Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Alexei
After a few days in the villa, I was done keeping my pretty little wife hidden away. This was my world as much as it was hers now, and I wanted to watch her in it.
So, I took her down into the village.
I’d kept my dick in my pants since our first night together, not because I wanted to, but because Jesus Christ, my cock was hard every time I was around her.
But I knew she had to be sore. So instead of fucking her every chance I got, I touched her softly, getting her used to my touch, making her feel good without fucking pounding her like I really wanted to.
The town was a few miles below the estate, all narrow streets and old stone buildings that had been there longer than most of the men walking them.
Nothing flashy or modern. It was slower paced.
Quieter. But no less watchful. It was the kind of place where people knew everyone's business because that’s all you could do. Gossip.
We took the car into the village, the windows down, her long dark hair tousled from the wind.
I’d buy her a hand-stitched, silk scarf in the village, one she could use to cover her hair if she wanted to.
Lucia stayed close to my side when we stepped out of the car.
My hand settled at the small of her back, keeping her exactly where I wanted her but letting her lead and explore.
The dress she wore was simple and light, cotton and breathable that moved with her when she walked, molding to her curvy body. She wore it for comfort, but fuck, she looked gorgeous. Hell, I knew she’d look beautiful wearing a potato sack.
Men noticed her anyway. I saw the first look from across the street, the way a man’s gaze lingered too long before he realized I was glaring at him. He turned away like he hadn’t just made a mistake that could cost him his life.
The square was small but busy with locals and tourists. There were a few tables set outside a café, locals talking and drinking espressos. I stayed close to Lucia but let her choose our seats.
We took our place at one of the café patio tables, ordered drinks, a few pastries, and enjoyed the comfortable silence.
But that was disrupted when I received a call from my father.
I excused myself, stepping a few feet away.
My father’s voice was low and measured in my ear, but my attention never fully left Lucia.
She sat where I’d left her, sunlight catching in her hair, a cup untouched in front of her, and every man in that square noticed her.
That part didn’t bother me. What I didn’t tolerate was one of them acting on it.
I saw him before he reached her, the way he slowed as he approached, the shift in his posture like he’d already decided he had a right to be there. I didn’t interrupt the call right away. I listened and watched as he stopped beside her.
“Bella,” he said, too easy, too familiar, like he’d already crossed a line he didn’t recognize.
She answered him the way I expected, polite, controlled, giving him nothing to hold on to, but he didn’t take the hint. He leaned in, bracing a hand against the table, swallowing the space like I wasn’t already close enough to step in whenever I chose.
And when he reached out, barely touching her hair, that was enough to send me over the edge.
I ended the call with my father abruptly and made my way toward my wife. I didn’t rush or draw attention. A predator didn’t need to make a fucking scene. By the time I reached Lucia, I was already behind the bastard, close enough that he felt me before I spoke.
His shoulders tightened, and when he straightened and turned, I saw the exact moment it registered that he fucked up. I was a big man. Six foot four. Muscles stacked under my tattooed skin. An air of violence emanated from me.
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 his throat, 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 away without 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, sharp and 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.
I pumped 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.
“Ty moya. Moya zhena. Moya krasivaya shlyukha. Ya budu delat' vse, chto zachu s tem, chto prinadlezhit mne. Nikogda ne zabyvay, komu ty prinadlezhish'.” You’re mine. My wife. My beautiful slut. I’ll do whatever I want with what’s mine. Never forget who you belong to.
I felt my balls tighten before I let go, ropes of cum shooting out of me and filling every inch of her cunt. I didn’t stop until she was a sloppy mess between her thighs, my seed and her pussy cream squelching out and slicking both of us.
When I finally pulled back, my semi-hard cock bounced, a string of my cum mixed with her wetness hanging on the tip. I leaned back and demanded, “Push me out.” My dick throbbed again, already getting stiff once more.
She gasped, still staring at me over her shoulder, but she obeyed as she gave me what I wanted, milkiness sliding out of her tight hole before dripping onto the floor.
“So fucking hot.”
I didn’t look away from her as she caught her breath, didn’t give her space to hide from what had just happened between us. My hand slid back to her hip, pulling her against me again like I wasn’t finished, like I never would be.
“This doesn’t stop here,” I said quietly, my voice lower now, rougher. “Not in this villa. Not anywhere. You’re my wife, Lucia. I’ll kill for you. I’ll bleed for you. And I’ll fuck you like this every day until the whole world knows you smell like me and wear my marks of passion and ownership.”
“I know,” she whispered.
This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just the marriage. And as I tightened my hold on her, keeping Lucia exactly where I wanted her, one thing locked into place in a way I didn’t question.
My obsession for her wasn’t going to fade. It was only going to get worse.