There’s something sleazy about him.
“Yes, it’s great to meet you, brother,” I tell him, doing my best to muster up a smile to hide my unease.
He lifts his glass.“To blushing brides and new beginnings.”
“New beginnings,” I murmur and question if his words are meant to be sentimental or a threat.With men like him, one can never be sure.I steal a glance at my husband, but his expression is unreadable.Which isn’t surprising.Men like him have excellent poker faces.
I sip on my wine and nibble on some bread until our first course is served.The men talk business, leaving little room for me to engage in their conversations.Crude words are passed between them here and there.I catch the odds and ends of them giving each other shit about their women at home or lack thereof.
By the time dessert is served, most of them have gone home or back to their posts.
Nico summons me to his lap, keeping a possessive hand on my thigh while feeding me bites of the chocolate lava cake and ice cream.Marco lingers around talking strategy about expanding their territory and setting up a meet with some banker who can give them inside information on buildings in danger of foreclosure.Mostly slumlords.Lowlifes.Dickheads who take advantage of the poor.
I tune out midway through the part where he goes into detail about how they can lean on them to sell.Blackmail.
Nico traces lines and circles on my exposed skin, moving higher and higher with each new pattern.I wiggle on his lap when he comes dangerously close to the crotch of my panties.
Marco pretends not to notice, but my husband kisses my shoulder in response.
When his brother continues to press the topic, Nico clears his throat.“We’ll talk more tomorrow.”he dismisses him.
“Good night, Odette.Welcome to the family.”He simply nods at Nico.
“Night, Marco,” I tell his back as he leaves without so much as a glance.
The second he’s gone, Nico says, “Be careful with Marco.He has his own agenda.”His caution is not what I was expecting.Marco is his brother and his right hand.“I don’t understand,” I confess.
“You will.He’ll show his hand eventually,” he guarantees.I twist around on his lap to face him.His eyes — dark, intense eyes — pin me in place.“I need you to understand where his loyalties lie.You can’t trust him.No matter how nice he seems.”
There is so much I don’t know about Marco or about Nico.I grew up in this world but feel like an outsider looking in through the window.“And what about you?Can I trust you?Where do your loyalties lie?”I ask, testing the boundaries of this conversation.This new intimacy is strange, but I like this vulnerable side of my husband.
His lips curve into a delicious smirk that I want to taste.“With you, Fiore Mio,” he says, and that warmth in my lower belly intensifies.
The distance between us closes.
He cups my cheek, drawing me in closer.His facial hair tickles my skin.
This time when he presses his mouth to mine, it isn’t the performative brush of lips we shared at our wedding ceremony.This is real.Sexy.Raw and passionate.He prods at the seam of my lips with his tongue, demanding entrance.I open to him, exposing my desire.My need to be wanted by him.
His tongue slides inside my mouth.So this is what it means to truly be kissed.
Hot.Wet.Urgent.His kiss is greedy.Demanding.All-consuming.
The heaviness of our arrangement, the stress of my family, hearing the whispers, the loneliness — all of it dissolves into the heat of his touch as he shoves a hand between my thighs to touch me.
“Tell me to stop, Odette,” his voice comes out raspy.Almost pained.“Tell me no, or your first time will be on this table.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
He fists my panties, pulling them up against my pussy.
“Fuck, I want to fill your pretty little cunt up.”
I gasp at his filthy words, not because I’m shocked, but because they turn me on.
“What are you waiting for, Nico?I’m yours to do with as you please.”
“Careful, wife.I’ll have you tied up and begging.”He nips at my bottom lip while teasing between my legs with his deft fingers.
