The Butcher (Fifth Republic #1)

1. 2

“Nice swing.” Bastien let go, and the man dropped to the floor in a pile of broken glass and blood.

The other two rushed to the door to split when shit got real, but Bastien got there first and punched one so hard in the face he slammed into the wall and collapsed on the floor. He made a series of moves on the other guy, blocking the arm holding the machete before slamming his elbow straight into his head and knocking him out cold.

When he was done, a strained silence enveloped the bar, everyone still too afraid to move or speak.

Bastien walked across the hardwood floor and the broken glass, back to the counter where I stood. He pulled out his wallet and rifled through the euros that were stuffed into it, and as if nothing serious had just happened, he asked, “What do I owe you?”

The bar closed and the police came. They asked Bastien a couple of questions, but it seemed like they already knew him because they didn’t ask who he was. In fact, they treated him like a superior.

I stepped outside into the cold, the air wet from a drizzle that had just passed through. The pavement was wet from the recent rainfall, and a few people were on the street because no one ever slept in this city.

Bastien came outside a moment later and looked me over. “You alright?”

“A little frazzled, but I’m fine.”

He continued to stare me down with those piercing blue eyes. “It’s okay not to be fine.”

My eyes flicked away, touched by the softness he was showing when he had been so ruthless a moment ago. “I know it is.”

“Where’s your apartment?”

I normally wouldn’t give out my address to a stranger, but he somehow felt like anything but a stranger even though I only knew his first name. “Rue Coquilliere. By the Louvre.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“I’m okay?—”

“Come on.” He took the lead, stepping into the empty street under the bright lampposts, moving past a building that had stood the test of time and survived the Second World War. “We have a conversation to finish.”

We walked down the wet pavement together, side by side, but nothing was really said. He seemed to be a long-term resident of the city because he knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly what street to take without looking at his phone for guidance.

“How long have you lived in Paris?”

“All my life. You?”

“Same.”

That was the extent of our conversation. We passed Loup on the corner and walked down the path where the restaurants were located beneath my apartment. There was a small road for cars, but only taxis pulled up to the area. Right now, it was deserted, all the restaurants closed except for Au Pied de Cochon .

He seemed to know it was one of the few restaurants open all hours of the day because he checked in with the host and asked for a table outside. The second we sat down, he lit up a cigar and blew the smoke into the air. We were the only ones outside because it was either too cold or too late.

He offered me a cigar.

“No thanks.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I lit up and felt the hit of nicotine the second the smoke hit my lungs.

He gave a subtle smile before he held his cigar between his fingertips. “You don’t strike me as a smoker.”

“I quit a couple years ago.”

“But carry a pack wherever you go.” He returned the cigar to his mouth and pulled in a puff before he let it out from his nostrils.

My eyes narrowed but in a playful way. “You are an asshole.”

His smirk widened.

“I started up again once I moved out.”

The playfulness evaporated, and he gave a slight nod in understanding.

“It’s always been my vice.”

“Everyone has their poison. No shame in that.”

“Yes, but I want to live to see middle age at least.”

He looked at the street as people passed, only a person every now and then, coming from the mall far down the way.

“You don’t worry about that?”

He let the smoke leave his mouth before he answered. “No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t expect to live long—nor do I desire it.” When he spotted the waitress in the window, he waved her over. “I’ll take a scotch on the rocks. And whatever she’s having.”

I ordered my drink, and she left.

The last thing he said hadn’t left my mind. “Why do you feel that way?”

He looked as he let the cigar rest between his fingertips, and the strength of his stare seemed to be his answer—or lack thereof.

I didn’t press the question again, remembering we’d met just a few hours ago and I wasn’t entitled to such personal information. “Are you a cop?”

A smile that lit up all his features hit his face, and when he chuckled, it came from deep in his chest. “No.”

“It seemed like they knew you.”

“Oh, they know me.”

“But you aren’t a cop.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “There are more than cops and bandits. The food web is a lot bigger than most people realize.”

“And where do you fit in this food web?”

He took another puff of his cigar. The waitress came out and brought our drinks before she returned to the warmth inside the restaurant. He glanced out at the darkness and the sycamore trees that lined the sidewalk before he looked at me again. “At the top.”

I didn’t consider my husband to be a criminal because he didn’t kill people, but he made his money in less than notable ways. He and his guys stole famous pieces of art and replaced them with fakes because they sold the originals on the black market for a pretty penny. There were men out there with real van Goghs, da Vincis, and Michelangelos in their bathrooms—while the museums had counterfeits. Now I suspected Bastien was on a whole different—and dangerous—level. “The less I know, the better.”

“Smart girl.” He released the smoke from his mouth and let it float on the cool air. “And you’ve got a steely spine too. I like that.”

“How so?”

“Most women would just put up with a man’s infidelity so they could live in a big house and drive a nice car. But not you. You’re an idealist, a woman of great moral character, who knows she’s worth more than a man’s bullshit. That’s hot.”

I held his stare but felt the warmth in my cheeks. Everyone I knew had told me to take Adrien back, that it was a one-time mistake and I should fight for the marriage. While there were times I considered it, letting it go didn’t sit right with me.

“And you held your ground with that asshole. Didn’t scream or cry.”

“Make no mistake, I was fucking scared.”

“But you didn’t show it.” He lowered the cigar and gave me a harder stare than he had before, full of authority and command. “And that’s what matters. You reached for that wine bottle with every intention to kill—and you swung.” He took a drink, wiped a drop from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and then smiled. “And that’s fucking hot.”

My apartment was right next to Poppy Café, so literally just a few feet away from the restaurant. He walked me to the front door, painted green with two trees in planters on either side. It required a code to come and go, and the door weighed at least one hundred pounds and required two hands every time I had to open or close it.

He stopped several feet away from the door like he had no intention of coming inside. “Are you going to keep working at Silencio?”

I needed the job to keep the apartment, so I couldn’t just quit the second things got rough. Another aspect of poverty that I didn’t enjoy. “It can’t get robbed a second time, right?”

“Then I’ll see you next time, Fleur.” He turned away, the pathway lined with tall bushes in planters.

“Bastien.”

He turned back around, his blue eyes bright even from a distance in the dark, the sexiest man ever to have set foot on this road. One look at him showed he was dangerous, but that only made it harder to look away.

“You said there was a story behind my eyes. What’s the story behind yours?” Maybe it was just lust that bound me to him, but I didn’t want to let him go. Didn’t want him to slip away in the night and disappear like a phantom that was never real in the first place. He was a man so hard but with such contradictory beauty, one who could speak the truth with a cruelty that hurt in a way that felt good.

His hands slid into his pockets as he looked at me, his shoulders shifting with the movement and showing a hint of the cut muscles underneath. “Are you inviting me inside, sweetheart?”

My entire body came alive at the prospect, the first rush of excitement I’d felt in months. Once I’d found out about Adrien’s infidelity, I’d fallen into a depression so deep, it didn’t have a bottom. But I stopped my fall and gripped the ledge, prepared to begin the climb back up. “Yes.”

A smile didn’t move across his face as I expected. It was the first time he looked at me like an opponent rather than an equal, with an unequivocal expression of warning in his steel-like gaze. “If you let me into your apartment, I’ll throw your ass on the bed. I’ll choke you. I’ll spank you so hard my handprint will still be on your ass in the morning. You’ve been warned.” He continued his stare, pulling off that statement in a way no other man ever could, and it had the intended effect because I was both scared—and fucking turned on.

So turned on, I had bumps on my arms, felt my mouth go dry, and sensed a throb down below. I held up my phone to the screen to scan the code so the door would unlock. I opened it, the hinges screaming from the weight, and then I looked at him. “Let’s see if you’re a man of your word.”

The second the apartment door was shut behind us, he was on me, pinning me against the wall in the hallway, pushing up my top and bra so my tits would come out. He gripped my ass with his big hands and lifted me, my back to the wall, and he sealed his mouth over mine for a kiss that nearly ripped my soul from my body.

He could hold me with a single arm because he seemed like he must lift tractors in the gym. He didn’t slide his free hand into my hair but gripped one of my tits, squeezed it hard, and he flicked his thumb over my nipple, kissing me at the same time, a kiss that took the lead as I followed.

I grabbed his shirt and started to pull it over his head, having a hard time getting it off because he was all over me, kissing me so deeply I lost my train of thought, his hand squeezing my tit so hard I almost released a yelp. He was too into me to care about his clothing, so it took another tug to get it over his head and reveal what was underneath.

“Jesus Christ…” He was built. He was ripped. He had the single sexiest physique I’d ever seen—and I’d slept with some hot guys. He was so tight that cords on his body popped everywhere. I could see the definition of every muscle, the details of his body underneath the skin, the muscles hard enough to be armor. He had ink over his skin, black ink that showed death and misery and darkness, but it only enhanced just how hot he was. “You’re so fucking hot?—”

His mouth silenced my words with another kiss as he pinned me against the wall, his hand squeezing my ass through my jeans. He carried me down the hallway into the bedroom, the foot of the bed visible from the doorway. Just as he promised, he fucking threw me on the mattress.

I landed and rolled onto my stomach, my hair flipping into my face.

He grabbed my ankles and dragged me toward him before he gripped my jeans and started to tug, not even bothering to unbutton them first. He chose brute force over inconvenience and continued to tug, taking my thong with it because my clothing was skintight.

He got my bottoms to the backs of my knees then bit me right on the ass.

I released a gasp mixed with a quiet scream.

He bit my other cheek before he tugged again.

I let out another scream, louder this time because he bit me harder.

He yanked off my shoes then got my jeans and thong off before he spread my cheeks with his hands and kissed my pussy, his nose in my ass, sucking with the same force as when he’d bit me, making my body twitch and writhe from the unexpected pleasure.

“Tell me you’re on the pill.” He stood up and dropped his pants and boxers.

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes immediately on his forklift of a dick. I stared and stared, seeing the veins run from base to tip, the fat dick that would have to ram its way inside me if it wanted to fill me. “IUD.” It was all I could get out at the moment, seeing the sexiest man ever at the foot of my bed, with a dick that could support an Olympic medal around its base.

“Good.” His knees hit the bed, and he smacked me with his palm, hit me hard on the right ass cheek.

I let out a gasp from the hit. “Fuck.”

He smacked me again, harder this time.

“God…”

He grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them against my lower back before he smacked the other ass cheek, the hardest strike of the three.

“Fuck.”

“Look at those handprints.” He kept his grip on my wrists and kissed my cheeks, dragging his tongue over the inflamed skin in apology. His mouth returned to the place where I throbbed most, and he kissed me there, still aggressive but purposeful, like he really wanted to make me wet for his entrance.

I breathed through the pleasure, fighting the grip he had on my wrists every few seconds, my spine arched to accommodate the way he held me. The sting on my cheeks mixed with the bliss between my legs, and the result was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. My senses were on fire, and now the sensation of every touch was magnified tenfold.

He released my wrists and moved over me, the bottom of his chest against my back and his dick right in the crack of my ass. He ground against me, his mouth coming close to my ear. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy—and I’m gonna come inside this pussy.” He continued to grind against me, pushing my pelvis into the bed and providing a bit of friction against my clit. He gave me a couple seconds to resist his intentions.

I didn’t want to resist them. “Are you clean?”

“Always.”

He didn’t ask me if I was clean before he put it in, before he pushed his massive head through my entrance and sank deep inside, breathing a sigh of satisfaction when he felt how slick I was, how slick I’d become the first moment I saw him.

I moaned when I felt him push deep, create so much pressure on my channel, invade my lands like they’d never been claimed by anyone else. “Oh god.” I felt him grip the hair at the back of my neck and tug hard, forcing my chin up and my eyes on him.

He started to grind against me, supporting his muscular body with his legs and a single arm, thrusting deep inside me, treating me like prey captured by an apex predator, pushing me into the bed with his weight.

I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip because it was so damn good. I’d never been fucked like this, like an escort with a fee worth a Maserati, a price this man would pay in the blink of an eye because he wanted to fuck me so bad.

“Look at me.”

My eyes snapped open and locked on his.

He ground into me directly, making my clit push and drag against the bed, knowing how to do it just right.

I moaned and whimpered, feeling the heat grow between my legs more and more, feeling the dam of tears break behind my eyes before they emerged.

He released a moan from deep in his throat, the sexiest sound. His hand loosened from my hair, and he gripped my neck instead, right below my jawline. “Spread your cheeks for me.”

I was so deep in the haze that I didn’t think twice about it. I gripped my cheeks and pulled them far apart.

He gave an appreciative moan then stuck his thumb in my mouth.

I instinctively sucked it, feeling his big dick do amazing things to me.

He pulled his hand away then slipped his thumb into my back entrance, pushing deep inside unexplored territory.

I tensed because I’d never felt anything like that before. Never had a man go for my rear. It was like the spanking of my cheeks, the novelty and discomfort highlighting the pleasure. In just a few seconds, I was panting and moaning, jumping to the finish line when there should have been some distance to the end.

And then I came, tears streaking down my cheeks, my breaths erratic and quick.

He pulled his thumb out of my ass and returned his mouth to my ear. “Fuck.” His tone held so much satisfaction, like the sounds and feeling of me coming around him were foreplay for him, like he got off to a woman’s pain as well as her pleasure.

I got swept up in the storm of euphoria, and my feet left the floor. A climax was a climax, but this one told me they weren’t all equal. This one told me that they could reach the glass ceiling and shatter it.

He stilled and continued to breathe against my ear.

I’d assumed he finished when I finished, but his dick was still rock hard inside me. He dipped his head and kissed my shoulder and then my neck, lavishing me with his masculine kisses.

Then he pulled his dick out of me—and spanked me hard.

I winced at the pain, feeling another handprint on my cheek.

He grabbed me and rolled me onto my back before he made himself at home between my thighs. He tugged me and bent me the way he wanted me before he pushed inside me again, sliding in easier this time because he was already lubed up with my arousal. He sank in then gripped me by the throat and squeezed.

I could still breathe, but barely.

I finally touched him, felt just how hard that chest was, touched the ink all over his skin, the heat that burned from his flesh. I gripped his wrist and squeezed as he fucked me into the pillows, as his strong physique tightened and shifted, his physicality so unrealistic it seemed fake.

He moved his thumb up my throat to the corner of my mouth. He squeezed again before he let me go, before his hand found a home in my messy hair.

I cupped the side of his face as I planted my other hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his mass. “Fuck, Bastien…” This man was a complete stranger, but I moaned his name like he was my long-term lover, like I’d loved him for a lifetime, had already given him sons and daughters. I should feel guilty for being with someone new while technically still being married, but I felt nothing of the sort. I just enjoyed it—thoroughly.

He pounded me into the bed, one arm pinned behind my knee, while the other remained deep in my hair, his blue eyes gripping tight like I belonged to him. “Here it comes, sweetheart.” Up until that point, he’d thrust hard and fast without changing his pace, not needing to edge himself so many times like Adrien did. But Bastien slowed it down, moaning between the thrusts. “You want it?”

“Yes.” I cupped his cheek and breathed with him, lost in the clouds of lust, connected to this man so deeply it was hard to believe I’d met him just a few hours ago. One-night stands were never this satisfying. It usually took a couple times before the sex got good. But right off the bat, this chemistry was electrifying. “Come inside me.”

“Beg.” His fingers fisted my hair, and he pinned me in place, his eyes turning sharp and hard, his dick still pounding into me, his balls hitting the bottom of my ass.

I widened my legs farther and gripped his ass, tugging him into me. “Please…” I didn’t know myself. I was on fire, lost in the spontaneity and the ferocious lust that burned between us, letting this man fuck me exactly how he wanted…and I didn’t even know his last name.

“Fuck.” He moaned under his breath then pounded into me hard, giving me all of his dick over and over, making me wince from the size but ignoring the signs of pain on my face. “Here it comes.” He moved his lips to my ear, and his pumps slowed as his breaths turned erratic. He gave his final pumps and filled me, came inside me like I was more than a one-night stand.

I’d never done anything so irresponsible in my life, but I wanted him to the exclusion of everything else. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted all of him, every piece of him, inside me. When I told Adrien, he would have no interest in making the marriage work, and I knew that was the best for both of us.

Bastien came to a halt, his fair skin tinted red with arousal and exertion. He held himself over me, and I expected him to pull out and begin his awkward departure, but he stayed buried inside me, still hard even though his come coated his base. “I’ve got a lot more bullets in this gun.”