Chapter 81. Torturing the Mafia Don

Lucien

Lucien's first thought was that it was one of the children, but as he walked forward, he saw that the dainty little figure perched on the stool was that of the woman who haunted him.

His wife. Proserpina.

The woman he lusted for every night as he fisted himself with his large hands, grunting with desire for the one woman he wanted, the only woman he needed.

The woman he had impregnated a second time, in a night of anger and passion, an act that left him sleepless with remorse.

She was too engrossed in her tub of chocolate ice cream, and since she sat directly under the large lamp, she had not made out that he was standing in the shadows inside the door, drinking in the sight of her abandoned enjoyment as she licked the spoon enthusiastically.

Sensuously.

Her small tongue flicked in and out, massaging the spot, he thought, his co*ck rearing as he watched, intently.

It made him think of how she had mastered the ar