I cry out, unable to hold it in, trying like hell not to actually scream into the room and wake up Kiska, who is across the house, but still in the house.
“Fuck, Tati, this pussy,” he moans before I feel his finger press against my ass, massaging my entrance.
“Kirill,” I cry out into the sheets, again.
“I’m taking this ass soon,” he announces.
Then he slides two fingers inside of me. I can’t keep my thighs from shaking and I can’t keep from rearing back onto his fingers, fucking them while he fucks me.
“Krushka, you fuck me now, yeah?” he murmurs before he stills.
I don’t go still. I can’t. I’m chasing. I’m so close to my second orgasm that I couldn’t stop even if he demanded it of me. I’d fucking kill him if he tried.
I rear back, taking his cock and his fingers at the same time, and fucking loving it. I pull forward slightly and then rear back again, harder. I hear him growl behind me and I smirk to myself, loving that I can make the noise come from him. On my third downward thrust, he slaps my ass.
“Get that hand down there and get yourself there, Tati,” he grunts.
I waste no time. I shove my hand beneath me, and with two fingers, I rub my clit while I fuck him—his cock filling my pussy and his fingers filling my ass. Within a second, I detonate. I sob, my legs trembling and my ass bouncing as I ride out my orgasm.
Kirill surges forward, his fingers still buried in my ass. He doesn’t move them; no, he’s riding his own high. With my body pressed against the mattress, he comes deep inside of me with a roar against my shoulder.
Kirill stays completely buried inside of me for a few breaths before he gently removes his fingers from my ass. He keeps his cock planted in my pussy. His lips touch my shoulder and he places peppered kisses on any exposed skin he can reach. It’s sweet.
“Did any men touch you tonight, Tatyana?” he asks.
“No, Kirill. I stayed on the stage only,” I whisper back, my voice hoarse from my screams.
“What a good girl I have here. Following my wishes and then taking what I give her when she comes home,” he mutters. His hips move as he lazily fucks me, his semi hardened cock sliding in and out.
“You asked me not to let another man touch me, Kirill. It’s a simple request, and one I can easily accommodate. Relationships are all about compromise,” I sigh.
“Yes, moyo zolotse, that they are. Now, let us shower. My Tati looks so very tired,” he chuckles.
I want to narrow my eyes on him, but he’s completely correct—I’m totally exhausted.
I don’t protest when he carries me into the bathroom, and together, we take a shower. Kirill tucks me into bed and places a soft kiss on my lips before he dresses for the day.
“It’s Saturday,” I yawn.
“Yes, krushka, and I spent many weeks away. I have much to do. Kiska will be with me today, so you do not need to worry over her. I’ll take great care. She’ll probably be bored, but I’ll remind her to bring her reading device. Then we’ll be home before you leave for the club. Maybe I accompany you for a while and watch you dance for me?” he asks, arching a brow with a tip of his lips.
“That wouldn’t bother you?” I ask.
“To watch you dance?”
“In front of other men,” I offer.
“I watched you several times when I was in San Francisco. It bothered me when the men touched you. But this time, knowing you’re mine and no man can touch you, knowing they want you but can’t come anywhere near you—fuck Tati, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. No, it won’t bother me. But rest that pussy up because I’m going to pound the fuck out of you afterward,” he promises with a wink. He then leaves me hot and bothered in bed.
I close my eyes and let out a puff of air. This man—this man is not the same boy he was. I like it. I like that something like this turns him on so much.
Is it wrong for me to feel this way? Probably.
Do I care? Not if he fucks me like he did this morning.
I fall asleep with a wide smile spread on my face and I think about Kirill skulking in the shadows—hard and waiting for me, watching me.
It should scare me, considering I hate the feeling of being watched, but knowing that it’s Kirill who watches, remembering the way he says that he knows I am one hundred percent his at the end of the day, sleeping and waking in his bed, in his house, and in his arms—knowing that there is no other place I would rather be, I like it. I like it a fuck of a lot.
I WATCH AS THE airplane lands.
It carries three people.
Sergei Orlov, Alex, and his lover Oliver.
Alex is going to be Tatyana and Kiska’s Byki, brought in specifically because I know Maxim and Radimir both trust him with their lives. He is a good soldier and will protect my girls with his life.
Sergei makes me slightly nervous. Not only is his position one of extreme power, he’s to be my father-in-law. Though I hold the contract for his daughter, he could still not approve. The clause gives him final say until the actual wedding is completed. If he decides I am not good enough for her, he will not hesitate to take my girls from me.
I watch as they descend from the private airplane. A tall, thin man wearing khaki’s and a sweater, followed by a man in a suit, who is obviously Bratva, and then a man I have not seen in years, but could not forget if I tried—Sergei Orlov.
Sergei’s cool gaze cuts over to me and I try to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine. He cocks his head to the side and then slides a pair of sunglasses on. I don’t make a move, my own eyes watching him from the other side of my own sunglasses. He’s not as tall as I remembered as a boy, but he’s still intimidating as hell.
“Kirill,” the man I assume as Alex says, his Russian accent thick but understandable.
“Alex?” I ask. He dips his chin and then tips his head to the side before introducing Oliver to me.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, offering my hand. We shake and he grins before agreeing that it is nice to meet me, his accent British.
“Syn,” Sergei grins, knowing how much it pisses me off.
“Sergei,” I nod, taking his offered hand in a strong shake. His grip is hard and unwavering.
“Where are my girls?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Tati sleeps. She worked all night. Kiska is with Ziven, her temporary Byki and one of my trusted men. You’re early,” I offer narrowing my own eyes.
“Works? Why does my daughter work?’ he asks, anger laced in his tone.
“It is her will, Sergei. I tried to tell her she didn’t need to, but she is very stubborn when her mind is set,” I say, arching a brow as the pilot loads their luggage in my car.
“Her mother was much this way,” he grumbles.
I try to suppress my laughter. Alex isn’t as good as I am, his brows arch incredibly high and he grins behind Sergei’s back.
We all get inside of my car, Alex and Oliver in the back and Sergei in the passenger seat next to me. I don’t hesitate to begin talking, issuing instructions and orders.
“I have an apartment building for my men, you are welcome to stay there,” I say to all three men. “They are fully furnished and right on the beach. Maxim and Radimir lived in them for a while until they found their current housing.”
“This will work,” Alex says with a nod.
“I will stay somewhere with room service,” Sergei announces.
It frustrates me. He frustrates me.
“There are also cars at the building. The man at the front desk is ours, and he will give you a key to a car. Your duties do not begin until Tuesday morning. Kiska must be at her school at eight in the morning. Her school is predominantly Bratva children and is very well guarded, so after that, your only duty is to stay with Tati until it is time to fetch Kiska at three-thirty,” I announce. I watch as Alex nods in agreement and understanding.
I pull up to the apartment building and walk them inside. I instruct the man at the fr
ont desk to allow them use of a car, and remind them both that they are free until Tuesday, then that is when I will need Alex’s service to begin. With tired nods and thanks, I leave them to settle in. Then, I go back to my car to take the king to his hotel with room service.
“I also require a car, Kirill,” Sergei announces. It takes everything inside of me not to roll my eyes.
“I will have a man bring one and leave the keys at concierge,” I offer.
“I want to meet my daughter and granddaughter tomorrow,” he grunts, demanding.
“Dinner?” I ask.
“Yes, at your home, not in public,” he suggests.
I think it wise. It is sure to be an emotional first meeting, that is for sure. I agree as I pull into valet.
“Would you like me to set up the room for you?” I ask.
“No, no. We came early, surely you have work to take care of. I’m going to rest. Oliver talked for hours, I need some sleep. Tomorrow I will be at your house at six in the evening,” he says.
I open my mouth to ask him if he needs a car to pick him up, but he must anticipate my question because he lifts his hand to shut me up.
“I have known exactly where you live all these years, Kirill. I keep eyes on my Pakhan, especially the one that is betrothed to my daughter,” he announces, arching a brow.
I dip my chin, unable to think of anything to say back to him. That statement proves he’s kept eyes on me, even though his daughter was gone, always watching.
“Did you know she was alive?” I blurt out.
“I had a feeling. I did not know,” he says. “The confirmation was a shock—a welcome surprise.”
Sergei leaves and I watch him walk into the hotel. He had a feeling. Maybe it was fatherly instinct. I don’t know. I always thought her dead, but now that I think back on it, how I could think that is unfathomable.
I wasn’t thinking. I was so overwrought with grief and guilt. I didn’t question a fucking thing. Ten years lost, and while she left me, I didn’t question it either.
How can I blame her anymore?
How can I still be so angry?
I didn’t question.
She was young, and as she said, she was scared. I close my eyes for a moment and I take a deep breath before I exhale. I need to let this shit go. She’s here now. She loves me. She’s brought my daughter to me without hesitation. She sleeps in my bed at my side, also without hesitation.
My Tatyana.
My Tati.
My krushka.
Moyo zolotse.
The love of my life.
I don’t want to fuck us up. I’m going to have to let this whole thing go—my anger and resentment toward her. She’s explained herself, over and over again. She wasn’t brought up in the life; she didn’t know.
Sergei and I both sheltered her, as did her mother, obviously. She reacted on nothing but human instinct, fight or flight. She was young so she chose flight.
I cannot blame her. I can, however, shift all of my blame on that fuckwad Agent Ryan fucking Green. And I do. His ass is mine. Once I figure this whole fucking thing out, that piece of Fed shit is mine.
Kirill and I drive quietly toward the club. He’s different tonight. His mood more somber than usual, and he’s preoccupied. I wonder exactly what’s wrong, but I don’t feel comfortable enough to outright ask him.
Years ago, back when we were young and dating, he would sometimes get this way. I would ask what was wrong and he’d always distract me, kiss me, touch me, and fuck me, until I forgot there was anything troubling him. I think in some ways he hasn’t changed much. If I asked him what was going on with him, he’d probably do the same things.
“You go and get ready. I’ll be somewhere—watching,” he says with a smirk. I give him my own smile before I shake my head as I grab my duffle bag and slide out of the car.
I can feel his eyes on me as I walk into the back entrance of the club. Usually, eyes on me isn’t something that I welcome; but since I know they’re Kirill’s, I tip my lips in a grin. I’m about to dance for him, solely for him. I love it. I love that he’s going to be watching and that he’ll be excited.
I feel a rush of adrenaline run through me as I sit down and start applying my thick stage makeup, creating my stage persona. I’m called Tatyana, but I don’t act like me when I dance. It’s like something takes over my body and I just—move.
I curl and tease my hair after I finish my makeup, then I dress in a skimpy, shimmery gold bra and panty set. They’re completely see-through, leaving zero to the imagination. Tonight, I want to look my sexiest for Kirill.
Maybe it’s sick, me dancing naked in front of a room of men while he watches.
Maybe there’s something wrong with him for being turned on at the thought.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me for being turned on at the thought.
I don’t know.
But I don’t really care, either.
I just know that I want him to be happy. That, and I want to be happy. Being able to support myself if something happens makes me happy, even if the actual occupation doesn’t fill me with pride. I don’t know exactly what makes Kirill happy yet. Maybe it’s just having Kiska and me at his side; whatever it is, I want to give that to him. I want to give him everything.
I step out on the dark stage, and when the music starts, I don’t move—not until the lights turn on and illuminate me. I’m grateful they make it difficult to see the audience, it makes it easier.
Tonight, the nerves are gone, replaced with pure adrenaline and excitement. Kirill is here. He’s watching me and I know he likes what he sees, so I dance—for him.
I dance for my badman.
When the song is over, I hurry off of the stage, trying to catch my breath. One of the hostesses brings me a stack of money as my tips. I give her a small stack of her own as a thanks without a word exchanged. She dips her head and is off to do her job.
Semion didn’t want me out on the floor at all, even to collect my tips from the stage. Kirill’s insistence. I didn’t protest. It would be fruitless. Obviously, what Kirill wants, he gets—always.
I go back to the dressing room and prepare for my next dance. I do this a few more times until it’s time to close the club and head home.
I’m exhausted, my adrenaline long ago spiking and then leaving. But then I walk out of the dressing room fully dressed to find Kirill leaning in the hall, his ankles crossed and his shoulder pressed to the wall.
When his eyes lift to mine, they’re smoldering. The adrenaline returns, and suddenly, immediately, I’m no longer tired. I press my lips together and walk directly over to him. His magnetic pull is too strong, there’s nowhere else I would rather be.
“You were like a star up there, moyo zolotse. You shined so fucking bright. No… not a star. You were the sun,” he murmurs so quietly nobody else but me could hear him. I reach up and cup his bearded cheek with my hand.
“Take me home,” I whisper, unable to say anything else. His words were absolutely gorgeous, and for him, generous.
Kirill wastes no time. He grabs my hand and pulls me behind him, practically dragging me toward the car. Semion calls out to us and waves goodbye with a big smile on his face—a knowing smile. I don’t have time to return the smile as I’m practically running behind Kirill’s long stride.
When we reach his car, he swings me around and my duffle bag falls to the ground as my back is slammed up against the passenger side door. I’m unable to even collect my thoughts before his mouth is on mine and his hips are shoved against my belly, his hard length pressing against me through our clothes. Immediately, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and twist them in his hair.
I part my lips when his tongue slides against the seam of mine, and I let him inside. His hand slides up my shirt and he wrenches the cup of my bra down before he takes my nipple with his fingers and tugs on my sensitive bud. I let my head fall back and moan as I wrap one leg around his thigh and rub my pussy agains
t the hardness beneath his slacks.
“I want to fuck you right now, Tati,” he murmurs as his lips slide down the column of my neck.
“Yes, please,” I beg. I want him, I want him so damn badly. The hours of foreplay were too much.
“You should have visited me in my booth,” he grunts before he nips my shoulder. Then releases me.
“I didn’t have an escort. The bouncers were too busy tonight, there were three bachelor parties,” I mutter, looking at his neck, disappointed that I wasn’t able to fuck him in that booth. I wanted it, and I wanted him all night long.
“You’ll have to wait until we get home. Then, you’ll be punished,” he warns.
“Kirill,” I whine. I enjoyed my last punishment, but I doubt this one will be as pleasurable.
“Hush, krushka. You’ll take it and you’ll like it,” he says. I press my thighs together in anticipation.
I move to the side and he opens the door for me to climb inside of the car. I’m frustrated and extremely turned on. I want his hands all over me, his lips, his beard and mouth.
I want all of him, and I want it now.
“Take your pants off,” Kirill instructs as we merge onto the freeway. I hesitate, which is apparently the exact wrong thing to do.
“If you do not take your pants and panties off now your punishment will be worse, Tati,” he warns.
That puts me into hyper drive.
I immediately strip my pants and panties off simultaneously, sitting with my bare ass on the leather seat of his car.
“Spread those thighs for me,” his voice rumbles the command. I do as he says, my brain totally incommunicado, my body doing exactly as he demands.
I suck in a breath when I feel his fingers gently pet my center as he drives fast down the freeway with the flow of traffic. I shift my hips, searching for more, but I’m slapped on the thigh for my efforts.
“Keep still,” he barks harshly.
I keep my legs wide and my body stone still as instructed. He begins gently petting me again, and it feels good, soft, unlike him. I stifle a moan when he shoves two fingers inside of me and presses his thumb against my clit.
Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3) Page 16
