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I remember that night. Didn’t I fall asleep on top of her?
“Jesus,” I mutter.
Helen snorts. “You did say never to go into your private rooms. But the storm freaked me out so badly, and I—”
“Got flattened for your trouble.”
She laughs again, so delighted, and it’s worth the humiliation to see her glowing like this. “Well, now you have a do-over, Mr Grangemoor.”
“Rufus,” I tell her, drawing her belt undone. Teasing the knot loose as slowly as possible, trying to drag out this moment. I’m unwrapping the ultimate gift, after all. “I think we’re past all that, don’t you?”
The robe falls away. Her bare skin is smooth, practically glowing in the sunshine. There’s a mole on her left hip, and her nipples are rosy and firm. Perfection.
“Lie back. The same pose as our painting.”
“Yourpainting,” Helen murmurs, but she does it, arranging herself on the cushions. “You give me way too much credit.”
“Impossible.” I draw a lock of hair over her shoulder, draping it like before. So glossy. “You’re my muse.”
And there’s only one way to treat a muse: with my head between her thighs. As I kiss along Helen’s small bump, my eyes grow damp, but I duck my head and blink it away.
One heart-shattering emotion at a time, damn it. I’m already losing my mind with how lucky I am.
Her fingers sift through my hair, tugging idly on the strands. I trace a circle around her belly button with my tongue.
“You can’t take this back,” Helen says softly above me, and my eyes burn again. Never. I would never. And I grip her thigh tight enough to show her how desperate I feel; I move down her body and claim her with my mouth.
“Oh,” Helen sighs.
Yeah. Oh.
Take this back? I’d rather die.
She’s sweet and salty, already slick between her legs. Her thighs part wider, and there’s a warm flush spreading over her skin, climbing her whole body from toes to throat, and Iwillpaint that one day. One day soon.
Each lick makes her shiver, her body rolling in a wave. Pressing my whole face against her pussy, I rub her clit with my nose and lick inside at the same time. My jaw clicks.
Perfect.
So perfect.
And she tugs on my hair harder, hard enough to sting, her hips rising to meet my mouth. Helen rides my face from below, eyes closed with bliss, lips parted, and her moans echo around the studio. So free. We’re drenched in sunlight.
I press one finger inside. It’s a tight squeeze, even with her so slick, and I saw in and out, ready to spend hours working her open if that’s what it takes. God knows this could never be a chore. She’s a miracle.
“Oh,” Helen says, bucking up harder, her movements getting sloppy. She’s adorable like this. “Oh, yeah. Okay. Like that.”
Bossy, too. I love it. Love hearing what she prefers, and when I add a second finger, she groans in approval. My girl isn’t shy with her noises; she doesn’t try to muffle the sounds of her pleasure, and I’m so grateful for that.
This hotel has one hell of an echo. Let’s make sure they hear us all the way down in town.
Nine
Helen
My stoic, grumpy boss is hunkered between my thighs, feasting on my pussy like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. Rufus’s eyes are closed, his forehead creased in concentration, and his beard tickles my inner thighs.
God. I cup his cheek, heart swelling, then buck off the chaise lounge with a moan as he sucks my clit. We’ve been such idiots, both of us. He wanted me all this time? Since the very first day?
