Chapter Twenty-Three
Maybe I’ve had too much whiskey. But feeling Helena’s soft, gentle hand on my cheek felt like everything in my sad, pathetic life was finally making sense. Old, very deep wounds were healing because of her, and I can’t let thoughts of my estranged father ruin this night for me—for us.
“Come, now. Dinner is ready. I’ll show you to the dining room, and bring our plates out,” Helena said, her voice soft and gentle.
“Yes, ma’am. Lead the way,” I tried to chuckle and make light of my emotional state, but I didn’t miss the way her pupils dilated when I called her “ma’am.”
“Would you mind?” Helena asked, turning her back to me so I could untie her apron.
This fucking dress… The back was cut out like a keyhole, starting from the neck all the way down to above her perfect ass. Unable to resist, I brushed the hot skin down her spine with the back of my finger as I traveled down toward the bow of her apron.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to just bend her over and sink my cock into her right here in her kitchen. Slide my hands up her thighs to lift her dress and—
“Camden?” Helena broke my trance, and I chuckled.
“Yes, sorry, Helena. My mind is a little preoccupied, it seems.” I untied her apron, and she turned to face me as she lifted it over her head.
“This way. Don’t forget your drink,” she said with a smile, and I picked my glass up from the counter, following her to the dining room.
Crossing the threshold into the dining room, I was floored—this room was absolutely stunning. It was painted a calming blue-gray with white molding along the ceiling and floor. The same dark wood flooring she loved continued into this room, with a matching deep blue area rug that covered most of the floor.
Her dining table was long, with seats for eight guests, plus a seat at the head of the table, which I assumed was hers. The table was a deep mahogany, almost matching the floors with a long, intricate table runner spread across the top. The center of the table was decorated with a beautiful flower arrangement in a silver vase: lilies and carnations. A lump formed in my throat, and I left Helena’s side to get a better look at the flowers.
“I hope it wasn’t too forward of me to have your mother’s favorite flowers arranged for dinner,” Helena said softly, giving me space and standing behind her seat at the front of the table. “I also hope it wasn’t too forward that I looked into your past. I found a lovely photograph of your childhood home and saw her flower garden.”
“Look at me, Cammy,” my mother said, kneeling before a six-year-old me as I sat on my bed. “There is nothing wrong with you, okay?”
“But mommy, the doctor said…”
“The doctor said you have ADHD and might be on the Autism spectrum.”
“Can you fix it?”
“You don’t need fixing, my sweet boy. Those things are big, scary words, but they make you special. You will grow and be able to see and feel things that other people can’t. It is a beautiful thing, Cammy,” my mother said, pulling me in for a hug. “My sweet, special boy. You will do great things with your gifts, Camden. You will help people, do good things in this world.”
I wanted to look into her eyes so badly, but I couldn’t. I knew if I did, I would cry and daddy says men don’t cry. Instead, I hugged my mom tightly, burying my face in her hair.
“Just imagine you're like the lilies in my garden, sweet boy. They stay closed for so long while they grow, and once they are ready, they open up and show the world their beautiful, bright colors. I can’t wait for the world to see how beautiful you are.”
Letting my mother’s memory back into its safe place in my mind, I reached for one of the lilies, gently feeling the petals in between my pointer finger and my thumb.
“She had a garden where she grew lilies in our backyard when I was a boy,” I said softly, letting my silent tears fall. I could hear Helena’s heels click as she slowly approached me, placing a hand over mine that was resting on the back of a dining room chair. “She always told me that I was like them, closed off, but when I grew up, I would open and show the world my colors.”
“She sounds lovely. I wish I had been able to meet her,” Helena said softly. “Strong women raise strong men, and you, Camden, are strong. You can trust me. I’m a shrink,” she chuckled.
Her out of character joke caught me off guard and I couldn’t help but laugh with her. She pulled gently on my arm so I would face her and she reached her hands up, cupping my cheeks and thumbing away my tears.
“Can I give you a hug? This is definitely a hug moment,” she said with that mischievous smile that drives me crazy.
“Yes, of course,” I said.
Her palms were still on my cheeks, and she guided my face toward her, wrapping her arms around my neck. Embracing her in return, my hands met the warm skin of her bare back through the cut-out in her dress. I could feel her chest on mine, my hands on her skin, and my nose in her hair. Her subtle jasmine scent was unraveling my mind, but I didn't want to ruin this moment.
Her embrace was intimate and the way our bodies fit together—it felt right, like it was meant to be.
Breaking our embrace, I stumbled backwards a step, confused. I got light-headed and felt my empathic mind trying to take over.
We’re not at a crime scene. Why?
“Camden?” Helena’s voice cut through my mind and I looked into her eyes, trying to ground myself.
“Camden? Are you alright?” she asked as the hazy, blue hue of my empathic state threatened to overtake my vision.
“Y-Yes, sorry. I'm fine,” I forced out.
“Come, let's get you comfortable and I'll bring out dinner.” Helena smiled, turning back toward the head of the table, pulling out a chair for me.
“Armrests and everything? Fancy,” I chuckled, hoping she didn't pick up on my nerves.
“Just like in my office, comfort is of utmost importance,” she purred, handing me my drink off the tabletop. “I'll be right back.”
Watching Helena walk away was almost as satisfying as watching her lips turn up in that sexy, crooked smirk. I was utterly mesmerized by the way her hips swayed as she moved. Downing the rest of my whiskey in one gulp to settle my nerves, I studied the place setting before me.
The silverware was intricate and way more fancy than the dollar store forks and spoons I had. Each handle was a cream-colored material with a pearlescent shine. An ornate vintage design was set at the top of the handle, and I traced the design with my thumb as I studied it in my hand.
Why are there three forks? Three knives? How do I know which to use?
“You’ll have to excuse my way too formal table setting. I don’t entertain as often as I like, and I may have gotten a bit carried away,” Helena said as she placed a plate in front of me. I was stunned speechless. It looked like the type of dinner you would get at a fancy restaurant that costs hundreds of dollars for two bites of food.
“Helena, this looks amazing,” I praised, taking in the delicious scents from the meal.
“Please excuse me to retrieve the rest,” she said, moving back toward the kitchen. “The fork closest to the plate is the dinner fork,” she said with a chuckle before disappearing into the kitchen.
Dinner looked delicious. My plate had two bone-in medallions of meat, liver cut into thin slices, and a scoop of garlic mashed potatoes. All I’ve had to eat today were a few pieces of Helena’s sushi, so I was starving, but I waited for her to return with her plate.
I began to get dizzy again, and I rested my head in my hands, propping my elbows up on the table. My empathic mind began trying to force its way in again, and I didn’t have the energy to fight it anymore.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Unable to resist, I succumbed to my mind; there had to be a reason why it was trying to force a shift.
Closing my eyes, I took my usual deep breath and opened my eyes. The same blue hue filtered through as I looked around Helena’s dining room from my seat at the table. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary until I looked down at my plate.
Femur… This medallion of meat was human?
Liver… This was too small to be a beef liver. It’s not venison, lamb… human?
Helena emerged from the kitchen holding a platter of more medallions and liver, placing it down on the table with gloved hands. Looking at the platter, I saw various human organs and limbs and reached to my side for my gun; my gun I left in my car. Helena was in surgical scrubs with blood splatter, soaking her surgical gown. Removing her facemask, she leaned in close to my ear and the coppery scent of blood hit my nose.
“Dinner is served.”
I slammed back into reality, gripping the arm-rests of the chair with all my strength. Out of breath, I looked around, confused. Helena wasn’t in here yet, and the platter was gone.
What? What’s wrong with me? I’m going crazy…
“Dinner is served,” Helena said proudly, placing the platter down containing the remaining medallions and liver that wasn’t on our plates.
“Th-Thank you, Helena. It smells delicious,” I managed to stutter out; she cocked a curious eyebrow, studying me.
To avoid speaking again, I reached for the water glass nearest to my plate, and drank half of it with large sips, forcing it and my nerves down my throat.
“I hope you enjoy my recipes. It’s been a long time since I’ve had company to cook for. I miss this.” She smiled, cutting herself a bite of the liver, dragging it through the red wine sauce and closing her lips around the fork. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she moaned. “Delicious.”
Following suit, I cut a piece of liver and took a bite. The flavors were bold and rich, but the sweetness of the red wine sauce was a stunning contrast. It was so tender that it melted in my mouth, and I couldn’t help but look at Helena, nodding in approval.
“Wow, Helena. This is amazing,” I said, cutting myself another piece, scooping up some of the mashed potatoes with the same bite. Her eyes were locked on my lips and I could see her subtly bite the inside of her cheek.
“I’m glad you approve of my cooking. Maybe someday we can visit Chef Louis in person and try his preparation. You can tell me which you prefer.” She winked at me, returning her attention back to her plate to start cutting into her medallion.
“Is this beef as well? It smells heavenly,” I asked, cutting myself a generous bite.
“Mmm, you’ll love it,” she said, covering her still full mouth as she spoke.
This bite was even more tender than the liver. God, what I wouldn’t give to have her cooking every night.
“Oh, please excuse me. I forgot my wine in the kitchen,” Helena said, standing from her chair. I nodded, shoving another large bite of the medallion in my mouth, watching the sway of her hips as she departed.
Helping myself to more of the liver and mashed potatoes, I closed my eyes, savoring the new, different flavors on my tongue. I was so distracted by my dinner that I didn’t realize Helena was standing behind me. Her warm hand reached around me, tipping my chin up so my head was resting on her stomach.
“I’m sorry, Camden,” she whispered in my ear. A sudden prick on my neck made me wince, and my head started spinning, forcing me into my empathic mind. My head bobbed forward as I felt all strength leave my body.
Helena’s jasmine scent surrounded me as I imagined her lips on my neck, kissing and nipping her way up toward my ear. Forcing my head to lift up, I felt her warm hands trail down my chest, gently dragging her nails along my shirt covered skin, making me shiver. My cock hardened in my slacks as she continued exploring my body with her hands.
One by one, her hands slid down my arms to my wrist, and I heard a clicking noise.
Buckles?
The sound repeated after she slid her hands down my other arm. Opening my eyes, I was met with the sight of Helena bent over the table in front of me. Her skirt rode up gifting me with the view of a lace covered pussy. Turning to face me, she dragged my plate to the edge of the table.
Helena pressed her fork into a generous piece of meat, dragging it through the red wine sauce and took a few steps toward me.
“God, I’m starving,” I groaned as intense, hooded eyes gazed into mine. I tried to free myself from my wrist restraints to no avail.
The corner of her mouth turned up into a mischievous grin as she straddled my lap. Some of the red wine sauce dripped from the fork landed on her cleavage, and I buried my face in her breasts, licking and sucking the sauce off her skin.
“Please, Helena, please,” I shamelessly moaned as she started moving on my lap, grinding her pussy on my length.
Gripping my chin, she forced my mouth open and gave me a bite of the liver on her fork. I closed my mouth around the bite, the intense, bold flavors dancing across my palate. There was something about this bite, something about all of this. I felt strange, horny, yes, but strange.
I was losing my mind. I had to touch her; I had to taste her; I had to feel her pussy take all of my cock; I had to.
Struggling against the restraints containing my wrists again, the thick leather tore into my skin and started to cut into my flesh. The pain only fuelled my hunger for her, my desperate need to devour her.
Stopping her movements, she unbuckled one restraint and slid off my lap.
“You get one,” she said, forcing another groan to escape my throat.
Before she could restrain me again, I unbuckled my belt and unfastened my pants. Reaching inside my slacks and under my boxer briefs, I palmed my hard cock, rubbing myself from the base to the tip before closing my fingers around my length.
“God, Helena. It feels so good. So-so fucking good,” I groaned in a whisper, freeing my cock from my slacks. I closed my eyes, savoring the immense pleasure I was dragging from myself with each movement up and down my shaft.
Lifting her skirt up to her hips, she tore my hand away from my grip on my length. Shifting my hands to grasp onto her waist, I pulled her down onto my lap, finally sinking my cock into her perfect, tight pussy. Tossing my head back in pure bliss, a feral moan escaped my throat, and she leaned forward, biting the sensitive skin below my ear.
“Fuck, Helena. You feel so fucking good. More… More, please.”
My alarm clock started ringing, and I shot up from my mattress, soaked in sweat.
“Wh-what? No. It can’t be a dream. It can’t be…”