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Terror

Proserpina

Lucien raised his head. His face was glazed with want and I knew that if we had not been in the Hall, I would have been beneath him on the floor, being thoroughly ravished by this man.

I smiled, teasing him and licked my lips, an action that never failed to rouse him.

‘I think I would like to taste you,’ I whispered, pulling his head down so that he was the only one who heard me.

He took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist, making me shiver with longing. Then pulling me close, he said in a hoarse whisper,

‘Behave yourself, woman.’

I dimpled at him and felt his eyes, those eyes that always seemed cold and distant, glow with hunger. He pulled me to him, making me aware of his strength, his desire which he was controlling with an iron hand. Gently, tenderly, I stroked his face with the stitches and the bruises. This was my lover, my fighter, my Mafia Don.

Lucien bent to kiss me again, a low rumble in his chest as he claimed me.

***

I had forgotten for a moment that we wer
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