Francisco's steady stride towards the mansion drew the attention of the household staff. The sight of the bloodstain on his shirt elicited concern, and their worried inquiries rang out.
"Master, you are bleeding?"
"We need to call Ms. Diana."
However, Francisco, with a gesture of his hand, dismissed the suggestion. "It's okay now."
"Did she not come home?"
"No, master."
"Where is Max?"
"He has not returned home yet."
A sense of tension lingered in the air as the household awaited their master's next move. Francisco, seemingly unperturbed, took a deep breath and proceeded towards the staircase. However, his solitude was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Emily, who had materialized on the second floor.
Emily's arched brows showed her concern as she spotted the bloodstain on Francisco's shirt. With a worried expression, she dashed towards him, inquiring urgently, "Francisco, what happened to you? Who hurt you?"
Francisco's dismissal of Emily was as cold as the air that hung heavy in the mansion. In his composed manner, he questioned her presence with a directness that left no room for ambiguity.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone devoid of warmth.
"Don't you have a show tomorrow?"
Emily, seeking solace in the expectation of a warm welcome, presented a lamentable expression.
"I have taken two days off to spend some time with you."
Her response, however, only met further indifference.
Francisco tilted his head, a subtle indication of his disapproval. His next words cut through the tension like a knife.
"Did I say for you to do it? You are acting like my lover."
Emily, visibly uncomfortable, lowered her gaze. Francisco's words had become a public embarrassment, delivered in front of the mansion's maids. The rejection stung, leaving Emily in a vulnerable position.
"Don't be a headache," Francisco continued, his dismissal clear. "Just get out of my sight."
Without further acknowledgment, Francisco walked away, ascending the staircase and disappearing into his room. Emily, left standing in the wake of his cold rejection, clutched the edge of her seductive nightie.
She looked up at his closed door with determination in her eyes. The rejection only fueled her determination rather than discouraging her.
I can't give up, Francisco.
She whispered to herself.
Francisco's mind was still processing the recent events as he threw his coat onto the bed and sank into the couch. The attack on Hazel's house lingered in his thoughts, a rare occurrence where he had missed his prey, all because he chose to save a woman. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, the smoke weaving patterns in the air as he contemplated the events.
His contemplation was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.
With a nonchalant response, Francisco uttered, "Come," knowing well that the door would only yield to his voice and a secret code.
As the door swung open, Emily stood on the threshold, clutching a bowl and towel. Her gaze met Francisco, who was now shirtless and sitting on the couch.
"What do you want?" he questioned, his tone reflecting a mixture of annoyance and indifference.
"I thought you needed to clean yourself, so I brought hot water and a towel," Emily replied, her voice holding a hint of consideration.
"Maid can do it," Francisco retorted, dismissing her offer.
Emily, with a light smile, challenged his assertion. "Francisco, I've been providing you with service for over a year. I can handle this, can't I?"
After hearing that, Francisco did not say anything. Emily understood his silence was his approval, so without wasting time she went inside, the door locked again.
Emily placed the bowl on the floor and dipped the towel into it. Emily, draped in an ash-colored silk nightie that accentuated her curves, worked with an air of practiced seduction. The exposed cleavage and the calculated allure of her demeanor were meant to captivate, yet Francisco found his thoughts drifting elsewhere.
As Emily leaned over him, the strap of her nightie slipped down, revealing a tempting glimpse. As she gently rubbed his abdomen with the hot towel, Francisco's mind, surprisingly, wandered to Hazel.
Hazel's image invaded his mind —t he way she had sat in a similar position just moments ago, treating his wound with care and expertise.
Hazel's face, her features etched in his memory, overshadowed the present scene. Her puffy lips, the perfect curve of her breasts, the slender waist, and the allure of her long legs all flashed before his closed eyes.
A sudden realization hit Francisco as he felt a stirring in his senses.
His bulging desire, ignited by thoughts of Hazel, disrupted the moment with Emily. The unexpected surge of conflicting emotions made him confront the undeniable truth — he wanted Hazel.
Hazel, I want to hold you in my palm.
Francisco's eyes flickered open, and a moment of disorientation swept over him. The soft sensation on his bulge had his immediate attention. As he focused, he realized it was Emily, still in the act of cleaning his body.
Driven by an unexpected surge of emotions and a vivid image of Hazel in his mind, Francisco clasped Emily's face with a firm grip. The intensity in his gaze was potent, but his thoughts were elsewhere — in Hazel’s.
Emily, sensing the change in the atmosphere, responded with her signature seductive allure. Her siren eyes, always ready to enchant, met Francisco's gaze. Yet, for Francisco, the enchantment wasn't working as intended. He felt as though he was sinking into a drug, but not the one Emily typically cast.
It was Hazel.
In a moment that mirrored his interaction with Hazel, Francisco found himself rubbing Emily's lips, just as he had done with Hazel.
Emily, caught up in the allure of the moment, closed her eyes, her response seemingly genuine as she yearned for his touch.
Francisco, still wrestling with the vivid memories of Hazel, made a deliberate move. His thumb found its way into Emily's mouth, a gesture eerily reminiscent of what had transpired with Hazel. Emily, her eyes now slightly cracked open, fixated on Francisco's blue gaze. Her hands delicately cradled his, and she continued to suck his thumb with the intensity that she was sucking his bulge.
Francisco's eyebrows arched in a calculated manner as he withdrew his thumb, the fleeting moment of desire momentarily quelled. His gaze refocused, and the woman before him was no longer a mirage of Hazel.
In the ensuing silence, Emily took a bold step forward. With a gentle touch, she placed her palm on his bulge, her words laced with a seductive invitation.
"Can I serve you tonight?" Her eyes bore a mixture of hope and seduction.
However, Francisco's response was measured and calculated, his thoughts masked behind the impenetrable facade he wore so effortlessly.
Eventually, he rose from the couch, prompting a flicker of uncertainty on Emily's face.
However, her disappointment was short-lived as Francisco reached for a condom. A glimmer of satisfaction crossed Emily's face as she bit her lower lip, witnessing a potential victory in her pursuit.
She stood up and approached him, embracing him from behind, her soft bosom pressed against his back.
In a hushed tone, she spoke with calculated assurance, "I know you don't like to be romantic, and I don't need you to be. Just relax."
As Emily spoke, she turned Francisco to face her, yet his stoic expression remained unchanged. Unfazed, she took the condom and proceeded to pull down her nightie, revealing her naked form before him.
Despite her boldness, Francisco's countenance offered no indication of surprise or desire.
Emily swallowed nervously, taking a deep breath to compose herself. She lightly pushed him onto the bed, her eyes locked onto his. A mix of anticipation and uncertainty filled the air.
"You are hurt. Let me take the lead," she offered, her voice a delicate balance between confidence and vulnerability.
Francisco, without a word, complied, reclining on the bed with his hands behind his head.
Emily, her anticipation building, began to undress him further. As she exposed his bulge before her, the thought of whether to take the lead or calm herself down raced through her mind.
The sight before her left her heart pounding, and a surge of arousal coursed through her.
Ultimately, she chose the former.
As Emily tore the condom packet and expertly put it, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursed through her veins. She observed Francisco with his eyes closed, his head resting on his palm.
Emily bit her lips, a shy smile playing on them as she observed him. With a cautious approach, Emily moved up to his bulge, her uncertainty palpable. As she touched the top, she hesitated, unsure if she could fully accommodate him.
Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, Emily slowly let him inside her. The sensations were a cocktail of pleasure and apprehension. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked at Francisco.
His stern expression remained unchanged; his eyes were still closed.
Emily began to move her waist and hips, feeling a connection that transcended the physical act. Tilted her head, she gazed at the man before her, silently expressing her love.
Francisco, I love you.
I can give my life for you.
I'm used to your expressionless intimacy.
But still, I want more.
Check out the chat story name- mafia's Possession 2.
