Proserpina

That night, Lucien came up to bed late. I had already dozed off, waiting for him. When he slipped into the bed and pulled my body to his, I murmured sleepily and pressed my body into his. Like spoons, I giggled sleepily. He grunted, his hand moving to cup my breasts possessively.

After a while, he rasped,

“I do not want that woman, Sophie, in my house again.’ 

I stiffened.

“What’s wrong, Lucien?’ I asked. Suddenly awake. ‘What? Has ...