Owning the Mafia Don

Lucien

His first lover had been one of his mother’s friends. Another wh*re like her, a woman who found it thrilling to tease a young teenager. He had been all of thirteen when she had finally taken him to bed, laughing gaily as she taught him how to pleasure a woman.

His eyes wandered to the edge of the lawn. He noticed the gardeners’ boy Philippe, standing, a grin on his dark face. Young Philippe, his mop of dark curls bobbing as he shook his head to something Ria and Piers had said.

Little Claude, fists waving, small plump face pink with exertion, was trying to keep up with his siblings, screaming frantically.

Philippe turned and Lucien saw a flash of something in his face, a hardness that was obscured by the affection in his eyes as they rested on the Delano twins. He seemed to be keeping an eye on the twins and Lucien frowned. The boy would be a good addition to his group someday in the future, he thought, reflectively scratching his chest. He had a strong streak of loyalty and was quick in reacting. A little training would help and he could be inducted.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Making a mental note to get to the gardener through one of his aides, possibly Beston, he sipped from the tumbler of whiskey he was holding in one hand.

He must have been around that boy’s age when he first discovered women and their bodies and how they could please a man. And after that, he had been an unstoppable, insatiable beast.

Till His Woman had made him a man.

He rubbed his hairy chest absently. As always when he was alone and working in his study, his white shirt was open to the waist, the dark jacket tossed carelessly on an armchair.

Lucien looked on unseeingly.

Now he turned as the phone on his desk pinged. One of them, he had an array on his large walnut desk.

Frowning, he studied the message.

His frown deepened as he read.

The message was from Tristan Lord.

It was a plea for help.

He needed help in locating the woman he loved. She had apparently gone missing.

He looked up from reading the message as the door to his study opened after a perfunctory knock. His wife glided in, her large breasts bouncing slightly. As always, she had on a blouse, a pale pink one that revealed her curves suggestively and a pretty ethnic Indian skirt that swirled and floated about her. She had a small smile on her face and she turned a delicate pink as she caught his eyes lustfully feasting on her body.

“Lucien!’ she murmured in mock frustration as she noticed his gaze.

‘Don’t you ever think of anything else?’ she murmured.

Coming closer, she rested her small hands on his shirt and gently tugged at his flat nipple with her teeth, naughtily. He grunted and pulled her to his hard length, crushing her mouth, and making her aware of his instantaneous reaction to her teasing, grinding his hips against her soft belly.

He knew that she would be back to her routine, her Yoga in a few weeks. All the softness of her stomach would melt away soon enough.

When he raised his head, his eyes feasted on her soft, swollen mouth, her lips that had been suitably punished.

Blushing fiercely, she pushed at his chest and then noticed the phone on his desk. She glanced down and asked,

“Who is that?’

Lucien looked at his phone.

***

Tristan Lord had sent him a photograph as an attachment, the picture of his wife.

A lovely blonde woman with green eyes that shone with love, she was beautiful. Proserpina snuggled up to her husband and asked again, curiously,

“Lucien?’

He smiled with a cruel tug of his harsh mouth.

‘Another woman in my life may be, eh?’

But his eyes were glinting hungrily as they devoured her visually. She had that fragrance of vanilla in her hair and that unique smell of her body and the lotion she used. It made him get a hard on, just inhaling it.

She shook her head and standing on tiptoe, she bit his lip hard, the lower one.

“If you even so much as dare to Think of another woman, Lucien Delano,’ she said, dimpling, “I will kill you. ‘

He threw back his head and roared with laughter as he sank onto his large leather armchair

Then, pulling her onto his lap, he tossed his phone onto the table beside him as he bent to nuzzle her peaked nipples. Her sheer pink blouse lovingly outlined the dark-tinted peaks and she cried out in longing, throwing her head back. Snarling, he released her breasts, then he sucked her, biting her soft mounds and she whimpered, squirming on his lap unable to stop herself. The effect was to only make him grow harder.

He stopped and spoke hoarsely, his breath hot against her mouth as he growled,

“That is the wife of Tristan Lord. The woman has gone missing.’

Proserpina stiffened. Buttoning her blouse primly, she sat up straight. She knew that Lord had been instrumental in helping to save her.

She took Lucien’s face in her hands and kissed his mouth gently, lovingly, as she murmured,

‘Find her then, please, ‘

He grunted and began to unbutton her blouse again, turned on by the feel of the soft globes pressing into his chest. But she stopped him, panting.

“I am fixing lunch today.’ She swatted his roving hand and made to stand up. But he grabbed her again . Sinking onto his lap again, she went on.

Her voice had altered.

“Lucien. I…”

He tensed. She was going to ask for something he did not like; this was the reason for her hesitation.

“What is it?” he growled, his eyes narrowing, the hands anchoring her on his lap tightening just so.

She flushed, dropping her eyes and then said softly,

“Brian has arranged for a …counsellor…” He nodded although he wanted to shout, interfering Brian.

‘Go on,’ he said as he guessed that there was more to it.

‘Rachel is coming to stay for a while…if you do not mind…?’ she looked at him imploringly.

He swore. He disliked the woman. She was a lesbian and a devoted, protective friend of Proserpina’s. In fact, she had been responsible for helping Proserpina to get away from him the first time, helping her to stay in Bhutan. But knowing how much his wife adored her friends, he grunted reluctantly.

“Yes…’

She squealed and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him happily. He responded, thrusting his tongue into her mouth dominantly, roughly fondling her breasts, a hand fixed in her hair.

After a few minutes, she moved away, pushing his chest and then, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She was breathing heavily and she could see the outline of his hard shaft.

“Till tonight,’ she gurgled as she gently stroked his member and he rumbled in passion, clutching her arms.

‘Tease.’ he growled hoarsely,’ Witch.’

But she dimpled disarmingly and made it out of his arms.

Then sliding down, she said, ‘I shall be going for my first appointment with the counsellor this afternoon.’

“Beston shall accompany you with a couple of the boys. And take your Amazon with you.’ he said, his grey eyes never leaving her face.

She smiled.

He insisted on calling Camille an Amazon.

She blew him a kiss and straightening her clothes, she prepared to leave. Lucien watched her hungrily. He would have loved to take her there, right there, but she needed time.

Adding as she went out, her large hips swinging saucily,

‘Don’t be late for lunch. I’m cooking. I’m making something special for my lover.’

She dimpled over her shoulder, her mahogany tresses gleaming as they caught the light.

And with that, she sashayed out of the room, leaving him with a shaft as hard as a rock. He shook his head.

Damn, the woman could turn him on in an instant. He was like an infatuated teenager before her, unable to think of anything but f*cking her crazy.

He was almost two decades older than her and she was just getting to her prime. He scowled. But he would kill any man who dared to look at her.

With that thought, he picked up the phone and began to put out feelers to find out about Tristan Lord’s lover.