Lucien
He sat, watching her while his member hardened painfully.
The F*CK!, he thought, as he watched her, her glossy hair in a dark sheath behind her, reaching her wide hips, the full breasts straining under the shirt which was beyond repair. He vaguely remembered that she had laughed as she cuddled up to him, before the birth of their youngest son, showing him the shirt and telling him how their younger sons had bought it for her. He had been stroking her breast absently, a hand pillowing his head as he listened to her, enjoying a private moment with her, without the entire brood of children he had fathered surrounding his Woman.
And he had enjoyed her pleasure as she displayed the apples of all things, on the pink maternity shirt.
But all those thoughts flew out of his mind as he watched, unable to take his eyes off her luscious body. He had not had her under him for too long; now he was like a bull in heat and he knew that they would not be leaving the room for some time now. Not until he had claimed her again for himself. Thoroughly. The thought made his balls harden painfully and he shifted. Slowly, leisurely, he began to unbutton his shirt, never taking his eyes off her, his legs spread apart as he stood, like a king surveying his domain.
But as always, she surprised him with her next move.
Proserpina
As I stared at him, he repeated, commandingly, his voice thick with passion as he perched on the table, his eyes on me, a hand touching his cheek which was bleeding slightly from my attack.
“Get over here, woman, take off your f*cking clothes and let me see those big tits. F*ck me. Now.’
I stared at him, my face burning but strangely turned on by his dominating order, the vulgar command.
But I held out. Gripping the edges of my torn shirt, I crossed my arms over my ample chest and said, controlling my breathing with an effort, as I spoke softly, looking into his eyes,
‘And if I do?’
*
Schwartz
She sat in the chair, regal and straight-backed, her obsidian black eyes fixed on the screen of her tablet as she pulled out some files and information, she had wanted him to see.
“Here,’ she said as she handed it over. Schwartz placed his whiskey tumbler on the surface of the small polished side table at his elbow. They were in his study, a smaller room as compared to the Boss’s cavernous one. This room was modest in size and the three walls lined with well-thumbed books gave away Schwartz’s love of reading. The morning sunlight filtered in through the curtains and the room had a cheerful if not so lived-in look. Naturally, it did not look lived in as the Master of the house was very rarely at home; he spent the major part of his days at the Delano mansion.
His brows drew together as he studied the first page.
‘We have already heard about this one…’ he murmured under his breath as he studied the report on Hila, the Israeli mercenary.
She grunted and tipped her chin, indicating that he should go on. Schwartz met her eyes suspiciously; how could she know something that he did not know?
She gave a ghost of a smile and sipped from her tumbler instead, saying nothing.
Aiyana had her friends, her sources, and these days, apart from running her late husband’s sprawling ranch, she was also involved in being a contractor for covert government ops. A person as highly skilled and trained as she had been, could never hope to be retired so completely and she was doing her little bit. And in the process, when she had discovered something that endangered the Delano family and Schwartz, she had not hesitated to decide to warn them.
Schwartz’s eyes narrowed as he studied the screen.
When he raised his head to look at her, his face was ashen. The enormity of the operation being launched by the Monk was beginning to dawn on him now.
“B*stard . The f*cking bas*ard will never give up, will he?’
*
The Players
Lucien smiled. She should have been a chess player he thought and rubbed his cheek which was stinging from her nails.
“Ah, my little wh*re. So you will do business with me?’
She stopped. Looking at him with those solemn brown eyes, which were now molten cinnamon in reproach, as she said,
“Don’t. Don’t use such words. It is disgusting.’ She tossed her head in displeasure and he absorbed the movement, the way her curtain of deep brown hair moved in a wave, enticing him further, making him want to clutch a fistful of her hair and tame her, make her understand who was the Master.
He stood up then, as he growled in a low tone,
‘You belong to me, Woman. You are MINE. Only mine. You can flirt with Schwartz all you want but the only c*ck that gets into that wet, horny pus*y, is going to be mine.’
She stiffened, her body as still as a bow, proud and firm as she met his gaze, her eyes blazing in fury as she replied heatedly,
‘I have never slept with anyone else, ever since I met you, Lucien. And I was eighteen at that time.’
She was breathing hard in indignation and she stared at him, chest heaving as she spoke in a soft voice, while he stood, taking off his jacket, the muscles of his corded chest rippling as he began to take off his shirt.
“Quit talking, woman. And get over here,’ he grunted, his hand stroking his heavy co*k, a massive beast, it’s head thick and proud and purple, the precum at the tip glistening moistly. She dragged her eyes away, licking her lips as she closed her eyes briefly. He had sired her eight children, had taken her to bed a million times, and she still felt like a newlywed virgin when she saw him, exposed as he was now, naked and strong, staring, watching her, through his heavy-lidded eyes, his posture that of an arrogant alpha male, confident of his strength, his power.
*