Page 24

What would he taste like?

Helena gasped softly as she felt the sudden caress of his fingertips at her jaw, and she felt herself jolted out of her reverie as Morgan forced her to look up. Fire danced behind his dark green eyes, making him look almost inhuman in his masculine beauty.

“Long enough for tonight,” he replied, his voice strained as he caressed his thumb across her lower lip.

He remained silent a moment as he slowly cocked his head; a predatory energy emitting from him as his stare grew more intense.

“Though we may have to completely start over. I did not imagine this pose before, but now…nowthisis what I was looking for. A portrait of you on your knees, looking up at me with those cursedly beautiful eyes. Jesus, Helena. You have no idea howbloodyperfect you look like this.”

Arousal and self-love coursed through Helena’s veins as she heard the unfettered desire in his words. This was no jest. This was his truth, and she felt it permeating her as the dye from his letter had saturated her bathwater.

Morgan suddenly gasped sharply and pulled his fingers away from her lips. He balled his hand into a tight fist and shook with exertion before he released his hold. He rubbed his fingertips together several times before extending his hand to her.

“Arise, little Persephone, before I give in to my most vile thoughts and rush you too far, too quickly,” he ordered, his jaw tight.

His pupils suddenly dilated until all of the lush forest green had been eaten away, and he flexed his fingers with urgency. Helena felt a jolt of electricity traveling through her as her body numbly and obediently reached for his offered hand, and she kept her eyes transfixed on his as he helped raise her to her feet.

“It is time for your next lesson, as promised.” Morgan said gruffly, walking away from her in a stiff gait.

From the table, he retrieved what appeared to be a cloth painter’s satchel used to keep brushes still and safe in tiny pockets while traveling, which could be rolled out and quickly readied for use. He brought it over to her, untied it, and Helena stepped back in shock when she realized what was inside.

“What are those?” She asked, staring worriedly at the glinting, sharp-looking golden tools that lined the satchel.

“Every artist needs his tools. If I am going to teach you the art of pleasure we must have the proper utensils to assure your absolute comprehension,” Morgan replied passively, as if the explanation was obvious and rather mundane.

He palmed the satchel with one hand, and with the other he drew out a long, thin golden rod and what appeared to be a spur attached to a thin, gold stick. He then snapped the satchel closed and tossed it onto the nearest side table.

“Come,” he commanded.

When Helena wavered, his brow drew up slightly.

“You truly think I would do something to harm you?”

The question was asked calmly and honestly, and she knew she was expected to answer similarly in return.

“No,” she whispered, and knew it was the truth. She did not fear Morgan.

Helena caught the hint of relief in his eyes at her answer and he beckoned her once more to come to him. This time she obeyed, and when she reached him he grasped her shoulder and turned her around. She shivered with pleasure as he traced his fingertips along the hairline behind her ear and let out a sigh when his lips fluttered there.

“Did you enjoy your first kiss the other night, Helena?” he whispered against her ear, his hands slowly twisting into her hair.

“Yes,” she breathed, her lashes flickering shut as he tugged her hair gently.

Morgan then placed a warm kiss below her ear, as if rewarding her for her answer, and replied, “good.”

“Somany sensations can flood through the lips,” he said, tracing his fingertips down her arm. “But there is so much more pleasure to be had in other parts of the body, some of which you would never consider.”

He again tugged the fistful of her hair, slightly harder this time, and Helena whimpered as she felt the back of her head brought down to his pectoral. Morgan’s head lowered, his lips skimming the flesh along her throat before sinking his teeth gently into the softness of her earlobe.

“Would you like me show you?” he rasped as Helena let out another small cry.

“Yes,” she breathed, feeling her blood begin to heat and thrum in her ears.

“Say yes, please,sir.” Morgan growled, nipping her ear once more.

Helena whimpered as she felt the length of his manhood pressing further into her backside and a yearning for him surged through her.

“Yes, please, sir, show me.”