Proserpina

Lucien was close enough for me to make out the fine lines around his eyes and the flecks of grey in his pale blue eyes and I shrank back as far as I could. He pressed into me, and there was a tense silence as he stood still, warring with his body that wanted me as I felt the hardness of his manhood.

Then, with something like a superhuman effort, he raised his head and said in a soft, dangerous voice, his eyes like chips of granite,

'Little wh*re. Do you want to ...