Page 52

The desire had been building for weeks, a low, persistent ache she couldn’t fully soothe on her own.

It was mortifying to even consider saying such a thing aloud—especially when Lowen had spent so long doubting her chastity.

If she admitted to her base wants, would he wonder how she'd managed them in his absence?

Still, she craved affection. Intimacy was easier than talking. The act spoke for itself.

“Helena, what is it? You’ve gone all red.”

“It’s… not an easy thing to explain,” she began, smoothing her skirts uncomfortably.

“But lately, I’ve found myself unsettled—restless, in a way.

A longing I can’t seem to satisfy.” Her cheeks burned, and she quickly added, “I’ve no doubt it’s tied to everything else I’ve been feeling, but…

well, it’s rather embarrassing to admit. ”

Lowen raised an ebony brow. “I don’t think I understand.”

She huffed, trying to find a polite way to say it. “I’ve been having increased… urges.”

“What kind of urges?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I’m as randy as a goat!” she blurted. “And I want you to make love to me!”

Despite being a man of few outward emotions, she’d expected something—a raised brow, a smirk, something . Instead, he merely cleared his throat and sat straighter in his seat.

“I’m not certain we should.”

“Oh,” she croaked.

Helena bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay—another dreadful symptom, this newfound tendency to cry at the slightest provocation. But, as always, her resolve faltered. Reluctantly, two fat tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Oh God, Helena, I’m sorry!” Lowen exclaimed, throwing himself to her side, his expression frantic as he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief.

She accepted it gratefully, dabbing at her cheeks. “At this rate, you’ll be running out of these in no time,” she said with a sniff.

“It’s no matter—I’ll always have as many as you need,” he said softly. He leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching. “All I seem to do is make you cry.”

“On several occasions, yes,” she hiccuped, wiping at another tear. “I know you didn’t mean to this time… but it still hurts.”

“Hurts?” he echoed.

Helena nodded, eyes downcast. “I don't… I don’t feel like myself anymore. My body feels wrong—like it’s not my own. And when you refuse me, I can’t help but think it’s because… you find me disgusting too.”

“Disgusting?” The word came out sharp, affronted. “Helena, don’t be ridiculous. That’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it?” she pressed.

Lowen sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not about wanting you. God knows I do—more than anything. But look at what’s happened recently. You’ve been ill. You’re exhausted most days. You fell out of the tub, for God’s sake. I can’t take the chance of making things worse.”

“But I feel well today,” she pouted, though even to her own ears it sounded feeble.

“Today,” he agreed. “But I can’t stop thinking about what could happen if something went wrong. Until we’ve seen a doctor in Penhollow and I know you’re both safe, I can’t risk it, Helena. I won’t.”

His earnestness was unmistakable, but it didn’t stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks.

“Helena, look at me,” Lowen commanded gently.

Her eyes met the silvery intensity of his, the look in them mesmerizing her.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So beautiful it’s indecent.”

Helena gestured to her stomach, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Even as I grow rounder and rounder?”

Lowen took her hand and guided it gently to the small swell of her belly. “Even then,” he murmured. “In fact, I’m greatly looking forward to it.”

“What if I’m too big?”

“All the better.” He pressed a kiss to the soft skin beneath her jaw. “More to touch. More to kiss.”

Helena’s skin prickled at his touch, the fine hairs on her arms standing on end. Her gaze drifted downward, catching the unmistakable strain of his arousal against his breeches. She inhaled sharply, her breath hitching as she tilted her face toward his, her lips just barely brushing his.

An idea came to her suddenly.

“If you won’t make love to me,” she whispered against his lips, “why don’t I make love to you?”

“I don’t think that would be wise—” he began, but his words faltered as Helena brought her hand over his loin.

“I still need to repay you for what you did to me in the carriage. Do you remember?” she asked, the tip of her finger circled the outline of his length.

Even through the fabric, the sensation caused him to shudder and moan.

“Yes, but you don’t need to repay me,” Lowen said, his hips flinching. Despite his words, he made no move to stop her.

“But your pleasure is my pleasure.”

Slowly, Helena began undoing his falls, savoring the tension as Lowen watched her with anticipation.

“Really, Helena,” he groaned. “There’s no need.” He tried again, his resolve crumbling. “I won’t make love to you until I’m certain you’re in good health.”

“I can agree to that arrangement,” she replied coyly. “But, as I said, I want to repay you.”

With his breeches undone, her hand slipped between the open flaps, her fingers curling around the hard flesh beneath.

She leaned closer, her lips near his ear as she continued, “You made me feel so good that day, Lowen. You lifted my dress… spread my legs. You kissed me where I’ve never been kissed before. ”

“Where no one but you will ever kiss me,” she whispered as her hand worked up and down his ever increasing erection with torturous slowness. “You brought me to such ecstasy that day. Let me do the same for you.”

She then pulled his cock free, marveling at its swollen girth. It was hot and firm beneath her hand, and velvet soft.

“I hope you’ve been saving this for me,” she purred, giving it a teasing stroke.

“You know I have, Helena,” Lowen rasped.

“The modiste I visited before we married revealed a very useful secret,” she said, removing her hand. His cock stood on its own, straight as an arrow.

“And what secret is that?” he asked, desperate.

Helena smiled at the hitch in Lowen’s voice and began to pull down her bodice, grateful that Mercy hadn’t chosen a high-necked gown.

“She suggested that I rub your manhood between my breasts.” She popped one breast free.

Lowen watched her hungrily, with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“She said this is one of the secrets to a happy marriage.”

Helena popped the other one free.

Instantly, Lowen brought a hand to her breasts, palming the soft flesh and grazing his fingertips over her darkened, sensitive nipples.

“The modiste told you that?”

“Yes,” she replied, shivering at his touch. Then, she moved to kneel between his legs. “She simply wished to offer me guidance.”

Lowen swallowed thickly. “Y-you don’t need to do this, for my sake?—”

Helena frowned. “Do you want this or not?” she asked, impatient. She was holding her breasts up like an offering. Her cheeks flushed at the absurdity of the pose—but she was determined to maintain her confidence.

“Yes! Yes!” he gasped.

“Good,” she replied, though she tilted her head curiously. “Although I’m not quite certain I understand the mechanics.”

Lowen’s hands returned to her breasts, his fingers curving around the sides as he urged her forward, guiding her into place. “I believe I can help with that,” he drawled.

He maneuvered his cock between the weight of her breasts, pressed them together, then began to work her flesh up and down his length. The motion was not unlike her hand—or her mouth.

“Like this,” he whispered, then paused to let her place her hands over his.

“Oh,” Helena breathed, watching as his cock nearly disappeared between her bosom, save for its swollen, flushed tip peeking out at her. She began to move as he instructed, and Lowen immediately let out a moan.

“This isn’t going to last very long, Helena,” he said with great difficulty, watching her beneath half-lidded lashes.

She laughed lightly. “Good. That means I must be doing it right.”

His flushed tip glistened at the slit, moisture beginning to bead and trail down into her cleavage, the lubrication allowing her to quicken her pace.

Lowen bucked beneath her as she sped up, squeezing her breasts a little tighter—she knew he liked a firm grip. And she hadn’t forgotten how to unravel him; it was almost second nature.

It was entrancing to watch his pleasure—the way his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck pulled taut, and the short, shallow bursts of his breath as he struggled to maintain control.

To her satisfaction, his release did in fact come swiftly.

His seed spilled over her collarbone and down her chest, but she kept moving, determined to coax out every last drop.

She waited, patient and attentive, until the final pulses of his climax ebbed and the rhythm of his body stilled.

“You little minx,” Lowen breathed, his head falling back against the seat. “It’s not going to work.”

Feigning innocence, Helena blinked. “What’s not going to work?”

Lowen sat up and reached for a handkerchief, gently wiping them both clean. “You seducing me, Helena.”

“But I just did.”

He chuckled, low and rough, as he buttoned up his falls. “I meant, I’m not touching you again until after you’ve seen a doctor.”

Helena gave a nonchalant shrug. “If you say so.”

Even if he stood firm on his promise not to make love to her until she saw a physician, Helena knew she’d enjoy undoing him like this again. She smiled sweetly and rejoined him on the carriage seat. He opened his arms, and she nestled into them, luxuriating in the comfort of his body.

They still had much to discuss, but Helena had no desire to dampen the mood. She only wanted to savor this moment of peace between them.

A minx indeed, Lowen thought wryly.

After Helena had used her breasts to bring him to climax, she promptly fell asleep, looking as content as a kitten curled up after a bowl of cream.