And telling me anything he hadn’t approved would be going against Marco Bianchi.
Even to the woman who birthed me I came second.
Chapter
Five
Nikolai
I’d followed Amara after they left the Bianchi house half an hour ago. I parked across the street and watched them go into the boutique twenty minutes ago.
And I was still sitting here in my rental, a cigarette to my lips, and my cock harder than granite.
And all because of Amara Bianchi, my soon-to-be, barely legal wife who was fucking gorgeous.
To be honest, I’d been fucking surprised at how beautiful she was. Because Marco Bianchi wasn’t exactly a looker, not with his squat stature, overweight girth, and the arrogance that made him even uglier.
But once I’d seen Amara step out of her house, an older version of her following behind, I’d instantly felt the stab of lust at the sight of my eighteen year old fiancé. She had one lithe, tight little body, long black hair that brushed along her waist with every step she took, and then there was her flawless olive skin tone.
My dick had been hard since then, stabbing against the zipper of my jeans, and the fucker hadn’t gone down this entire time. I hadn’t seen her since she walked into the storefront, my fingers itching to reach down and pull my dick out and jerk off just to ease the pressure in my balls.
Her being gorgeous as fuck would sure as hell make this marriage far more bearable.
I brought the cigarette back to my lips and inhaled, pulled it away to exhale, then flicked the ash out the crack in the window. I finished off the cigarette and made sure it was stubbed out before throwing it away. I focused on the store as I reached in my pocket for a pack of gum just as my cell phone went off.
After popping in a couple pieces of spearmint gum, I answered the call without looking at who it was. I knew it was Dmitry. He was the only asshole who had this number, and the only one who had the balls to call me.
“Yeah?” I barked out into the receiver and felt my body tense just as Amara came toward the glass, her focus on the street, her long dark hair draped over one shoulder.
All I could think about was the depraved, nasty things I wanted to do to her, how I’d tangle all that silky hair in my fist and yank her head back and bared throat. I’d bite at that creamy neck, leaving marks so everyone saw she was mine. We didn’t need love or comfort. We only needed hardcore lust, and I sure as fuck had that in spades.
Visions of her on her knees with me forcing my cock in her mouth, down her throat, hearing her gag, feeling her muscles work against my shaft as I skull fucked her and told her how she was my dirty little whore. Only mine though. I’d never let anyone else have her, touch her, or even fucking look at her. I was a territorial fucker, proprietary, and Amara would be mine in every single fucking way that mattered.
If I pulled fingernails off some asshole for cutting me off in traffic, the psychotic shit I’d do to someone who even thought lewd things about Amara, I’d skin them alive.
As if she heard my thoughts, her head turned in my direction.
I knew she couldn’t actually see me, not with the deeply tinted windows, but she was smart, had intuition and instinct to know she was being watched.
Even from a distance I could see how blue her eyes were, and I let my gaze linger down the slender swatch of her throat, down to the V-cut of her dress, and took in the feminine definition of her collarbones. Her breasts were on the smaller side, but fit her petite form to perfection. I reached down and adjusted my cock, gritting my teeth at how badly I wanted to jerk off right now.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I focused on my brother and rested my head back on the seat. “What?”
“Where are you?” Dmitry growled.
“Out.” I found myself looking back at the storefront, furrowing my brow when I didn’t see Amara standing there any longer.
“Yeah, asshole, obviously. Where? You left early and you know we have shit to do, reasons why we are even out here.”
“Yeah, I fucking know.” My voice was just as clipped as Dmitry’s. But my focus wasn’t on the whys or reasons we were here. I was solely focused on wanting another glimpse of my little Italian again.
I was now anxiously awaiting the weekend to get the wedding date set in place and to be in the same room as her. My cock twitched again as I thought about what would happen after that.
On the wedding night.
I’m going to fucking ruin her in the dirtiest way. I’m going to make her addicted to my touches, the smell of me, the very sight of me. She’ll be like Pavlov’s fucking dog, her pussy getting wet and primed at just the thought of me walking up to her.