Proserpina
Trying to focus on the objects in the room, I tried to calm down, my eyes sweeping over the large room.
I had adorned it with some beautiful pieces of art, each of which had been lovingly selected over time, from the places I had visited or gifts from my friends.
One such was the large painting was the one with my friend, Melissa Lord and her children; it had been done by her former lover, Ethan and it was brilliant.
Melissa’s entire body language showed the desperation she was feeling at that time in her life. Her sons were perched on her lap, the baby with his thumb in his mouth, the older one watching his mother apprehensively.
My eyes riveted on that, I sat sunk in the gloom as Lucien held my hands, while Claude jerkily moved to the bar where he sat on a high bar stool, looking wretched for having interrupted our sleep.
Finally, my breathing having slowed down, and I turned to my husband, the man who had just made passionate love to me.
Meeting his eyes fiercely, I said in a low, insistent tone,
“Lucien Delano, tell me everything. No more hiding things from me. What did Claude mean when he spoke of Ria?’
*
My lover had walked over to the bar and he poured out a drink for himself.
A large one, I noted in alarm.
It was the middle of the night and I knew he was weary and tense but the way he tossed it off made me feel a flutter of panic in my belly. What was going on?
Claude stood, shuffling his feet, uncomfortable.
Lucien came back and settled down, facing me. He was astute enough to know that I would have reacted angrily if he had tried to take me in his arms. His face was lined and weary as he said curtly,
“Claude, sit down, son.’
The young man immediately sank into one of the armchairs, looking stiff and uneasy. He was obviously regretting having come here at this time of night. I glanced at the wall clock. It was past three in the morning. We had just dozed off after our last bout of passionate lovemaking. I knew that the smell of Lucien’s body was still on my skin, his thick seed still within me.
Gravely, I met Lucien’s eyes over the whiskey tumbler as he drained it in one swallow.
“Lucien Delano.’ I said icily,’ I am waiting.’
He grunted his cold grey-blue eyes, which had been hot with passion just a while ago, studying me carefully. Then he ran a large hand over his face and said,
‘Woman, I did not want to worry you further,’ and then he raised a large commanding hand to silence me as I half-rose, a sharp retort on my lips, and he bellowed,
“Sit the f*ck down, Woman!’
Glaring at him, I sank back nevertheless, giving in to the authoritative note in his voice. I hugged the robe to my body protectively, aware of the flash in his eyes as he noted my gesture.
‘Our daughter wanted to go to the place where Paddy’s friend lives. She wanted to meet him and question him, ask about Paddy’s searches. A woman’s touch helps, sometimes.’
I rolled my eyes at him, preparing to challenge him on that as I all but demanded why he had sent our daughter there; but the angry rumbling sound coming from his chest made me remain seated.
He drew in a deep breath, and his eyes were on me, keen and thoughtful as he went on gruffly,
‘She found the man alright but someone had already got to him; he had been murdered, brutally.’
I sat up, a hand going to my belly as my eyes widened in horror.
A wave of darkness swept before my eyes as I moaned.
*
Ria
Philippe lay on his side of the bed, willing his manhood to calm down. Not all the thoughts of work, of the danger they were in, could slow down the pace of his heart, which was beating faster as he inhaled the fragrance of the girl who lay beside him, on her corner of the bed, breathing softly.
That f*cking strawberry fragrance she had loved, from the time she had been a six-year-old, all blonde curls and wearing a big grin.
*
All his life, it seemed, he had watched her, obeyed her commands and loved her secretly. Now, finally, he was beside her; they were lying so close to each other on the narrow bed, if he turned, his body would be on hers. He groaned inwardly.
“F*ck, f*ck it all.’ he needed someone to release this unbearable tension within him; his balls ached, and his c*ck was ramrod stiff. if he did not control himself, he would be jerking off here, on the bed, automatically.
Sweet f*ck. There was no way he could leave her and go to the bathroom either to fist him. She was in danger and though he knew his men, both of them, were prowling about, sleeplessly, till reinforcements arrived at the crack of dawn, he could not sleep. His body was too wired up.
He refused to turn and look at her, for he knew that it would be his ruin; the blonde hair, the curvy figure, it would all be his undoing.
Swearing vehemently, he tried to get a few hours’ sleep.
*
Beside him, Ria dimpled silently. Although her entire being longed to turn over and hold him in her arms, succumb to her longing, her desires she knew she would not. Pappa’s daughter would not be seen giving up her ice-cold front, she told herself.
She sighed and gradually drifted off to sleep…
*
Sometime during the night, the dream began.
She had been running, running away because of someone chasing her. In the dream, her Mumma’s voice came to her, urgent, desperate, urging her to flee, ‘Ria, run, pumpkin.’
The murdered man. His bloody face, the dark mouth yawning open…
She came awake, sobbing and it was to find herself safe and protected, with Philippe’s large arms around her, cuddling her as she whimpered.
“Hey Princess,’ he growled soothingly, holding her dwarfed in his arms as she cried, not knowing why at first, clutching his large, muscular arms, shivering uncontrollably.
She buried her head in Philippe’s familiar chest, inhaling the fragrance of his body, woody, male…
Philippe held her in his arms, cradling the luscious body to his chest, full breasts pressing into his chest urgently. He could swear that the could feel her hard, pointy nipples as they dug into his chest. he moved his hand and felt the curve of her hips and he swallowed an oath.
How would she feel under his heavy body if he mounted her and rode her, holding her arms pinned to her sides, his mouth on hers, teased the devil in his mind and he sighed a tortured sigh.
It was his imagination, of course, for she was in layers of clothes but what was to stop a man from fantasising?
“The f*ck,’ he thought in agitation as his manhood stiffened, threatening to break out of his trousers. he shifted to hide his bulge as best as he could, from the girl-woman in his arms.
‘If this goes on, I shall not be able to stop myself from f*cking her hard.’, he thought grimly, breathing hard to control his emotions.
*
But there was more to come.
Ria shuddered once more and went back to sleep, feeling safe and protected.
She reached up to nuzzle his unshaven jaw and said in a sleepy murmur, a small smile on her lovely face, the tendrils of golden hair tickling his lips as she murmured,
‘I love you, Philippe. My Dark Knight.’ And then with a sigh, she was snoring softly, secure in his arms.
Philippe lay awake, stiff and unmoving, unwilling to disturb her.
‘I love you too, Princess.’ he thought with a small smile, gently kissing the blonde head.
*