Proserpina
She said nothing, her arms crossed over her ample bosom, breathing fast as she stared at him. With a pang, he noticed the gleaming pendant that lay in the valley of her full breasts, the locket signifying that he owned her. He had gifted it to her, had put it around her neck, a thin gold chain with a small key as the locket, diamonds glittering against her warm skin. He loved to take it in his mouth as he mated her, tugging at it with his teeth, watching her face as he mounted her, and rode her. And then, sinking his teeth into her mounds, moving to her ripe, firm teats that had been suckled by his children, all six of them.
F*ck he thought, his face darkening with passion, but he wanted to take her here, now, savagely, brand her so deeply with his hard c*ck, she would never look at another man, certainly not at Schwartz, not with that soft expression of appeal. The discomfort around his groin made him want to shift; instead, he moved towards her.
Her plump lips tightened as she saw his gaze and with a distraught look on her face, she reached up and yanked the thin chain, breaking the slim thread of gold that had adorned her neck. With a look of suppressed fury, she flung it at his face and it hit his hard, muscled chest, falling to the ground at his feet.
“I don’t …,’ she stumbled over the words,’ I do NOT belong to you, you …you man whore!’ she spat at him, all the hurt that she had been holding back, rising to the surface.
Lucien felt a mixture of emotions swarm over him.
Rage, for she had dared to throw away the symbol of his ownership, sorrow for having hurt this beautiful woman who had loved and trusted him so totally and anger as she was accusing him without hearing the half of it. But the powerful desire to punish her, to make her understand that she was the possession of Lucien Delano, was overriding in intensity.
He was beside her in two strides, gripping her upper arms, digging his hard fingers into the soft flesh, wanting to hurt her. Jerking her roughly to his hard length, he snarled, his hot gaze devouring her hungrily,
“Schwartz can have the hots for you, baby but you belong to me, always and ONLY me. The only one who will f*ck you is me.’
The tiny vein at the base of her throat was throbbing wildly and he wanted to kiss it, lick it. But he held himself in check.
His eyes swept over her wounded brown eyes and her soft, moist lips and he felt the familiar hardness, the ache in his balls. She struggled fiercely as she noted the lust in his eyes but he increased the strength of his hold on her soft flesh and she winced.
She glared up at him, eyes swimming with unshed tears but she refused to cry.
“Stop it, ‘she whispered, ‘You…you…’
As always, the nearness of her fragrant body, the feel of the rounded curves which he was holding in his hands made him crazed with desire. And when she resisted him, it only made him crave to dominate her.
*
He had rushed straight from the townhouse and the cloying, unpleasant presence of Britney and his son, Cole. The woman had been all over him, touching, trying her best to get into his bed. Inspite of his cold rejection, she had tried to get on her knees to suck him off when he was in his study, trying to work.
There had been men in the room with him but she had sauntered in, dressed in that ghastly red bikini and nothing else, sure of her power to make men weak and panting. She was a trained wh*re, after all, and he had sampled her wares quite frequently when Shark was alive. Yes, Shark had conveniently made sure that the two sisters were always available for his use, notwithstanding his brutal use of them. He remembered f*cking them simultaneously and having them pleasure him as well, as he lay in a drunken stupor, all those years ago. Or riding them, one after another, as he drank from his hip flask…
‘Let me give you a blowjob, baby,’ Britney had purred, stroking him, trying to take out his thick, long c*ck as she touched herself, her narrow eyes on him, greedily.
“You used to love it when I did it to you…’ she pouted at him. But all he could see was a laughing, impudent little face, brown eyes and a cloud of silky brown hair, eyes that promised, a mouth that made him see heaven, his Woman.
When he had ignored the aging wh*re at his feet, she had taken off her bikini top, tossing it on the floor, confident that her small, surgically firmed tits would appeal to him. His lips twisted. The only woman who could make him hard now, the only one he wanted was his wife.
The Boss had pushed her away indifferently and she had landed on the floor in an undignified heap, glaring at him, astonishment and anger warring in her hard face.
“My Woman gives the best blow jobs.’ he had said coldly and rising, he strode to the door, hollering at his men to get her out of his room.
” I do not need to pay for a sl*t like you to pleasure me.”
*
It was true too, Proserpina knew just how to excite him, to stroke and lick and suck in just the places which made him frenzied to come. He had taught her and she had surpassed his teaching. Humming as he took him, she made him feel like a bull in heat. And when she knelt before him, her long wavy brown hair cascading down to her hips, she would look up at him, smiling impishly before kissing the tip of his hard, desperate member. When the tip of her little tongue darted out to lick his precum, it was all that he could do not to grab her head and force his swollen co*k down her throat. She would dimple at him, teasing him…but that was then.
The little tease knew how to take him to the most incredible heights. And he knew that he would never wish to bed another woman.
Now he met his Woman’s eyes and wanted to tame her.
*
Even when her eyes were spitting fire at him, those cinnamon brown eyes molten with hate, he wanted her; wanted to sink himself, balls deep inside her, and feel her milking his shaft with the uncontrollable urgency her body displayed when he was dominating her, ploughing his member into her soft, wet sex. For there was no doubt about who was in charge in bed. She could tease him all she wanted but he called the shots and she submitted to him, willingly.
Unable to help himself, he stepped into her space, crowding her in before she could react.
Groaning, he gripped her hair roughly, tilting her head though she resisted, trying to turn away. He knew he was hurting her but he could not help himself.
“You f*cking belong to Me.” he snarled and brought his mouth down on hers, biting, sucking her lower lip. She tried to resist, tried to turn her face away but when he increased the pressure on her arm, twisting it behind her back, she gave a gasp of pain and he invaded her mouth, forcing her to bend backwards over his imprisoning arm as he held her prisoner and ravaged her mouth, fu*kin g her face crudely.
Damn her, he thought, she tasted like honey and he needed this, had not slept with her for weeks now, nay, months, he thought as his hand roved over her full breasts like a famished man. Pinning her to the wall with his lower body, he moved his hands over her even as he continued to ravage her soft mouth and she whimpered helplessly, trying to fight him. A calloused hand slipped up her thighs, roughly hiking up her dress to feel the damp panties she wore, prim cotton ones and he groaned against her mouth, she was so f*cking delectable. His probing fingers slipped into her creamy wet core…
She went limp and he felt her start to respond.
But Proserpina proved to be wily. With a suddenness that took him by surprise; she shoved him away and moved back jerkily, the picture of distress, putting as much distance as she could between them.
She wanted him, he thought as he stood watching her, his arms hanging limply by his sides, clenching and unclenching his large fists. She was just as on fire for him as he was, he noted again, breathing heavily as she stood, gasping, smoothing her clothes, rubbing her bruised arms, glaring at him, her soft mouth swollen, red and ripe.
The passion between them was like a flame that would never die and both of them acknowledged it silently. He only had to touch her and she would melt. But today, his Woman had an agenda and she had managed to control herself, break away from his imprisoning arms.
And that scared him.
This new Proserpina, beautiful and formidable, could push him away despite being aroused.
She scared him.
*
Proserpina
Lucien stood, looking as much in control as ever, and I wanted to hate him, wanted not to feel this helpless arousal when he fondled me crudely. His savage kiss and the way he had touched me, kneading my tender breasts, his hard mouth ravishing me had made my body long to be possessed by him. In his grey jacket, the one made of the most expensive wool in the world, which I had teased him about, vicuna wool, he stood cold and as much in control as I had ever seen him. It was not fair; I was reduced to a mass of want, the wetness pooling between my thighs from his effortless caress while he was watching me, his eyes more grey than blue, impersonal, indifferent, totally unlike the man who had all but made fierce love to me just now.
“Lucien…” I whispered,’ Please…’ And I looked at him, tears streaming down my cheeks as I said wearily,
“No more lies, please. Just tell me the truth. I think I deserve that…?’
The bitterness in my tone was evident and I knew he could see my unhappiness too but I simply could not put up a facade anymore. Bowing my head, I sobbed, biting my knuckles so that my friends outside would not rush in. I would not put it past Schwartz and Melissa to break open the door and rush to my rescue!
He was beside me, jerking me to him but I slapped him, pounded his chest, letting out my anger. I raked his hard cheek with my nails, revelling in the trickle of blood on his stubbled jaw but he held me, not trying to stop me.
“After all these years,’ I shouted, ‘After I have given birth to our children, after everything, you do THIS to me?’
And I shook off his restraining arms and walked, tottered, to an armchair, sinking onto it, resting my head on the backrest, as I spoke in a low voice, full of remorse,
‘How could you, Lucien? Everything we had, was it all a lie?