Chapter Eleven
It was like standing in a huge spotlight on center stage. Except there wasn’t an audience waiting for her performance. She stood there, waiting.
And on cue, he suddenly appeared, timing impeccable. Hades.
Helen grinned. She couldn’t help it. When a delicious naked man, sleek and sensuous, sauntered toward a girl, and he was all hers in that place and time, there was just so much self-control a healthy female had. Her libido didn’t seem to care that said male was also a computer-generated avatar.
She went up to him, eyeing his body appreciatively. One would think now that she knew the face behind the avatar, it would be less exciting to watch a naked man. Not so. It made everything brand new, more exciting, even. The real man behind the controls was far, far more intriguing.
They met in the middle somewhere, still in that spotlight.
The few times they’d done this, he had activated different scenes, once using the virtual image of a room that looked the same as the VR room in which she’d learned remote viewing, and the last time, he’d recreated her quarters to the last detail, reminding her how he’d come to her that one memorable night.
She knew him well enough by now to understand what he was trying to do. He wanted her to anticipate his next move, to wonder, and thus keep her mind on him. It was essential because of the brainwave synchronization going on.
She cocked her head. “Hades or Jed?”
“Does it matter?”
The man before her was a blond god, created by the newest virtual programming technology.
She had had a hand it. At first, Derek had produced a really buffed up version of the caveman type, and that wasn’t anything like the way she’d envisioned the perfect male, so she’d fiddled with the program and voila! A dream man, virtually hers.
Did it matter what she called him? “No. Yes.”
“You sound undecided.”
She changed the subject. “Shouldn’t we get started?” She looked around her. “Where’s the scenery?”
“We have time while our brainwaves get in sync.” He stepped closer. “Do we really need any scenery?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Do you think, now that I know what you’re up to, I’d let you seduce me so easily?”
“Yes.”
“What, you just snap your fingers and my body will magically obey?”
His smile indicated an arrogance used to compliance. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re asking for another punch,” she warned, “and that’s not going to help with the brainwave syncing going on, what with me in a mood to kick your ass. Unless, I can make you pissed off too?”
Jed McNeil pissed off? Every time she’d seen him, he was downright cold-blooded. Did the man even feel anything?
But he did. Her mind mocked her with a sexy memory of him pushing deep inside her as he climaxed.
He’d growled out something and had kissed her till she was breathless.
His heart beating rapidly against hers as he lay on top of her.
His soft words spoken against her ear, words that had turned her on.
“I want more of you,” he’d told her before starting all over again.
She shivered at the heat of that memory. She turned away from the naked avatar.
“I want more. It’s all been virtual or in darkness or some kind of mind meld sex,” she said.
It was everything a woman like her should abhor.
But there was no denying he had used it to intrigue her and she’d found it seductive.
Defensively, she tossed a shrug, and said over her shoulder, “What, don’t you think the real thing with me would live up to your fantasies?
You know, there can’t be any real bonding without real intimacy.
And no, the other night doesn’t count because you came to me when I wasn’t ready. ”
“You were ready,” he drawled in that lazy Southern voice that she’d given him. “And it was me in the dark, not your fantasy of a blond Adonis. You responded to me, not some visual sex candy.”
She should have thought about making him look like some hairy ogre with Darth Vader’s voice. He laughed softly, reminding her that he was able to catch images of her thoughts.
“What makes you think that would stop me from touching you?” he asked.
“But I wouldn’t be turned on,” she retorted.
“Tsk. Shallow.”
She shrugged. The bait had been giving her the power to create an image. She’d taken it and created something she’d personally find attractive.
“I’m not into ogres,” she said. “If I were, then you wouldn’t look so pretty right now. What I’m saying is, had I known, I wouldn’t have fiddled with that program, and you would still look like Derek’s version of Tarzan of the Big Man Boobs.”
He laughed again. Her own lips curved up reluctantly and she added, “I know, I know. This is a ridiculous conversation.”
He came up behind her. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
“That I’m turned on by you.” His hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “That I’m dreaming of having sex with you. There’s nothing virtual or Hades about that.”
Helen blinked in surprise. She hadn’t had time to process what was happening to her to think of all the possibilities. She had been too busy nursing her bruised ego at having been tricked.
But her subconscious hadn’t been. In fact, it had somehow sought out the culprit and tried to tell her, at every possible turn, who was behind the avatar. Only, she’d been too busy with the physical aspects that she’d ignored her strength—her instinct.
He wanted her. Not just as someone to seduce, because people didn’t dream about doing erotic, sexy stuff to someone if they weren’t turned on by that someone in the first place. Dammit, it felt good to that bruised ego to know she could turn him on too.
“You do turn me on, Elena. In my sleep, I dream of doing you in every way imaginable. But you already know that, don’t you? I know you want more, and I was going to let you have your way with me tonight before we were interrupted. So you’ll just have to make do with another virtual date.”
She felt his hand slide over her breast and sucked in her stomach at the sudden heat of his touch on her bare flesh.
She frowned and looked down. Her eyes widened at the sight of a familiar red bustier.
The very same one that she’d seen earlier while she was trying to remote view on her own.
Her breasts strained against the neatly tied bows.
The thong was a mere scrap of cloth, not much protection from his hand.
She made a sound of disgust. “I thought that stupid garment was torn to pieces! You can’t use the same cheap slut suit on me twice!”
Before she even finished her sentence, the red bustier had morphed. She was now wearing a hot pink number, the décolletage so low and tightly held together, her breasts were in danger of popping out. In fact, she could see her nipples... Glitter caught her eye. She shrieked.
“Tassels! You...gave me tassels!”
“You said slut suit,” he reminded her, laughter tingeing his voice.
Helen struggled half-heartedly, distracted by his amusement and the sight of his tanned hand sliding lower. She reached behind her and circled his arousal. It was hard and ready. There were a few moments of silence as their hands imitated each other’s teasing.
“When we’re into each other like this is when we’re most in sync. We don’t need any setting. Just you and me, giving each other pleasure, thinking of what we’re doing to each other.”
Thinking? There was no thinking at this point. All she could do was emit a groan. She widened her stance.
“Swivel your hips for me like you were doing,” he whispered in her head. “Slowly.”
“I’m not. Swiveling. My hips. Ooooh!”
He’d simply pulled the strip of thong aside. His intimate touch was unerringly on target.
Helen bit down on her lower lip. She could feel herself getting wet and she couldn’t help but wonder if in real life, her panties were getting wet too.
Couldn’t think. Not when those fingers traced slow circles that were driving her crazy, making her unconsciously grind her hips, trying to make him go faster.
A part of her—a tiny, tiny part that was left of her ability to think—noted that every time she tried to analyze her situation, he made sure to stop her from doing so.
“I don’t like the ribbons,” he murmured. “In my way. I want your breasts free from clothing. Yeah, like that. I like the tassels. I like the way they sway every time you swivel your hips.”
Parts of her clothing disappeared and rearranged before Helen’s eyes, like one of those crazy supernatural movies with lots of CGI.
Her corset became some sort of push-up contraption, giving her a view of her own nipples like never before, then the tassels reappeared and she shrieked again.
This time they were weighted, their swaying pulling heavily at her nipples.
Hades’ legs widened her stance and he pushed her forward, his fingers relentlessly chasing her pleasure. She gasped as his erection slid between her legs and he undulated. He slid a wet finger inside her.
Helen closed her eyes. His fingers. His hips moving hers back and forth.
The swaying of the weighted tassels massaging her nipples.
The pleasure was sharp. Focused. She could hear her heartbeat thundering, and in the background, the soft echo of his following hers.
The slide of his fingers slowed down; the pleasure building inside her spreading like wildfire.
She swiveled her hips and moaned softly at the feel of his penis probing her tantalizing heat.
“It’s time to go to our intruder’s hideout, Elena. Checkered flag.”
She could only moan her protest when she heard his soft command. She’d known it was coming—the trigger code that started the RV process when their brainwaves hit simultaneous theta.
“Don’t stop...”
“I feel your pleasure, Elena. Your body is soft and pliant against mine right now. So wet I want to turn you over and spread your legs—”
Not knowing whether he was carrying out his promises never failed to push the excitement ratio way up. She had never known a man who could undo her like that, just with words.