Page 23 of The Butcher
And I made sure I let it show on my face. I had no problem slitting his throat for even looking at Lucia.
“She’s not for you,” I said, my voice low and even, carrying enough weight that he took a step back.
He straightened, trying to recover, trying to make it look like nothing had happened. “Mi scusi. Stavo solo parlando con lei,” he said, but the arrogance that had just surrounded him was already gone, replaced by something less certain.I'm sorry. I was only speaking with her.
I stepped closer, closing the remaining space until he had no choice but to lean back slightly. That was when I reached out, my hand closing around histhroat, firm enough that he felt it, light enough that I didn’t need force to make the point.
“Hai finito di parlare,” I said quietly, my thumb pressing just enough against his throat to feel his pulse jump. “Sei venuto a mettere le mani su qualcosa che non è tuo. Adesso ti giri e te ne vai prima che peggiori le cose.”You’re done talking. You came over here, putting your hands on something that isn’t yours. Now, you turn around and walk away before you make things worse.
His breath caught, and I felt the shift in him, the moment confidence gave way to something tighter, sharper because he knew I’d snap his neck right here in front of everyone and not think anything of it.
“Touch my wife again and I’ll cut your hands off and feed them to you. She’s mine. Her body, her attention, her everything belongs to The Butcher. Breathe in her direction again and you die.” I leaned in even closer so that only he heard me, my voice dropping lower as I spoke. “Leave before I change my mind.”
The color drained from his face as he realized how bad this situation could turn for him.
“I’m going to let go now,” I continued, my tone steady, controlled. “You’re going to step back, apologize,and leave this square without looking at her again.”
He nodded immediately. I held him there for another second, just long enough for the understanding to sink in deeper than the words themselves, before releasing him and stepping back.
He didn’t hesitate. “Chiedo scusa,” he said once more and looked toward Lucia but averted his eyes, his hands up in surrender, his voice tight. Then he turned and walked off.
I watched him go until he disappeared down the street, then turned back to Lucia. My hand found hers, and I pulled her up and hugged her to my chest. My hand tunneled into her long black locks, and my nose pressed to her temple. I inhaled deeply, and even just the scent of her hair hardened my dick.
If she thought I overreacted, she didn’t say anything. Lucia was quickly realizing the type of man—husband—I was. I was possessive of what was mine. I’d never hurt her, never lie or cheat on her, but I wouldn’t hold back on making it known she was mine and only mine. No matter how barbaric it seemed.
“Let’s go,” I said quietly.
She moved with me without hesitation, her body closer now, tighter against mine as we walked awaywithout looking back at the café. I felt the difference in her immediately, the way her breathing had changed and how she pressed to me, like she knew I was on a razor’s edge right now.
I ignored all the passersby who’d see the interaction, had seen how silently aggressive and how dangerous I’d become in that moment. They quickly looked away when I met their shock head-on.
We stayed in the village for a few more hours. I was silent as Lucia shopped, grabbed baked goods to take home to the staff, and even insisted on getting ingredients at a local market to cook dinner for me. I found myself smiling at how much I just enjoyed watching her.
The sun was setting when we drove back to the villa. My hand stayed on her the entire time, resting higher now at her thigh, my grip firm enough that she couldn’t ignore it. By the time we stepped inside the villa, my cock was hard and aching, and I was done holding back. I wanted my wife. I wanted to fuck Lucia.
The front door had barely closed behind us before I pulled her into me, my hand sliding from her waist to the back of her neck, holding her there as I looked down at her.
Feral want sizzled in my blood, dangerous, sharpand violent as it rushed through my veins. I stared at Lucia, feeling this obsession, this addictive need that called to me like my favorite drug.
My grip tightened slightly at the back of her neck as I pulled her closer and kissed her without giving her time to think about it. The kiss wasn’t soft or gentle. It carried everything I hadn’t said out loud.
Lucia responded immediately, her breasts molding to my chest, her nails digging into my biceps. She moaned into my mouth, and I swallowed it, needing it as sustenance.
I guided her until her back hit the wall. My hand slid down her body, pulling her dress up just enough to get where I wanted, to that hot and drenched place nestled between her thighs. And when I touched her, she was already dripping. Of course she was, my beautiful little slut who couldn’t help but be primed for me.
“See what you do to me?” I murmured, unzipping and pulling my hard cock out of my pants, grinding into the softness of her belly.
Her breath broke against my mouth, her body reacting before she could control it, and I didn’t stop. I pushed further, watching her face—her expression—when I tunneled one, then two fingers into her pussy.
Ipumped my fingers in and out of her for a few seconds before pulling them out and sucking them, groaning over her delicious taste. Her flavor exploded along my tongue, and I snarled. I wanted to bury my face between her thighs and eat her out until I suffocated.
I turned her, pressing her chest to the wall. Lucia braced her hands in front of her and looked over her shoulder, her desire-filled eyes locking on mine, her mouth parted as she panted. I let out the low breath I couldn’t hold back anymore.
“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow,” I vowed and used my foot to kick her legs further apart. I pulled her lower body out more, her ass popped out, and her dress pooled at her waist.
I pushed into her tight little body, slow and deep. Her perfect cunt tightened around me like it was created just for my dick, and I set the pace, controlled at first, making sure she felt every inch before giving her more.
She gasped, her pussy clenching around my cock, her fingers curling against the wall. I felt every shift, every reaction, every moment where she gave in instead of pulling away. I fucked her like I’d die if I didn’t, broken, dirty strings of Russian spilling from my mouth.
