Lucien
He looked at his wife as she lay before him, her naked body on display for him, the full breasts with the dark nipples, larger now that she was breeding; her soft sex which had been wet, ah, so wet and welcoming to receive him fervidly. The way the muscles of her sweet sex had sucked him greedily.
F*ck, he thought as he placed the washcloth away, she was gorgeous and he bent over her again, to take her soft mouth, to stamp his authority on her. She raised her head sleepily and kissed him back, her lovely brown eyes flickering open as she reached to hold his head, to thread her fingers through his hair as she returned the kiss, their tongues duelling.
Lucien Delano felt his c*ck rise again and with a groan, he lay beside her, turning her body to his gently. She smiled sleepily, tracing her hand on his jaw and said softly, her eyes opening wider,
‘Lucien, please…’ At the same time, her small hand stilled his movements by resting on his broad, hirsute chest.
He raised himself on an elbow. The Boss knew from experience that whatever she was about to ask for was not something he would like.
His eyes settled on her face, studying the unspoken plea in them. It was going to be something he disliked, he deduced.
Proserpina
The steely grey-blue gaze rested on my face and I shivered slightly. Lucien carried an air of violence, of savagery which he held in check around himself. it was like entering a force field of violence when one stepped to him, like a person knowing that he was about to get sucked up into a whirlwind of brutality if one overstepped the line.
When we were in bed and mating, as he referred to our lovemaking despite my protests, it was wonderful to surrender to the alpha who treated me alternately like a cheap wh*re, slapping my behind with his large, calloused palms while I moaned, pinching and squeezing my breasts till I ached, and using coarse words, and at other times, behaving as though I was l a thing made of glass, gently. like one handles a crystal goblet.
But when I needed to ask him for something important, he always knew when it was coming and the change in his body language was so drastic, it sometimes scared me.
Now I returned the cold grey gaze, icy and wary and licked my lips as I pressed my belly against his muscular body. the smallest of changes in his expression heartened me. The knowledge that our child was in my womb, always softened him.
Licking my lips, I went on,
“Lucien…please…don’t …’ And then, raising myself on my elbows, pulling the sheet over my exposed breasts, I said, firmly now,
‘Don’t blame Claude…for…’
Lucien’s face darkened.
A shutter seemed to come down as he rose to his feet in one fluid movement. He turned away and said,
‘The boy is an idiot and needs to be told where to get off Woman.’ he reached for his bathrobe and I knew he was shutting me out, but I was not going to have that!
Clumsily, awkward with my growing belly, I scrambled out of the bed and gripped his arm, forcing him to turn to me, still with the sheet trailing around my body, clutching it with a small hand.
“Lucien,’ I whispered and moved to stand before him, pressing myself to his hard, resistant frame.
I was not about to let him shut me out; this thing that existed between my son and Lucien, had to be sorted out and since neither of them would do it, the ball was in my court, to use a trite expression.
Taking his face in my hands, I met his eyes as I said softly, ‘That night happened a long while ago…don’t punish Claude for …’
Savagely, with an expression that tore into me, the tortured look on his face, he snarled,
‘Woman, how can YOU of all people say that?’
Incredulity mixed with fury as he stared at me, the eyes narrowed, breathing heavily.
I refused to be daunted.
A long silence ensued as we stared at each other.
I clutched his open robe with one hand, the other precariously holding the sheet to cover my nakedness.
Not that Lucien would have noticed at the moment He was breathing harshly and he reached out to grip my upper arms, his large, calloused fingers digging, hurting my soft flesh. But I refused to flinch.
Only the rasping sound of Lucien’s laboured breathing and my own, the roaring in my ears as I stared into the eyes of the man who was my lover, my husband and yes, the one who had raped and sodomised me so barbarically that night…
We stood, both of us, breathing heavily, our bodies pressed to each other.
And then, his head on my hair, he said in a hoarse voice,
‘Every time I see him, I think of…’
I knew what I had to do. I took his face between his hands. All the pain, all the self-disgust I had felt that night, came flooding back. But I had managed to move ahead.
As though watching a reel from a movie made on another person’s life, I stood aside in my head, recalling what had happened that terrible night.
***
That fateful night when I was barely only twenty years of age, but already the mother of his twins, who were illegitimate at the time. In his typical arrogant fashion of those days, Lucien Delano had dragged me to the Club, a totally clueless me.
There, he had made a dramatic declaration before the packed crowd at his club, declaring that I was the mother of his children and he was going to marry me. I had felt the hostility the mockery and the pity as the eyes of everyone in the room settled on me, for I was naive and still gauche.
My bewilderment, for he had never said a word to me. Instead, he had sprung a surprise for me, all right!
To say I had been shocked was an understatement.
I still remembered feeling alone, lost and totally humiliated.
And then, a couple of old acquaintances of mine, young men who I had barely exchanged more than a few sentences with, had begun to talk to me, making me feel like a human in that crowd of unfriendly faces.
I had smiled and relaxed in their company but Lucien, years older than me and insanely jealous, had watched, brooding and furious. Later, I had been lured to the Red Room, the room where the BDSM activities in his club took place. Before I could run away, the two young men had emerged; it and all been an elaborate plan to molest me.
Unfortunately for them, all they managed to do was to have Lucien walk in and beat them up, after which he had turned his rage on me.
That day I had seen a side of my lover which I had never seen before. And never saw again.
All night long, he had used my poor body brutally. But in the morning, as we went to the Courts to be legally made Man and Wife, he had seemed contrite, just a little.
*
The pain and the sorrow had stayed with me for years; but after I had had to get a psychologist to help following my kidnapping, I had managed to see the terrible incident as something that was in the past.
Something that no longer had the power to hurt m
I had moved on, I was still deeply in love with this man, and had given birth to three more of his children after that.
Yet, he had continued to blame himself incessantly.
I raised myself on tiptoe and kissed him, the hard, unrelenting mouth. His hands stayed by his side, stiffly and I reached to place his large hands on my midriff.
There was a thawing as he felt the hard mound of my belly against his stiff body. His shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly
“Woman…’ he growled, his face against my cheek, his breath hot on my neck.
‘Every time I see him…’ he repeated, his voice rough with emotion.
I pulled his head around and kissed his face, the eyes, the mouth, the stubbled jaw.
‘Don’t punish him, Lucien…’ I begged.’ Don’t please…’
He grunted after a long while and then, ever so tenderly, he scooped me into his arms.
Carrying me to the bed, he kissed me, slowly, every inch of my body.
“Don’t ever leave me, Woman,’ he said in a hoarse whisper, as he entered me so gently, I sobbed out in joy. It was so loving, so beautiful that I cried out as I rocked my hips, feeling the blinding orgasm flood through me, the trembling, and the tingling that carried down to the tips of my fingers and toes.
“I love you, Lucien Delano,’ I said, laughing as I settled back.
He groaned as he rode me to his climax, shuddering, and grunting hoarsely as he lowered his head to capture my nipple between his teeth.
And then finally, we slept, exhausted and sated, in each other’s arms as the early light of dawn flooded the room.
*