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Helena Wells-Quinzel is H.G. Wells (

Hearing that contented moan sent another wave of arousal through her, forming in the pit of her stomach. The way that Myka had ahold of her head, her hair, elicited a groan from her own mouth. As Myka shifted to straddle her, Helena's hands slid along the length of Myka's back, continuing to kiss her passionately. When Myka broke the kiss, Helena smiled and tilted her head, exposing her neck to the other woman as she shivered at feeling those lips pressing kisses along her skin. Each kiss seemed to leave a trail of fire behind, igniting Helena's inner fire of desire even further. This was a side of herself that had been dormant for over a century, and now Myka was reawakening it. Never before had Helena wanted someone as much as she wanted Myka, and to know that Myka desired her just as much was a feeling unlike anything else she had ever felt.

The tone of voice made Helena groan softly, a slightly shudder running through her body. Oh yes, that tone of voice could make her do anything. Another shiver ran through her as Myka nipped at her ear, and she smirked, watching the younger woman lay back on the bed. As such, she shifted herself to straddle Myka's hips, her gaze locked onto Myka's as she grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt and pulled it off, tossing it carelessly aside. Now she was left in only underwear, same as Myka. Helena's fingers slid up Myka's sides, gliding over her skin, tracing the outline of her ribcage, gliding over the curve of her underarm, then along her arms until she reached her hands, entwining the fingers of both hands with Myka's. As she'd moved, Helena leaned down towards Myka, her raven hair falling over her shoulders, forming a curtain around their faces. Helena nipped at Myka's bottom lip, then lightly flicked her tongue against it.

"I do hope this is more agreeable to your tastes," she murmured in a low, lustful tone.

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