to get enough of her taste, and then tore them away to drop kisses down her neck, over her collarbone and her breasts. The buoyancy of the water made Helena’s body ridiculously light, so it took him almost no effort to bring her legs high enough on his chest so that his mouth could reach her breasts.

Like a feline stretching from a long afternoon nap, Helena arched her back so that her breast pushed further into his mouth. Opening one eye to be sure she did not hit her head, Morgan watched as Helena seductively pushed her pelvis at a different angle against him so that she could lower the back of her head to the stream’s wooden bank. He then watched in satisfaction as a look of pleasure overtook her features; he paid close attention to every furrow of her brow, every pout of her lips and nudge of her chin as he slowly worshipped her.

He could not give her what she asked for, and he knew she would be furious for denying her that, but he could not hold back on denying her the ecstasy she so deserved. If this was his last chance to taste her, he was going to devour every part of her.

Helena melted under his mouth and caresses. Her moans came out in soft, repetitive breaths as his tongue lay claim to every expanse of flesh he could find. When he reached the apex of her legs, he positioned them on either side of his shoulders and swirled his tongue lazily around her taut bud. Helena moaned his name again.

He pulled back, inhaling her feminine scent as he bared his teeth like a vampire ready to consume the blood of its victim.

“Do you remember the first order I gave you?” He asked, slowly swirling the tip of his middle finger over her swollen, pink petals.

Helena gasped and bucked her hips against his teasing fingers, desperate to have them inside of her.

“Morgan,” she whimpered, trying to gyrate towards his touch.

“Yes,” he growled. “I love it when you say that, but answer my question.”

Helena’s face and chest were flushed with warmth and arousal as she opened her eyes and looked at him. He smiled as he saw the answer as clear as day in her eyes. She remembered.

“I must say your name whenever I release,” she whispered, then swallowed slowly before also saying, “even if by my own hand.”

“Good girl,” he groaned and rewarded her by sliding his two fingers between her tight folds.

Helena moaned in ecstasy as her upper body dissolved on the cottage’s floor at his touch. Her inner walls sucked greedily on his fingers as he continued to flick his wrist in the way that offered her the most pleasure; a motion he had learned by obsessing over every move she made when she was with him. He felt the strength of her mounting orgasm force her walls to clamp down more tightly.

“Say it again,” he rasped, his eyes transfixed on the pleasure written all over her face.

“Morrrgannn,” she moaned. His aching, pulsing and dark red phallus twitched painfully at the sound of his name.

“Again,” he commanded, lowering his mouth to her hard bud.

“Morrr…gannn,” she breathed headily, her gasps becoming lower and deeper.

“Again,” he whispered softly, swirling his tongue over the sweet sensitive bundle of nerves.

He moaned as she obeyed and began to feast upon her.

He did not have to say “again” for Helena to scream his name as her orgasm erupted into his mouth, and he moaned in gratitude as he licked greedily at her juices.

“Yes, Helena,” he praised between licks, his voice soft and raspy as he consumed her hungrily.

“Morgan, please,” she panted, her hands finding their way through his hair as she recovered, “ Please , give me what I want.”

He wanted to more than anything, but instead of giving in to her request, he slowly started pulling away, letting kisses trace from her sex, down her inner thigh, calf, and then to her foot. Helena rose up on her elbows, her eyes glazed with confusion and pleasure.

“Morgan,” she whispered.

He placed a final kiss on her ankle and shook his head as he repositioned his hold on her and placed her onto the floor, out of the water. Morgan said nothing and lifted himself from the stream, careful of his achingly hard erection, and walked away from her towards a stack of towels. He wrapped one around his waist and grabbed another one for Helena.

“You want this,” she insisted, pushing the towel away from her as if it were a trap.

“It does not matter if I want to or not, Helena,” he said gruffly, stepping towards her. “I simply cannot.”

She tried to avoid his grasp but he was too fast and too alert to let her subvert him, and he captured her with the towel. Betrayal filled her eyes as he wrapped her in the cloth and gathered her up in his arms.

He glanced away, unable to look into her eyes, and walked towards her clothes.

“Get dressed,” he ordered, turning his back to her to do the same. “It is late. I need to get you home.”

“We are not done yet,” Helena insisted from behind him as he dressed. “You and I need to talk about this, and you said you wanted to finish your portrait of me.”

Unable to turn back to her, Morgan merely shook his head as he finished dressing.

“I changed my mind,” he said, his tone gruffer than he had intended as he worked his trousers up over his aching manhood.

“Why?” she asked him. “Are you so done with me that you no longer desire to draw me?”

Morgan closed his eyes to the hurt that permeated her voice. It was not that he did not wish to draw her. She was, he was certain, the only thing he would be able to draw for the foreseeable, distant future. His time with her had evolved from a deal to a pleasure, and, finally, to an obsession. He needed to pull away from her now, even if it pained him.

“It no longer matters. I will be waiting for you in the carriage,” he told her, pulling his jacket back on.

“Morgan,” Helena called, her tone filled with worry. He cringed at the sound but pressed forward.

“Be quick, Helena,” he said over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. “We have run out of time.”