“Fuck, Helen.” He devoured her mouth, swallowing the last wave of her come down. “That was amazing.”
“I think I’m supposed to say that, and yes, it was.” Breathing hard, she kissed him back, then wrapped her hand around his shaft and made him see stars. “Put the condom on and get inside me.”
“I need some timeout, or I’ll—”
“Now, Sebastian.”
He did as he was told then eased himself inside her, taking it slow or else he’d—
Helen gripped his hips and pulled him in deep, so tight and slick and hot. He came hard and fast, groaning out each wave of his release in the crook of her neck so that all he could see was Helen—her blond curls and her legs and her breasts, and the whole damn, freaking incredible package of her.
“A record-breaking sprint finish by Sebastian Clarke,” Helen said, her naughty lips brushing against his thudding chest. “A one thrust-wonder.”
“That's really cute.” He shifted off her. “You were the impatient one. You didn’t give me a chance.”
“I told you, I have needs.”
But with hisone-thrust-wondershe hadn’t come again so he’d hadn’t yet fulfilled those needs as much as he wanted to, or should. Not even close.
“Well, well, well, Sebastian Clarke,” Helen was saying, propping herself up onto her elbows. “First you make jokes, then you break your own rules. It’s almost like you’re human, too.”
“Busted.” Seb let her teasing drift over him as he stared at the moon-cast ceiling, trying to process the boundary he’d just crossed, until Helen brushed her fingers over his chest. She was always stroking, feeling, discovering. “You like touching me there, don’t you?”
“What ever gave you that impression?” Her lips quirked as she lightly circled his nipple with the tip of her finger. Then she splayed her hand over his left pec and squeezed, like people do when choosing melons.
“Am I ripe enough for you?”
“Oh, yes,” she snorted, and gave him another squeeze. “You’ll do for another round.”
“Anotherround?”
What did she take him for?
“Now, let’s get one thing straight between us, Hobbs. That wasn’t a round.” He shifted and pinned her arms above her head. “That was just the warm up.”
Chapter 23
VeraHamptonheldupanother teapot from her vast collection. “This one belonged to my grandmother. It’s from China. You can tell by these markings here.”
“This sure is some piece of art, and so detailed.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he studied the intricacies of the pot.
Helen stifled another yawn. She couldn’t help it. Sebastian had left her bed at 4 a.m. and the fact that he was now as fresh and focused as always proved he was a machine.
They’d been at the Hampton’s for hours. Lunch had been gorgeous and gratefully received, but the tour of their stately home was taking forever.
George Hampton had gone to his home office to take a phone call, leaving his mother, who was actually a very dear old woman in her mid-eighties, to explain in great detail how she acquired each and every teapot.
Helen’s gaze drifted out of the window. The garden, which must be several acres, was a rolling expanse of manicured-ness, each bush and blade of grass pruned to perfection, like a painting too expensive to touch. Helen craved to smell the flowers, dip her toes in the pond and roll around on the pristine lawn. Preferably with Sebastian.
The memory of last night’s lovemaking zinged a shot to her stomach. They’d agreed it was Just Sex. A one-off. Of course, he was sated now, and with his sexual drought over, a machine like him could probably last out another few months, like a camel without water.
But not Helen.
The floodgates of her libido had been prized off and blown apart, and now she’d had a taste of what she’d been missing out on, she wasn’t going to let three years pass her by again.
Helen snuck a glance at Sebastian who was concentrating on the craftsmanship of a teapot in the same way he’d concentrated on her body last night, experimenting and exploring exactly where she liked to be touched and how.
A machine.
