He had been told very often about his almost insatiable libido.

What else can you expect from the son of a slutty whore, he had laughed, disparagingly.

But with this woman, Lucien wanted to stay, buried to the hilt in her. No one had managed to make him such a slave to his desire before. And he hated himself, hated her for her power, albeit unconscious, over him.

As he accepted the congratulations of his friend, James Schwartz, his mind was still on the previous night’s events.

Proserpina Martinez. With her youthful body and lush softness, her masses of mahogany hair and those soft, plump lips, warm brown eyes which...