Simply Shameless (26 page)

Helene obliged him by coming again, her sharp cries a siren call to his oversensitive cock. He knew he couldn't wait any longer. With a harsh groan, he picked her up, backed her against the nearest wall, and shoved his cock home. She didn't stop coming as he pounded into her, her heels dug into his buttocks as she held him deep, taking every inch of him.

He started to grunt with every long stroke, felt his cum gather in his balls and force its way up his shaft.

"Helene ..."

He could only groan her name as he came inside her, his seed filling her as she climaxed with him, wringing every last drop from his still pulsing shaft. There was no finesse, no gentle lov-i ing; this was sex at its most powerful and raw. The way it should be between them, the way it always had been and always would.

He didn't bother to pull out, just carried her over to the bed and fell on it with her wrapped in his arms. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him, her expression belligerent.

He sighed. "What is wrong now?"

"You didn't give me a chance to decide whether I wanted you to spank me or not."

"You wanted it. You screamed so loudly when you came I thought I'd be permanently deaf."

"You are a conceited oaf."

He levered himself up on one elbow to look down at her properly. Her nipples were tight red buds, and their bellies were meshed together with a combination of his seed and their sweat. He loved the way they smelled together. Experimentally, he moved his hips, heard her bite off a gasp.

"Do you need more, madame?" His cock thickened at the thought of having her once more. He angled his hips against her pussy again, slipped his hand between them to locate her clit, found it slippery with his cum and very sensitive to his touch. "Of course you do. You are insatiable, are you not?"

He slipped out of her and kissed his way down her belly and through her fair thatch. He used the tip of his tongue to titillate her clit until she writhed against him, and then set off on a leisurely tour of her pussy lips and slick opening. She was so wide for him now, he could stick four fingers in without her feeling too tight.

She came suddenly against his mouth, and he stuck his tongue deep inside her to feel her muscles clench, enjoyed the rush of her cream. He reckoned if he really did intend to satisfy her all night, he needed to pace himself and pleasure her in as many ways as he could devise to save his cock from drooping.

He knelt up to look at her. She lay sprawled on the bed, legs open wide, breasts heaving, blue eyes softened with desire. No wonder every man in London wanted to be in his position. He could hardly blame them. Helen of Troy resurrected. No wonder men fought over her. If she belonged to him, he'd fight for her too.

Helene watched as he palmed his cock and drew it away from his stomach. He held her gaze, glad she enjoyed looking at him, eager to bring her to that gasping screaming plateau of sexual perfection once more. He wanted to crawl up the bed and place his cock between her perfect lips, but he wasn't ready to come again quite yet.

He climbed off the bed and retrieved the brush. Showed it to her before he coated it in her thick cream and his seed and slid it inside her. Her hips bucked as he worked it in and out of her wet fuckable pussy. He bent his head, delicately set his teeth on her clit, and waited until she climaxed again before releasing her.

Idly he knelt back and fingered her nicely swollen clit, collected his seed on his finger, and headed for her arse. There were plenty of candles in the room, and oil was easy to come by. He'd always wanted to use two dildos on a woman at the same time. While he worked her pussy and arse, she could pleasure his cock with her mouth. If he wanted to last the night, it was definitely time to become more creative.

Chapter Twenty

Helene lay sprawled bonelessly over Philip's body, her cheek pressed to his chest, her arm around his waist. His heart thumped steadily, comfortably, along with hers. Faint streaks of gray light penetrated the half-open, moth-eaten bed curtains. Birds were singing, and the rumble of cart wheels over the cobblestones below made the diamond-paned windows vibrate. She turned her head slightly to kiss his nipple, and he groaned.

"God, Helene, you really are insatiable."

She smiled against his chest. In truth, she was worn out and completely satisfied, but she wasn't sure she wanted Philip to know that yet. He nuzzled her ear and bit down gently.

"As I have gratified your lust, are you now going to tell me what happened with Marguerite?"

Helene kept her eyes closed. "She was worried that I meant to interfere with the marriage."

"You were going to interfere."

Helene sighed. "I know, but she was so happy; I couldn't bring myself to ruin everything purely on unproven suspicions and my instincts."

"From what I've seen and heard, your instincts are usually correct. What exactly is worrying you?"

"Marguerite's husband, Lord Justin Lockwood."

"I don't believe I've ever met him. Is he known to be a violent man or a drunkard?"

"Not that I know of." She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the low-beamed ceiling. "It's more a question of where his sexual tastes lie."

Philip frowned. "Do you think he's perverted?"

"No, just that he might prefer the company of men."

"Then why would he bother to marry?"

"Most men of his persuasion do. It's the only way they can avoid the rumors about their sexual inclinations and activities. Often, they feel obliged, for family reasons, to provide the next heir."

"You have proof of her husband's tastes?"

Helene turned to smooth a lock of hair back from Philip's face. "If I did, do you think I would have left Marguerite with him? I've simply seen him with the same man on several occasions at the pleasure house."

Philip came up on one elbow and considered her, his hazel eyes narrowed. "Doing what?"

"Nothing remarkable, just sitting very closely together."

"Not in bed, then?"

'Won, as I said, it is just a feeling I have that they are more than just friends."

He reached out and traced the outline of her mouth with one lazy finger. "Now Lockwood is married, perhaps the friendship will reach its natural conclusion."

Helene held his gaze. "That is what I hoped until Marguerite said that Sir Harry had accompanied them on their honeymoon too."

Philip's eyebrows rose. "Well, damn."

"Indeed. But there is nothing I can do unless she asks me for help, is there?"

"No, not a thing." He stroked her cheek. "It's devilishly hard being a parent, isn't it?"

"You have no idea. Just wait until your children reach their twenties." She kissed his roving fingers. "At least Marguerite doesn't blame me for all her ills, like the twins do.

Last night she even thanked me for bringing her up."

"And that meant a lot to you, didn't it?"

She tried to laugh. "I've never forgiven myself for allowing others to care for my children when they were growing up."

"But you were only a child yourself, and you could scarcely have allowed them to live with you in a brothel."

She slapped a hand over his mouth. "It is not a brothel." His tongue tickled her palm, and she whipped it away.

"I know, but you were wise not to have them with you. Most upper-class parents send their children off to the care of wet nurses, nannies, and boarding schools. I hardly ever saw my mother when I was growing up, and it did me no harm."

She studied his relaxed features, saw no hint of condemnation in his gaze, and kissed his mouth.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making love to me all night and for understanding me."

"I wouldn't claim to understand you at all; you're a woman. But I do know you."

"In the biblical sense?"

He grabbed her, rolled her onto her back, and pushed his knee between her thighs.

"Definitely, and the night isn't quite over yet."

Helene clutched at his forearms as he braced himself over her. "You don't have to prove yourself anymore. You are definitely the best lover I've ever had."

The crown of his cock nudged her swollen sex and slid in an inch. He groaned and slowly rocked his hips, each motion pressing him farther inside.

"God, you feel as tight as a virgin. Are you sore?"

"Of course I am. I might be insatiable, but I'm still human."

"You'll take me once more; I know it." His balls pressed up against her buttocks as he slid all the way to her center. "I promised to satisfy you all night long, and it isn't morning yet."

Helene closed her eyes and relaxed, allowed Philip to direct her movements and play her as he wished. He took his time, his movements slow and unhurried compared to the night's first fierce couplings. Warmth engulfed Helene's belly and flowed lower to her sex. He changed his position, slid his hands under her buttocks, and continued his long regular strokes.

She hadn't expected to climax, was almost surprised when the pleasure crashed over and through her, leaving her shaking and clinging to Philip. His mouth covered hers as he continued to thrust, faster now, each motion sharper and shallower. He froze over her and came in long pumping jets of seed deep inside her womb.

"I hope you're satisfied now, Helene." Philip's voice was a mere thread. "Or else a good man died for nothing."

With a sigh, she took his weight on her, curled her arms and legs around him, and drifted off to sleep. Her last thought was that she was glad she didn't have to ride a horse all the way back to London but could relax in the comparative luxury of the curricle.

By the time they reached London that night, Helene regretted the necessity of having to leave her bed at the inn at all. At times during the journey, Philip had provided her with his lap to lie across and the support of his body, but she was still sore. Perhaps she really was getting too old to indulge in such prolonged and exciting sexual antics. She smothered a smile against Philip's shoulder as she recalled some of the details of his love-making. Well, maybe not quite yet.

Philip patted her gloved hand.

"We are almost there, Helene. Do you want me to come in with you, or should I take this opportunity to go and see if my staff have deserted me and my lodgings are still standing?"

Reluctantly, Helene straightened. "Yes, go home, and I'll see you in the morning."

She certainly needed time to consider their journey, to understand why she had allowed him to treat her as he wished. Why she felt so safe confiding in him.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Am I being dismissed?"

She retied the ribbons of her bonnet and settled it back in the middle of her head. "Why do you sound so annoyed? I would imagine you would be grateful for a night in your own bed."

"You think I'm not up to another night like the last?" Helene merely looked at him until the corner of his mouth kicked up in a reluctant smile. "Perhaps you are right." He elbowed her in the side. "There's no need to make excuses, darling. If you can't bear the thought of being mastered again, I understand."

Helene opened her mouth and then shut it again. She would not allow this infuriating man to get the better of her. She smiled sweetly. "You are right; I do need my sleep."

He chuckled. "I'm always suspicious when you smile like that and agree with me."

The curricle leaned dangerously to one side as Philip maneuvered around a tight corner and slowed the horses to a walk. One more deft turn and they were in the elegant square of houses where Helene's was located. One of the footmen stationed at her front door ran out to hold the horses while Philip got down to help her out of the curricle.

He lifted her onto the flagstones in one easy motion and kept hold of her, his hands firmly around her waist.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in?"

She smiled up at him. "I really am very tired."

"Then I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her forehead, released her, bowed, and got back into the curricle. She watched him drive away, his form impeccable as he turned out of the square. With a sigh, she trudged up the steps to the house, every muscle in her body protesting. A nice hot bath, a quiet night's sleep and she would be more than ready to face Philip in the morning.

Judd met her at the top of the stairs, his chubby face flustered. "Welcome back, madame.

I hope your trip was successful."

"It was. Thank you, Judd." She noticed he still didn't look happy. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

He cleared his throat as he shut the front door behind them. "Well, actually, madame, there are a couple of things that have gone, shall I say, slightly awry."

"Are the twins all right?"

Helene removed her bonnet and coat, and Judd handed them to a footman. From the resolute expression on his face, she knew she wouldn't be climbing into her bed for quite a while.

"They are fine, madame, and happily ensconced in the guest suites with Mrs.

Smith-Porterhouse."

Helene headed for her study, Judd at her side. She halted as she saw a fashionably dressed woman pacing the hallway outside her door.

"Is this one of those little problems you mentioned, Judd?"

"Indeed, madame. I can only apologize. The lady entered the house under false pretenses and insisted on waiting to speak to you."

Helene fixed a smile on her face and advanced upon the younger woman. "Good evening.

May I help you?"

The woman turned to look at Helene, her gaze dismissive, her tone even more so. "I'm waiting to speak to Madame De-lornay, not one of her bits of muslin."

Helene lifted her chin and allowed a silence to fall between them before she spoke. "I am Madame Delornay. How may I help you?"

"You can't be! I've heard that hag is almost forty, and you"—she gestured wildly at Helene—"you are far too young and beautiful to be her."

Helene set her jaw, sent Judd for some tea, and ushered her unwanted guest into her study. She took a seat and waited until the woman settled herself fussily in the chair opposite her.

"I'm afraid I can't help you if I don't know who you are."