Alexius: Chapter 22

My palm is soaked, her pussy slippery and wet. I can fucking smell it, the scent of sex that clings to her. It’s driving me crazy. I can feel pre-cum leaking from my cock, her fingers still stroking me through my pants. But my eyes are focused on Isaia staring at my wife’s cunt.

My wife.

My. Wife.

Possession anchors in my chest with the sharp spears of jealousy, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that I have the urge to rip my brother’s head off because of the way he looks at her. Like she’s prey. As if he could already taste her on his tongue.

He’s too hungry for her.

Too eager.

“Isaia,” I growl. “Leave. Now.”

When our eyes meet, a warning passes between us—my command for him to fucking leave. Confusion clings to his arched brows as he stares at me. I already know what he’s thinking, wondering why I’m greedy all of a sudden. I never have a problem sharing and having two Del Rossa cocks fill the holes of the same woman. I’ve watched Isaia fuck a girl whose cunt was clamped around my cock moments earlier and felt nothing—not a hint of jealousy. But now, the thought of him touching Leandra, sliding his cock between her legs, claws at my spine, and I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling anything that has the potential for weakness.

Well, brother. You think you’re confused. Try being in my goddamn head right this second.

Isaia adjusts his pants, and without a word, he turns and leaves. When he’s finally out of my sight, I find it easier to breathe and tighten the hold I have on my control.

Leandra crosses one leg over the bench, closes her thighs, and slides a few inches away from me. There’s a faraway look in her eyes as she keeps them downcast, staring at her feet. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I know what’s going to happen right now. You’re going to stand against that rail, hold on tight, and let me fuck you.”

Long, raven curls fan against my face as she gets up on her feet and puts distance between us. “I’m serious, Alexius.”

“Is there anything about what I just said that makes you think I’m not?”

“I don’t know who I am around you.” There’s an urgent tone in her voice, her eyes cold and uncertain. “What I do know is ever since I’ve walked through your front door, you’ve managed to suck me into this world where there are no rules.”

I smirk and get up off the bench. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. In this world there are rules. My rules.”

“Well, not in mine,” she counters. “Your rules don’t apply to my world.” She shakes her head and tugs at her dress. “The last time I wore a dress like this, I got dragged into a fucking alley and was almost raped if I hadn’t managed to fight back and tear the man’s ear off.”

If anger didn’t just blast through my fucking veins, I would have been impressed by the fact that she knew how to rip an ear. Another sign that she’s a fighter. A survivor.

She brushes a strand of hair from her face. “This train is going so damn fast, and it would be naive of me to think that I won’t get hurt.”

“You’re scared.”

“Of course, I’m scared. I’ve been scared since the day you walked into the diner. You’re mindfucking me, Alexius. Not too long ago, you threatened to kill me if I didn’t go through with the wedding.”

“You backed me into a corner,” I bark. “You put all my plans at risk by having second thoughts about walking down that aisle, and I don’t do well in corners, Leandra. I fucking burn them down.”

“Well, I’m not a corner you need to burn. I’m supposed to help you get out of one, remember? Marry you and be your wife so you can get what you want.”

“And in turn, you get what you want. Don’t forget that. Both of us are getting something out of this, not just me.”

“I know that,” she snaps. “Why do you think I’m still here? Because you threatened me? I’m here because you were right. You were right when you said that during my first few days living here, seeing what life is like on the other side of the fence, I started to hope, thinking this could be my life, too. That I don’t have to wither away and fucking die in an old apartment that smells like death and piss.”

“Then I don’t get what the fuck your problem is.”

Her eyes are two dark pools of uncertainty, watching me like I’m the threat. The predator. The demon she fears most. “You’re fucking with my head too much,” she says, her voice shaking. “I went from a girl wearing layers of clothing, trying to cover as much skin as possible, hoping to go unnoticed by men everywhere, to wearing this little black dress, no panties, and having two men watch me come on a fucking patio bench. I don’t know how to deal with it or what to think.”

“Did you like it?” I ask simply, not moving and keeping her gaze captive.

She scoffs. “I’m not kidding around, Alexius.”

“Neither am I. It’s not a trick question. Did you like it or not?”

The smear of red I made below her lips is now faint, but it’s still there, and it’s making me want to fuck up her lipstick some more, this time dragging it all the way down her throat.

“Tell me the truth,” I press. “No bullshit. Did you. Like it?”

She hesitates, her chest rising and falling as she breathes. I can only imagine what kind of war is raging inside her head, her doubts pulling her in one direction while her desire forces her into another.

“Tell me, Leandra.”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I liked it. I like all of it. The excitement. The lust. The thrill of giving up control.” She bites her bottom lip. “Too much. I like it all too fucking much.”

If I could bottle the perfect amount of confidence and innocence, it would be her—the woman standing here, laying out all her truths in front of the devil who could easily pick it up and use it against her.

“I’m not like you, Alexius. I’m not like any of you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I don’t take my eyes off her. “I think a part of you feels like you belong here, and that’s the part that’s fucking with your head more than all the sex or my little brother.”

The way her cheeks heat to the perfect shade of pink only makes her more beautiful than she already is. “You made it perfectly clear that I don’t belong here.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that I’m wrong.”

“And when would the first time have been?”

I lift my chin. “It was in your apartment when I told you I wouldn’t fuck you.”

She shakes her head lightly, a sardonic half-smile. “That wasn’t you being wrong. That was you lying.”

“I wasn’t lying. I had no intention of fucking you then.” I stalk closer, my hands still in my pants pockets. “There was a second time, too. A second time I was wrong.” My glance from her eyes to her lips and back up. “In the car on our way here the first day, when I said this was just an arrangement and wouldn’t be anything more.”

Something silent passes between us, with only the sound of leaves brushing as the breeze stirs with its icy tentacles lacing around us.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmurs.

I frown. “And what’s that?”

“Capturing me in these moments where I can’t figure out what it is that you want from me. You want a temporary wife, but then you look at me like you do now and say things like that, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more you want.”

“What if there is?” I step up to her, and I’m not even sure how I got here, how I managed to get so close to her so damn fast.

The inner conflict that’s wreaking havoc inside her reflects in her eyes, the way she looks at me with equal parts uncertainty and desire. “Then I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

I’m only two breaths away from her now, looking down into those alluring amber swirls. “I think you can.”

The way she bites her bottom lip has me starving to taste it. “All this…you, Isaia—I’m not supposed to like shit like this, Alexius.”

“What? Because society taught us to all fit in the exact same box? That if we don’t, we’re some or other shade of fucked-up?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

I notice how she nervously twirls her thumbs but then lifts her hand and licks her palm before wiping at the side of her neck, a bruise appearing beneath a layer of make-up. I reach up and gently ease a fingertip against the discolored flesh. “I did this?”

She nods. “You hurt me. But that’s not the worst fucking part. The worst part is,” dark lashes fan as she finally looks at me again, “I liked it. And when I saw it, all I could think about was wanting more.”

A tethered thread snaps inside me, and I grab her cheeks in my palms, slamming my lips against hers, kissing her so fucking hard, it hurts. She moans, and her fingers wrap around my wrists, trying to pull my hands away, but I don’t budge. I don’t move an inch. I keep my lips sealed to hers, forcing my tongue into her mouth, my spine electrified as her taste blasts across my tastebuds. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before. I want more. I want everything. I want all of her.

I snake an arm down her side and palm her ass, yanking her against me, feeling the heated shock of impact. The scent of desire and sex is still in the air, mixing beautifully with vanilla. Her tongue slides against mine, our lips an unruly and hungry fusion of passion and craving. I don’t want it to end. I want her taste to linger in my mouth.

All it takes is a single breath, and she pulls away from me, tearing her lips from mine. “Stop. Just stop!” she exclaims, rushing backward as if my kiss had burned her, her lips swollen and fucking beautiful. “I’m trying to tell you that you’re confusing the fuck out of me, and you think kissing me will make it easier?”

“I kissed you because I damn well wanted to, not because I give a shit whether it makes it easier for you or not. You came down here tonight because you wanted to fuck.” I spit out the word like it’s a spark right out of the pits of hell. “Where were these doubts when the champagne still buzzed in your system? When you were so eager to paint my dick with your motherfucking lipstick?”

“Fuck you, Alexius.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “Is this the part where you lash out and have a mini fucking breakdown because you’re so confused with your sexuality, thinking you should be embarrassed because you liked Isaia looking at your cunt while you came? Grow up, Leandra.”

Silence settles, yet one could sever the tension with a goddamn needle. “I’m not going to apologize for feeling confused and out of sorts.”

“I’m not saying you should apologize. I’m saying own who the fuck you are, and stop feeling guilty for not fitting into the mold that the majority of the human race fits into.”

Her tongue darts along her lips, leaving a tempting shimmer. “You think I’m confused because I think sex is wrong, that watching people fuck is wrong.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Huh.” She scoffs. “Am I that one dimensional to you? A girl who lost her virginity and now her delicate emotions don’t know how to deal with the aftermath?”

“Then tell me what the fuck it is, because the woman who leaned against my chest with her legs spread for my brother to see sure as fuck didn’t seem like she was having a hard time doing it.”

Flames burn behind dark irises as she glowers at me. “I used to get locked in a bathroom for hours while I’d listen to my mom scream because my father liked beating her before he fucked her. They would have friends over, share,” she spits out with disgust, “have fucking orgies, and I’d be left to crawl up in a filthy fucking bathtub covering my ears so I don’t have to listen to them moan and cry and curse while they enjoyed their sick little fuckfest. So, excuse me for feeling a little fucked up right now for liking the very thing that scared the shit out of me as a little girl.”

“Jesus, Leandra.”

Unease swells in my chest and knocks at my skull, her reality becoming more real to me by the second. I clench my fists at the thought of anyone laying a hand on her, and I’m instantly aware that I would kill to protect her. I would rip a fucker’s spine out of his throat right here, right now, for this woman.

A gentle breeze picks up, and she hugs her arms. At that moment, she paints this perfect picture of fragile beauty—an inner strength that beams from her even though she’s so fucking delicate.

“I can’t change your past or wipe away the fears that come with it, but you have the Del Rossa name now, which means you no longer have to carry them with you. No one will fucking hurt you now that you’re my wife, and that’s a guarantee.”

“Only for six months, right?” she challenges.

“I told you you’ll have my protection even after. And like I said before, I might be many things, but I am a man of my word.”

There is nothing but silence between us, but I don’t like how she looks at me. Like she doesn’t trust me. Smart. But I don’t like it.

The silver bracelet around her wrist glints as she lifts her arm, reaching behind her ear.

“You have a scar there.” I lift my chin and study her carefully.

She stills and lowers her arm, her lips pressed together.

“Where’d you get it?”

“It’s a nervous habit,” she answers softly.

I close the distance between us, and she allows me to touch her cheek as I turn her face gently to the side, staring at the scar. “Is it self-inflicted?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like that.” She turns her head back, not wanting me to look at the scar anymore. “I just…I tend to scratch behind my ear when I’m nervous or stressed. I don’t do it with the intent to hurt myself.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one with a father who makes you do things you don’t want to.”

“What did he make you do?”

She shrugs away from me, but I grab her elbow and pull her back. “What did your father do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You better tell me, Leandra, or I’ll be forced to imagine the worst fucking scenarios.” Needles prickle up my neck, black poison thickening my blood with rage thinking that he might have laid a hand on her. That he hurt her.

“What does it matter?” Her hair swooshes over her shoulders as she jerks her arms free from my grasp. “And it’s not what you think.”

“Your father was a drug dealer and backstreet pimp. So, tell me what the fuck it is I’m thinking.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I can feel the war that rages inside her. It’s reaching for me, and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to fight it for her. But the way she presses her lips in a thin line is indication enough that she’s not about to tell me. Unfortunately for her, I’m not one of those men who will patiently wait for her to be confident enough to share her past demons with me. If she doesn’t tell me, I will find out on my own.

“My reach can penetrate prison walls, Leandra. So, if you don’t tell me what the fuck he did, I will find out on my own.”

“God, you’re an asshole.” Disdain wraps around her insult, but there’s passion in the brown irises that glare at me. Of course, she tests me, wanting to see how long I’ll allow her to keep her mouth shut. Oh, the games we fucking play.

“Fine.” I turn and walk toward the table, pick up the glass of wine, and drink it all at once. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I have to go see my father. Enjoy dinner.”

“Want to know the whole soppy story or the nutshell version?” she calls after me, and I still. “Fine,” she huffs. “Nutshell version it is. My dad is a sadistic psychopath who wanted to whore his little girl for drug money so he and my mother could get high.”

My heart constricts, and my veins swell.

Her body shivers as she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, biting back tears. “But before my dad’s friend,” she spits out with disgust, snarling, “could touch me, I ran. I ran out the door, down the stairs, and out of the building when a cop car drove by.” She’s no longer looking at me but rather at the ground, a faraway look in her eyes. “The cop saw me, and they stopped to help me. So, I had two choices. I could lie, run, never go back, live on the streets, and probably face a thousand more demons. Or I could tell the truth and hopefully save my mom from my psycho dad and maybe have a chance at some peace.” Leandra’s gaze cuts to mine. “I chose the latter, and not a single day of my life goes by that I don’t regret it.”