Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

M organ’s arousal had risen steadily with each obeyed command. He had always relished the moment when he could lose control, but there was something even more pleasurable about practicing self-constraint with Helena. She had been so earnest with her description, and it was so clear that she genuinely wanted such experiences, that he felt his wavering willingness to help her growing into a yearning frenzy.

This would take time and patience. These lessons were not going to be bright explosions of pleasure. What Helena required was a slow, steady ember that had the ability to grow into an eternal flame that would never expire. She was not like the other women who came to him, impatient with need and confused desire. No, she knew precisely what she wanted, and she cared about how she achieved it and from who she obtained it. He greatly admired that about her.

“I do not know what I could offer you,” Helena replied, swallowing her last bite of dessert. “My books, perhaps? I know you do not normally enjoy reading, but perhaps the subject matter might…”

Helena trailed off as he chuckled and drew another spoonful of the potted cream to her lips.

“I have no doubt read every book you possess and many more,” he replied.”

Helena smirked, thinking his statement could in no way be true.

“ The Seduction of the Gods is my favorite collection,” he told her, and her smirk instantly faded.

“As is mine,” she said in awe. “It was what inspired my list.”

Morgan nodded in understanding, knowing all too well the portrayal of wonderfully enticing certain scenes of painful pleasure and submissions within.

“I cannot believe you know of it!” she laughed, looking genuinely pleased.

He realized that he had begun to enjoy her reception of this particular side of him, and pushed forward.

“Another secret you must keep for me,” he teased. “The others would never cease to torment me if they knew of my literary predilections.”

At this, Helena smiled softly and relaxed further into his lap.

“I want a portrait of you,” he continued, returning to the subject of their trade.

Helena’s brows drew up in surprise.

“That is all?” she asked.

Unable to help himself, he allowed his fingers to wrap around her outer thigh and begin caressing the soft flesh beneath her gown as he nodded.

“You will pose for me,” he further explained. “Naked.”

Helena’s relaxed posture suddenly went rigid in his lap.

“No,” she replied adamantly. “I am sorry, but I will not let an artist see me as such.”

“The artist would be me,” he explained calmly, lifting another spoonful of the dessert to her lips.

Helena brows flew up so quickly that he chuckled again.

“My request surprises you?” he asked, mocking offense. “Eat.”

“I had no idea that you were so drawn to the arts,” she confessed, then obediently took the offered bite.

“Yes, well, I like my secrets,” he replied. “What we care about the most must be kept close and guarded carefully, lest others try to steal them away.”

Morgan once again felt her body relax, and he remained silent as she contemplated his offer.

“No one else would see it?” she asked after a moment, a touch of concern her in her eyes.

He shook his head gravely, his smile vanishing.

“What did I just say about the things we care about?” he asked.

“You care for me?” Helena whispered.

“For your wellbeing and happiness? I always have. All four of us have. Trust me when I tell you that I would gladly shoot any man who dared to lay eyes on such a portrait of you. It would be for me and me alone.”

She stared back at him intently, looking beyond his eyes and into his soul. In truth, no person, neither man nor woman, had ever looked so deeply into him, and it was his turn to shift uncomfortably. Still, he refused to look away, to give her any reason to doubt him.

“Very well then,” she agreed, her cheeks turning pink as she agreed. “But do not dare turn back to your jester-like ways upon seeing me bare.”

Morgan placed the spoon down on the table and wrapped his arms around her until she was fully ensconced within his embrace.

“I assure you, Helena,” he whispered, touching the tip of his nose to hers, “there is nothing about your body that is laughable.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she sank into him. He could see everything in her eyes. The relief, the yearning, the intrepid anticipation that came with crossing the bridge from reality to fantasy.

“Hold your breath,” he rasped, caressing the back of her neck as he tilted her head upward, and he felt her cease moving immediately. He softly kissed one corner of her lips, then the other. He felt her tremble as his mouth traced teasingly over hers, her need flowing from her in waves as she held her breath.

“Now breathe,” he commanded, pulling away just enough so that the edges of their lips still met, “and kiss me.”

A whimper of desire wafted from her lips as she followed his command and pressed her lips hungrily onto his. Arousal burst like fire through his veins as he teased his chiseled lips against her heavenly soft ones, pressing and parting them so gently at first that she soon began to lean into him.

He allowed her to feel her own desire grow before pressing his own upon her. Without his guidance, she brought her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her.

“Very good, little Persephone,” he moaned between their deepening kisses, “very good.”