Chapter Seventeen #2
Helen smiled sleepily. “Gotcha. You do talk to him. In fact, he probably sent you here tonight. Everyone’s been trying to get me to—” she yawned loudly “—bed. He was probably tired of being kept waiting. Men are so impatient.”
T. smiled back. She turned the switch on and after a minute, wrote down all the readings on the chart. She turned back to Helen. “Good night.”
Helen nodded. After T. had turned off the lights and left, she kicked off the sheet.
The feel of it was distracting. Concentrate on the sound waves.
Sleep. She found herself drifting off. Her T-shirt was so damn bothersome.
She thought about removing it. She lifted a hand tiredly, tugging at the material.
It brushed across her nipples. She moaned softly as she fell asleep.
He walked into the water, determined to get to her. She was naked, her breasts bobbing in and out as she bounced up and down. Her eyes were closed as he approached her, walking deeper and deeper in the water.
Just when he reached her, her eyes opened. Pretty hazel eyes, the kind that changed colors depending on her mood. Right now, they reflected back the green of the water, mysterious and tempting.
He wanted her a lot closer. He grasped her by the waist and easily lifted her high enough so he could examine those beautiful breasts at eye level.
So beautiful. He had wanted to have those nipples in his mouth the first time she’d stripped naked.
He leaned in and took one of them delicately between his teeth.
His tongue flicked at it gently. And just like that he was hard as a rock.
She moaned and squirmed closer against him, burying his face into her softness as he moved toward the shallow end of the pool.
He wanted to bury something else. A lot deeper.
Impatiently, he pushed her against the cool tiles of the swimming pool wall, still holding her by the waist. Her thighs parted willingly, wrapping themselves around his torso.
His palms slid over her wet bare thighs, his thumbs forming an inverted V right above her clitoris. She sighed and shivered, waiting.
He gently sucked at the nipple in his mouth.
So delicious. He slid his thumbs lower and parted her lips below, readying her.
Hot. He could feel the surge of deep need pushing up, insisting—demanding—to be inside her now.
She moaned again as his thumbs ruthlessly readied her, using her slick wetness to torment and pleasure.
“Yesssss…” she gasped as he lowered her back into the water, pushing his erection intimately against her heat.
He positioned them both so he could enter, and as he pushed her relentlessly down on his erection, his thumb added a touch of pressure on her sensitive nub.
She moaned throatily into his ear as she slid lower, as he went deeper inside her.
He shuddered at the feel of her softness, and pushed her down harder.
“Hades!” she gasped.
He opened his eyes. Darkness. His breathing was erratic. Sweet Jesus. He kicked the sheet off his body. The cool air hit the heat between his legs. He reached down and fisted his penis, painfully hard and erect.
He was so damn close to coming he actually felt light-headed from the need to finish off. He squeezed the head of his penis, willing the fierce raging need down. Not working.
The urgency to finish off where his erotic dream had ended fought his usual ironclad will.
He hadn’t had that kind of dream about a specific woman in a long time.
Helen’s naked body in the water was imprinted in his brain tonight.
The way she had fingered her nipples and moaned.
That was why he dreamed about it. He’d wanted to do exactly what he had dreamed—suck on the nipples, play with her pussy till she moaned like that for him.
He felt his erection harden again, lengthening, and pleasure shot through him as he lazily slid his hand down, his eyes half closing as he thought about Helen’s breasts and being inside her, and up again, in long measured strokes, the way he’d wanted to move inside her.
She had felt so…damn…good. His eyes closed as he concentrated on his surging pleasure.
If he were really inside her now, he would grind against her hard.
Like this. And like this. He would bury himself so deep inside her, she’d moan his name out.
“Hades!”
He stopped, his desire raging at the second interruption. That wasn’t his fantasy. That—he turned his head to look at the monitor by his bed—came from Helen’s quarters.
Hades. That was what had woken him up from his dreams. She’d called out the name by which she knew him. Of course he wouldn’t have addressed his own self as Hades. She had called him in her sleep.
He frowned. She’d called him in his dream? He reached out, turning the knobs by the monitor. The microeye in Helen’s quarters was equipped with night-vision sensors; he activated it so he could zoom in on her sleeping figure.
She was tossing around, still asleep, moaning softly. She was pulling at her shirt, as if she was trying to take it off, except that she wasn’t sitting up.
He glanced at the wavelength reading of her state of sleep showing on top of the screen. REM. She was dreaming. They had both been dreaming. He frowned. He reached up and touched the tabs attached to his forehead. Was she dreaming his dream? And he’d somehow woken up and she hadn’t. Impossible.
Was she really having an erotic dream, too?
Or, did she somehow invade his own dream?
His other hand was still around his hard-on.
His gaze went back to the monitor. The image was shadowy but he could see her hand moving over her breasts.
What if he—He slowly pulled on his erection, easily building his need back up stroke by stroke.
This time he was more calculating, envisioning Elena’s wet breasts in his mouth again, and her long, long legs wrapped around his waist as he took her, playing with his own pleasure until dots of light obscured his sight of the monitor.
And still he wouldn’t let himself come as he continued watching Helen in her sleep.
She was moving even more agitatedly now, kicking away the sheet covering her legs.
Was she dreaming that she was in that swimming pool, with him inside her?
The hungry heat between his own legs was demanding release.
He squeezed the head again, giving in to the torturous feeling of elusive pleasure, fighting the urgency to finish off.
His whole body seized up with sensation, his thigh muscles tightening.
Need and desire roared through him and he let it, not moving his hand.
A high-pitched whine came from the monitor. It was Elena. “No…!” she murmured, her voice a little desperate, as if it was she who wasn’t allowed to reach the peak, too.
He’d known about her sensitive condition as the serum’s hold on her body slowly dissipated, had wanted to test her tomorrow during a RV session. It had made sense—her body chemistry was overcompensating.
And still he didn’t want to believe it was possible.
He waited a moment, taking control of his breathing.
He looked at the monitor again. Brain wave scan verging between REM and theta.
Theta was the state desired for remote viewing.
A glance at Elena’s shadowy form showed her lying on her back, very still, her hand still grasping her T-shirt.
He noticed, for the first time, that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
His whole attention zoomed in on to that part of her as he slowly masturbated.
Deliberately, slowly, like the way he liked sex.
No underwear. His hand tightened. He’d seen her naked before but he’d never had the leisure of her lying still for his examination.
She was always moving around and he had been more captivated by her saucy sexuality.
Her hand started that impatient pulling again, as his own pleasure grew and he edged closer to orgasm. Testing his theory was going to kill him. He hadn’t played with himself like this since he was in training.
His gaze fixed on Helen’s moving legs. Part them.
With his own legs. Put this inside her. His back arched as he stopped himself from coming.
On the screen, Helen’s soft screech reverberated in his head, testing his usual control.
The sound was sexual, emitted by a woman in the throes of desire.
His orgasm hovered over him like a demanding sergeant and his whole body sagged from the need to obey the order to continue. But his will was stronger.
He peeled off the tabs connected to the machine that was meant to regulate their sleep patterns. He wasn’t sure how it’d happened, but somehow, he and Helen had connected on an even deeper level than intended.
He waited, but she wasn’t getting out of REM and her discomfort was obvious. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to remote view tomorrow, and he needed her to find Cummings for him before the latter reached Russia. If Cummings got to Russia, he’d disappear.
Never refuse what the gods offered. He wanted her. Now. And he was tired of jerking off when it came to Elena Rostova.
He sat up in bed, leaned over, made some adjustments to Helen’s brain entrainment readings, and shut off the controls to the monitor with a password.
There was no other microeye in her quarters but the one he’d put there himself.
He could go there now. No one would disturb them once he’d keyed in his access code. They knew better.
Helen heard herself moaning before she came awake. The sound wave from the brain entrainment machine seemed louder. An intense need filled her as she battered through sleep and sensation. Her back arched up as another frisson of pleasure rocketed through her, making her gasp.