Page 54 of Queen's Ransom

“You are a remarkable woman, Helena Madigan.” She cupped one of her tits, and Helena leaned more of her weight into Celia. Swooned, she thought, was the technical term. First time for everything. “All of you.”

“So are you.” She nipped the end of Celia’s chin. “Now fucking kiss me.”

Celia didn’t need to be told twice, and once her tongue plunged inside Helena’s mouth, Helena was lost. And lost had never felt so fucking good. Tangled up with Celia, in her touch and taste, in her body as Helena urged her down to the mat, laid her out, and fucking feasted. First on her breasts, pulling them out of their cups and working the nipples into tight aching peaks. Then kissing down her torso, swirling a tongue inside her belly button, before burying her face between Celia’s thighs in the patch of dark coarse hair there. She tortured herself and Celia, licking, kissing, and nipping through and around the lace thong, sneaking her tongue under the fabric every so often to get a direct hit because she couldn’t get enough of the keening sound Celia made each time she did it, of the quiver of her thighs under her hands, of the way she rocked harder against her mouth, of the rich musky fragrance that continued to intensify.

“You need something, Cee?” she asked.

“More.” Celia palmed her tits, pinching her nipples, as if that could somehow release the pressure Helena had been building, for both of them. “Inside, please.”

“I do this…” Helena hooked her thumbs inside the straps of the thong. “I wanna hear you scream. You got that, Cee?”

She nodded frantically, close but needing a bit more, and Helena was ready to give it to her. She yanked the thong down, then trailed her hands back up the inside of Celia’s thighs on a direct path to her cunt. She trailed two fingers through the wet folds and around Celia’s clit, circling. She moved to bend over, to taste and touch with nothing between her tongue and Celia’s slick, hot skin, but Celia bent a leg, blocking her.

“Wait.” Panting, she levered up on one elbow, lust dazed but determined. “You too.”

Helena had been largely ignoring the throb between her own thighs, of the wetness soaking the crotch of her own underwear, but Celia offering to bring her along for the ride shattered her focus. Brought to mind all the positions and scenarios that would work to get them off together. “Sixty-nine?” she said.

Apprehension tiptoed across Celia’s face, and Helena laid a reassuring hand on her stomach. It had taken her a while to work up to oral sex too, with men and women. “We’ll get there. I’ve got another idea.”

She moved to take off her bra and underwear, but Celia stopped her again. “Leave it on. It’s sexy.”

Helena arched a brow. “Payback for the shop?”

“You bet.”

Laughing, a first for Helena during sex, she leaned over and gave Celia a deep plundering kiss and was surprised when Celia groaned hungrily, apparently liking the taste of herself. Maybe she’d get there quicker than Helena had. For now, though, her plan was set. She tore her lips away and moved to Celia’s side, on hands and knees, mouth and hand where she could reach Celia’s cunt, legs spread so Celia could reach hers. She took Celia’s hand in hers and directed it between her legs.

Celia caught on fast, slipping her fingers inside Helena’s underwear and over her folds. Helena sighed, bowing up when Celia’s fingers circled her clit. “That’s it, baby.” She spent a good minute or two riding Celia’s hand, letting Cee build her up, get into a rhythm, before she put her mouth back on Celia and a finger inside her.

“Oh fuck!” Celia shouted and pounded the mat with her free hand. Her other hand moved faster on Helena’s clit. “Oh fuck, please!” She demanded with her fingers too, dipping inside Helena, and Helena lost her rhythm for a moment, too caught up in riding the waves of building pleasure, until Celia returned to circling her nub, increasingly frantic.

“I’m close, Helena. I’m close!”

Helena briefly lifted her face, reminding Celia of her duty. “I wanna hear it, Cee.”

She nodded, her fingers moving faster against the bundle of nerves driving Helena wild, and Helena, building at a rapid clip too, used two fingers to fill Celia, pumping, her tongue on her clit, flicking, and Celia tipped the rest of the way over the edge with a full-throated “Fuck me!” Her cunt greedily clenched around Helena’s fingers, the tight heat causing Helena to buck against Celia’s hand, the extra pressure all she needed to come too. She grabbed Celia’s wrist, shoved her hand back, and following the cue, Celia sank her fingers inside Helena, filling her up as her walls rippled with pleasure.

Once the waves had subsided, Celia withdrew her fingers, as did Helena. She sank onto the mat, on her side, her head resting on Celia’s abdomen, an arm thrown over her middle, both of them catching their breaths in contented silence and company.

Celia’s fingertips coasted up and down her forearm, gentle and soothing. “Did I scream loud enough for you?”

“I don’t know. You’ve still got your voice.”

“I guess you’ll have to try harder next time.”

Helena swatted her belly. “Oh, I can go harder, baby.”

“I want to try all the things with you.” She threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing back a wild hank that was tickling Helena’s eyelashes. “Maybe even loving you…”

And didn’t that just tickle her heart too. Helena dropped a kiss on her hip, a future in front of her that she’d never expected. One full of family and love, trips to London and Paris for lingerie, and nights in the arms of this amazing woman. “I’d like to give that a try too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Celia strolled through the Maritime Museum’s exhibits, waiting for the rest of the wedding party to gather as the guests outside began to take their seats. It was a gorgeous setup for the wedding, ribboned white chairs and an abundance of flowers on the brick patio overlooking the Bay. Not as gorgeous, however, as the blond who stepped between her and the windows.

“Well, hello there, Miss Perri,” Helena said with a smirk.

Celia returned it. “Hello there, Miss Madigan.” She snagged the open lapels of the borrowed judge’s robe Helena had donned for the occasion and tugged her girlfriend closer. The black robe was a sharp, striking contrast to the ice blue dress Helena wore beneath it. The same color as Celia’s dress but a different cut, each of them picking a style that suited them best. “Don’t you look all official today?”

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