Page 16 of The Butcher
“This will be your first time,” he murmured, his tone quieter now but no less certain. “I’ll take my time with you, be as soft as I can, sweet Lucia.”There was a tightness in his words, something primal that made my pulse spike.
His grip tightened at my hip as his breath dragged across my neck, slower now, heavier.
“And when I’m done,” he continued, his voice closer to something unrestrained, “the sheets will be wet and tinged pink from your virginity and the cum from our orgasms. There won’t be any question about who you belong to.”
My breath caught again, sharper this time, and he felt it. I knew he did from the way his body pressed more firmly into mine. I felt his erection throb against me as his arousal grew.
“You’re mine now,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at me again, his gaze dark and focused. “No one else touches you. No one else gets near you. I’ll kill them if they do.” His voice was hard and unyielding, and there was no doubt he told the truth. “I’ll slit their throats and make you watch if any man even looks at you too long. Then I’ll fuck you on their corpses so you never forget who owns this tight little pussy.” His fingers flexed around my throat, not choking but promising how easily he could. “Say it. Tell me you understand who you belong to now.”
Everything else fell away completely. The room,all the expectations that had been ingrained in me, and all the fears and worries that had plagued me. All of it was gone in an instant until all I could feel, see, and touch was him. Alexei. My husband.
“I’m yours.” That was the only thing I could say.
I focused on the way he touched me, on the consuming way he looked at me, and how there was no distance left between us anymore—and not just in the literal sense.
“Yeah, you fucking are.” His fingers dug into me more now, not enough to hurt but enough to hold, enough to keep me exactly where he wanted me.
And whatever came next… there was no walking away from it.
Chapter Nine
Lucia
Alexei pulled me closer again, leaving no space for anything but him.
His hand stayed locked around my throat, squeezing, owning every breath I took as he walked me until the backs of my thighs hit the massive bed. The room spun for a second, all silk and shadows and the heavy scent of him—gun oil, expensive cologne, and raw, male hunger.
He didn’t speak at first. He simply looked at me like I was the only thing left in his world, the Italian mafia princess he’d stolen from a rival family now his entire universe.
“Take the dress off,” he ordered when he stepped back, voice low and rough like gravel, or maybe broken glass because it felt sharp across my skin. “Slowly. I want to watch my wife unwrap herself for me.”
My fingers trembled as I reached for the hidden zipper at my side. The heavy white silk slid down my body and pooled at my feet like spilled cream, leaving me in nothing but a tiny white lace thong and the diamond choker he’d fastened around my neck during the ceremony.
His eyes dragged over every inch of bare skin, dark and predatory, but there was something deeper in them now, something akin to obsession, pure and unfiltered and all for me.
“Fuck,” he growled, the word almost reverent. “Look at you. My perfect little Italian princess. All that innocence wrapped up for me to ruin.”
He stepped in close again, one big hand cupping my breast, thumb dragging roughly over my nipple until it ached. His other hand went back to my throat, sliding up and tilting my chin up so I had to meet his stare.
“You’re shaking,” he said almost softly, his Russian accent thickening with need before morphing to possessive dominance. “Good. I want you to feel every second of this. I want you to be scared. I want you wet. But most of all,” he murmured, his accent intensifying more as hestepped closer to me, “I want you to know you’re mine now and only mine. No other man will ever touch what belongs to The Butcher.”
He shoved me back onto the bed before I could respond. The mattress dipped under his weight as he followed, knees bracketing my hips, caging me in completely. His suit jacket was already gone, tie loosened, shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing the ink and scars that marked him as a leader of the Russian Bratva. The sight of all that brutal power looming over me made my pussy clench so hard it hurt, even as nerves twisted in my stomach.
Alexei hooked two fingers into the front of my thong, looked me in the eye for only a second while he smirked, and ripped it clean off my body. Pinning me with his eyes, he raised the ruined lace to his nose and inhaled deeply. A groan ripped from between his lips. “Gonna hang on to these, keep them in my pocket and pull them out so I can smell you any fucking time I want.”
He set them aside, then spread my thighs wide with his palms, staring down at my bare pussy that was soaking wet and getting more drenched by the second.
“Already dripping for your husband,” he murmured, voice thick with dark satisfaction. “Sucha tight, untouched, little virgin. I’m going to be the only man who ever knows how this feels.” He shifted his body down so his face was between my thighs then dragged his tongue through my folds in one long, filthy stroke.
He groaned like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. My back arched off the bed with a broken cry when he licked me again, harder, sucking my clit into his mouth and flicking it with the tip of his tongue until my thighs started to shake around his head. The pleasure built fast, sharp and overwhelming, but underneath it was the nervous flutter of knowing what came next… my first time with a man who would never, ever, let me go.
“Alexei,” I gasped, fingers fisting in his hair.
He lifted his head just long enough to growl against my pussy, eyes locked on mine with that possessive fire. “You don’t come until I’m inside you. I want your first orgasm on my cock, wife. Understand?” Then he buried his face between my legs again, tongue fucking into me while his thumb circled my clit with ruthless precision.
I was sobbing as I nodded, unable to speak. My hips ground against his mouth on their own. I could have gotten off from this alone and was so close to doing just that when he suddenly pulled back.
He rose up on his knees stripping his shirt and tie off with violent efficiency, his cock springing free and bobbing against his abs when he peeled his dress pants down his thighs. It was thick, heavy, and veined, the head already slick with his arousal and flushed dark. It looked obscene, far too big to fit inside me, yet I knew it would. The sight of it made my stomach tighten with equal parts fear and raw, aching need.
